Page 46 of No Strings Attached
“You’re incredibly dramatic.”
Amira laughs, and it breaks the tension instantly.God, her laugh. It’s pure warmth. I’d give anything to hear that sound on repeat.
“You think I grew up like this?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Not even close.”
She watches me now, curious.
“I’m honestly surprised,” I say, letting the words stretch. “Now that you know who I am, stayed in my childhood home, I figured you would’ve done your homework. Googled me or something.”
She tilts her head, unimpressed. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Most people would be dying to know what the internet has to say.”
“Well, I’m not most people, and I don’t care what the internet says about you.”
That stops me for a second. “You have no idea how nice it is to hear that.”
Amira shrugs, casual as ever. “You’re sitting right in front of me. That’s the version I care about.”
I try to brush her words off with a smirk, but my chest tugs. I’m completely screwed—in the best possible way.
“Well, my parents were good, hard-working people, but money was always tight. Worth and I shared a room until I was almost seventeen. My mom used coupons like they were currency. My dad worked two jobs just to keep the lights on.”
Amira’s expression softens.
“We didn’t have luxuries. We had hustle. And weusedthat. We built something from the ground up. We made the right investments, took the right risks, worked our asses off. Not a damn thing was handed to us.”
I pause, fingers brushing over the edge of my cup.
“When we could, we paid off our parents’ debt and retired them early. Bought the property near our childhood home and built them a house that didn’t leak every time it rained. We kept the cottage and did some work on it, as it meant so much to us.”
Amira is quiet, her eyes locked on mine.
“But even now, with everything we’ve built, we don’t let ourselves forget where we came from. Ever.”
She exhales, slowly, and I can tell she didn’t expect any of this.
“That’s why I don’t see an issue,” I finish. “You think I care about limelight? About being called a billionaire like it’s a personality trait? I’ve told you already—I don’t give a shit about the money. It’s aperk,not the purpose.”
I can see the tug-of-war in Amira’s eyes. Her fingers toy with the edge of her napkin.
“You barely even know me, Henson. You don’t know my family.” Her gaze dips for a second. “My culture. The things that matter to me. You don’t know where I’ve come from, what I’ve been through. You don’t know how complicated it all is.”
Though her voice is steady, there’s a quiet edge underneath it. “I just got out of a relationship that made me feel like I had to shrink to fit inside someone else’s world. That made me second-guess everything about who I am, who I’m allowed to be.” She pauses, then shrugs. “So no offense, but the last thing I need is someone else thinking I can be swept up in nice dinners and compliments and forget all that.”
I let her words settle. Not just because she needs space to speak them, but because I get it.
“I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to let melearn.”
Her lips part, but before she can object, I add, “I don’t need easy. I don’t need a fantasy version of you that fits into my world. I want the real one. The one sitting across from me right now, telling me the truth, not trying to impress anyone.”
Amira doesn’t respond right away, and I know that if she were really trying to push me away, she wouldn’t still be here.
Her gaze lifts, locking on mine.“I want someone who’ll fight for me and choose me—even when it’s inconvenient. Someone who doesn’t just want the version of me that’s dressed up for dinner or planning a perfect party. I want someone who’ll stay when things get messy. WhenI’mmessy.”
