Page 58 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

And they were his family. He understood that now.

But the thought of returning to Manhattan brought something else to the fore. Skye.

How could he go there and not see her?

How could he go and not at least tell her he was in town and give her the option of seeing him? He could put the ball in her court. In a totally non-comital, easy, no-drama way. To show her how different he was to Jay.

And if she didn’t want to see him?

He ignored the chasm in the centre of his chest. He wouldn’t contemplate that yet. He wasn’t sure he could.

Fourteen

THE ONE THING TO BE said for Skye’s coping mechanism was that she was earning bucketloads. Keeping herself busy in an attempt not to think about Leandro meant she accepted every shift being thrown at her and dazzling more than any server had ever dazzled in an attempt to earn tips, tips, tips. When she wasn’t working, she was with Harper. Playing with her, reading to her, walking with her, watching a cartoon together. Whatever. Keeping her little body close to Skye’s and reassuring herself that she’d made the right decision.

Nothing in life was worth jeopardizing this.

She couldn’t let someone into her life, without knowing what the future held. She had to put all of her energy right here. With Harper.

She was exhausted.

Too exhausted to cry.

Too sad to cry?

She wasn’t sure. She felt bereft. There was a terrible, all-consuming weight pressing down on her chest, trying to convince her constantly that she’d done the wrong thing in breaking up with Leandro. Except she hadn’t broken up with him. They hadn’t been a couple. They’d been sleeping together. ‘Having fun’. It had been meaningless for him.

Only, it hadn’t.

She’d heard it in his voice, when they’d last spoken. She’d heard his shock. It was like she’d side-swiped him completely. She’d heard his shock and had known he felt more than he was saying. But that was the point.

She needed the words. She needed the promise. She needed the assurance that he was different, and that she was safe with him. She needed to hear him say it, to acknowledge all of the things she was scared of, to promise her everything. And he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Because that wasn’t what he wanted. He did want Skye. He did want more of what they’d shared, but that wasn’t enough for her.

So she kept working, and she kept looking after Harper, and so what if most days she forgot to eat until her stomach felt as though it was caving in on itself and she forced herself to grab a piece of bread and consume at least that before bed, so her growling stomach wouldn’t wake anyone up? So what if she felt like a zombie most of the time, if her over-bright persona at work was so brittle she felt as though she might crack under the slightest pressure?

On one such night when she’d taken care of a particularly demanding group of guests—low level royalty from a European country—she caught the subway home feeling as though her eyes were stinging from exhaustion and that her feet might melt off from overuse. She walked the short distance from the station, her mind numb, out of habit. She forced herself not to think of anything because if she let herself, all thoughts led back to Leandro. To memories of him. His kisses, his touch, his gentle exploration of her, his eyes, his laughter, his kindness, his generosity. All of him.

She missed him like a limb.

At home, she showered quickly and silently, changing into a pair of yoga pants and a loose shirt before having a handful of crackers from the pantry. Before going to bed, she went to check on Harper, her heart swelling at the prospect of seeing her little girl, who was growing impossibly quickly and changing before her eyes. What would Skye tell Harper about her dad? The lawyers had been aggressive with Jay, pushing him to give up custody of Harper in exchange for not pressing charges. The longer the case went on, the more and more convinced she became that he didn’t want to be a father anyway. He never had. It had always been about Skye, about using Harper to control Skye, to hurt her, to keep her in line. Not once had he asked for photographs of their daughter, nor had he ever called just to see how Harper’s day was. Not once had he shown any interest in the subject of schooling for Harper, even though he’d had the benefit of attending an elite academy in the city.

Skye sighed, pushing the door inwards and tiptoeing across the room.

Only Harper wasn’t there.

Skye’s heart sped up. She glanced around, as if half-expecting to see her daughter hiding behind the door. But there was no sign of her anywhere in her small bedroom. She walked quickly to her own room, checking the bed there. Sometimes Harper snuggled into the sheets when she missed Skye. Another pang in her heart as she thought of her little girl feeling that. Harper wasn’t in Skye’s room either.

Okay. Perhaps she’d gone into bed with Skye’s parents. That wasn’t impossible. If she wasn’t well or had experienced a nightmare?

Skye half-ran down the corridor, throwing open the door with no attempt to be quiet. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, scanning the bed. Two shapes. But she moved closer to be sure. Her mother woke instantly, sitting up. “Skye? What is it?”

“Mom? Where’s Harps?”

Irena stared at Skye. “What do you mean?”

And in that moment, Skye’s heart turned to ice. Gone was the ability to imagine this was normal, that everything was fine.

“She’s not in her bed. She’s not in my bed. Where is she?”

---