Page 336 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“Maybe so,” she says, “but if you were all head-over-whatever for this guy, it wouldn’t matter. I mean, come on, sis,” she says. “The guy’s a billionaire. It’s not like you couldn’t just move somewhere else and never have to deal with it ever.”

“I’ve never asked him for money,” she says.

“Yeah,” she says, “I know. My sister the martyr. Even when you didn’t know I had anything to do with it, you were still blaming Zach. You even told me you knew it wasn’t his fault, the way people were acting, but that never seemed to matter.”

“It’s not Zach that’s the problem,” I tell her. “The problem is everyone who catches a glimpse of him in the distance. You started the whole thing here in town, but if you remember, you’re not the one that got me in the tabloids.”

“Again,” she says, “if you were invested in the relationship, why would that matter?”

“Because it does!” I shout but immediately wince. I’ve split my lip open again and over the next few minutes, I don’t say anything. I just hold a cotton ball against the cracked skin to stop the bleeding.

Naomi doesn’t say anything else, but she doesn’t have to. I don’t know how Zach found out all that stuff about me, but I can no longer ignore the fact that the relationship’s dead because I killed it.

The problem I have with relationships—the problem I’vealwayshad—is that even when I was dating guys in high school, I just assumed it was never going to last. I don’t know if it’s a problem of self-worth or if I’m used to being overshadowed, but Naomi’s right about that much.

Naomi leaves the bathroom before I do, even though my lip stopped bleeding a while ago and there’s nothing left for me to cover.

The night I walked out of the restaurant on Zach, I deleted his cell phone number. I’m still skeeved out by how much he knew about me, but maybe Naomi’s right. It’s possible he’s a sleazebag, but it’s also possible I overreacted because I was scared.

Okay, it’s more than a possibility.

I sidle over to the bathroom door and twist the lock. It takes a minute to wash everything off of my hands, but I still have Zach’s office number in New York. Pulling out my phone, I find the digits.

The phone rings.

“You’ve reached the office of Nikolai Scipio of Stingray Next-Gen Technologies,” a man’s voice answers.

“Hi,” I say and then follow it with a long pause.

“… hi,” the man says. “Is there something I can help you with, miss?”

“Michaels,” I say. “And now I just realized you probably weren’t asking for my name.”

The man sighs. “Ma’am, if this is a prank call—”

“No,” I say, “it’s not. I’m Grace Michaels.” I say, “I was hoping I could speak with Zach, or at least leave a message.”

“Yeah, Mr. Scipio isn’t taking phone calls right now,” the man says.

“Okay,” I say. “I can leave a message for him. Just tell him that I—”

The line clicks. I look at my phone. That little punk hung up on me.

I call the number back and the same voice answers, “You’ve reached the office of Nikolai Scipio of Stingray Next-Gen Technologies.”

I say, “Yeah, I think we got disconnected. It’s Grace—”

The line clicks again.

My first reaction is just to assume Zach told his assistant he didn’t want to speak with me, but even if that is the case, I can’t be too mad about it. Excuses aside, I know I ran out on him.

I still don’t know that I want to find out how Zach learned all that stuff about me, but the shock is gone. All that’s left is the space where our relationship should be.

It’s impulsive, and maybe even a little silly, but I take a quick look at my bank balance on my phone. I have about five hundred bucks left.

That should be more than enough for a plane ticket.

CHAPTER16

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