Page 67 of Off Limits (Alpha Billionaire)

No. I refused to accept that as a possibility.

Dylan made promises to me, and I trusted him. The pain medication had to be making me unable to properly focus, so I was obsessing over some words that I had no context for. I really just wanted to go to sleep.

Eventually, I gave up. I leaned over the side of the bed and found the padded walking boots. I got up and slowly got myself to the bathroom. It was a relief to be back in bed and take those boots off. I got comfortable, rearranged the pillows and the blankets so I was cradled in a soft, warm nest. I nestled in, my eyelids drifted down, and then they shot up.

I had perfect clarity, and I was wide awake. Of course Dylan would be pissed if he had to work with Ryan. That had to be why he said he wouldn’t like it. That's what he was going to have to suck up and deal with.

“Oh, God, no,” I groaned. No, no, no, no, no. There was no way he could accept the proposal after everything.

How could he do this to me? Ryan ditched me in the middle of the country. My feet were missing a significant layer of skin. I had stitches because of that man.

I sat up and let my mind spin out of control. It was the only logical thing. What else could Dylan be talking about?

I was really stupid. I had let my emotions run away with me. I'd let his pretty words blind me to the fact that Dylan was a businessman and he would do what he needed to ensure he continued to make the big bucks that paid for a houseful of staff, a live-in nanny, and a private nurse for his mother.

After debating with myself whether or not I should confirm my suspicions with Dylan, I grabbed my phone. I was too old to play these games. I texted him.

What were you complaining about this morning? Everything all right at work?

That was a good, open-ended question that should prompt him to tell me anything about Ryan.

I chewed on my nail and waited for his response. He was taking forever. I texted more.

I wanted to check in and make sure the proposal you needed to pull together is working out.

This time, he responded immediately.We’ll talk when I get home.

We’ll talk? What did that mean?

Why wasn’t he telling me more? Why did I have to wait? This wasn’t good.

I texted him back.What does that mean? What do you have to tell me?

It means we will talk when I get home. Rest, Jessica. I’ll see you tonight.

I stared at his message. Why was he telling me to rest? What tone of voice was he texting me in? Why was he brushing me off?

My gut clenched, and I suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this. He was signing the deal with Ryan. I just knew it. He didn’t want to tell me. That’s why he had been hiding at his office all week. He was avoiding me.

Well, if that's what he thought he needed to do, then maybe I didn’t need to be here. How could I stay with him if he was capable of working with Ryan after everything?

I grabbed my boots and shoved them on my feet a little too vigorously.

“Ow, ow, damn it!” I dissolved in a puddle of tears. My feet hurt. My heart hurt. I was convinced in my soul that I had overheard Dylan accept that he would have to work with Ryan whether he liked it or not.

I had to leave. I had to remove myself from this situation. I couldn’t get caught between the two of them again if they came to blows. And they would fight, no doubt about that. I wasn’t safe anywhere near Ryan. This time, he had simply left me on the side of the road. Statistics always showed the second time was always so much worse, and frequently, fatal. I didn’t want to be a statistic.

Breathing through my mouth, I forced myself to walk into the bathroom to grab my pills before I headed across the hall. Eachstep was a unique kind of agony. I had walked too much the day before, and I was suffering for it now.

I stepped into the nursery. Not hearing anything coming from Max’s room, I hurried into our giant shared closet and grabbed as many of my belongings as I could and shoved them into a bag. Thinking I heard his nanny’s voice, I rushed with great pain into my room and closed the door. I slipped a dress on and grabbed my purse and car keys.

Staring at the keys, I realized that the last time I saw my car, it was still parked at the hotel. Then I remembered Dylan hired his assistant’s son to help him bring my car home. Home. Well, maybe not any longer.

I listened at my bedroom door. I didn’t hear anything. Maybe they had already gone down for breakfast. I needed to get out of the house as fast as I could, which wasn’t fast at all. With each agonizing step, I told myself I had to do this. My heart was breaking and I was crying. I just wanted to collapse on the ground and die, but I forced myself to take another step.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I should text Dylan again and… what, have him lie to me some more? No, I was doing what was best for me. I needed to get some distance from him, from the confusing thoughts.

It seemed like forever to get to my car, and somehow, no one stopped me. I wasn’t moving very fast, and no one noticed. I slid into my car. With the extra thick boots on, the sensory feedback I relied on for driving was missing. I either pushed too hard or not enough on the gas pedal.

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