Page 20 of Beauty and the Billionaire

Dominic crossed the room with a furious speed and snatched the photo album a moment before I could bend down and pick it up. “This is private. Can’t you see that?”

“I’m sorry. I thought…” Embarrassment burned in my face and neck. My mouth was dry. The guilt I felt was therespecifically because I had known, almost immediately, that I should have put the album back where it belonged.

“It’s my damn fault,” he said in a deep growl. “I should have burned this fucking thing years ago.” He retreated a step with determination as if he was about to do just that.

“No,” I cried. “Don’t.”

He glared at me. “You are forgetting yourself, Zain.”

“Don’t burn it,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’ll regret it.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he said stiffly. “The only thing I regret is bringing a nosey guy into my home.”

I snapped my mouth shut, my eyes widening. I hadn’t meant to be nosey, and he knew it. He must have known it.

A tremor of something came over his face, and then he took a step back. Calmly, he said, “That’s enough for today. You’re free.”

Before I could protest, his back was turned to me, and he was striding back to the office. He shut the door, and there was a distinct click when he locked himself inside.

With angry and embarrassed tears stinging my eyes, I blinked fast and hurried out of the library.

When I shut myself inside my room, I leaned all my weight against the door and tried to silence the buzzing in my ears.

Dominic was not that happy young man anymore, and I couldn’t understand it. He had everything. He had everything he could ever wish for. This house was more than the rest of the world could hope for; his net worth was larger than the GDP of most developing countries; he had appointed skilled, respectable people to all the key positions in all his companies so that he never had to worry about them again. Where had it all gone so wrong? Where had he lost his heart? Where had that smiling young man become a vindictive, debt-settling, justice-dispensing monster?

I wanted to know. But more than anything, I wanted to be away from here.

Dominic

Pages were scattered around my study.

Dusk glow poured through the windows, giving the room a fiery orange tone. The wallpaper on the far side was chipped from impact. The spine had split, and the pages poured out everywhere.

I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the door. My hand ran through my hair, pulling now and again until pain reminded me that I was still alive and awake.

My gaze went over the mess in the study. Some of the photos had fallen out of the pages before the album had reached its destination. I picked up the nearest one. My mother had taken that photo. She had taken it by the lake near our house on the day I received a letter informing me of my scholarship. I was going to Harvard to break the cycle of poverty that had plagued my family for generations. All my hopes and dreams and all my work had paid off.

In the photo, surrounded by all the green shrubbery and brilliant green-blue water of the lake, I stood in my swimming shorts next to my father. By that time, I was already taller than him, and I suspected that was just the first of many grievances my existence had caused him.

Oh, he was smiling in the photo, but I was certain that even then, he hated me.

Some parents are strict because they want you to excel. Some are oppressive because they want to achieve everything throughyou. And some, like my dear old pa, are envious. You look at a younger version of yourself and can’t help but be jealous of it. That was my father. He watched me grow taller while he shrank; he looked at the way I styled my hair while his hairline receded; he saw me catch the eye of every girl that crossed my path while he let go of himself and bragged only of all the conquests of his youth. But the worst offense of all was the fact that I managed to do my work at the farm and still study hard. It cost me my life and my childhood, but I had done it. I had earned my scholarship, my ticket out of that hell, and he just couldn’t get over it.

Back then, my mother still had a reason to negotiate for me. She still tried to reason with Father, but that wouldn’t last long.

I looked at the young man in the photo as my eyes stung. They weren’t tears that stung them. I was all out of tears and had been for years. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried. Probably around the time this photo was taken.

That young man, with hope and dreams practically beaming from his stupid, inexperienced face, was dead. Stupid optimism had killed and buried him. Even then, he was walking around with that noose around his neck, but he didn’t know it. He’d find out. A year or so later, he would find out.

A pang of guilt twisted my heart. I thought of Zain’s wide eyes, the shock of being caught, and I squeezed my eyes shut. He hadn’t known. For fuck’s sake, I’d said he was free to browse.

I had to make it right.

CHAPTER 6

Closer to You

Zain

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