Page 158 of Off Limits Mogul

His face falls.

“You know it’s coming from the heart?”

I scoot closer to him on the bed and drop my head on his arm. “I do.”

“Granted I can be a little overbearing, and I probably mother you too much—I guess I should say, father you—but I don’t know how to dial it down. I’ve had this job for so long and I take it seriously.” He sighs. “I know I need to learn to let go. I hope you’ll be patient with me.”

A lump forms in my throat.

“I know you care. A lot. Way more than Mom ever did?—”

“You got that right.” There’s an edge to his tone. It’s always there when he talks about our mother.

“The memory of her fades a little more every day.” I fidget with my fingers.

“Nothing worth remembering,” Noah says.

A chill runs up my spine. “I guess you’re right.”

We sit in silence for a beat.

Our mother died when I was eight. Noah was sixteen. Living with our grandmother was a convenient way for Mom to avoid her responsibilities as a parent by disappearing for weeks… sometimes months on end with some guy without any consideration for her kids.

Most times, she didn’t even bother calling to check up on us. She was constantly in and out of our lives. Mostly out. It’s like my brother and I were never a good enough reason for her to stay.

Noah kept the painful stuff buried deep, but our strange and somewhat loveless childhood colors how he views the world––hence his over protectiveness and his unwillingness tocommit. Not that he’d ever admit it, but I’m certain Noah’s long-standing single status is because of our mom. On some subconscious level, he doesn’t want to get close to anyone, worried and afraid they might leave.

“It’s been the two of us against the world for a while, Cocoa Puffs.” He cradles my face with his strong hands, forcing me to meet his blue eyes. “Now, it’s the three of us. Rhys is more family now than ever before.”

Our grandmother died eleven years ago. Noah has been taking care of me ever since. Mr. and Mrs. Hartford guided him along the way in his new role as my guardian.

“You’re right. He is.”

Our childhood and Rhys’s are at opposite ends of the spectrum. Grandma took care of us, but it was by obligation. She made that clear. I guess my brother and I were a reflection of our mother’s poor decisions when it comes to men. She didn’t mistreat us, but she never loved us, or even seemed to like us.

Rhys’s mom is so different from Grandma. Mrs. Hartford is warm, and friendly, and loving, and caring, and she bakes, and she gives kisses, and hugs freely. Mr. Hartford was an incredible dad and a great influence for my brother. The only reason we lived in the same neighborhood as the much wealthier Hartfords is because Rhys’s dad inherited a house that had been in his family for three generations. Many renovations later, he refused to leave. Rhys still owns the house. It’s being rented.

“I love you so much,” I say out of the blue.

“I love you, too.” He kisses my forehead. “The press knows you’re in LA,” he says, changing the subject. “I hate the idea they might hound you in their frantic quest for a scoop about Chelle’s tragic death.” He pauses. “Rhys seems to have it under control, so I trust he’ll keep you safe.”

“Michaela texted me first to warn me. Rhys’s and Arianne’s texts followed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide forever. Ididn’t expect to be outed this way.” Thanks for nothing, Addison Moody.

“Are you going to be able to handle it?”

“I will.” I’m not sure about that, but I’m not about to give him another reason to worry about me.

“I’m glad you’re not alone.”

“Same here.”

“Your boyfriend won’t let them get in your face.”

“He’s good like that. Speaking of my amazing boyfriend, I should go and apologize.”

“Yeah, you should,” he says. “I have one request.”

“What’s that?”