Page 67 of Fixer for the Billionaire

She shakes her head, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. "I just... I don't want to be that girl."

"What girl?"

"The one who loses her head because the local billionaire pays her a little attention." Her voice is small, almost a whisper. "I've seen it happen before. Women losing themselves in a relationship with a man, only to be disappointed in the end."

I frown. "You are not your mother."

"Aren't I, though? There I was, lying in bed with you, while my sister was nearly dying in the next room. Doesn't exactly make me Mary Poppins now, does it.”

I sit back, stunned by her words. "Carmina, what happened was not your fault." I blow out a long breath. "Don't do this."

Her voice rises. "Do what?"

"This. Blame yourself. Deflect. Push people away the second something gets too real."

She stands, her hands fisted at her sides. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. A man who's never kept a romantic relationship beyond Sunday brunch."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"It means you're not exactly an expert on relationships, Quentin. So don't act like you know what's best for me. Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don't need this."

I place my coffee on the ground before standing, my skin growing hot under the collar of the t-shirt I threw on for this hospital trip. I place a hand inside the pocket of my jeans. "Alright, you want to get real? Let's do it then. Say what you really mean, Carmina. You don't need me. That's what you mean."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh really? Because that's certainly how it feels." My voice is harsher than I intend, heat seeping through my words. "You're pushing me away again, Carmina. Just like you did three years ago."

Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. Finally, she speaks, her voice a sigh. "Let's just focus on work, okay? We can't afford any distractions right now."

"You know, Carmina. I think... No, I know you're using all this as a shield. You're trying to dodge the real issue here—letting people in, trusting me. And I think deep down, you're deflecting because it's easier than facing the hard stuff. Like..."

"Like what?"

"Like actually loving me." I swallow hard. "The way I love you."

Her eyes, those deep wells of strength and fear, fill with tears. But then, just as quickly as it began, the moment is over. Carmina straightens up and squares her shoulders. "Quentin, I don't have the luxury of being selfish. I have responsibilities, the girls to think about. I can't afford to... to just..."

"Be happy? To let yourself be loved?"

She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze. And that's when it hits me, like a punch straight to the gut.

Love.

I’d been making assumptions this entire time.

Falling for Carmina these last several weeks has been as easy as breathing. I’d assumed it was the same for her. But I may have been wrong.

Maybe it was all one-sided. Maybe she didn’t feel anything for me beyond lust.

What a time to find out I was right about relationships all along. They’re messy. Complicated. And just when you think you have it all figured out, they knock you on your ass.

I run a hand through my hair, my fingers itching to hold onto something—anything—besides reaching for a woman who doesn’t want me.

I grit my teeth, the revelation hitting me like a bomb that keeps exploding.

"Listen, Sanchez, I understand. You don’t need this shit. It’s too much. Say no more." My jaw ticks. "Why don’t you handle things here, and I’ll talk to Danity, her publicist, her agent. Let them know we’re not going to make it to the reading tonight. We can move up our travel plans back to Seattle."

Carmina nods, her eyes still avoiding mine, and it’s like salt on an open wound. She’s not even going to fight for me. Fight for us.

---