Chapter 5

5

A swirl of nerves tightened in Daegan's stomach, the likes of which he hadn't felt in years. There is no need for this, he tried to reason with himself. It was just Kinsley coming over, after all. He didn’t even know why he was nervous. It wasn’t like this was a date. She was coming over to borrow a book, not… Whatever else his mind insisted on imagining. But no matter how much he tried to bury it, the thought of her here, in his personal space, ignited something that refused to be put out.

“You don’t need this, Westerhouse,” he whispered to himself as he pulled into the garage. He didn’t realize how tightly he had been gripping the steering wheel until he let go.

Years without emotional attachment, or an intimate connection, had left him craving it. And she makes it even easier to want and harder to resist.

His mind drifted back to how Kinsley had looked so comfortable when he’d put his suit jacket on her shoulders. Was the offer to go grab a coffee a mistake? Probably. But it was too late for that now.

Logic was always Daegan’s strong suit. His mind-over-matter approach had gotten him this far, and it was precisely what would see him through…whatever it was he was feeling toward Kinsley. I don’t even know if she’s interested in me, he argued with himself as he walked through room after room, nodding a half-hearted greeting to the house staff he passed. Even if she was interested, it was a line Daegan wasn’t willing to cross.

He’d spent the last few days trying to convince himself that the last thing he needed right now was to get tangled up in feelings for some woman who had just become his personal assistant. To be frank, he wasn’t in any sort of position to begin a relationship. He’d sworn off them years ago; it wasn’t worth risking another betrayal. Once was more than enough.

Someone to have some sort of intimacy with would be nice. No emotional attachments. No strings attached. Nothing permanent. A way to release stress and tension and feel some sort of companionship with nothing serious. Just some occasional fun. Kinsley could be that.

He had toyed with the idea. But would Kinsley would see it as more than just sex? Would she see it as a relationship and get her feelings involved? Would it create tension and hostility in the workplace? Could it bite him in the ass if she got mad and created rumors? Or told the truth. The last thing he wanted was a scandal, and a workplace affair with his PA, of all things, was one of the worst he could have.

This wasn’t a path he could explore.

He had seen how Laurel had looked at them as they’d returned from their coffee break. While he didn’t care what Laurel thought, he did care about the affect it could have on his company. This was his family’s entire reputation on the line; he wouldn’t drag it through the mud just for a moment of passion.

Shaking off the entire notion of it, he went to his study and settled into his armchair.

Kinsley had texted him earlier that she would swing by at seven-thirty. He had notified his staff and left them instructions to bring her straight to this room; no need to let her wander. All there was to do was sit and wait. He picked up some of his coffee table books and fingered through them, not really paying mind to what was on the pages. It was more about giving his hands something to do.

Seven-thirty came and went. By eight, restlessness settled in. He checked his phone—no messages. Had she changed her mind? He sent her a text, asking if she would still be stopping by.

The moment it went through, he got up and looked through the small liquor cabinet until he found a four-year-old brandy—a recent gift from a client. He wasn’t one for heavy drinking, but a small drink a few evenings a week helped to ease his nerves. There is nothing to be nervous about, Daegan tried to reason with himself, though the last half an hour had put him through it.

He looked around the warm, dimly lit study. The faint aroma of freshly polished wood and leather mingled with the sharper, fruity aroma of the brandy. The sound of the clock ticking on the mantel filled the quiet with a steady rhythm that matched the pulse thrumming in his veins. None of it calmed him the way it usually would.

He remained in that chair, swirling his glass of brandy every now and again, as eight-thirty approached. He was about to give up waiting when a knock came from the door.

“Come in,” Daegan spoke as he set down his glass of brandy. His palms were sweaty, no ice in the drink to cause it, and his mouth felt dry. He cleared his throat.

The door creaked open slowly as Kinsley entered, turning to say something to whoever had escorted her. Even in her ripped jeans and t-shirt, she was still a sight to behold. Daegan couldn’t lie to himself about that; she was the epitome of effortless beauty.

“I almost thought you forgot,” he said.

Her eyes shot over to him. “I texted you that I would be about an hour late,” she said, a hint of apology in her tone. “I had to take care of something at home.”

“I never got a text from you.” He paused. “Did you get my text?”

Kinsley pulled out her work phone from her handbag. A look of confusion crossed her face. “Looks like mine didn’t send,” she said, frowning as she glanced at her phone. “No bars.”

She held out her phone to Daegan. Their fingers brushed, and that familiar spark shot through him. For a moment, he forgot every reason why this was a bad idea. In the warm light of his study, with her candy-sweet scent filling his senses, those carefully drawn lines between boss and employee were blurring into nothing. Her skin was warm, her presence magnetic, and Daegan had to remind himself to let it go. It has no place here.

Sure enough, her phone showed no new message from him either. Hers was marked as not going through too. “That’s odd.” Daegan frowned. Their work plan had coverage throughout town. The phone was failing to pick up on the signal. “I’ll restart it and see if that fixes it,” he said, setting it down on the coffee table as it refreshed.

“I hope so,” Kinsley said. The light, candy-like scent of her perfume wafted his way.

“But in the meantime, feel free to take a look around.” He gestured to the bookcases lining every available wall. Their eyes locked, Kinsley’s smile brightened, and Daegan felt a warmth in his chest. “The Grisham books are on that shelf with the red vase, and the one below it.” He pointed.

“I’ve only seen a small slice of your home, but it is absolutely gorgeous,” Kinsley remarked as she peered around the study, slowly making her way over to the shelf. “Very modern.”

“That’s the goal,” Daegan said with a nervous chuckle, although not really sure what was funny. The phone had restarted, but the display was still registering no bars. “I wonder why it isn’t picking up on the signal.” Reminded of the last time IT had fixed this issue, Daegan put the phone into airplane mode to halt its search for the cellphone towers. When he turned airplane mode off again, the connection came back to life. Kinsley’s phone dinged as his text message finally arrived.

“You got it to work?” she asked.

“Somehow. I put it into airplane mode and then took it out of it,” he shrugged, handing it back to her. “You might have to ask IT about it.”

“I’ll add it to my list of one hundred things to do.”

“At least one of those things on your to-do list wasn’t that dinner meeting I just had. I had to pour myself a brandy after it.” He paused. “Would you like a drink?”

“Had to?” Kinsley peered his way with what might be concern.

“I preferred to have a drink after that dinner meeting,” he corrected himself.

“I’ll take a raincheck on the drink.” She looked up and down the shelf, her fingers running along the spines of a few books. “The meeting didn’t go well?” As her fingers traced the books, her gaze lingered on a few and her lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile. Was Kinsley nervous? Intrigued? Daegan couldn’t tell.

“Oh, it went well. Got the deal signed. But they all ate so much that I’m pretty sure the bill paid for the restaurant owner’s kid to go to university for at least a semester.” There was a smirk in Daegan’s voice. “They ordered for the sake of ordering. On top of that, they all loved to repeat themselves. I felt like I was having the same conversation a dozen times in a row. Do you know how torturous it feels to have to act surprised at the same story you just heard three other times in the last hour? But they’re my clients now and their money will be well appreciated. That’s what matters in the end, Kins.”

Kins.

Kinsley’s heart skipped as her name rolled off his tongue, warm and unhurried, like he’d been saving it for just the right moment. She tried to focus on the rows of books in front of her, but her fingertips were trembling over the spines. A nickname wasn’t something she had expected from her boss, let alone as she stood in his home study. A warmth washed over her from head to toe, contrasting with the cool air in the room.

Kinsley wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at the shelves, until his presence behind her broke the spell. His voice was soft, almost teasing, as Mr. Westerhouse leaned in. “Find anything you’d like, or do you need a suggestion?” Despite him being over a foot taller than her, she could feel his breath across her neck as he looked down toward the shelves. It made her shudder.

She didn’t mind the closeness. She actually craved it…had been fantasizing about it. But to have Daegan Westerhouse this close—without a desk between them—was too tempting.

“Well, I read The Chamber and The Partner years ago. I’m open to suggestions.” Her voice was quieter than usual; Kinsley didn’t want to consider why.

“ The Partner is hard to top.” Mr. Westerhouse spoke more softly; was he trying to put her at ease? It only had the opposite effect. He let out a quiet exhale, warming the space between them, stirring the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck. “But I’d say The Firm should be your next step.” He reached above her and inched it out of its confines. “When you’re done with that, read A Time to Kill . It was his first novel.” Mr. Westerhouse added the title to the other book at his side.

“Between your work and my renovations, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to read both,” she laughed, turning to meet his gaze. It lasted perhaps a little longer than it should have. A faint smile came over his face. Kinsley wished she could read the man’s thoughts, if only in this moment.

“We always find time to do the things we want to do, don’t we? If something is important to us or holds value, we always find the right moment to sneak it in. No matter what.” His smile grew wider before he turned and walked toward his seat, setting both books on the coffee table.

Kinsley sat opposite him, pulling the books toward her end of the coffee table. “We definitely do…which makes me wonder.”

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I know it’s not my place to question it, but… This house is so big, yet you live here alone. Laurel said it’s been quite a long time since you were with someone.” Kinsley shifted in her chair during the brief silence before continuing. “I hope I’m not overstepping a boundary by asking, but just by the sheer size of your home, it must feel so…empty to live here alone.” She swallowed hard as heat cascaded over her. She shouldn’t have said any of that; this wasn’t what employees did. But this wasn’t the office. There was no Laurel, waiting to eavesdrop.

“But I’m not alone.” His eyes darted around the room as if he was trying to think of what to say. “I have plenty of domestic staff.” Mr. Westerhouse offered an unconvincing smile.

Kinsley exhaled. “That isn’t the same, Mr. Westerhouse.” Her fingers nervously played with the threads of her ripped jeans.

“I have friends and family, too, you know. Besides, I wasn’t always alone here. I built this house when I was planning to have use for the space.” Daegan’s fingers tightened around the edge of the armrest; the leather creaked under the strain. His jaw worked as if chewing over his words. “It was meant to be a family home,” he spoke quietly, though the words were raw at the edges.

Family home. That’s something Kinsley was trying to have. To save, really. As the silence filled the room—save for a ticking clock—Kinsley became acutely aware of the rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

Mr. Westerhouse shifted in the chair, looking past her, rather than meeting her eyes. “I considered down-sizing, but I just can’t seem to do it yet.”

“So...you’ve kept it. Hoping it might still become what you planned?”

“No.” His gaze flickered to her, a brief but telling hesitation, before his expression turned cold. He took a sip of his brandy, watching as the liquid inside swirled. “That dream ended years ago.” His expression hardened as the warmth in his voice evaporated, replaced by a sharp edge that cut through the room like a blade.

Kinsley’s chest tightened. The silence between them expanded, pressing on her like a physical weight. It took all her willpower to not fill it with more questions. Across from her, his gaze remained fixed on his glass, as if he could find his answers in it.

A shadow passed over him, his gaze distant before it hardened. The softness in his voice vanished, replaced by a chill that made Kinsley’s heart sink. “I would be just as alone —since you are calling it that—if I lived in a cardboard box. But I’m not alone.” Mr. Westerhouse doubled down.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she’d arrived there with an ounce of hope that there was something more to this invitation. But that was silly to think. She offered a fake smile, an attempt to ease the tension she’d started. “Why don’t you want that anymore? A family, I mean.”

“It isn’t something I talk about.” His tone became at once icy, no longer warm and inviting.

The line was crossed.

They sat in a heavy silence, the only noises from the wind outside and the soft squeak of the leather as Mr. Westerhouse shifted in his seat. Heat flushed through her skin, the silence only amplifying the tension in the room. When Kinsley looked toward him, his gaze was still locked on the coffee table.

She swallowed hard, wishing she could take back the last two minutes. She had stepped over a boundary on a topic that was, quite frankly, none of her business. It took everything she had to say still and calm, to not fidget on the spot under his penetrating stare.

The soft buzz of Kinsley’s personal phone was a welcome interruption. She reached into the front pocket of her handbag for it like it was a lifeline. Cameron. “Pardon me,” she whispered in his direction before answering the call.

His eyes followed her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Kinsley thought she saw something—regret, maybe, or disappointment—but it was gone before she could be sure.

As Kinsley spoke softly into her phone, Daegan leaned back in his chair, a chill settling over him that felt oddly welcome. He watched her for a moment longer, wondering if she’d sensed the boundaries he was working to uphold.

The weight in the air became heavy as the tension between them grew. He tried to remain calm, though his feelings were anything but. What business was it of hers to ask him about his relationship status? Who did she think she was?

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes, Cameron,” Kinsley said softly into her phone. Daegan’s heart skipped a beat as Kinsley listened to the caller for a moment more, before uttering a quick “goodbye” and hanging up.

His eyes darted to her. This time, he watched her posture become smaller as she seemed to retreat within herself. It was as if all the warmth had drained from his body. Who was this Cameron, and why did he feel so threatened by him? After all, the distance he felt between himself and Kinsley only seemed to feel greater than ever before. He should never have invited her here; this was a mistake he couldn’t make twice.

Kinsley’s eyes flickered. “I’m so sorry. I really should head home.” She stood abruptly, shoving her phone into her handbag—a clear signal of her eagerness to end the conversation. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, though.”

“Maybe you’ll find time tonight for one of those books,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He needed to shift the focus back to why she’d come to his home to begin with. Books. Not to pry into his personal matters.

“I don’t think I’ll have time tonight, but maybe this weekend.” She was quick with her words as she scooped up the books.

“No plans?” He stood, escorting her back through the house.

“I…” Her voice trailed off, as if she was trying to either figure out what to make up, or what to keep hidden. “I actually think I may have a visitor this weekend.”

Despite Daegan’s desire to know more, he didn’t ask. If he didn’t want her to know about his love life, then he didn’t want to know about hers. “Well, I am sure the books will get read in due time.”

“Of course.” Kinsley smiled, locking eyes with him for just a moment as they stopped at the front door. “Thank you again for letting me borrow them. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Drive safely,” Daegan replied as he watched her walk down the steps to her car.

Perhaps the most confusing thing of all was trying to understand why he’d felt jealous about Cameron. The thought of him potentially being the one to come visit Kinsley this weekend stoked a fury he hadn’t felt in years.

In his bedroom mirror, Daegan’s reflection stared back at him with eyes dark from anger and regret. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Why do you care, Westerhouse?” he whispered, his voice almost mocking. The man in the mirror looked back, unflinching, as if daring him to admit the truth. “I don’t,” he muttered, though the words felt empty. He turned away, but even as he walked to his room, the thought lingered like a shadow—what if he did care?

Kinsley couldn’t get out of Mr. Westerhouse’s house fast enough. Heat flooded her cheeks as she hurried to get the car out of park. What was she expecting him to say? It was absurd for her to think he would open up like that. Why would he? He owed her nothing more than a paycheck.

Yet she wanted to know. She allowed her curiosity to get the best of her, expecting answers to a question that she had no business asking.

She called Cameron back, putting the call on hands-free mode as she drove home.

“You seem busy tonight,” Cameron said, answering the phone.

“I had to stop by to see Mr. Westerhouse at home. I just left.”

“You were where ?” Cameron’s shock came through the phone a bit too loud.

“At my boss’s house,” Kinsley repeated, rolling her eyes. She did not want a speech about him right now.

“Why? Is there something happening?—”

“No,” Kinsley was quick to stop Cameron from completing that sentence. “I stopped by for maybe ten minutes to borrow a couple of books from his library.”

Silence.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Kinsley let out a frustrated sigh. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as a car sped past.

“I mean…”

“Nothing happened.” Kinsley articulated her words so crisply that a fall chill would be jealous.

“Books? Is that what they’re calling it now?” Cameron wasn’t buying it.

“Yes,” Kinsley didn’t miss a beat.

“Your clothes didn’t accidentally fly off in a wind tunnel or anything? You didn’t get a sudden promotion from visiting ?”

“Cameron,” Kinsley emphasized her exhale as Cameron’s skepticism lingered in the air.

“If you say so, then I will trust you. In other news, Brienne and I bought those plane tickets to come out to see you this weekend. Our flight lands tomorrow evening around seven, I think. I’ll text you the exact time, though.”

“Brienne actually got off work? I thought maybe it would be just you.”

“Yeah, her boss isn’t exactly thrilled about it, but all that matters is that her project gets completed on time. She can work remotely anyway, so I’m not sure what the big deal is. I reminded her once again that she needs to ditch that place and just work for herself.”

“Well, it will be great to have you guys here for a couple of days.” The chatter of the GPS and the distant roar of traffic filled the silence as Kinsley waited for Cameron’s response. Having a little slice of the home she’d always known was the positive boost that she needed right now.

“Hey, did you ever figure out who sent that bouquet a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah, remember, the card said it was from an investment group?” As each word left her mouth, realization dawned on her, like a blindfold being slowly removed from her eyes. It had been right in front of her.

“Cameron, I gotta go.” She hung up before she caused an accident.

Kinsley slammed her car door shut as soon as she pulled into her driveway. She hurried inside, throwing her keys onto the table with more force than intended. The echo of the keys hitting the wood seemed to reverberate through the empty house. Bare feet hitting the cold floor, the creak of the floorboards was her only companion as she clenched and unclenched her hands.

That card had read Westerhouse Investments Group.

“How could I have been so blind?” she muttered to herself, running a hand through her hair. He had been right in front of her.

Did he know she was the new owner?

Her chest tightened as she paced the living room, each step heavier than the last. Betrayal stung sharp and hot, coiling in her gut like a snake. She had trusted Mr. Westerhouse, worked for him. Yet he had been hiding his true intentions.

Kinsley sank into the couch and buried her face in her hands. She had poured her heart and soul into her decision to preserve her family's legacy, and the handsome, charming man she worked for was trying to take it from her.

Kinsley's mind raced with the possibilities. Why hadn't he been upfront with her? Did he think she would just hand over the property without a fight? Did their working relationship mean nothing to him? Was this why she had been hired so effortlessly on the spot? Keep her busy with the other acquisitions, while he worked on getting her own house?

She felt like a fool for not connecting the dots sooner. How could she have been so naive? Every moment replayed in her mind—his smile, the way he’d said her name, the coffee run, the books. Was any of it genuine, or had it all been part of some elaborate strategy to win her over? The thought made her stomach twist.

Her gaze landed across the room on the old fireplace. It was a photo of her grandmother and herself—Granny’s proud smile on Kinsley’s graduation day. Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. Granny. This was more than just a house; it was her family’s story.

Kinsley wiped at her eyes, determination replacing the hurt. She wouldn’t let Mr. Westerhouse take that away. She would fight for this house, for Granny. She owed her that much.

She reached for her phone, ready to confront him and demand answers. But as her finger hovered over his contact, she hesitated. She needed a plan, a strategy. Rushing into this blindly would only make things worse.

Trying to calm her racing heart, Kinsley took a deep breath. She would figure this out, one way or another. But first, she needed to clear her head and think things through.

With a heavy sigh, she headed to her bedroom, determined to get some rest. This could wait for another day. Daegan Westerhouse may have caught her off guard, but she wasn’t going to let him win.