Page 57 of Money Reigns
He doesn’t move.
Just sits there, one arm draped casually over the armrest of his chair, the other resting against his chin like he’s considering something.
He’s looking at me.
Right at me.
Through me.
Like he sees through the apology, through the panic, straight into whatever cracked part of me expected the worst.
“It’s fine,” he says finally, voice low and even. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. It’s not a job requirement.”
I blink.
No pressure. No guilt.
Just an open exit door.
But I don’t want to walk through it.
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “No, Idowant to go. I just… it’s tonight and I don’t even have time to get my—”
“Hair and makeup are being handled,” he interrupts, still watching me like he’s memorizing every twitch of my mouth.
“They’ll arrive at your apartment by five.”
I blink at him. “You…what?”
“My driver will take you home at four,” he continues like he’s listing facts, not orchestrating every second of my day. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I open my mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to thank him, but nothing comes out.
He lifts one hand. Waves it vaguely toward the door.
Dismissive. Effortless.
But somehow… not unkind.
And for some reason, I obey.
I turn.
I leave.
The door clicks shut behind me and I’m still holding the weight of his words in my hands like something breakable.
He didn’t ask.
Hearranged.
And I let him.
God, what is happening to me?
And why does it feel like falling?
***
