Page 79 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

I tried to word this as carefully as I could. We’d arrived at some kind of level ground, a plane we’d been climbing toward since we’d arrived in Arkansas. I didn’t want to lose the ground we’d covered.

“I get that things are rocky between you and your family. All of your family. You’re a successful businessman, but your success doesn’t seem to be enough. They already have money, Duncan. They want something different from you, don’t they?”

He stared at a spot on the car, considering. I noticed Clive’s face in the rearview mirror, watching us. It made me wonder what he knew about the situation with the Hawthornes.

“As for your grandma, well, not to be rude, but she doesn’t have long to live. You’re trying to buy your way into her affections before she passes away.”

“That’s not true.”

“I think it is. Money is your solution to everything, but money can’t heal hearts. If you’ve let your family down in some way, you can’t buy your way out of that.”

“I haven’t let them down.” His tone rose.

“You just said?—”

He slashed a hand through the air. “I’m done talking about this.”

“Fine. But don’t blame me if?—”

“Of course not. My assistant, who should know me better than most people, can’t stand me.”

Whoa. Where was this coming from?

Sometimes, when emotion was pent up for too long, letting go of one thing meant releasing other things you’d suppressed. Was this something that had bothered him about me?

“What do you mean, ‘should’? I do know you better than most people, Duncan.”

“Okay, then. You act like you can’t stand me at the office. You hate the rumors swirling around between us. What about me is so repellant?”

Glowering, he stared me down. It didn’t mask the pain still stewing in his eyes.

I inhaled, taking in the passing cars and the spread of grass between us and The Painted Lady. A couple walking their dog strolled past, forcing me to retreat onto the street until they passed.

“Maybe we should head back to the house. We can talk after you’ve had some time to cool down.”

“No. We’re doing this now.” His bossy tone took over.

I lost it. “That. That tone. I can’t stand that tone. I can’t stand that you see everyone as a rung on a ladder. You have no respect for others—how can I possibly think otherwise when I witness that fact every day?”

“I respect people,” he argued.

He sounded small and petulant. Seeming to realize as much, he turned away from me.

“Do you?” I came around and stood in front of him. “Most people like being told ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Most peopleappreciate a polite response rather than an annoyed snap. Most people like being listened to and having their thoughts validated.”

“And you think I don’t listen to you?”

“You’re on your phone or tablet every time I try to talk to you. You say you want a relationship with me?—”

He shook his head. “I don’t. I was wrong.”

“—but I’m not sure you know how to have one. I think you’ve been indulged all your life. I think your requests were granted because your parents were so busy working, and your grandma—or whoever they hired to watch you—just gave in rather than teaching you how to treat others.”

I was going too far, but he’d asked for it. And while he was keeping everything close to the chest, I was tired of doing the same.

We’d known one another long enough, and I was pretty sure we had more than a boss-employee relationship going on here. It was time to clear the air.

I was tired of things being the way they were.

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