Page 53 of Billion Dollar Revenge

“We need to replace the shitty memories with new ones.”

She squirms at the intensity of my words.

“I would love that.” She smiles shyly. “But I’m sure you don’t have time.”

My stomach hardens at her insinuation that I’m always working.

“I always make time for those I care about.”

“But your job is important,” she murmurs, lost in thought, I bet unable to fathom someone making time for their family when Bobby made no time for her.

I lean over, grab her chin with my hands, hold her face still, and swipe my thumb across her rosy lips. Her warm breath on my fingers, soft skin, and wild eyes leave me imagining what she’d look like surrendering to me.

Her breath hitches as my hand stays on her chin for a moment longer. “So are my Sunday dinners with my family or poker nights with my brothers. I make time for the people I love,” I say in a strained voice, dropping my hand.

My chest rises and falls as anger burns inside me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around why Bobby didn’t treat her like the intelligent woman she is. Now she thinks she’s stupid, when he was the one in the wrong. I have wanted revenge on my ex, but not in the same way I do when it comes to Bobby. The desire to destroy another person is like acid and so unlike me. The desire to protect Chelsea is taking over. She deserves to be treated like a princess, and I suddenly want to be the knight in shining armor.

I shut down my wayward thoughts about hurting Bobby and be fully present with Chelsea. She deserves my full attention.

“We should’ve ordered dessert.” She sighs as we begin opening the containers of food.

It surprises me she isn’t a calorie-counting or no-carb kind of woman like my mom. “You eat dessert?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a massive sweet tooth.”

“So you’re not going to be the mom who bakes sugar-free stuff?”

She laughs. “No way. Some of my best memories are of me and my sister helping my mom in the kitchen. I want that for my kids too.”

“Same here. My gram was the baker in our family.”

“Your mom didn’t bake?”

I laugh at the memories of the countless times my mom tried to bake, but her cakes, pies, or lemon bars would end up burnt or dry. “God, no. She’s hopeless at cooking.”

“At least you have your gram.”

“Yeah, but being the oldest of four boys, I was expected to look after my brothers.”

“I’m sure growing up with three brothers was—”

“As crazy as you’re imagining.” I finish her train of thought. Remembering one summer afternoon, I was reading my book when I heard their fit of giggles. I caught them hiding Gramps’ false teeth in the cookie jar while he napped in the chair.

“But I bet you're protective of them.”

“I’d say I’m the negotiator. Which helped me in business.”

“Did you always want to take over your dad’s company?”

I shrug. “It just happened.”

“How?”

I sip my drink and explain. “He was my role model. I followed him around, so naturally after high school I studied journalism and business management. Then when Gram got older, my dad wanted to be with her more, so he retired and asked me to take over.”

“Did you ever think about turning it down?”

“Never. I love what I do, but I think a big part was because I watched him my whole life. I was hands-on, always asking questions, and I was fascinated by it.”

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