Page 66 of Billionaire Romantic
I refuse to walk away. Not for this reason. If she decides she hates me for other reasons…no. I still won’t walk away.
I’ve waited too long for her. I’ve spent too many nights alone, wondering if I’ll ever find that one perfect, elusive girl who’s meant for me and only me.
Now that I’ve found her, the last fucking thing I’d do is to let her walk away, especially like this. It would hurt far more than anything else ever could.
If she hates me now, then I’ll prove her wrong. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what it costs me. She’s worth all of it.
She looked so scared and alone when she walked into our boardroom, putting on the bravest face. The three—and sometimes four—of us can be intimidating. We were once described in some article as “a united front of hot, powerful alpha billionaires” and it’s true that we more often than not get our way because of it. She didn’t back down to any one of us and that takes some fucking grit.
I was stunned to see her there. Of course I was. I was even more stunned by how fucking beautiful she is. I’d gotten used to it in the peacefulness of our hotel room. The whole weekend was like a dream I never wanted to wake up from.
But seeing her under the harsh lights of reality—so soft-looking, so sun-lit, so exquisitely perfect, like an angel or a goddess who happened to drop into the realm of us mere mortals to humor our mundanity for an hour or two, blinding me with her beauty…I knew.
I already knew. I already fuckingknew. If she struck me with Cupid’s arrow over the weekend, she impaled me through the goddamn heart this morning, so deeply and irrevocably that if she decides to pull it out again, I’ll bleed out all over the floor. It’ll kill me.
We’re in her elevator now. She’s still frowning at me and she’s so fucking cute all I want to do is get on my knees and grovel.
“I don’t know why you’re following me,” she huffs. “It’s trespassing at this point.”
“Not if you invite me in.”
“That tracks. You’re a vampire, after all. Feeding on the dreams of people like me.”
“I like the melodrama you’re infusing into our romance, Irish. I’d say it’s more Brontë than Dickens though. I’ll pace out on the street like Heathcliff, pining for you moodily in a black cloak if it’ll help.”
“‘Help’ is irrelevant at this point. Nothing’s going tohelp. Our ‘romance’”—in air quotes—“ended when you devalued my company—very aggressively, I might add—and youknewyou were devaluing it! Which makes it so much worse. That company isimportantto me. It’s important to all the people who rely on it for their salary and to pay their mortgages and to invest in their children’s futures. These dealsaffectpeople. But of course none of that matters to someone like you.”
She really is in a mood, but fair enough. She’s stressed out and no wonder. Sheisabout to lose everything. Her options are very limited, that was painfully clear in the paperwork. She was relying on an offer from us that might save her.If only I’d known.But I know now. And I’m about to do a lot more than save her. Because if she doesn’t let me, I’ll fucking drown. “You’re right.”
More glaring.
“I didn’t think about how our offer would make the CEO of Ashton Holdings feel.”
“Obviously.”
“I’m going to make a new offer. Not through Invested Enterprises, but personally.”
“Don’t bother. It’s too late. I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.”
“It’s not too late, Irish.”
“Itistoo late.” A tear pools and she quickly wipes it away. It’s something I simply can’t handle. My heart literally aches, like she’s tugging on that big-ass arrow she stuck in there. Nothing in the world matters to me except making this right. “I hate you,” she whispers.
I can’t stop myself from saying it. I’m feeling too hard. “Well, Iloveyou, so there.”
31
“As if.”I unlock my door and open it, but only a crack. I stand in front of it, so he can’t barge in. “You can’t.”
“The fuck I can’t.”
God, the man is infuriating. “You don’t even know me.”
I don’t want to invite him in. More accurately, I don’t want to invite Noah Maddox in. I only want Noah Steel. But he doesn’t exist.
“Idoknow you,” he insists. “In many ways, better than anyone ever has. I’m the only one who knows?—”
“Stop.” I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want to be reminded of any of that. And I hate that he’s right. The problem is, it doesn’t matter. “Anyway, thanks, I guess, for escorting me home against my will. I hope you have a wonderful day ruining lives and adding to your vault of money. Oh—” I hold out my wrist where the sapphire bracelet circles. “I can’t get this off but if you could please take it off for me you can have it back. I don’t want it.”
