Page 39 of The Billionaire's Promise

"It's nothing. I just . . . I lost my grandmother's bracelet. I can't find it anywhere. I'm always careful with it. I don't understand how I could've misplaced it."

"Could you have left it at the loft?"

"I don't think so. I haven't worn it in a few weeks—" I cut off, trying to remember the last time I'd worn the bracelet. Everything had been turned around since Vance and Rosie had moved in. The bracelet wasn't the first thing I'd misplaced lately—there were a few odds and ends that I must have rearranged when Vance and Rosie had moved in that I couldn't find.

Nothing big. A clock I'd kept in the sitting room. A small painting on a tabletop easel that had been in the guest room. But the bracelet mattered. I could see moving the clock and forgetting what drawer I'd stashed it in. Not my grandmother's bracelet.

"Maybe you took it off and put it in your desk," he said. "We'll look for it. We'll find it. I'm sure you didn't lose it. You're too organized for that."

A tear trickled down my cheek and I brushed it away, annoyed with myself. I was overreacting. Vance was probably right. I wouldn't have lost the bracelet. It would turn up. He kissed the top of my head. I looked across his chest to meet Rosie's eyes, the exact shade of blue as Vance's.

She met my gaze with a solemn expression, her dark wisps of hair mostly covered by a pink cap that matched her rosebud mouth. I couldn't help but smile at her. Her feet kicked against Vance's chest, and I caught one in my hand, stroking my fingers over her soft, tiny toes.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Vance murmured into my hair.

I nodded against his chest. "You gonna run out on me?" I shook my head. I knew I was making a mistake, knew I had no business getting involved with Vance, but I wasn't going to run anymore. "You promise?" he asked. I nodded again.

"I'm just . . . I don’t . . .” I didn't know what to say, didn't have the words to explain in a way that wouldn't sound mean and accusing and bitchy.

"You're freaked out and you don't trust me," Vance said in a patient, resigned tone.

"Pretty much, yeah," I murmured.

"Not much I can do about that, Sugar, except prove you wrong."

I shrugged and kissed Rosalie's toes, unwilling to meet his eyes or contribute further to the conversation. He'd summed it up. He was either going to prove me right or prove me wrong. Time would tell.

"Do you have anything pressing for the afternoon? We already slept the morning away."

I straightened and stepped out of his arms, more comfortable now that we were on familiar ground. "No. Everything is caught up. Why?"

"Why don't you take the afternoon off? Go see if you can get Charlie to play hooky, take her out to lunch. You've been stuck with Rosie and me for weeks. You need some time on your own."

"But what about Rosie? She’s still sick," I objected.

"You have your phone if anything changes, but she doesn't have a fever, just a stuffy nose. That jogging stroller I ordered came in yesterday. We’re going to put it together, maybe get some fresh air."

"You're sure?" I asked. He was right. I hadn't had any time to myself since Rosie had shown up in our lives. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I just needed some girl time, some time away from Vance and his brain-clouding sexual magnetism to get my head on straight.

"Okay, if you're sure. I'll call Charlie."

"Go have some fun. We'll be here when you get home."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MAGNOLIA

Charlotte Winters never played hooky from work. She worked late every night. She worked on weekends. I'd heard through the Winters grapevine—they were terrible gossips—that even Aiden, who had a reputation as a workaholic, worked less than she did.

The only time I'd known her to cut out on her job was when Brayden dumped me, so I didn't expect her to take me up on my offer of lunch, especially when I made it clear it would be a long lunch.

I hadn't driven my car in a while. It seemed like Vance was always driving, and he was right—I hadn't gone anywhere on my own in weeks. I pulled up in front of the Winters Inc. building in Buckhead feeling giddy with freedom and oddly nervous, as if I'd left my purse at home.

But Rosalie wasn't a purse, and she was safe with her father. It was just odd to be so suddenly unencumbered. Charlotte appeared on the sidewalk shortly after I pulled up and slid into the car.

"You look like hell," I said.

Charlie let out a sigh. "I know. Can we not talk about it?"