Page 62 of The Billionaire's Secret

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He changed the rules completely, but if he thinks I am going to back off now? He has another think coming.

He doesn’t know me.

I swipe the hair back from my face, survey my flushed features. Hell, I don’t know myself anymore.

I am losing perspective. Everything I had fought for, what I had thought I’d held dear to me, all of it gone… Thanks to one overbearing, over-the-top, Beatles-hating, complete wanker of an alpha male. My insides clench and sweat beads my forehead. What am I going to do? WhatcanI do? My heart begins to race. I need to get out of here and into the open air. I march to the door, out into the corridor. My footsteps echo. I glance around at the brightly lit aisles, the racks of clothes, the displays. All bloody creepy, without the sales people.

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The asshole didn’t even wait for me. He’d merely told me to take my time to adjust my appearance and he’d left. That’s it… No word, no explanation about when we’ll meet next. Nothing.

I walk up the corridor toward the escalators. The hair on my forearms rises. I am alone, aren’t I?

I glance around. Nothing…except the bright lights, the rows upon rows of designer wear. I hurry my pace. Footsteps sound nearby.What the—?I break into a run, reach the escalator, race down it. My heart begins to thud. Adrenaline laces my blood.Who could it be? I have time to deliver on my part of the deal. I am doing everything I can about it.I reach the second floor, the first. By the time I reach the ground floor, sweat beads my forehead. I clutch my bag close, reach for my phone and pull it out…Who should I call? Amelie? Summer…? Saint... No…not him.He’d simply gloat about how helpless I am. I am just scaring myself; it happens. Especially after everything I’ve been through over the last few weeks.

I reach the exit doors, push them and burst onto the sidewalk. A man passing by eyes me curiously. I glance away, stagger toward the bench on the sidewalk. I need to catch my breath, consider my options. I sink down onto the platform, hunch my shoulders.Think, think.I can deliver my end of the bargain. By marrying Saint, I’ll be even closer to my target. All I have to do is go through it, pretend… No… No pretense here. I feel something for him… I have from the moment I’d first seen him. Something primal, something that makes me feel alive. And I want more of it. I want to luxuriate in it. I wanted to rip out my soul, fill myself with him… Use him for my own selfish needs, before the inevitable happens, and I have to walk away from him. I sigh. I have no choice in that… I simply have to make the most of the cards I’ve been dealt.

I straighten my shoulders. Pluck my compact out of my purse, snap it open.That’s it, Victoria... Calm, composed. A survivor. You can do this. You can.I pull out a tube of my favorite lipstick, twist, and raise it to my lips.

A hand touches my shoulder. I jerk and the lipstick smears. I glance to the side, “Wha—?”

"Victoria?" The elderly woman smiles at me. Her greying hair is pulled back in a sleek chignon; creases fan out from the sides of her eyes. "Are you okay, my dear?"

"What? Yes." I frown, "Do I know you?"

"I’m Meredith, I’m…"

"Assistant to the Seven?"

Her features light up. "Indeed. We met when you came to the 7A offices?"

"Of course. I remember you now." I glance past her at the pedestrians. Pinpricks of awareness dot my neck. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing by and saw you."

"Right." I glance back at my reflection in the compact mirror, then scrounge around in my bag.

"Here." She offers me a tissue.

"Thanks." I use it to fix my face, then snap the compact shut.