Deep Dive: An enemies-to-lovers billionaire romance (Deep Love Series) by Lauren Winter (best fiction books of all time TXT) 📗

“I like being with you, too.”

“I also want to apologize. I shouldn’t have just thrown that into your face. I get it. This is your job. You need to do this to take care of yourself and your mom.” He tugs softly at the ringlet of hair. “I just want to make sure that you’re happy. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“I also don’t want money to be this weird thing between us. I just want to help you with what I can. I mean, it’s like I’m tall. I can help you reach high shelves. It’s not like I should throw the fact that I’m tall in your face all the time. But I also don’t want you to pretend that I’m short or act weird around me because of my height.”

I giggle at the funny analogy while he presses his forehead into mine. “I’ve been thinking. I have to go back to New York soon. And I want you to come with me.”

My mouth drops open. I have been dreading his eventual departure. A lot. But I never thought this is what it would lead to.

“I need to head back soon and I want you to come with me. You can stay with me and I’ll hire someone to take care of your mom. The best doctors and nurses. Anything she needs. I’ll take care of everything. Just say ‘yes.’” he says. He has thought of everything, and I feel like I’m being cornered by his thoughtfulness.

I clam up. My instinct tells me to run for the hills. I want to dive into the second-floor closet and bury my head between my knees and wait until the storm blows over. But his sincere gaze holds me steady, like a lighthouse in the storm.

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll take care of everything.”

“Fletcher, I… I don’t want to take your money.”

“I don’t want to be so far away from you. I want you to come. I can take care of you and your mom. You don’t have to worry about anything. I have enough money for anything you want. Anything you want, I’ll buy it for you. Plus, it’s just money. I don’t need it. I’d rather spend it on making you happy.”

He doesn’t know that going back to New York would feel like going backward in my life. The thought of going back, of being in the same city, on the same island, with that monster suffocates me. When I left, I didn’t want to see him ever again. And what about Mom? She wouldn’t like the thought of having me be so close to him either. It would be too much. It took years just to get her out. And we’ve been doing just fine on our own for the past five years. What if I run into him? What if he finds me? Even worse, what if he finds Mom? I feel like I would be plunging both of us back into that darkness again.

The way Fletcher talks about money sends a familiar cold shiver down my back. It is just like the way Dad used to talk to me to buy my love.

Anything you want, Princess. Daddy will buy it for you.

My throat tightens, and no sound comes out.

His dark eyes look hurt, but he doesn’t relent. “Don’t worry about the money. You’re way more important to me,” he declares again and holds my hand.

My heart sinks. It’s not about the money, I want to tell him. I’m scared. I’m scared of taking this next step, and I’m scared of trusting you. But the words get stuck in my throat. “I, I’ll think about it.” I finally give him a weak smile.

A genuine smile broadens over his face, and he pecks me softly on the lips.

“That’s all I want to hear.”

Chapter 10

Fletcher

“Maybe while you’re with me in New York, your mom can live here,” I ask Amelia as I help her by preheating the oven. She nods absentmindedly and turns back to the bowl of batter that she is beating. I talk as if she has already agreed to come back with me. Except she hasn’t. It is one excuse after another. Her mom needs someone to take care of her. She has to give notice to the cafe owner before quitting her job. She wants to save up some money first for school. My time is running short, and I need to leave soon. Valentina’s phone calls have become more frequent and frantic. And Amelia still doesn’t have an answer for me.

What concerns me isn’t her evasiveness, it is when I describe our future life together, the genuine fear that I catch in her eyes sometimes. I know she doesn’t like the idea of financially depending on anyone, but it’s me we’re talking about here and I thought she could trust me.

“I mean,” I add with forced cheerfulness. “It’s a big house and close to the hospital if she needs help. And you can stay here with her when you come back. I don’t need to sell the house, you know?” I wet my lips nervously, waiting for her answer.

She continues to beat the lumps and nods noncommittally. I press my lips together. What is she thinking? Is she angry at me? Is she annoyed that I keep bringing it up? What does she want me to do? What can I do if she doesn’t tell me?

I run a frustrated hand through my hair and walk out toward the garage again. A new door has been installed, but it is made of bare wood. I wanted to paint it myself. Several new cans of white paint sit next to it, ready to go. But I don’t feel like doing it. If I do it, I will finish. Once I finish, it will bring me one step closer to finishing up the