Page 31 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

I put the phone down, my hands shaking slightly. Something changed between us tonight, and it’s so obvious. We agreed — itwas a date. This isn’t just about business anymore, and we both know it. But admitting that feels like stepping off a cliff. A leap into the unknown.

I move across the room, collapse on the sofa, and draw my knees to my chest. “Emily,” I say to myself. “What are you doing?”

But there’s no answer in the silence of my apartment, just the ghosts of laughter and the touch of a hand that isn’t mine. Isaac’s presence is a phantom here, in the place where I am supposed to be alone, safe from complications of the heart.

This thing that’s growing between us… it’s too risky. Because that’s what it would be, wouldn’t it? Risky to let down these walls I’ve built so diligently. Risky to trust someone who stands on a pedestal so high that the fall could break me.

I’ve seen it before. The way people change when they hold power over you. Like my parents, always too far away to see the cracks forming in their daughter as they chased their own addictions. Always expecting me to be strong, to cope, to understand.

“Stop it,” I chide myself, a whisper-shout in the emptiness. “Stop comparing him to them.”

But it’s hard. The fear of being let down again clings to me, a second skin I can’t shed. It’s safer this way, to keep things professional, to keep my heart out of transactions and contracts.

But even now, with the turmoil and the doubt, there’s a part of me that yearns to text him back, to dive headfirst into whatever this is.

There’s a sound at the door, and Jenn comes in with a tired smile. Relief washes over me, a gentle tide I didn’t realize I was waiting for.

“Hey.” Her voice is cheerful, even though I can hear the long day in it.

“Hey.” I sit up straighter. My fingers still itch to reach for my phone. To text him back. But they stay curled into my palm, holding on to nothing.

She hangs her bag up on one of the hooks by the door and takes off her shoes. Once she gets a better look at me, though, her smile falters. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” The words come out too quick, too sharp. I soften them with a shrug. “Just thinking.”

She doesn’t buy it, of course. She never does. She crosses the room and sinks onto the couch next to me. Close, but not crowding. Always giving space when it’s needed.

“Talk to me,” she prompts, patient as ever.

I hesitate, gathering the jumble of thoughts like stray papers in a breeze. Then, it all pours out. “I had dinner with Isaac tonight.”

“Like… a business dinner?” Jenn’s head tilts, birdlike, curious.

“He called it a date.” Saying it aloud sends a shiver through me.A date.

“Wow.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “That’s… Emily, that’s amazing!”

“Is it?” Doubt laces my words, heavy and binding.

“Of course! You haven’t dated in… a while.”

“It’s not a priority,” I point out.

“And that’s okay.” She bites her lip. “Isaac, though, he’s quite the catch. Except for the whole dog thing.”

“Actually, he seems to really love Baxter now.” I can’t keep back my ear-to-ear grin.

“Oh.” She laughs. “Then he’s perfect.”

Her enthusiasm is a warm blanket, but it can’t quite smother the chill of my fears.

“Jenn, he’s a client.” I press my hands against my knees, needing the pressure, the grounding. “It’s too risky.”

“Risky how?” There’s a challenge in her gaze now, pushing me to confront what I’m really saying.

“Mixing business with… whatever this is. It could complicate things.” My voice shakes, and I hate how vulnerable I’m feeling.

“Or it could make things incredible,” she counters, relentless in her optimism. “You’re allowed to be happy, you know.”

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