“Oh, he’s an idiot,” said Waverley.
“Don’t call your father an idiot,” Chelsea corrected automatically. Then she focused on Waverley’s face. “Wait, what?”
“Probably he should’ve started the conversation with that, and I figured he’d texted you about it, but, well, Mom totally told him no way. They’re not getting married.” Waverley seemed unconcerned with those facts altogether, but Chelsea wasn’t fully convinced the child wasn’t at least a little bummed about it.
“I know you weren’t sure what to think when we talked at the office, but every kid wants their parents to get together and live happily ever after. Are you even a little bummed she said no?” Of course, her saying no also meant that it wasn’t Aiden who’d stopped that blessed union. Meaning he still would’ve gone through with it.
Meaning anything he said to her was basically hooey, even if part of her did go just a little soft when he’d said she was pretty.
She could recognize herself as a fool and still resist behaving like one, she reminded herself.
Waverley was playing some game on her phone, catching digital creatures, but she looked up at Chelsea with a sideways grin. “Yeah, I didn’t want them married. Is that horrible? Maybe I’m a horrible kid. But, look, here’s how I see it. I’m greedy. I’ve been an only kid my whole life. I’ve had Mom to myself for years, and I don’t really want to share. Is that horrible? Meh, probably.” The child shrugged.
“Yet you’re here at the museum helping him with…whatever this is?” Chelsea said, leaning on the wall even after the elevator dinged. The doors opened and closed, but neither of them tried to get off.
“Yeah, well, like I said. I’m greedy. Dad came as a package deal—I talked to you before I talked to him. I like you. I want to keep you, and if he’s willing to cooperate…you’re like a bonus in a video game. If he does this right, I get to keep my mom plus I get a dad, plus I get a Chelsea. Blame it on me being an only child. I want it all.” The kid smirked and didn’t look remotely apologetic.
“Huh,” Chelsea said. “Interesting.”
“Plus, it means I get more presents for holidays. I Googled it,” the kid admitted.
“Huh,” Chelsea repeated.
“You’re not convinced.” Waverley put her phone in her back pocket and faced Chelsea. “Do you like my dad?”
Chelsea opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted, trying to be honest but not wanting to upset the child if she had to leave.
Was she falling in love with him? Maybe a little in love with him for years before she’d actually gotten physical with the man? Probably. But did she like Aiden?
He was frustrating and stubborn. He tried to control everything and sometimes was the most selfish man she’d ever met.
But at the same time, he’d served in the military. He called his mom, even when she forgot to remind him. He found out he had a kid, and his first reaction was that he wanted to get to know her.
He also had women’s panties in his office and treated women like they were disposable…
Except her. For years, he’d been a huge part of her life. He’d called Chelsea repeatedly when her aunt died, finally visiting her when she’d not come right back from her leave of absence. And on the trip, he’d kissed her…
Kneel. She could still hear in her head the way he’d said it. See the vulnerability on his face when he’d asked her why she’d called pause. Still hear the way he’d laughed at her finger moustache, all carefree and adorable.
“Yeah, I like him,” she admitted, and even she could hear the hoarseness in her voice.
“Cool. I want to see the medieval gallery next, and so do you. Knights and stuff. Come on.” Waverley punched the button, and Chelsea followed her, still thinking hard.
Yeah, maybe he’d told her to take a leave of absence, and maybe he’d blamed losing Waverley on her, but he was also all those other things. Some were good, some were bad, but the whole package was Aiden. If she wanted to care about one part, she had to accept him for all his jagged bits and awkward eccentricities. Maybe that was what being in an adult relationship was all about—not just being attracted to someone and caring about them, but caring about them despite their flaws.
But all of it was a practice in futility, because she still didn’t know how he felt. Or she did, and it was that he wanted her to go away. Maybe she could believe he was attracted to her—although it was beyond her why he would, considering—but to believe he cared about her like she did him? That was a stretch.
One of the knights moved in clunking steps toward her. Nearby, Chelsea heard a giggle. She glanced over to see America’s Sweetheart, Margo Welles, sitting at a banquet table in jeans and a designer blouse. Her hand was over her mouth, and she watched the knight—clearly Aiden—struggling to make his way down the hallway.
“Your dad is weird,” Chelsea admitted in a whisper.
“I’m picking up on that,” Waverley said. “Your tour ends here, by the way. I’ll recommend that you head to modern history next. And if things don’t work out…” The little girl looked at her seriously. “I talked to my mom. She says she’d like you to come to dinner sometime. Said that if I liked you that much, she would love to get to know you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, kiddo.”
The knight in clunking armor reached them and panted as he held out one hand. “Milady, this posy is for you.”
Rolling her eyes, Chelsea accepted the flower and headed back to the bank of elevators. She needed a second to herself. A moment to think.
…
Aiden
The armor had been a bitch to get into, and it wasn’t any easier to get out of, but none of it was nearly as frustrating and confusing as his thoughts over the past week. When he’d had the conversation and movie day with Waverley, he probably romanticized the idea of Chelsea, something he recognized. When they came up with their plan to surprise her?
He’d still been thinking in Valentine’s Day mode—some overly commercialized and idealized perception of what relationships and love should be like.
But when he’d been alone in his bed, stroking an ugly cat and thinking over his life, he had to face a much more brutal reality of what love meant. What was he giving up if she for some reason gave him a chance? What would he gain?
In the end, he made a list. Sure, he understood himself enough to get that anxiety and his need to find control in a world filled with chaos drove a lot of his decisions. When he slept with women, it usually had a lot to do with physical craving and not a lot to do with anything deeper. Again, control, anxiety all mixed up in a soup of poor choices and the search for power.
But when he was with Chelsea, he became less and more than his sum parts. At work, she was often the one person willing to go toe to toe with him and say that he was making a bad call. She was the only one who understood him enough to try to make the mundane shocks into something he could handle stress free. She was also the first to castigate him when he banged strange women in his office and left the debris around like lace confetti.
Over the course of their little road trip, the usual barriers to them becoming more dropped. He was out of his element, out of his office, and they were able to face each other on somewhat equal terms. Technically, he’d still been her boss, but by even asking her to go, really, he’d conceded that she meant more to him than anyone else. After all, he was trusting her to help him build a relationship with someone he wanted to love for the rest of his life—his daughter.
That there was sexual attraction? Well, with Chelsea, that was really the gravy on top of an already tempting plate. She fit his life, even in the dark corners where jagged bits hid.
Pulling on the dress pants, he heard a tap at the door behind him and glanced down to make sure everything important was covered before he called, “Come in.”
“Hey,” Margo’s voice said from somewhere behind him. “I’m going to head out with Waverley. She claims you two need pri
vacy for this part of the conversation, and I don’t even want to think about why she assumes that.”
Her soft laugh made him turn to face her. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder back then. That I struck you as the kind of man who would walk away from his child, if he knew about it.”
Margo’s characteristic smile faded to become a more neutral expression he couldn’t quite read. “I didn’t know you well enough back then to begin to hazard a guess as to how you’d react. The best I can say is that I was young and didn’t think about how my actions would affect you. Literally, I think I figured what I did didn’t matter to you at all. I get,” she began, holding a hand up to keep him silent, “that wasn’t fair and, like I admitted before…greedy. But for what it is worth, I’m sorry. You seem like a good guy.”
“Thank you. And thanks for bringing her today. It only seemed right, since she got to know Chelsea on the trip and all, and seemed so invested in me making right the damage done when I lost her—”
“Still can’t believe you lost our kid in the Grand Canyon in the dark, but go on…”
“Yeah, well…I’m learning.”
“Can I make a confession?” Margo asked, tucking a lock of her thick red hair behind her ear.
“Sure, why not?” He buttoned the shirt fast, not bothering with the sleeves. The quicker he got into the suit, the faster he could get to Chelsea.
“I dropped her once. When she was about one? I don’t remember exactly, but we were snuggling on the couch, and I dozed off…and she rolled onto the floor. She wasn’t hurt, but I was traumatized as hell. Oh, and once in a store, I was talking to a woman I knew from work, and Waverley was right next to me…and then she wasn’t. Took me about two minutes, which felt like a hundred years, to find her inside a rack of shirts. Her giggle gave her away.”
He stared at the model. “Why are you admitting all this?”
Margo shrugged. “Well, parenting isn’t easy. We all make mistakes. My mother, she’s been awesome ever since I had Waverley. She once said it wasn’t about whether or not we made mistakes; it was about how we chose to fix them.”
“She sounds wise.”
“You can meet her at Thanksgiving,” Margo said with a snort. “Now, let’s fix your tie, and you can go find your princess, Irish Prince.”
“Don’t call me that,” he whined.
With a laugh, she gave his tie one final adjustment and left with a smile. While Aiden turned and headed up the stairs…
Hopefully to catch his future.
Chapter Nineteen
Chelsea
The modern stuff had never been her favorite part of museums, especially not art museums. She saw the value and craft behind the work, but for some reason, the softer stuff always appealed to her more. As a matter of fact, she had a large Van Gogh print hanging in her bedroom.
But she wandered down a hallway, surrounded by stone and art and her own echoing footsteps, and couldn’t help but wonder at why Aiden had gone through so much trouble. It wasn’t like he couldn’t replace her at work—hell, there were probably dozens of people who would like her job and be qualified for it, and a few of them could probably do it better and without growling at Aiden.
Maybe.
And although the sex had been good—great, the best she’d ever had, mind boggling—the man was a playboy. He got sex from all kinds of people and probably had it hotter and better and…whatever.
She sniffled a little, becoming emotional because to her…all those things mattered. A lot. He always had mattered, even when she tried to convince herself he drove her crazy and it was just a crush. When she thought of living a life without him in it, she couldn’t help but get sad. How was she to know which would be the last laugh she shared with him? The last kiss…
And then he was there, standing in his business suit and looking hot as hell. He stalked toward her in that lazy, sexy way he had. As if the whole world was his and, yes, Aiden Kelley had decided to grace them with his presence. He looked like everything that made their relationship impossible in that moment—suave, charismatic, rich, powerful.
He pulled a single red rose from behind his back and offered it to her with his familiar grin. “Hey, Chels,” he said.
And her heart stuttered a bit, clenching in her chest as if unable to continue beating if she turned this man away.
So she did exactly that, even though it was hard. She turned her back on him and continued to put one foot in front of the other. Would it be tough—seemingly impossible—to go on in a world without Aiden Kelley? A resounding yes. Would it be sheer hell to see his face on TV and in magazines and know he wasn’t for her? Oh, yeah.
But she could do it. Her father raised her to believe that she had value and, dammit, if he didn’t realize that, he didn’t deserve her.
“We left off on a bad note,” he began.
“Ya think?” she asked sarcastically. “You don’t get to be charming. You don’t get to play nice.” Her voice rose as she warmed up to her topic. “I’ve been a dedicated employee for years. I’ve been here for you for years. I even went on that crazy trip with you. And you? You…” Her voice cracked a little. “You hurt me.”
“Okay, a worse than bad note. For one, I wanted to let you know that I overreacted to the Waverley situation and shouldn’t have blamed you at all. That was all on me, and I even knew it at the time, but for some reason I blamed you. Easier, I think, than shouldering the whole burden at the time…but worse in the long run. Can you forgive me?”
She didn’t turn to face him, instead pausing to consider a statue. “I blamed myself, so I felt I deserved that one. No apology needed.”
“Which is all the more reason I shouldn’t have blamed you,” he said. His hands came down on her shoulders. She didn’t flinch away, but she didn’t face him, either.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t fault you for doing so.”
Silence filled the museum, only the tick of a distant clock and the sound of their breathing to break up the otherwise weighted soundlessness. His hands didn’t move, and neither did she. She felt like she was waiting for something, and, although she wasn’t sure what it was exactly, she knew she needed to give him time.
Again, she noticed that they even seemed to breathe at the same time, synced on some deep level she couldn’t ignore, even if she was forced to walk away from it.
“There’s more,” he practically whispered. “I have had feelings for you for a long time. I can’t even say exactly when they started, but they were always there. I don’t know if you could tell, but I trusted you in a way that I’ve never trusted anyone outside my family. I guess what I’m saying is I tried to show I cared by letting you in, but I also tried to stay safe.”
“Safe?” she asked and then damned herself for interrupting. What if he didn’t continue?
“Safe,” he repeated. “I told myself you were an employee, so every time I had thoughts about you which might seem inappropriate, it was easy to tamp down on them. To tell myself I was avoiding a harassment suit or how unfair it would be to you to have the creepy boss hit on you. I told myself this, I think, to protect me, not you. You see, if I admitted how much you meant to me, it put me at risk. I wouldn’t risk losing you, and I didn’t risk messing it up. I had this nice safe spot where I got to have you in my life, the voice in my ear, but I didn’t have to give up anything to keep you there.”
“Well, you paid me, so…” She snickered, but he squeezed her arms slightly with his hands, and she went still.
“Then on this trip, I held you in my arms. I got to see, for a moment, what a full life with you might be like. And it was even better than I might have imagined. Which was scary as hell, because if it didn’t work, it meant you could walk away at some point.” His voice broke a little, and she pinched her eyes closed on the tears that had overflowed.
“I’ve never walked away, Aiden. Even when you were frustrating and drove me so crazy that you made me talk to myself. And when I needed to leave, for my own sanity, y
ou wouldn’t let me.” She lifted her arm, dislodging one of his hands, to wipe at her nose.
“I know that. And I don’t want you to walk away at all. Please stay with me, Chels. I’d really like to date you,” he admitted.
She sniffled again, bracing herself. This was the moment. She got to decide if she’d give this a shot. He’d given her the choice. With a deep breath in, she slowly turned to face him.
…
Aiden
He felt like he was holding his breath, almost dizzy waiting for her response. He’d never laid his own wants out like that, not admitting so many vulnerabilities, to any person. It left him feeling vulnerable. Edgy.
She could shatter him with a word.
He released her as she moved to turn around and allowed her to face him, and for a second, he was tempted to squeeze his eyes shut. To hide from her, since his words left him feeling naked.
But he didn’t, so when she turned, it took him a second to compute what he was seeing. “Is now really the moment for a finger moustache?”
Her lips twitched. “Felt right.”
“I’m going to take that to mean, ‘Oh, yes, Aiden. I can’t resist you any longer. Take me now, you glorious beast of masculinity,’” he said.
She snickered. “Yep. Totally what I was thinking.”
But he couldn’t joke anymore, so he simply moved her fingertip. Digging his hand into the soft sweep of her hair, he tilted her head and took her lips. Nothing felt so much like home as Chelsea’s mouth. She tasted sweet—like cinnamon and apples—and when she let out a little whimper, he hardened so much that his cock ached.
“I need you with me,” he admitted. He peppered kisses down her neck to her collar, nibbling the sweet flesh there as her nails scraped his scalp.
“We’re in a museum,” she reminded him.
The Irish Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties) Page 14