Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 58 Willow

My stomach does somersaults as I watch Emily unfold the crisp white paper on the TV screen. The room feels like it's closing in on me, the air thick with tension. Where the hell is Larry? I can't believe he'd send his PR manager to do his dirty work. That's not like him.

Emily's face fills the screen, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room before she begins to speak. My fingers tighten around the remote, my knuckles whitening, contrasting with the relentless thumping of my heart.

I lean forward, my breath shallow, as Emily clears her throat. The microphone amplifies the sound, cutting through the tense silence. "Good evening," she begins, her tone somber. "I'm here on behalf of Lawrence Sinclair to address the recent pipeline explosion."

Emily continues, her tone shifting to one of genuine concern. "First and foremost, we want to express our deepest sympathies to all those affected by this tragic event. The safety and well-being of the community is our utmost priority."

"We unequivocally condemn this attack and are working closely with authorities to bring those responsible to justice," she says, her eyes flickering briefly off-camera.

I lean forward, my heart racing. Something's off. This doesn't sound like the Larry I know - the man who'd sooner set fire to a forest than admit he was wrong.

Emily takes a deep breath, and I swear I can see a bead of sweat forming on her brow. "In light of recent events, Mr. Sinclair has taken time to reflect on his stance regarding the pipeline project."

Wait, what? I blink rapidly, certain I've misheard.

"Through personal growth and gaining new perspectives," Emily continues, her voice gaining strength, "Mr. Sinclair has come to reconsider his position on this matter."

I sit back, the remote slipping from my hand and onto the sofa. Larry's absence gnaws at me, but his message is clear. There is more at stake now than profits or power plays. The room, once stifling with tension, seems to expand with the promise of a new direction—one that can mend more than just pipelines.

As Emily reads on, the door behind me creaks open. I whip around, my heart leaping into my throat. And there he is. Lawrence Sinclair, in all his impeccably-dressed, red-haired glory, standing silently in the doorway. His hazel eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that could melt steel.

Lawrence doesn't move, doesn't speak. He just... watches me. It's unnerving, to say the least. I've seen that gaze before, usually right before he's about to close a deal or crush a competitor. But this time, there's something different lurking behind those eyes. Something I can't quite put my finger on.

"Mr. Sinclair has learned the importance of balancing progress with environmental preservation," Emily's voice continues from the TV, drawing my attention back to her. "He plans to pivot his company towards more sustainable projects.

I look at him, incredulous. He doesn't even crack a smile. Just keeps staring at me like I'm some kind of puzzle he's trying to solve.

"In light of recent events," Emily reads on, her voice steady and professional, "Sinclair Shipping will be redirecting its resources towards developing eco-friendly transportation solutions. All plans for the pipeline project have been withdrawn. Mr. Sinclair has negotiated a buy-out deal with Billy Hargraves, who has agreed to purchase the pipeline project and associated rights.”

I shake my head, torn between disbelief and a tiny, treacherous spark of hope. Could it be true? Has the great Lawrence Sinclair actually had a change of heart? And, he sold the project to my father? Why would my father invest in a project that’s not being built? Unless my father was offering Lawrence a lifeline. A way to get out of the project, return investor money, and prevent his company from going under.

Emily's voice takes on a softer tone as she reads the next part of Lawrence's statement. "Mr. Sinclair credits his change of heart to someone very special who has shown him a different way of looking at the world. This person," she pauses for dramatic effect, "has become the most important part of his life."

My jaw drops. Wait, what? Is she talking about... me? No way. That's impossible. I must be hallucinating from all the stress and lack of sleep.

I turn to look at Lawrence again, searching his face for any hint of mockery or deception. But all I see is that same intense, unreadable expression. His hazel eyes bore into mine, and I swear I can almost feel the weight of his gaze.

"This is ridiculous," I say, more to myself than to Lawrence. "You're Lawrence freaking Sinclair. You don't change. You don't... care."

He still doesn't speak, but something in his expression shifts. Is that... vulnerability I see? On Lawrence Sinclair's face? Now I know I must be dreaming.

Emily's measured voice cuts through my swirling thoughts as she continues reading Lawrence's statement. "The funds allocated for this venture," Emily continues, "will be redirected towards environmental initiatives. These projects will focus on sustainable energy solutions and habitat restoration in the affected areas."

"This must be a dream," I say out loud.

But Emily's not done. "These initiatives will be overseen by the person who inspired this change of heart, someone whose passion for protecting our planet has opened his eyes to a new perspective."

My heart skips a beat. Wait, is she talking about...me?

I turn back to Lawrence, who's still doing his best impression of a very handsome statue. "You can't be serious," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Me?"

Emily pauses, and the tension in the room ratchets up about a thousand notches. I can practically hear my own heartbeat echoing off the walls. Whatever's coming next, I have a feeling it's going to be a doozy.

Lawrence takes a step closer, and suddenly I'm hyper-aware of his presence. It's like he's radiating some sort of magnetic field that's making it hard to breathe. Or maybe that's just the panic setting in.

“These next words are directly from Mr. Sinclair.” My eyes are glued to the television. Emily takes a deep breath, her professional demeanor cracking just slightly as she reads the final lines. “To the woman who has changed my life," she says, her voice carrying a weight I've never heard before, "I ask for her forgiveness for the pain I've caused and for her hand in marriage, hoping she'll stand by my side as we build a future together."

Holy. Freaking. Crap.

My jaw drops so fast I'm pretty sure it's left a dent in the floor. Did Lawrence Sinclair, ruthless business tycoon and former bane of my existence, just propose to me on national television?

I whip my head around to look at him, half-expecting to see that trademark smirk of his. But instead, I'm met with an expression I've never seen on his face before. Vulnerability. Hope. And dare I say it... love?

Tears start streaming down my face before I even realize I'm crying. God, when did I turn into such a sap? But as I look into those hazel eyes that used to infuriate me so much, I can't help but see our entire journey flash before me. The arguments, the grudging respect, the fake relationship that somehow became all too real.

"Well?" Lawrence says, his voice rough with emotion. "What do you say, Wildflower? Ready to save the world with me?"

I let out a watery laugh. "You're such an idiot," I whisper, shaking my head. Then, louder, "Yes. Yes, I will marry you, you impossible man."

The moment the words leave my mouth, Lawrence is moving towards me. He wraps his arms around me, and suddenly, it's like all the tension of the past months just melts away. I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent that's become so familiar.

"I love you," he murmurs into my hair. "Even if you are a stubborn, tree-hugging pain in my ass sometimes."

I can't help but laugh. "Right back at you, you arrogant, red-headed menace."