Page 68 of The Billionaires' Gamble
He drops to a knee at my side and spins my chair until I’m facing him. I swallow at the sight of his wide chest. That strong body saved Katherine. He just?—
“Hey.” He smacks his hand gently against my cheek, not enough to sting, but it startles me nevertheless. “Take a breath, man.”
I suck in a huge lungful of air, and my body shocks back to life. When had I started holding my breath?
“We got her,” he says.
“I know.”
“So why are you spiraling?”
I shrug. That’s a good question.
He sighs. How can such a small sound say so many things? Disappointment, frustration, fatigue.
Alex clasps the side of my neck. His hand feels huge against my throat. Powerful, which makes me realize just how vulnerable the neck is.
His thumb brushes over my Adam’s apple, and I freeze.
I swear he does, too.
Now we’re both holding our breath.
“We agreed that we all could have done better.”
I nod.
“So forgive yourself.”
“It’s not that easy. I was cruel. You were kind. I sent her right into their hands.” Hot tears storm my eyes, and I blink them back. “I?—”
“You?”
I lick my lips because they feel as dry as a desert. The sentence that’s been running through my head over and over rolls around on my tongue, but I’m not sure I can say it. Not out loud and certainly not to my best friend. The man in love with the woman I?—
“Say it, Gabe. Stop holding back on me.”
“I don’t know how to live with that!” The words explode out of me.
“What’s going on?” Katherine asks.
I settle back in the chair, rubbing my hands over my face. Of course she’d pop up just as I’m melting down. But I can’t help but look at her, gaze roaming because I need to see with my own eyes that she’s okay. Her hair is a mess and her cheeks are pink, but I don’t think she’s ever looked lovelier.
And now I feel like an absolute jerk for not hauling ass to check on her. Shoving my chair back, I stand.
Her eyes are wide, curious, but there’s also wariness there. We stare at each other for a long beat. I have no idea what to say. How to begin to ask for forgiveness and explain the chaos factory in my brain.
And I realize the days of her helping me, softening the blow, are over.
As they should be.
Do the crime, do the time.
Stepping around Alex, I cross to her and she tips her chin up to meet my gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
There’s a long moment where she doesn’t nod, blink, or smile. I’m not sure she takes a single breath. The rational part of my brain is proud of her. Happy that she’s not backing down and cowering. Nor is she forgiving me easily.
