Page 65 of The Bossy Billionaire

My eyes flick to Lucy, and I am angry that this night has turned to shit. The one day of the year she needs me to push her forward in life, and my fucking ex-fiancée turns up out of the blue. With cameras at the ready. She always loved the media attention, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I have rarely had paps at my apartment. That is what is so good about New York, as there is always someone more important or more popular, so I get left alone. It was also another reason I wanted Lucy with me tonight. The media in Baltimore hound her constantly, and today being the anniversary of the fires, I knew that they would be watching her every move. Looks like we will be front page news tomorrow, regardless of my efforts.

The trip in the elevator is slow and painful. Amy looks the same. Her long hair loose and flowing, her sun-kissed complexion vibrant. But as I look at her, I wonder what the hell I ever saw in her. She is superficial. Her lips are plumper than I remember, her skin taut. I tighten my grip on Lucy, needing her to anchor me because I feel like I am in shock.

The ding of the elevator breaks into my thoughts and rings out into the otherwise silent atmosphere.

“Looks like you have renovated since I was here last,” Amy remarks casually, like she is here for a friendly dinner, rather than turning my world upside down. I step out and strut to my door and open it, letting Lucy inside, and together we walk to the living room with Amy following.

“What are you doing here?” I spit out, my hand in a fist by my side, the other gripping on to Lucy’s. Amy is relaxed, looking around my penthouse like she has all the time in the world. I have no idea what games she is playing, but I don’t like it. I feel off-kilter. Not myself. I look at Lucy, who looks slightly pale, and regret sits deep in my stomach that I am doing this to her. I am such an asshole for bringing this into her life. She has enough to worry about, me and our relationship shouldn’t be added to that list. That is on me.

“What are you doing here?” I repeat my question, barking the words at her, wondering what the hell is going on. I always thought seeing her again would go differently. I imagine her turning up, apologizing, jumping in my arms, and us falling back into whatever it was that I thought we had. But looking at her now, I know that is in the past. She looks the same yet doesn’t hold a flame to Lucy. I feel nothing. Nothing but the need for answers. She at least owes me that.

“I’m going to give you both some privacy,” Lucy says quietly from beside me. I grip her hand, not wanting her to leave, but then I look at her face, and I know she needs a moment. I swallow harshly and give her a small nod.

“Let me walk you down to the bedroom,” I tell her, only just now remembering that she has never been to my apartment before. “Stay here,” I grit out to Amy as I walk down the hall, pulling Lucy along until I get to the end and push through to my bedroom.

“Lucy, I am so sorry,” I start, but she puts up her hands.

“It’s okay, Huxe. Go and sort it all out. I will just wait here,” she says, her smile small, but the pain in her eyes clear. I feel my insides start to gape, the pain in me starting to build. This whole evening is now a nightmare.

“Okay,” I say, not wanting to leave her. I watch her for a beat as she walks to my floor-to-ceiling windows and looks at the city below before she takes a seat on the lounge and sighs. I grind my teeth and turn and walk out the door, leaving it open. I don’t need Lucy wondering what is happening out here with Amy, because we are talking, then she is leaving. That is it.

As I pace back down the hallway to the living room, I feel angry. It is then I realize that I haven’t felt this kind of anger since I met Lucy. This rage was always what fueled me for the past two years. I buried myself in work and women and lived a life that many young men aspire to. Yet when I met Lucy, my outlook changed. I didn’t realize it until now. I swallow, my eyes now pinned on the woman in front of me. I need some fucking answers. And as Amy looks up at me with a smile that used to make my knees week, my gaze on her doesn’t soften, and I need to suppress a growl that feels like it is going to burn up my chest.

“I have been calling you,” she says, looking at me accusingly, like it is my fault that we have been apart.

“Bullshit. When?” I push her.

“Every day for the last few weeks,” she says, and I squint at her before it dawns on me.

“The unknown number…” I think out loud.

“Yes. Why didn’t you answer?” she demands, and I almost snarl. Is she for fucking real right now?

“What, so you leave me without any trace two years ago, and just pop back up now with an unknown number? Expecting that I will be here waiting for you?” I say, shocked at her audacity.

“Well, I am back now.” I notice the large diamond on her finger. The one I gave to her years ago. The one that she kept. I feel the bile rise in my throat. It is large, glistening like it is newly cleaned, and so ostentatious I almost huff in mockery at my own gift to her. “I want us to spend time together.”

“I’m too busy,” I tell her, not wanting to go into my private life with Lucy. Lucy is none of her business. I turn my gaze out the window, the dark starry night of New York swirling outside as turmoil, pain, and a heavy heart all sit in me right now. I am so confused. Where the hell has she been all this time? Why is she even here?

“Busy fucking that woman you were with. A Rothschild?” she says, and my head whips around to look at her so violently that I am surprised I don’t get whiplash.

“Watch your words,” I warn, watching her eyebrow quirk.

“I know I went away. I had to find myself…” I feel like I am in a movie. I can tell she isn’t being genuine.

“That’s nice for you. Did you ever consider the ramifications of that decision? Did you ever think that, maybe if you had come to me, and we talked like fucking adults, we could have sorted it all out amicably?” I ask her. My brow is tense, and I feel a headache coming on.

“It was too much; we were too much.” I can’t believe she is so calm, when I feel like I am going to tear the leather off my Italian-made sofa. Yes, in hindsight, we were too much. Too wrong for each other, too different.

“You should have fucking talked to me!” I yell at her, the years of heartache, tension, uncertainty all boiling over. The years of feeling like I was worthless, jumping from woman to woman, as I never wanted to commit because she left without a trace, making me feel like I wasn’t worth being with. Who can take a diamond ring, say yes, and a month later just disappear? Who does that? To now turn up and demand things of me?

“I know. I know that now. But I had my reasons,” she says quietly, and I take a deep breath. This. This is what I have wanted. Answers. Answers to why she left so abruptly without a trace. Then I can get her out of my apartment and get back to Lucy where I belong.

“Well, please, feel free to share them with me now,” I say sarcastically as I run my hand through my hair, trying to soothe myself. This kind of anger is only soothed by a soft woman in a warm bed. Lucy’s face comes to my mind. The pain and confusion laced in her gaze when Amy turned up mere moments ago. Fuck.

“I fell pregnant.” At that, my world spins. I grip on to the back of the sofa as I try to swallow and focus my scattered brain to ensure I hear her right.

“Pregnant?” I ask her, shocked.

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