Page 103 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"Expendable." I toss my head.
"I let you into my home."
"I broke in." I set my lips.
"Why do you think Karina gave you the passcodes?"
"You…?" I blink, "You knew?"
"I was the one who encouraged her to share them."
"She deceived me?"
"Not her fault. She didn’t know. Not really." He widens his stance. "I told her to do what was needed to ensure your safety. And clearly, giving you the means to enter my home rather than breaking in, was in your interest."
"You…you liar."
"Everything between us was true. Every time I touched you, I meant it. Every orgasm I drew from you was more than real…"
"I don’t believe it."
"Don’t tell me that you didn’t feel it."
"What I feel is manipulated. You used your money, your dominance, to steer my life the way you wanted."
"I work with what I have."
"So do I." I draw myself up to my full height. "You want to see me come, yet you won't allow me to meet your daughter. What do you call that?"
"I am protecting her… Protecting you…"
"How is treating me like a second-class citizen, who you don’t trust, protecting me?"
"I don’t want you getting close to her, not when this relationship between us is fake."
"And who’s fault is that?" I throw up my hands. "You could have let me in, allowed me to take care of her and do my job."
"Your job…" he smirks, "is to come when I command you to."
"This entire conversation is insane." I glance around. "In fact, why the hell am I here arguing with you, when clearly, you have no intention of doing the right thing."
"The right thing is for you to leave." He jerks his chin at the door. "Good bye, Flower."
A ball of emotions closes my throat. Why the hell does he have to call me by that stupid pet name? "I fucking hate you," I choke out the words. "I wish I had never met you."
"That makes two of us." His gaze sharpens. He glances over his shoulder, then back at me. Huh? Did he hear something I didn’t? Was that his daughter calling?
"Have a good life." He turns to leave as I step over the threshold. The door snicks shut behind me. I stand there, stare straight ahead, my heart thudding in my chest.
I should go, should get out of there, should leave the rock star and his manipulations behind and live my own life, find my own way, look for another job as a nanny, as I sculpt on my own time. My life was complete, right? I had found my calling in the two things that spoke to me… A career, unorthodox as it may be, but I was able to follow my passion—both of my passions. How many can say that? And if there’s no one special, too bad. I lower my foot to the first step, glance at the gates in front that are swinging open.
I should get into my car and drive away, leave the asshole who sees me less as a person and more as a—a thing to get his creative juices flowing—no pun intended.
I should…turn around, march inside, and confront him. And ask him why the hell did he insist on holding me at arm's length? Why did he never make love to me? Why did he create that damn studio for me? He had to have felt something… So, why did he allow me inside his home, only to turn me out again?
He wants me… He does… So, what stops him from claiming me as his?
I stiffen, stare at the path beyond the gates.
