Page 23 of A Billionaire's Second Shot

I almost turn back, give her the space she clearly came out here to find. But something pulls me forward, something I can’t quite name.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” I ask, keeping my voice low as I approach.

She startles slightly, turning to face me. “No, just needed some air.”

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, even though I’m already stepping closer.

She hesitates for a moment, then shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

We walkin silence for a while, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the soft grass. The garden is beautiful at night, the flowers and trees casting long shadows under the silver light of the moon. It should be peaceful, but my thoughts are anything but.

“You handled yourself well today,” I say finally, breaking the quiet.

She glances at me, her brow furrowing. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It is,” I reply, my lips quirking into a small smile. “Damon’s a professional at getting under people’s skin, but you didn’t let him.”

“Thanks,” she says, her tone guarded. “Though I could’ve done without the drama.”

“I couldn’t,” I admit, my voice softer now. “Seeing him talk to you like that—it made my blood boil.”

She stops walking, turning to face me fully. “Why?”

The question is simple, but the weight of it feels enormous. I look at her, the way her eyes search mine, and I know I can’t brush this off with some half-hearted excuse.

“Because he doesn’t see you,” I say, my voice steady. “Not really. To him, you’re just another piece in his game, another way to get to me. And I couldn’t stand it.”

Her expression softens, but she doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“I used to be like him, you know,” I say suddenly, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I used to see people as tools, as stepping stones to get what I wanted.”

She raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Used to?”

I let out a dry laugh, my gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m trying not to be that person anymore. But it’s harder than I thought.”

“What changed?” she asks, her voice quieter now.

I hesitate, the memories pressing against my chest like a weight. “A long time ago, I made a deal. One that hurt someone I cared about. I told myself it was worth it, that it was just business. But afterward, I realized I’d traded something priceless for something I didn’t even need.”

Her gaze softens, and I feel her step closer, her presence grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“Who was it?” she asks gently.

I look at her, my chest tightening. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I lost them. And it’s something I’ve regretted every day since.”

The vulnerability in my voice surprises even me, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She looks at me like she’s trying to piece me together, like she’s seeing parts of me I usually keep hidden.

“Levi...” she starts, her voice trembling slightly.

The way she says my name sends a shiver down my spine, and I step closer without thinking. We’re so close now that I can see the way the moonlight reflects in her eyes, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

I lean in, my heart pounding in my ears. Her lips part slightly, her gaze flicking to my mouth, and for a moment, the world falls away.

But then I stop.

I pull back just enough to put space between us, my chest heaving as I force myself to step away. “I can’t,” I say, my voice barely audible.

She blinks, her expression a mix of confusion and frustration. “Why not?”

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