Page 71 of Contract of a Billionaire
“I can imagine,” she sneered. “I know your kind of busy.”
My lips tugged up at her jab. Autumn wasn’t exactly a wildcat but she definitely wasn’t a doormat.
“I remember when you were pliant and more amiable to our talks,” I mused, unwilling to argue with her. “Or even better, how to get you to be a pliant doll while I sucked at your– “
“And I vaguely remember when you weren’t a dick,” she snapped, cutting me off. Though the flush in her cheeks didn’t escape me.
She turned her back to me, the stubbornness evident in the way she clenched her jaw.
“I saw your exhibits,” I changed subjects. Her head whipped my way, surprise coasting her eyes. Those stunning eyes that held so much power over me! All she had to do was look at me and I was falling to my knees. My heart beat only for her. Despite the pain and all the fucked up shit, it couldn’t help beating because it was waiting forher.
She held such power over me and she didn’t even fucking know it.
“Your photos are really good,” I continued.
“Hmmm.”
“What? You don’t agree?” I challenged.
She rolled her eyes in that familiar way, except there was no mischievous playfulness curving her full lips.
“I’m surprised you like them, that’s all,” she retorted dryly.
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She feigned confusion, but her eyes flashed annoyingly at me. “Could it be because a lot of my photos deal with illegal guns, trafficking of women, and drugs? And we all know what an upstanding citizen you are.”
“I haven’t changed,” I sneered, unwilling to let her know her words hit the intended target. “My business hasn’t changed. It didn’t bother you before.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned in displeasure. She hated the reminder of our past. So naturally, I continued to prompt more memories. “In fact, I remember you being quite thrilled with me before. Screaming my name at the top of a mount– “
“Jesus Christ, would you stop?” she hissed, the blush spreading down her neck and disappearing under her dress.
“I’m trying to make conversation, Autumn,” I told her calmly. “I want to know how you’ve been. I want to know about your son.” And his father, I thought with bitterness. “The world you’ve seen. I want to know everything I missed over the last four years.”
“I have no idea why you’d care considering how we parted the last time I saw you,” she gritted. She clutched her hands in her lap, her knuckles turning white. “I’ve seen plenty of the world. My son is none of your business and neither is whatever happened after you–”
She cut herself off. Her brows were drawn, her mouth tight and her breathing shallow. I was so fucking tempted to reach out and smooth a hand over her brow. I never wanted to see distress on her face. Unfortunately, it has been all I brought her.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She’d never fully comprehend how sorry I was. How hard it was to give her up. I could have accepted risks to me, but never to her. My death was acceptable, hers was not.
She was the cure to all my pain.
Her eyes met mine. Brown. Goddamn it, I hated that color.
“Sorry about what?” she demanded to know in her soft voice. Even when pissed off, she spoke softly. Fuck, where did I even begin?
Sorry that she didn’t get someone better than me. Sorry that I hurt her. Sorry that I couldn’t keep my father at bay so her life wasn’t in danger. Sorry that I failed her.
But none of those words came out.
“Sorry is not enough, Alessio,” she whispered, then turned back to look out the window, signaling our conversation was over.
She didn’t know it would never be over. Not for the two of us. I was useless without her so I’d take her now. I’d take care of her and her son, whoever his father might be. Hate slithered through my veins at the thought that someone else touched her soft skin, heard her moans or felt her tight pussy. But I would never be like my step-father. I would never cause pain to a child who had no control over his parentage. I was a better man.
God, I hoped I was a better man than that bastard who raised me.
We pulled up to my home, sitting on acres of land and surrounded by protection. I had procured the place decades ago for my sister, to give her some semblance of safety. One day I hoped it’d be a happy place for her family, my family. Our family.
