Page 9 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

And so wrong in every other way.

Oh, Caspian. I was completely fucking furious with him. And desolate all over again. How hurt did you have to be, how terrified of who you were, and what you wanted, to do something like this? Not just to himself.

But to me. And, not that I was super full of shits to give, to Nathaniel.

“We’ll get out of your way.” George gave my shoulder something between a pat and a shake. “You must have a lot to do.”

Except I was stuck. Staring helplessly at Caspian.

Waiting for him, somehow, in a handful of seconds, with nothing but silence between us, to trust, to understand, to change. And at the same time knowing it was utterly beyond him. I’d lost Caspian before we’d even met. To Lancaster Steyne. The man whose cruelty would possess him for the rest of his days.

And Nathaniel was more fucked up than any of us if he didn’t see it too.

“How about a different interview,” I heard myself say. “The two of you together.”

Caspian gave a convulsive start. “No.”

The smile I produced felt like an alien’s impression of one. “It’d make a wonderful story.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Let’s not be so hasty, my prince.” Nathaniel pressed in closer and whispered something in Caspian’s ear. And then, “I think it could be rather romantic.”

I shrugged. “Well, have a think about it. I’ll leave my details with Bellerose if you want to set it up.”

Then I wheeled round.

And on barely functioning legs, ran like a motherfucker.

Chapter 4

We went to the Starbucks round the corner, where I sat and ugly-cried into a raspberry and white chocolate muffin. Caspian would have had a perfect, probably monogrammed silk handkerchief to give me. George pushed a stack of paper napkins across the table. But then, she’d never broken my heart a bunch of times and topped it off by engaging herself to a man I knew was the last person in the world who could make her happy. Which put her way ahead of the game in the Taking Care of Arden stakes.

In any case, I eventually ran out of tears. Also gulps and hiccoughs and wails and snot. And then George brought me a big glass of water and said, “Do you want to have sex?”

“Um.” I blinked my sticky eyes. “What?”

She shrugged. “Well, I’m really bad at reassuring people and really good at fucking them. But I’m open to either.”

“I…I think I’ll try the reassurance?”

“Ah.”

My entire face felt like Violet Beauregarde after she ate the prototype Wonka gum. “What’s wrong?”

“I was rather hoping you wouldn’t say that.” She reached out to pat my hand. “There, there. He’s not worth it, girlfriend.”

So apparently I hadn’t run out of tears.

She regarded me in some dismay. “Oh God. I’m sorry, poppet. I did warn you I’m terrible at this.”

“What doesworthhave to do with anything?” I said with great personal dignity.

Okay. That’s a lie.

“What does worth have to do with anything?” I wailed wetly. “You don’t love people because they’re deserving. You love them b-because you love them.”

She folded her fingers around mine. “I know.”

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