Page 136 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"Instead, it’s you who took the bullet. Meant for me," he mutters, a strange expression stealing over his face. "If something had happened to you?" His features contort. "If anything had happened to you, Flower… I’d have… Never recovered from it. I’d have killed myself."
"Hush." I place my fingers over his lips. "Now who’s talking about the 'D' word, huh?"
His mouth twists. "I am allowed."
"Not on my watch." I smile.
"About that," he looks to the side, then back at me, "I have something to tell you."
The hair on the nape of my neck rises. I peruse his features, the vein that thuds at his temple, his eyes, which are clear with a decision that he’d made at some point in the last few hours while I was out cold. He strokes my hand with a fervor reserved for near-death experiences which, yeah, I admit, I’d been through. But I am here and alive and so is he, so why does he harden his jaw, lower his forehead to our joined hands as if paying homage, right before he leans over and kisses my brow? His touch——gentle, soft, caring… So not like the Damian I know.
"Baby?" I whisper, "What’s wrong?"
He releases me and sits back in his chair. Why is he putting distance between us?
"Damian?" I plead, "Speak to me. Tell me what you’re thinking."
"I’m sorry," he says.
"For what?"
"You’re going to hate me, but later, when you are happy, and with a family of your own, you’ll know that I was right."
"About what?" I try to sit up, but the goddam pillows are all at the wrong angle. "And I want to have a family with you, Damian. You know that."
"I know," he nods, "and so did I, but that was before."
My heart begins to race so fast, I am sure I’m having a cardiac. Good thing I am in a hospital, huh? And no, I am still breathing. No other pains or anything, so not a heart attack. Just this stupid oaf, trying to pull another alphaholish stunt on me, I think. "Stop it," I growl.
He looks at me with so much helplessness, so much anguish, so much regret that tears fill my eyes. "Damian, no," I choke out. "Don’t do it."
"It’s done." He half smiles. "I am getting the marriage annulled."
"What?"
He nods.
"This was all a mistake."
"But you love me."
"I do." He looks down at his lap, studies his hands. "I’ve never loved another woman as much as I do you."
"Then?" I stare, "Why… Oh!" I draw in a breath. "Oh. That’s why you came to this stupid-ass decision."
The look of bewilderment on his face would be amusing if I didn’t want to strangle him right now. "What do you mean?" His jaw tics. "And it’s the right decision."
"It’s clear that you are running scared. Typical," I snarl. "All you men who talk big and have larger-than-life personas and are fucking dominant and don’t hesitate to take what you want, and when it comes to the real stuff, when the rubber hits the pavement—"
"The road," he corrects me, "when the rubber hits the—"
"Whatever!" I yell. "When it’s time to face up to your true feelings and make tough decisions, you’re the first to blink." I snort. "And who, exactly, is this the right decision for?" I push myself to an upright position, succeed this time, then wince when my shoulder protests.
He reaches for me, and I slap his hand away. "Don’t you dare touch me."
He doesn’t glare at me, simply folds his hands back in his lap, and damn it. Damian, alphahole Damian, being compliant… Bloody hell. My belly knots and the band around my chest tightens. This is not good. Not good at all.
"I made this decision in a cogent frame of mind and it’s right for you," he states.
