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I took a deep breath, trying to process everything he was saying. "Look, this isn't some little lie you told. This is huge. You let me work at your vineyard without telling me it was yours. You let me paint you, share secrets, share moments... all while hiding the truth."
His eyes shone with remorse. "I know. God, I know. And I can't tell you how sorry I am."
There was a raw honesty in his voice that made it hard for me to stay angry. But I couldn't just forget everything that had happened. "I trusted you. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?"
He moved closer, the scent of his cologne filling the air. "I can't change the past, Paisley," he whispered, "but I promise, from here on out, no more lies. Only the truth."
I looked up into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception. All I saw was sincerity and a deep, desperate longing.
We stood there for what felt like hours, the tension between us palpable. Finally, he broke the silence. "I brought breakfast. Thought maybe we could... talk."
Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile. "You know the way to a girl's heart is through her stomach, huh?"
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Something like that."
The aroma of the food wafted through my small kitchen, an enticing blend of warm sweet and savory. But the heaviness of the conversation weighed down the atmosphere, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.
"Listen, the real issue here isn't just the omission of the truth," I began, setting my mug down. "It's the fact that you deliberately hid things from me, thinking it was for my own good. That's incredibly patronizing."
He took a deep breath, his face etched with regret. "I know it sounds contradictory, but every time I've been honest about my position, women have either been drawn to me because of my money or run away from the pressure. I just...I wanted to be sure you liked me for me."
I frowned, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "So, instead, you decided to play this charade, letting me think you were someone else? How's that fair to me? Every man I've ever been with has either tried to control me with his money or used it as a way to buy my affection."
His gaze was intense. "I never wanted to buy your love. I just wanted to earn it."
I felt a rush of frustration. "You think that by hiding who you truly are, it would make me fall for you more authentically? That's just manipulative."
Austin looked like I'd slapped him. He dropped his gaze to the plate in front of him, his face a picture of misery. "You're right," he admitted. "It was selfish and thoughtless. I was so afraid of scaring you away with the truth that I kept putting off telling you. The longer it went on, the harder it became to come clean."
I exhaled sharply, trying to organize my swirling thoughts. "Do you realize how messed up that sounds? Your insecurity and fear, while I get where they come from, affected how I saw you, how I felt about you. If I'd known the truth from the beginning, maybe things would've been different. I don't know."
His fingers twitched, and for a second, I thought he might reach out to me. But he didn't. "I was a coward," he said, voice low. "Every time I wanted to tell you, I chickened out. I was terrified of losing you, of changing what we had."
"You mean what we had based on half-truths and omissions?" I shot back.
Austin swallowed hard, clearly fighting to keep his emotions in check. "Look, I know I screwed up. I know I can't change the past. But I can promise you, from this moment on, no more lies. All I ask is for a chance to make it right."
My heart ached. Part of me wanted to believe him, to let him in again. But the other part—the part that had been hurt and betrayed—wasn't sure if I could ever trust him the same way.
"I don't know if I can do that," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "I don't know if I can ever trust you again."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if bracing himself for a blow. When he looked at me again, his eyes were raw and filled with pain. "All I'm asking for is a chance, Paisley. Please, give me a chance to prove to you that I'm not the same guy who hid the truth from you."
The room was thick with tension. The weight of everything unsaid pressed on me, and I was on the cusp of spitting out more words, more accusations, when Austin made a sudden move.
In one swift motion, he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, and before I could process his actions, he grabbed my wrist, pulling me to my feet. His other hand cradled the back of my neck, drawing me close until our faces were inches apart.
My breath hitched. Every coherent thought scattered, replaced by the whirlwind of emotions ignited by his closeness. His gaze darted to my lips, and without a word, he closed the distance between us, sealing our mouths together.
For a split second, I resisted, placing my hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away. "Austin," I mumbled against his lips, "I'll get you sick."
He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with me, the fiery intensity in his gaze making my heart race. "I don't care," he growled, voice low and raspy.
Before I could react, he captured my lips again, his kiss deepening. Every ounce of restraint I thought I had melted away. The magnetic pull between us was undeniable, and I found myself responding, my hands sliding around his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
He tasted like the wine we'd been drinking, rich and heady, making my head spin. His tongue traced my lower lip before plunging into my mouth, exploring, tasting, and teasing. I sighed into the kiss, my body betraying any anger or resistance I thought I still harbored.
Our breathing grew ragged, the space between us nonexistent. Austin's hands moved to my hips, pulling me even closer. The world around us faded, and all I was aware of was the sensation of his lips moving against mine, the warmth of his body pressed against me.
