Page 53 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

From the way she acted, anyone would have thought Duncan was the last person she wanted to see. She gaped from Duncan to me with her mouth ajar.

“We’ll be at Grandmother’s party,” Duncan assured her. He buttoned his suit coat and inclined his head, first at his mom and then his grandma. “We’re excited for you.”

“This particular birthday is rather monumental,” Grandma said with superiority, one hand poised on the head of her cane. “Ninety-five is an accomplishment.”

“Very true,” I said, offering the older woman a smile only to receive a nod in return.

We made our goodbyes, slipped back into our shoes, and were out the door. The minute we were back outside, my lungs expanded in huge breaths. It felt as though I’d been binding my chest the way some women did in old books to try and conceal their gender or something and I could finally take a full breath.

I waited for Duncan to say something, but he didn’t wait around on the porch. In fact, he took off in such quick strides, I had to run to keep up down the verdant sidewalk.

The sleek black car we’d driven here in was still parked out front. Ever the attentive driver, Clive stepped out of the driver’s seat, but he didn’t make it to the door before Duncan opened it himself and gestured for me to climb in.

Okay, then.

With my brain in a complete whirl of confusion and disbelief, I slipped in, taking his side of the car. He sank in after me, and the sound of the door slamming opened the flood gates.

“That was the worst,” Duncan muttered. His knees struck the seat in front of him as he slouched in the seat like a teenage boy and covered his face with his hands.

“You want to tell me what just happened?” I asked.

Slowly, his hands slid from his face. In the process of his recovery, he’d tangled the front of his hair, disturbing its usually coiffed style. Tendrils of hair tangled in front of his eyes, and I was pretty sure I’d never seen him looking more attractive.

Color flushed up the sides of his throat again, the way it had when I’d absentmindedly rested my hand on his leg. He straightened.

“Rosabel,” he said, starting with my name as though he were about to explain. As though he were about to answer my question. His lips thinned. He lifted a hand toward me as if he were about to take mine. Then, seeming to think better of it, heplaced his hand on his leg and said, “I—I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Like I’d witnessed an embarrassing confession or something.

Then again, that visit hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

“But I’m glad you were there,” he said as I stared at my shoes.

My head darted up. “You—you are? Why?”

His eyes burned holes into me. He locked into my gaze and didn’t answer this one, but I had an inclination of why:

Duncan had been just as uncomfortable as I was. More so, probably, since he had history with those people, and I’d been on a first acquaintance basis.

A sudden vulnerability entered his gaze, a look I hadn’t expected. And I knew, without him needing to explain anything. I’d been right before.

He was glad I’d been there because that meant he hadn’t had to face them alone.

His elbow rested on the windowsill, and with his chin in his hand, he stared toward the street. Clive climbed into the driver’s side, cranked the car to life, and eased out into traffic.

“Home, sir?” Clive asked, his face appearing in the rearview mirror as he glanced back at us.

Duncan exhaled. “That’s fine. Yes. Home.”

“Duncan,” I prodded.

“What?”

“Tell me what happened in there. Does their coldness have something to do with your grandma not speaking to you? You mentioned something like that before we left Westville.”

Duncan sighed and kept his gaze on the scenery we passed out the window. “We had a falling-out about three years ago. The circumstances…weren’t pretty.”

“A falling-out? Over what?”

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