Page 9 of Beauty and the Billionaire

“I do,” I said calmly. “And I’m a hard worker. There’s nothing I can’t learn to do.”

“Is that so?” Dominic asked, taking a step toward me.

I hated how it made me look up to keep my gaze on his eyes.

“Zain, stop this,” Father said. “You will not do this.”

I looked away from Dominic to my father. “Yes, I will,” I said firmly. I hadn’t thought about it, but the decision had already been made. “It’s my college tuition. I won’t let you borrow money from half the neighborhood to pay a shark for it.”

“Mind your tongue,” Dominic growled. “Or we have no deal.” Someone who didn’t want this would have cut me off a while ago. Dominic had a reason he was still listening, and for curiosity’s sake, I wanted to find out what it was. And could it have anything with the shameless way his gaze had traveled over me two nights ago? The thought sent chills down my spine, but the tingling sensation wasn’t confined only to my spine.

“Father, please,” I said. “Let me earn this.”

“He will be paid well,” Dominic said. “And if he truly can work, perhaps he will make more than is necessary.”

Father considered this, although he was reluctant.

“Zain, don’t,” Mother said softly. My siblings were gone, and I hadn’t noticed when they had left.

Dominic expressed mild boredom when he next exhaled. “I need to leave soon. Will you please make up your mind? I will wait in my car.”

Something hot and molten uncoiled in me. I hated him.

Dominic walked out, and Father crossed the shop furiously. “Why did you do this, Zain?”

“I told you yesterday,” I said softly, almost guiltily. “I…can’t just sit here and let you pay for it. Not if I can help it.”

“But you’ll go with him. To Harringford, Zain. Your place is here. By God, I should be going instead,” Father said.

I had wished to leave for college, although I had never admitted that aloud. I had wanted to taste the same freedom people my age tasted at eighteen when they moved into dorms and learned to handle their own time. I had never had any of that, and it was something I couldn’t get anymore.

I didn’t want this to be my place. I sure as hell didn’t want Harringford to be my place, but if I could work and prove myself, maybe my parents would finally see me as more than a child in need of protection.

“I want to do this,” I said. “And I’m old enough to make that choice.” And when that didn’t soften my father’s features at all, I added, “You’re needed here more than me. And you have Rami and Yara to help you around the store.”

“He made his choice, Amar,” Mother added softly. I was surprised to hear it, but she took my side. With my father’s hand in hers after a moment, Mother looked at me. “You shouldn’t let Mr. Blackthorne wait.”

“Maria,” Father said, exasperated.

“He’s proud, Amar. Too proud, just like you,” Mother said kindly, her eyes glimmering with tears like I was going away for good. Perhaps, in some way, I was. Not a little boy anymore. Normal kids had this moment when they enrolled in college, but my studies had been so uneventful that they hadn’t disturbed my regular life at all. “We can’t deny him this.”

Father’s face relaxed a little. “Alright,” he whispered, then looked at me. “Alright,” he repeated louder. “You may go with Mr. Blackthorne, but there is a condition. If he mistreats you in any way, yells at you, or complains about your work, you will return.”

I nodded. I couldn’t see Dominic Blackthorne keeping his tongue, but I imagined I could fly under his radar for the most part. He would forget all about me within a week.

“Go pack some clothes,” Father said. “I will keep them waiting for you.”

I hurried away from the cash register like an arrow, finding my biggest backpack and stuffing it with the kinds of books I didn’t want anyone finding and reading. I didn’t want them to find out some hard truths in my presence, and I didn’t want it extra hard in my absence. So I stuffed my backpack with all the risky titles and a small pile of T-shirts and pants, put on my coat and beanie, and kissed my siblings goodbye. Karim was upset, although I wasn’t sure how much he understood. “I’ll be back,” I promised.

“When?” Yara asked.

I shrugged. “Soon.”

And that was it.

Downstairs, my mother hugged me. “Text me when you can,” she said. “And call me.” She kissed me on the cheek. “You’re too rash for your own good.”

“I know,” I whispered. I picked up Mary Renault’s books from under the counter and then shook my father’s hand. He pulled me into a hug, tapped my upper back, and let me go.

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