Page 40 of Billionaire Boss's One Night Stand

“Fuck,” I said again as I reached my street. I couldn’t turn off the litany of panicky and furious thoughts.

Humiliation made my cheeks flame up with too much heat. My breaths came short and shallow with my inability to calm down.

There was no way to know whether Tom would tattle. And worse, there was no way to guess what could follow. What would Matt think now? What would he do now?

Too many unknowns clashed in my mind, and it was with a wince that I looked down at my ringing phone. I tugged it further out of my purse so I could see the screen fully, half expecting it to be Matt—to say who the hell knew what. Or Tom—to berate me and accuse me of being a player or manipulator to turnhimdown but clearly pursue something with Matt.

Instead, it was my parents’ landline, and I warred with the indecision about what to do. Answer? Let it go to voicemail?

I blocked Becca’s number weeks ago, but I kept my parents’ home line in my contact list because I had to maintain some sense of contact with them. Despite how little they cared about me, never bothering to get the basic information like exactly where I was working and living, they were my parents. I had to be reachable in case of bad news or updates about health problems that could arise.

What if someone is in the hospital? What if something bad happened?They were family.

I felt like my worrywart nature was off-kilter, disturbed and worsened because of the shock of being caught with Matt.

I answered, though, my breath and voice shaky as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. I’d reached my building, and once again, I found that the elevator was out. Because of course it would be.

“Hello?”

“Oh, so the slut living it up in the citycananswer her phone,” Becca taunted. It was a greeting I didn’t want to hear right now, and it was her voice that I never wanted to suffer through again.

“What’d you do, block my number?” she snapped when I didn’t speak.

“Yes. I did.”

“What a pathetic move.” She huffed. “Do you think you’re too good for your family now?”

“Why would I care to stay in touch with you? Why would I want to keep getting your calls? You, Mom, and Dad have spent years drilling it into my head that I’ll never measure up or be good enough.”

“We have not. You’re too sensitive.”

“Oh,” I spat as I got to my door, out of breath and panting as I fitted my key into the lock. “We’re on to the phase of gaslighting already? So soon?”

“Youaretoo sensitive,” she argued. “You always have been, assuming the whole world is out to get you.”

“No. It’s just you. It’s justyou, Becca. You’ve always been out to get me. Always there to nag and scold and tease and taunt. Always!”

“You’re—”

“I’m not in the mood to speak with you or hear your bullshit,” I told her as I entered my apartment, then shut and locked the door behind me. Talking back to her like this gave me a rush. My people-pleasing skills—or flaws—were likely due to her and our parents. A lifetime of Becca telling me that I’d never be good enough and bragging that she was better, then my parentsalways comparing me to her, had set me up to constantly seek their approval. Basically telling her to fuck off was the opposite of all that was ingrained in me.

It felt good.

But at the same time, it threw me off. My heart, already so fast from being caught with Matt, pattered so fast now. Another hit of adrenaline came, but this time, faced with a threat in the form of my sister calling to bother me, I chose to beat her back. Fight, not flight.

I could run from Matt and the office, but I refused to cower to my sibling.

My stomach twisted with more cramps and nausea, sending me to rock back against the wall. The urge to puke built up, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. That burning sensation crept higher and higher, and I closed my eyes tight to stem off the urgency.

In my ear, Becca ranted on and on. All her negativity rolled without pause. Her telling me that I was a slut, an idiot, a horrible person, and above all else, that I would always betheembarrassing disappointment of the family.

None of what she said made it to my mind. I was too locked into this horrible nausea to concentrate on anything.

Exceptwherethis cramp originated in my body.

I’d been suffering stomach issues, but the cramp that I felt was something that typically came once a month. Lower in my abdomen.

Oh, fuck!

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