Page 56 of Fixer for the Billionaire

Jenny's laughter was half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. "So, how are things with Quentin? You two haven't murdered each other, right?" Trust Jenny to put it bluntly.

I chuckled, maybe a little too loudly, trying to mask the panic that question always triggered. "Oh, you know, the usual. We're practically saints, putting up with each other," I quipped, sounding far more light-hearted than I felt.

The conversation shifted to Jenny's upcoming nuptials, specifically the bachelor-bachelorette weekend. "It's going to be epic, Carmina. A luxury boat ride on the Puget Sound? What's not to love?" she gushed. Then, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she asked, "Are you bringing Alex as your date? You two were pretty cozy last I checked."

My heart did a little somersault. "Alex? Ah, no. That ship sailed a while back, Jen," I admitted, trying to keep my tone breezy. I could almost hear her eyebrows raising in surprise.

Before I could brace myself, she added, "Well, I wouldn't be surprised if Quentin shows up with his own entourage of dates. You know how he is."

I laughed along, a sound that felt like swallowing shards of glass.

Quentin bringing dates? The image was too vivid, too unsettling.

"Yeah, that sounds like Quentin," I managed to say, feeling the sting of my own words.

The ironic part? I wasn't sure which was more terrifying—the thought of facing Quentin or the prospect of him with someone else.

Jenny’s innocent joke unearthed a minefield of insecurities I didn’t know existed—or at least, I’d been pretending they didn’t.

Talking to Jenny should have been a relief, a moment to breathe and catch up.

Instead, it added layers to my mounting anxieties. Anxieties about a date for the weekend, a date for the wedding, and Quentin with an armful of hypothetical dates.

It was all too much.

And now here I am, next to Quentin, feeling both drawn to him and impossibly far apart.

The man has this uncanny ability to break down my defenses, to make me crave closeness I've never allowed myself to want.

But with his reputation, how can I even entertain the thought of something more?

My insecurities, usually locked away, are dancing in the spotlight tonight, and for the first time in my life, I can't shake them.

It’s like my life’s become a game of Jenga, teetering on the brink of collapse. Jenny’s wedding, Danity’s book release, and the whole guardianship saga—it’s like I’m juggling grenades with the pins pulled out.

And the man sitting beside me? He’s the fuse.

This isn't the corporate world where I can compartmentalize and strategize. This is my heart, and it's fragile. Maybe too fragile to leave in the hands of someone like Quentin Anderson.

"Hey." Quentin's voice breaks through the quiet of the luxury SUV, bringing me back to the present moment. "You okay?"

I take a deep breath and force a smile. "I'm okay. Just tired."

"Mm, you seemed tired. At dinner. Anything I can do to help?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind."

“Maid of Honor planning?" He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Among other things." I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes.

"Let me guess, you're wondering how the hell we can top Danity's upcoming release after she read that last excerpt at dinner. I nearly poured my glass of ice water over my head."

I huff out a laugh at the image of Quentin drenched in water, trying to cool off from Danity's steamy book excerpt. "That was definitely a surprise. But I'm sure she has more tricks up her sleeve for the actual release event."

"I have no doubt." Quentin chuckles, his hand resting on my knee.

My heart speeds up at his touch, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him. I should be tempering this attachment to Quentin, not encouraging it. But my body doesn't seem to get the memo.

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