Page 49 of The Secret Heir Next Door

“It’s... it’s really bad, Logan. I don’t know how to fix it.”

I take the papers from her and start flipping through them, trying to make sense of the numbers and figures. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it, just a chaotic jumble of expenses, bills, and income.

It reminds me of a time in my own life when my finances looked similar—disorganized and overwhelming.

I look up at her and see the worry etched into her features, the way she’s biting her lip, her fingers twisting in her lap. She’s scared, and I can tell she’s afraid of being judged, of being looked down on.

After how I initially behaved with her, it’s not like I can exactly blame her…

“It’s not as bad as you think. We can fix this. But first, I need you to relax, okay? Take a deep breath.”

She nods, but I can see she’s still tense. I reach out and place a hand on her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Her eyes soften at that, and she nods again, this time with a little more conviction. “Okay.”

I give her a small smile, then turn my attention back to the papers.

“Let’s start with your income. Can you tell me what you make each month?”

She starts rattling off numbers, but her voice is shaky. I can tell she’s not confident in what she’s saying. I jot down what she tells me, trying to piece together a clearer picture of her financial situation.

As I review the numbers, she starts pacing across the living room floor. It’s like she can’t sit still, like the anxiety is too much for her to handle.

“Serena,” I say, not looking up from the papers, “you’re going to wear a hole in my floor if you keep pacing like that.”

She stops mid-step, blinking at me. Then she lets out a small, nervous laugh. “Sorry. I just... I’m not good at sitting still.”

“I can see that,” I reply, glancing up at her with a teasing smile. “But you’re making me dizzy. Come sit down.”

She hesitates for a moment, then reluctantly makes her way back to the couch. She sits down but still fidgets, her fingers tapping against her knee.

I set the papers aside and turn towards her. “It’s okay to be nervous. But you don’t have to be. I’m not going to judge you or think less of you because of this. Everyone goes through rough patches.”

She looks conflicted like she wants to believe me, but she’s struggling to let go of the worry that’s been eating away at her for so long.

“I just... I don’t want you to think I’m a mess,” she admits quietly.

“Serena,” I say softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “everyone’s a mess sometimes. But it doesn’t define you. And it doesn’t change the way I see you.”

Her breath hitches, and I can see the tears welling up in her eyes. She’s been holding all of this in for so long, trying to keep it together, and now it’s all starting to spill over.

I reach for the wine bottle and pour us both another glass, trying to lighten the mood. “So, how about we take a break from the numbers for a bit? We can always come back to them later.”

She nods, accepting the glass I hand her. “That sounds good.”

We clink our glasses together, and I take a sip, watching as she relaxes back into the couch. There’s still tension in her posture, but not as sharp as before.

I reach out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear again. My fingers linger on her skin, and I can feel the heat between us.

She notices it, too, and her breath catches slightly, her eyes flicking down to my lips before darting back up to meet my gaze. There’s a moment of hesitation, but then she leans in.

Our lips meet, soft and tentative at first, but then the kiss deepens, the heat between us flaring into something more intense. I can feel her melting into me, her body pressing against mine as her fingers tangle in my hair.

I pull her closer, my hands sliding down to her waist, and she lets out a soft moan. I tug her into my lap. My hands go up to her face, cupping her cheeks as our tongues tangle together. I drop to grip her thighs, needing to be as close to her as possible. She grinds down on me.

We’re both fully clothed, and I need to fix that immediately. I slide my hands up her skirt. She arches her back, her hands going to the back of my head. My mouth goes down her neck, feather-light kisses until I reach her cleavage. She pulls her shirt over her head, and her gorgeous full breasts are on display through her black lace bra.

One hand slides to her soaking wet core. I can feel the heat radiating from her, and I need more. I gently run my finger along the outside of the lace. She moans and sucks in a breath at the same time. I slide a finger inside of her panties, and she bucks toward me.

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