Page 58 of Her Filthy Cold Billionaire Boss

It never did.

But I kept waiting anyway.

Clinging to every memory of her, I glanced through her hiring paperwork, studying her handwriting. There was a number in her file, marked “emergency only.” I’d read it a dozen times, never intending to use it. I was breaking rules. Being stupid and doing something that my lawyer would yell at me for.

I called anyway.

It rang three times before a woman’s voice picked up, sharp as lemon rind. “Peggy Blake.”

I almost hung up. Instead, I cleared my throat and said, “This is Gareth Wolfe. I-” I stopped, unsure what to say next. I’d never practiced this part.

There was a silence on the other end, then a low, disbelieving laugh. “You’re the boss.”

“Yes.”

“The one who made my granddaughter cry for three days straight.”

That landed like a punch. “Yes.”

Another silence, this one longer and much colder. “This better be important, Mr. Wolfe. Or I’ll call your mother myself and tell her what a shit you’ve been.”

I almost smiled. “You have every right.” Not that my mom would give a shit, but the sentiment wasn’t lost on me.

“So why are you calling?”

I ran a hand over my jaw, trying to force the words out. “I made a mistake. Several, actually.”

“Men usually do.” She sounded bored, but I could hear something else under the sarcasm; curiosity, maybe. Or hope. “Did you think she’d just get over it? Or did you want to gloat?”

“No.” I pressed a fist to my chest, hard, as if that would slow my pulse. “I wanted-” I stopped, started again. “She means more to me than I can explain. And I ruined everything.”

There was a soft exhale. “Go on.”

“I was selfish and stupid. I knew her past, and still had her go through with something that hurt her.” I said it quietly, as if the walls might overhear. “My family- they’re not like hers. They’re not like anyone’s.”

Her tone was sharper now. “You think you’re so special, honey? The only one with a family full of assholes?”

I had no answer for that.

“You hurt her,” she said, finally. “You hurt her worse than I thought possible. She’s stubborn, but she’s not invincible.”

I gripped the phone, knuckles white. “I know.”

“If you know,” she said, “why haven’t you called her?”

“I didn’t think I had the right.” I meant it. Every word.

“Now you’re just being stupid.” There was another long pause, then a softer voice. “She’s in bad shape, you know. Keeps pretending she doesn’t care, but it’s all an act. You broke her heart, you dumb son of a bitch.”

“I know,” I said again.

“So what do you want from me?” she asked. “You want me to talk her into forgiving you? You want me to fix it?”

“No.” I swallowed. “I just wanted someone to know. I thought- I thought if anyone could understand, it would be you.”

There was a sound on the other end, like a snort. “You’re not wrong.”

I tried to imagine what Eden would say if she knew I’d called her grandmother. Probably she’d laugh, or throw her phone, or both.