Page 23 of Billionaire's Sins
I don’t back down.
Neither does he.
Finally, he steps back, "Look, ten minutes of your time. That’s all I ask."
"Hmm," I rub the back of my neck, "not that I don’t trust you—"
"My ego would be bruised if you did." He chuckles.
"But you are here, and I never turn away anyone who asks me for help."
"Is that what you think?" His lips kick up.
"Isn’t that what this is?"
"Technically, I need you to help me help you, so," he shrugs, "I suppose that would work." He jerks his chin toward the garden, "Come on, Father, let’s talk."
I step forward and he follows me through the priest’s door and into the room behind. I step into my office, then come to a stop. Sprawled around the space are four other figures. I groan. "Is this what I think it is?"
"What do you think it is?" Saint drawls from his perch on my desk.
Behind me, Sinclair shuts the door and locks it. I glance at him over my shoulder to see him fold his arms over his chest. Guess leaving that way is out—not that I am going to try it. I’m not a coward. This is only about facing my friends and talking to them, something I’m good at. After all, I’ve done it so many times before, right?
"I think, if you guys wanted to talk to me, you could have called."
"We did." Damian, picks up my phone, from where I’d left it charging on a side table in the far corner. "What’s the use of having a phone, if you don’t carry it?"
"I had other things on my mind."
"I’ll bet." Arpad pushes away from his corner. He walks over to stand in front of me, "It’s what we’re here to talk to you about."
"That’s my dialogue, surely." I laugh. "Every time one of you guys had a crisis, guess who was there to talk some sense into you?"
The others stare at me.
"Exactly." I nod.
"Exactly." Arpad smirks.
"Exactly." Damian chuckles.
I pause, glance around at their faces. "No." I stiffen. "No, no, no, I think it’s time you guys left."
"I think it’s time we find out what’s happening with you." Saint smirks.
"Me?" I hold out my arms, "I’m just fine."
"You don’t look fine." Weston scratches his jaw. "You look like you need to get something off your chest."
"What do you think I was doing just then?" I stab my thumb over my shoulder.
"Praying?" Sinclair frowns. He prowls over to stare at the cross high up on the wall. "Not that we can compete with the man up there. But hey, if He is your Father, we are your brothers…almost…so—"
"Hold on a second." I stare. "Is this you, Sinclair Sterling, pulling the bro-card on me?"
"Is it working?" He smirks at me over his shoulder.
"Not sure." I fold my arms over my chest, "When you guys hunt in a pack like this, it can be quite overwhelming."
