Page 49 of Billionaire’s Heartbreak

He knew why I’d asked. I questioned everything he did. If this was his safe house, I’d wonder whether it was actually safe—or just expensive.

I needed to stop. If we were going to work together, I couldn’t second-guess everything Kai did. But trust wasn’t something I could switch on just like that.

One of the security guys opened the door, and I stepped out too quickly. My foot landing wrong and my ankle twisted.

Kai was out of the car instantly, catching my arm. His grip was firm and warm. Too familiar.

“I’m fine.” I pulled away as soon as he released me.

“You haven’t eaten much,” he said.

“I had a chocolate bar at the hospital.”

He scoffed. “You call that food? I thought you were a doctor.”

It had enough calories to get me through the flight. That was all I needed. Anything heavier made my stomach turn.

It had been practical. Efficient. He wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t have the energy to argue.

“What do you know?” I snapped.

* * *

We were escorted upstairs by five of Kai’s security team, with two guards staying close to each of us while Dave led the way.

No one spoke until we reached the penthouse.

The place was beautiful, but Kai’s security was everywhere. Reinforced doors. Bullet-resistant glass. Cameras and a separate security system.

“You can see out,” Kai said, glancing toward the windows. “Nobody sees in.”

“There’s a panic room behind the study,” Kai added. “Two escape routes. One through the service stairs, one through the parking level.”

The whole place felt less like a home and more like a high-end prison designed to look comfortable. Beautiful, secure, and impossible to relax in.

I forced myself to pay attention because it mattered. But my head felt light. Too light. I planted my feet carefully as we walked, afraid I might lose my balance again.

The tour ended in the kitchen.

Kai opened the fridge. It was stocked with packaged meals, iced coffee, canned energy drinks, protein shakes, and high-calorie snacks. Everything was practical—easy to grab, easy to store. Fast, and requiring little to to no preparation.

“Are you hungry?” Kai asked.

We stood on opposite sides of the huge kitchen island. It was the only thing he had said to me since we left New York.

Are you hungry?

It was almost funny. We used to talk all night, filling every silence with arguments, jokes, confessions, even pointless conversations we’d forget by morning.

Now we could barely manage a sentence.

The entire flight, I’d been planning. Running through every possible scenario. What could go wrong. What already had. What I needed to do when we got here.

I’d replayed every conversation with Dannie, every warning, every piece of information, trying to find some kind of pattern that would tell me what to do next.

“No,” I said, for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Kai didn’t argue. Instead, he opened a bag of potato chips and started eating them straight from the pack, crunching loudly and casually as though none of this was real. He shook the bag slightly as he chewed.