Page 95 of The Grumpy Billionaire
But Reid didn’t understand what happens after the credits roll.
He hadn’t seen my mom slowly losing herself, falling apart, hadn’t heard her weeping every night for weeks on end.
I could never adequately explain that to anyone, and I would never be able to forget it. Reid hadn’t lived with her day after day as she slowly turned into a shell of the person she’d once been.
True love was responsible for that.
And after being at ground zero for all of it, I just wasn’t capable of the kind of love and faith he was asking for.
Not anymore. I stared at him, unsure of what to say or do next.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed the small crowd around us dispersing, either too embarrassed or too disgusted with me to stick around for the fallout.
Slowly, like storm clouds gathering over the water at Narragansett beach, the hurt in Reid’s eyes rolled and changed, expanding and darkening into something different.
Into anger.
Into hate.
His voice wasn’t loud. It was very quiet, actually, but I cringed as if he was yelling directly into my face.
“You… you don’t even have to think about it, do you?” he asked. “It’s soeasyfor you to walk away. Did this week mean nothing to you? Did you not seeanythingthat you wanted… about me? About this whole fucking empire I built? I mean, God—what does it take to impress you, Mara? I did all of it, everything, foryou—to show you… but you don’t even care. I was just an amusing little trip down memory lane for you. Or…”
His smile was a bleak sneer as another thought occurred to him. “Was I just another ‘himbo’… a face you didn’t mind looking at too much for a few days, a body you could use for a few hours until you got bored again?”
In the silence after his last bitter words, the desktop monitor blared audio from a station promo—a new one. The male announcer’s deep voice boomed, intruding on our terrible private moment.
“Exclusively on Action News… reporter Mara Neely sits down with the intriguing creator of StillYours dot com. And you won’tbelievewhat she’s uncovered.”
Both of us turned toward the monitor as my recorded voice emanated from its speakers. There was Reid on the screen, sitting in his company’s conference room, wearing the light blue shirt I’d so nervously buttoned for him during ourfirstinterview.
Oh God, no.
“How does someone so young decide to build an empire around reuniting lost loves?” I heard myself ask.
“I never talk about that,” a very nervous-looking Reid replied.
“Why not?” My disembodied voice pressed him.
“Because no one would like the answer. The truth would be bad for business.”
And then the announcer-voice was back, thankfully cutting Reid’s sound bite off before it got to his damning tirade aboutsentimental suckers who believe in love.
“No other news team has ever gotten this close to the reclusive billionaire, and we’ll share hisdeepestsecrets with you. Starting next week at six and eleven… only on Action News Three.”
I literally had no air left in my lungs by the time the horrific promo ended.
What had they done?
Where had they gotten that clip? It was supposed to have been destroyed.
When Reid turned back to me, the shock of ultimate betrayal had turned his face ghostly pale.
I lifted my hands to him, shaking my head. “Reid, listen. I don’t know how—”
He clenched his fists by his sides, shaking and barely opening his lips as he ground out his accusation.
“Oh I see now… not an amusement, not a himbo… I was just anotherstoryfor you. Well you got your story. Congratulations. And now you’ve got your greatest wish—you’re on your own. You’ll never have to count on anyone. Because you’ve managed to run off the last person on earth who would have ever hurt you. Enjoy all thesuccessthisexclusivebrings you.”
