Page 46 of Unlocking my Boss's Heart

With each throb of my racing heart, I read and reread the address he sent. It wasn’t a location I had considered. Celia had hidden herself away in a place I would never think to look.

Now, as I stood before the dumpy façade of the motel, doubt crept in. Had I been too impatient by not letting the investigator verify her presence first? I couldn’t help the hope and fear roiling in my chest as I approached the motel room door.

“Please be here, Celia. Be right behind this door,” I murmured to myself.

My knock echoed against the metal door. I paused, listening. No answer. No noise coming from inside, either. I raised my hand and knocked again, ready to break it down if needed.

Before I could do either, the door opened, and Celia gasped when she saw it was me, her expression cycling from shock to anger to irritation.

She began to shut the door, but my foot shot out, stopping it. “Celia, wait.”

“Go away Anton.”

“What happened? Why did you disappear?”

“How did you find me?” She looked past me into the parking lot. “You were supposed to be delivering my dinner.”

The temptation to avoid telling her how I’d tracked her down was there, especially given she mistook me for a delivery person—a stroke of luck on my part. She might not have opened the door if she had glanced through the peephole first.

Admitting that I’d hired a private investigator to search for her felt like adding gasoline to the flames, but anything less than the truth would only make things worse.

“Your credit card was used to pay for the room.”

She sucked in a breath, anger flashing in her eyes. “What do you want, Anton?”

“To talk.”

“I didn’t answer your calls and texts because I don’t want to talk to you. Did that ever cross your mind?”

The past two days had been a torment, each moment spent agonizing over our last interactions, wondering if something I did drove her away.

Her current attitude confirmed my fears.

“I understand you’re angry, but please, let’s talk about it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t want to talk, “she insisted, pushing the door against my foot. But I stood firm at the entrance, refusing to move. She gave up. “Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk about your ex and the baby.”

Her words struck like a hammer.

My heart sank.

How did she know about Reeva’s pregnancy?

My explanation better be good; losing her wasn’t an option.

What a time to realize this.

My eyes roamed her face again. Despite the harshness of her tone, I could see subtle tremor in her lower lip, sadness lingered in her gaze. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes deepened as she tried to maintain her composure, but the effort was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly.

My heart felt like a stone. “Celia—”

“I don’t know what this is between us, and I don’t want to play games.” She let out a shaky sigh, her breath catching as if she was struggling to keep her voice steady. “If you would rather be with her or think you have to be because of some noble reasons, then why are you here?”

“I don’t—”

“And if you don’t know what you want, I refuse to be part of a guessing game.” Her tone sharpened, but the vulnerability was still there, just beneath the surface, like a wound she was trying to protect from further harm.

“Celia—”

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