He arrived so quickly she was sure he’d been getting coffee at Santa Cruz 9. Once in her office, he moved on her like he intended to take her into his arms, but she quickly retreated behind her desk, pushing the folder of paperwork toward him. “I put a sticky flag everywhere you need to sign.”
But Troy was having none of it—not the contract and not her businesslike attitude. He rounded the desk, and when she tried to retreat again, she bumped into her chair, sending it rolling into the wall.
Putting up her hands, she said, “Stop.” Then she added the only thing that might get to him. “This is moving way too fast for me.”
With a slow smile, he said, “It’s not moving too fast for me. Haven’t you figured out that I’m in love with you?”
She didn’t just freak out this time. She totally melted down.
Chapter Twenty
Michaela jumped back, grabbed her desk chair, and whipped it around in front of her, using it as a shield.
Maybe he should have insisted they get together yesterday after his meeting. Waiting twenty-four hours had been a mistake. Troy had wanted to give her time to get used to the idea of how fabulous they were in bed and how amazing they could be out of it too.
But that strategy had blown up in his face.
Dammit, he shouldn’t have said he loved her. He’d known that would push her too hard. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
Her eyes wide, she said, “I can’t jump in that fast. I’ve only known you a month.”
“Twenty-eight days,” he said.
“What?” Her eyes were suddenly dazed and confused.
“It’s been twenty-eight days since I first walked into your office.”
“You’ve been counting?”
“I’ve been relishing every one.”
She stared at him. As if he were a crazy man.
But he’d already declared himself, so there was no point in backpedaling now. “Twenty-eight days is more than enough for me.” Maybe he’d known that very first day, even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself. “Maybe you’re not in love with me now. But I believe love can grow between us.”
She shook her head so severely her hair started to fall out of that elegant knot she so loved when she was at her most businesslike.
She slashed her hand through the air. “It’s not just about love. It’s about our lifestyles. You’re a freaking billionaire,” she said as if that were a terrible thing. “I don’t fit in. And relationships based on an unequal footing can’t last.”
He eyed her for a long moment, taking in her beautiful face, even marred as it was by fear and confusion. The anxiety riddling her body had her clutching the chair, her knuckles white. That didn’t speak to a mere difference in their lifestyles, or even about the amount of money they each had. The flare of her nostrils and the starkness of her pupils spoke of far more.
It spoke of fear.
“Money doesn’t matter,” he said, hearing the pleading leaching into his voice.
She snapped, “Of course it does. I’m from Modesto. You come from jet-setting, ski-vacation parents.”
He went to battle against this injustice. “My parents might’ve looked like they had money, but they were in debt up to their eyeballs.” And probably even higher than that. “Ava and Dane had to quit university when they died. We had nothing. She became an aide at a convalescent home, and Dane got a job working at a resort.”
That wasn’t good enough for her. “But you have everything now. You own a multibillion-dollar company. I’m small fry. I can’t compete with all that.”
It wasn’t just the money. It was how she thought he’d been raised, with nannies and a big house and status. Especially now. As if being a billionaire put him rungs above her on some metaphorical ladder of who’s who.
He’d had the thought when she’d talked about her mother, but he’d breezed over it. But he couldn’t do that now. She didn’t think she was good enough for a billionaire. For him. Which was crazy. She’d worked as hard at getting where she was as he had at becoming an Olympian. That put them on the equal footing she seemed to desperately need. Their bank balances didn’t matter. The lifestyle, which she so overestimated, didn’t matter. What mattered was how far they’d both come and how hard they’d worked to get here.
“You got a scholarship to Stanford,” he said. “You did that on your own. Without any help. While I had my family bolstering me. But you still don’t think you’re good enough. You don’t believe in yourself even after you were instrumental in getting FoodFast off the ground. Even after you’ve matched tons of people and businesses.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Of course I believe in myself.”