Page 51 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée (French Conquests 1)

Before he disappeared through the doorway, leaving the tray of untouched pastries getting cold on the little table, he said. “I’ll give you your privacy. Just be sure to tell Maman you’re leaving. You don’t have to explain. I’ll do that for you later. She’ll miss you.”

I’ll miss them, too,she thought, as her heart crumbled.And you. Especially you.

***

Alex sat back in his heavily padded chair in his penthouse office, on the 30thfloor of one of his hotels. Outside, the city bustled as cities always did: cars generated smog, pedestrians jaywalked, and street vendors hawked their wares. But he was sealed off in his expensive bubble, protected from the muggy heat of the late American summer.

In his mind he could still smell the fresh, floral air of Provence. It was funny how you could spend ten years of your life not missing something as insignificant as the scent of your homeland, but once you were exposed to it again, that was all you could think about. It was as if the air he’d been born to had once again permeated his soul.

Just as Jacyn had.

What an ass he had been, allowing her to walk out of his life. He’d been a coward, defiling his love for her with his silence. What kind of man did that?

The more rational voice in his head reminded him that it had been the right thing to do, to let her leave before he caused her any harm. He was messed up, broken by a childhood dominated and controlled by his bastard of a father, and a youth tainted by heartbreak and betrayal. Once you’d been hurt like that, you didn’t ever want to be hurt again.

Coward,his heart whispered.

The door to his office swung open, and a familiar presence filled the room. He sensed it at once, knew who it was without looking around.

He heard the tap-tap of his admin’s high heels on the floor as she breathlessly appeared behind his visitor, and her voice saying, “I tried to stop him, sir.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. You can leave us.”

The door shut firmly and Alex swung his chair away from the plate glass, floor-to-ceiling window; around to face the man who had violated his space. “What the hell are you doing here, Liam?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” his brother countered.

Alex hated having to tilt his head to look up at Liam; it put him in a position that reminded him of the struggles he’d always faced in their lives. Younger brother. Second child. His parent’s least favorite. He hadn’t even been able to marry the woman he’d wanted… then.

So he got up, came around his desk, and faced him, man to man, glad to find that they were both equals now, equal in stature and size, wealth, and power. He’d never had to feel like the kid brother again.

“What the hell do you mean, ask me the same thing?” he demanded aggressively. “Since when do I have to answer to you about my movements?”

“Since you let a beautiful, intelligent, ambitious woman walk out of your life, you pussy.”

Alex bristled, feeling the hairs all over his body rise like those of a stray dog being challenged. “What did you just say?”

Liam snorted. “You heard me. That woman is in love with you.”

He’d heard. She’d told him herself—and yet he’d let her go. He wanted to kick himself, but would rather die than admit as much to his brother. “If I were you, I’d worry more about Sofia and that train wreck you call a marriage—”

Liam winced, making Alex feel guilty about hurting his brother. He wasn’t a cruel man; why had he intentionally tried to cause pain?

“Sofia’s gone. She’s left me and Willa. She ran off with some Greek businessman she met at one of those outrageous parties she loves to attend.” He spat out the name like it tasted bad. “Turns out, she’s pregnant—”

“Your wife is pregnant, and you’re divorcing—”

“Not for me!” Liam snapped. He took a step closer. “Our marriage was a sham from the start. I haven’t touched her in over five years. The baby is Martin’s.”

Alex looked puzzled. “The baby is the tutor’s, but she ran off with a Greek guy?”

“Turns out a tutor might be good for a little sex on the side, but can’t maintain a woman of her tastes in the way she expects. Before we were married, Papa forced her to sign a Prenuptial agreement. Papa also wrote in his will that if I were to divorce Sofia, I would lose my claim to any of the family wealth and it would pass on to you.”

“I don’t want his money! Isn’t there some way to fight this? He can’t do this. Even in death, he wants to control our lives.”

“I don’t care to fight it. I don’t need the money. The château is entailed to the title, so it’s mine until my death. The past ten years of my life has been miserable, and I deserved it for what I did to Sofia. But I am tired of being stuck in this marital prison that Papa created.”

“You have to do something, because I don’t want the money.” He wouldn’t comment on whether his brother had gotten everything he deserved for hurting a woman.

---