Her fingers tighten on my T-shirt, pulling me even closer. “When did life get so messy?” she whispers, her head pressed against my chest.
The day I told you to walk away from me.
Instead of allowing my emotions to cloud my logic, I press my lips to the top of her head. “I’ll fix this, Taylor. I promise.”
Taylor
Sometime later, I accept the tea Darius makes for me and take a seat on the stool at the kitchen island. My head isn’t spinning like it was earlier, my thoughts are a little bit clearer now. Or maybe I’m just not as emotional, making things less of a big deal now than they were after I read the article. “So what now?” I ask Darius.
He smiles, resting his arms against the countertop, leaning toward me. “We do whatever you want to do.”
Yeah, that was kinda the hard part. I haven’t figured out what I want to do and how I want to handle this with my parents. I don’t want to upset my mom if it isn’t necessary, but I also don’t want them to find out what happened with Shawn through a tabloid magazine. “If the tabloid was to look into me further, how long do you think it’ll be before they find out about Shawn?”
Darius considers, then shrugs. “That’s really hard to say. It depends on how much they want the information and how much they’ll pay to get it.”
A more definite answer would have been better. I’m not ready to give up just yet. “But even with offering payment, unless someone came forward, it would take some time, I imagine.”
He nods. “I would imagine so, yes.”
I give that some thought and then finally decide. “Right now, I think I’m going to just sit on this. There’s no sense in making Mom all upset for nothing. If they begin digging deeper, then clearly I’m going to have to tell my parents.”
Darius watches me a moment, then heaves a long sigh. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this at all. This is your personal business, and I’m sorry that you’re even worrying about this.”
I smile gently. “It’s just my reality at the moment, and that’s okay.”
I see the way he’s watching me, all focused and intense. He’s thinking. Hard. And I’m not at all surprised when he says, “I’m going to do what I can to ensure the paparazzi don’t dig any more than they already have.” Because that’s what Darius does; he fights to keep those he cares for safe.
I snort a laugh, hugging my mug with my hands. “And just how are you going to do that?”
One brow arches. “Again, that’s my problem, not yours.”
“You do realize that’s not an answer? All that’s doing is telling me you have no idea what you’re going to do to stop them.”
His eyes warm with his soft chuckle. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to deal with it, which I will.”
Honestly, in the end, I don’t doubt him, even if I want more answers than he gives me now. When Darius sets his mind to something, he makes it happen. That’s just his reality.
I raise the mug to my lips, taking a sip, tasting the sweet honey, just as he asks a question of his own. “But let’s talk about you and about your financial trouble.”
I blink, frozen on the stool. “How do you know I’m having financial trouble?”
“Because you were so worried about finding a job,” he says, never taking his eyes off me, leaning a little closer now. “That tells me money plays a factor in your troubles. It’s the only thing that you can’t control right now.”
I take another sip of my tea. Instead of throttling him, considering a second ago I thought he had actually checked into my financial records, I hear him out.
His eyes soften, as does his voice. “How much do you owe?”
I swallow my tea and frown, seriously hating how observant he is sometimes. Or maybe even hating more that he reads me so well. It is a blessing and an annoying curse all at the same time. “That is seriously none of your business, Darius.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he objects, straightening to his full height, looking like the imposing man he is. “Right now, making all this better for you is certainly my business.”
“And why is that?”
He stares at me for a good few seconds before shaking his head, clearly in frustration. “You can’t honestly expect me to see you struggling like this, knowing full well I can easily help you, and then do nothing.” When I part my lips to further object, he adds with a deeper, much harder voice, “Stop being difficult. Life shouldn’t be this hard. Sometimes everyone needs a little help, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I suppose that’s true, but there is a flaw to his theory. “When did you ever need anyone’s help?”
His stare holds mine intensely, and I see I’m hitting a nerve. “You know very well that I’ve needed help in my life. It just looks different. I get my help from other businessmen for investments. It’s not so personal.”