Page 69 of The Billionaire Benefactor

When he looked up at her and nodded, she didn’t loosen her grip, but held his wrist more firmly. Her touch calmed his worries, but it also seemed to send signals through his body. His stomach fluttered and his pulse raced. He stared at her small hand on his wrist.

Roman had never felt such a strong pull toward someone. It felt like everything in him—physically and emotionally—was drawn toward her. Was it because his subconscious remembered? Was it because reading his letters had made him feel this? Was it simply her?

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at this. Was I bad at talking to you before?”

She smiled and leaned back on the couch, still keeping her hold on his wrist. Her thumb lightly moved across his wrist. The tiny motion made it hard for him to focus on her words.

“You were worse before. The first time I met you, you had this big fake grin and tried to throw a bunch of money at me. I slammed the door on you. Then you came back with Blake and the guys to help and you basically insulted everything about my house. This is nothing. It’s actually an improvement.”

Roman felt embarrassed, but Jenny only smiled, as though remembering these things was simply a cute part of their story. “I’m surprised you let me back in after that,” he said.

“Me too. I’m glad I did, though.”

His heart stilled. It was her little comments like this that made it seem like she was offering up an invitation for him to walk through a door. If he wanted to.

“Jenny, I’m really sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry for the things that I did that I don’t remember—”

“Roman—”

He held up a hand and she quieted. “Please, let me say this. I understand that I did something I shouldn’t have, that I agreed not to do, and it was behind your back. I really am sorry for that. Though I think I would do it again if I did it to protect you. Maybe I should have found another way or told you about what I did when I did it, but I probably still would do it now. I guess this is more of a sorry, not sorry apology.” He gave her a wry smile.

“Am I supposed to say accepted, not accepted?” Her voice was softened by her smile.

“Something like that. What I’m most sorry for is what I do remember. I hate how I spoke to you in the hospital. I know you understand what happened—I couldn’t remember you and just assumed some fan got into my room somehow. I wasn’t kind and I hate thinking back on how I hurt you.”

“Roman, you didn’t know. You can’t be sorry for that. Please don’t feel badly. I’m fine. See? I let you back in the house again.”

Her tone was lighter now, but Roman didn’t think it was because she felt better. He suspected she was trying to make him feel better.

“I’m also sorry that I can’t remember you. I know I can’t control that, but I hate it. I was hoping seeing you in person might bring something back.”

Her voice was quiet, a little pained. “It hasn’t?”

“No.” He paused. “But I do have a sort of way of remembering.”

Roman leaned forward and pulled the folded letters from his back pocket. Jenny took her hand back from his wrist, running a hand through her hair. He could smell her shampoo then, something spicy like fall, cloves or cinnamon maybe. Another hazy memory surfaced, then disappeared.

He held the letters in his palm, turning them over in his hand. “I know that it’s weird that I’m here. From what I understand, we started kind of dating, then broke up. And then this whole thing happened. Maybe I should have stayed away. But I had these letters.”

He looked up at her then. Her eyes were wide. She looked a little fearful but hung on every word.

“I wrote these letters to you, but never sent them. I read them all and they helped me make sense of what I can’t remember. They made me want to come here and meet you. Meet you again.”

Before he could change his mind, Roman handed her the folded letters and closed her fingers around them. He stood.

“Are you leaving?”

Her voice was so sweet, so tender. It made Roman’s chest ache. “I thought it might be best.”

Jenny took his hand, hers so small that it disappeared into his. “Will you stay?”

His face burned, thinking of the contents of the letters. Could he sit here while she read them?

But her eyes were pleading. He couldn’t say no to her, so he sat down beside her on the couch, taking a sip of water and two pills from a small packet he kept in his pocket. The headache hadn’t gotten worse but had not gone away either.

Jenny unfolded the notes and began to read.

Roman watched her face as she read, though it was painful. First she smiled, pressing a hand to her cheek, which turned pink and then a deep crimson. She was adorable when blushing. Then she cried silently, the tears falling on the paper. He wanted to reach out for her, but didn’t know that he should, so he simply waited. With the last of them, she cried harder, her shoulders shaking and her sobs breaking his heart. She let go of the papers and they fluttered to the ground. Both her hands covered her eyes as she wept.

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