Page 106 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
"She’s dead," I say, the coldness growing in my chest, reaching out, growing faster, harder, until it reaches my extremities. I lower my arms to my sides. "She’s gone. My child... I couldn’t save her. I wasn’t there for her. Her mother took her and left, and I didn’t stop her."
"Damian." She touches my shoulder and something inside of me snaps.
I turn on her, grab her by her neck and haul her close, "I was fine, getting along. I was ready to give up everything to spend time with her, take care of her for the rest of my life. I would have given up my career, my songs. I would have sacrificed myself for her, and then you had to do it."
"Wh…what?" She swallows. "What did I do Damian?"
"You swept into my life with your sassy comments, and your perky breasts, and your curves. You forced yourself under my skin."
"F…forced?" She frowns.
"Don’t lie to me." I squeeze her neck and her gaze widens.
"Damian, stop." She scratches at my wrist. "Damian, please, you don’t mean this."
"I mean it all." I nod. "It’s because of you that I kept leaving her alone and coming to you. It’s because of you that I realized that—"
I pause and take in her wide-eyed look of confusion.
"That I couldn’t live like this."
"Like what, Damian?"
"Alone, trapped in my head. In the past, grieving for what may have been. One look at you, and I wanted more. I wanted a life with you, Julia. And I knew I didn’t deserve another chance at happiness, not when my daughter would never see another day. She died and it’s my fault. I’ll never forgive myself…and now," I take in her beautiful features, her parted lips, her gorgeous tits that heave under her coat, "I am going to do my best to forget you, after…"
"After?"
"After I fuck you." I swivel around and thrust her backward.
34
Julia
"No, you can’t do this." The backs of my knees hit the mattress and I tumble backward onto Riley’s bed. I try to rise up, and he reaches down and flattens his palm against my chest.
"What’s wrong?" he asks. “Don’t want me now, Flower? You wanted me to fuck you, you were begging for it earlier. Now, when you know that I think of my dead daughter as still being alive, you don’t want anything to do with me?” he growls.
"It’s not like that." I push up; he shoves at me and I hit the bed with a thud.
He looks me up and down. "Take off your coat," he snaps.
"Don’t do this," I beg him.
His lips curl and his eyes gleam. He rolls his shoulders, plants his fists on his hips. "That’s not what you’ve been saying all these days, sugar."
"Don’t call me that," I snarl back.
"Sugar?" He tilts his head, "Why not? You’re deceptively sweet, you make people think you are innocent, that a little time in your presence won’t hurt anyone. Then when their back is turned, you crawl under their skin, you ensure they grow addicted to you, can’t live without you. Is that what you did to your last boyfriend too? Is that why he dropped you?"
"Fuck you," I spit out.
"Thought you’d never ask." He steps forward and I raise my foot and kick out. I catch him in the chest, and the man doesn’t even stop. Bloody hell, he simply chuckles, then advances. I jump up on the bed, throw up my fists, "Don’t you dare come closer…you…you twat."
"You have the twat, not me."
"What?"
"Twat," he replies, then stares down at my crotch. "It’s another word for pussy."
