Page 127 of Most Eligible Billionaire

He’s all posh polish in a thousand-dollar suit, but his pulse drums in his throat. When he speaks, there’s the faintest crack in his voice. “I want us back. What do I have to do?”

My heart aches—it actually aches. “I don’t know if there was an us.” Even as I say it, some little voice in me screams that it’s a lie.

“There was an us for me,” he says. “There always will be an us for me.”

Henry’s here. In front of me.“You carved more than four hundred of those?”

His gaze sears my heart. How many he carved isn’t the question, and he knows it.

I can barely think. This is everything I didn’t dare want.

“It feels like too much to believe,” I say finally.

“I know. I get it. You’ve been burned.” He takes my hand like my hand belongs to him. He knits his fingers between mine, warm and soft. “I burned you when I didn’t tell you everything,” he says. “I should’ve, and I didn’t. I could stand here and give you excuses, but I won’t. I just need you. Give us a chance.”

“I can’t.”

His hand tightens, just a bit, like if he doesn’t hold me tightly, I might get away. “Let me love you enough for both of us.”

“What?”

“I love you.” His words are calm and sure. “That’s real. Everything was wrong, but that part’s real. It always will be.”

Instinctively I’m looking for the trick, the lie. But all I see is love, the vulnerability of Henry’s love. Of his coming here. Of his griffins.

Henry’s gaze is deep-blue honesty and miles-wide loyalty. He’s been burned, too, but he’s showing up.

Like some things can come true.

“And of course…” He lifts our joined hands, brushes a kiss on my middle knuckle. “You have to let me design and build your studio share project. I mean, please. You think anybody else can do it halfway as well as I could?”

I smile. “There’s the Locke Kool-Aid that I know and love.”

He pauses and everything seems to still. Like, do I mean I love him?

“It’s just about the Kool-Aid?” he asks.

I smile so wide, I think I can never stop. “If I tell you I love you, if I tell you how much I love you and how scared I am for it not to be real that you love me, will it stop you from carving more tiny griffins like a psycho?”

“No,” he says. “I’ll keep carving them for you. As long as I can carve.”

Thirty-Four

One year later ~ New York City

Vicky

Thick red curtainscrash to the stage, and Henry and I leap to our feet, clapping. Latrisha springs up on my other side. She sticks her fingers in her mouth and gives an earsplitting whistle.

It was an amazing show, a super funky musical adaptation ofShakespeare in Love. Carly got the part of Lady de Lesseps—a huge feather in her cap for her age. She even got a duet, which was heart-stoppingly beautiful, though I might be biased.

After several long minutes of applause, the leads come out, two big Broadway stars. They take their bows, and then the supporting cast all run out, including Carly, who catches my eye and grins wide before taking her bow, holding hands with her scene mates.

The curtain goes down one final time, the lights go on, and we make our way to the aisle—slowly.

It’s Locke night at the show, meaning Locke Worldwide bought out half the tickets for employees and vendors as a way to support the show early on. Brett’s idea.

Things are better with Brett. I came around to forgiving him—it was right around when we got back to the States, once Carly finished her school term in London. I know he was fighting for the company, not unlike Henry. And Brett’s going to be family now—Henry and I got engaged over Christmas.

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