Page 57 of Quarantined with the Billionaire

Chapter Sixteen

Meals had been glorious affairs it the Steel house up to this point, but tonight’s dinner was subdued. Maddox made cheeseburgers.

Yes, cheeseburgers. And fries.

While we sat at the dining room table, I asked, “Seriously, Maddox, how can you stay in shape when you eat crap like you did today?”

“I stay in shape because of that. Sunday is my cheat day. I have no Simon here on the weekend to feed me foods that are better for me, and I go all out.”

“Yeah, but what about the chicken parmigiana and tiramisu?”

“That was a special occasion.”

“Was it?” I took a sip of the beer he’d poured into a frosted mug for me.

“It was. Simon wanted to spoil you a little. He really does have superior skills in the kitchen.”

“So do you.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” He took a big bite out of his burger but he was looking at my full plate. My appetite had yet to return. “Why aren’t you eating much?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Ha. I could see that didn’t set well with him—nor did I want it to.

“Would I be able to request the pleasure of your company later?”

“Doing what?”

“After we’ve had time for our food to settle, we can work some of it off. Either swimming or dancing.”

My mouth ran ahead of my brain again. “Yeah, because seeing you in next to nothing would do wonders for my psyche.”

He arched an eyebrow, squinting in that way he often did—and it made my pussy clench. Why? Why was I torturing myself—and, worse yet, letting him torture me?

“Dancing it is.”

Crap. That hadn’t even phased him.

“You were wrong about something, Maddox.”

“Was I?”

“Yeah. We’re not so alike.”

Wiping his mouth with the linen napkin which seemed to contradict the food on our plates, he picked up his mug and peered through my soul. “Then why don’t you tell me why.”

“I don’t think I want to tell you any of it.”

“Suit yourself. But that will be the only way to convince me otherwise.”

“Oh, no. You did far too good a job convincing me that I can’t trust you.”

Lowering his head for a moment, he gently shook it from side to side before his eyes locked onto mine. “You can trust me with your words, Bailey. In that regard, I promise you I will never betray you. I suppose a better way to word it would be to tell you that I cannot be trusted. My behavior. The way I treat you. But I will never share your words with another soul, Bailey. I can promise you that.”

I wanted to tell him. I really wanted to—but I didn’t know why. And I didn’t know that it would do any good at all. Except maybe it would explain to him why I was the way I was.

And the nightmares.

---