Page 56 of Quarantined with the Billionaire

“That’s a technicality.”

“I didn’t want us to come together to argue. Instead, I wanted to explain a couple of things to you. If you understand, it will make more sense—and then we can be allies, rather than enemies.”

“We’re not enemies.”

“Maybe not. But that’s where this was headed—and I’d like to prevent that. You have so much potential, Bailey. I am not going to be the man who snuffs out your fire.”

“You already did.”

Tilting his head, his eyes narrowed, and I knew I was pushing my luck. But I didn’t care. “I didn’t, and you know it. We’re stopping things right now so I don’t hurt you.”

“What if I told you you already had?”

“Maybe I have hurt you. For that, I apologize. But I’d rather prick your finger than cut out your heart.”

I clenched my teeth together to stop myself from screaming at him. He’d be able to read my emotions well enough through my eyes. There was no stopping them.

“I suspect you and I are a lot alike in a lot of ways, Bailey.”

I looked up at the ceiling, trying not to roll my eyes. Maddox and I might have been a lot of things, but we were not alike by any stretch of the imagination.

“You seem to doubt that. But hear me out. Tell me a little about your childhood.”

“What—are you my psychiatrist now?”

His eyes were smoldering, looking similar to the way they had last night. Only now, they weren’t blazing because of passion but out of anger with an impudent child who just couldn’t hold her tongue. “Indulge me.”

“My mother and father divorced when I was pretty young. He worked under the table a lot so he didn’t have to pay child support. Mom scraped by as best she could—but it was a rough life.”

“Yet you earned a four-year degree?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to struggle like mom did.”

“Did you ever know your father?”

“Define know. I mean yeah. I knew he was a real asshole. But did I have visitation? Did he call me on my birthday? No. I always got the feeling he wanted a boy, so I was a disappointment from the get-go.”

“I never knew my father,” Maddox said, his voice quiet. He was looking in the vicinity of my knees rather than in my eyes, but I sensed his sincerity. “Without going into a lot of detail, suffice it to say that I barely knew my mother, either. By seventeen, I was on my own—and after living on the streets for the better part of a year, I vowed to never have to scrimp for a piece of bread again. I was working in a deli downtown and this particular group of men came in once a week—designer suits, expensive watches, nice cars. When I found out they worked as investors, that became my sole goal.”

Finally, his eyes connected with mine again. How the hell could I stay mad at him when maybe, just maybe, his soul was empty in the middle like mine was?

And, while I hadn’t lived on the streets, I could top him with my childhood story—but I refused.

“I was ruthless, Bailey. Ruthless. In school, in business. Anyone presented a threat, I’d cut them down without hesitation. I would not allow myself to be that kid on the street anymore, the one working two shitty minimum wage jobs just to get by. That meant it was me or them, every single time.”

He looked at me pointedly.

“Which means I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

“But you said that was in your past. I can’t blame you for things you did in your youth.”

Arching an eyebrow, he took my breath away. “Not just my youth. When you become accustomed to controlling your world, you can’t just stop.”

For some reason, the way he said those words cut me to my soul. I ached to hold him close, to comfort him the way he had me. But I knew that wouldn’t go over well at all. He’d want my comfort about as much as he’d want sympathy for his childhood. I could see now that the armor he wore was to protect himself as much as it was me.

But he was so wrong. He could never hurt me—and I had to somehow convince him of that.

---