Page 75 of Billionaire's Promise
"Is that your excuse?" he growls. "That you were too shaken by everything that happened? That you couldn’t cope with it? That you didn’t have the balls to share your decision with everyone? No, you upped and got out... You decided not to stay in touch, except for your stupid snail mail letters—which was a bad decision, by the way. It’s what helped us track you down, you bastard."
"I wasn’t trying to hide." I raise my shoulders. "I simply wanted my space."
"No, youthoughtyou needed space, when in reality, you were too afraid."
"Afraid?" I scowl. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You were afraid of your feelings. Afraid to feel any kind of connection with any of us. Afraid that if you, for one moment, stopped and allowed yourself to feel, that you would—"
"What?" I snap. "What would happen if I allowed myself to feel?"
"You’d have felt compelled to stay back and actually develop some kind of a relationship with the rest of us. Not to mention, you’d have been forced to sort out your shit with Edward and—"
"Enough," I break away from him, "this was a bad idea." I pivot and head for the doorway. "I shouldn’t have come here."
"That’s right, run away." Saint’s voice follows me. "When the going gets tough, you always did do a Baron."
"Do a Baron?" I pause. "What the hell does that mean?"
"You know, losing your balls. Not having the courage to stand up and fight for what you believe in."
"You want to fight?" I reel around and confront him, "Want to get your arse handed to you, is that it?"
He laughs, "I’m faster than you, stronger than you, leaner than you, you arse."
"But you’re pussy-whipped."
"And you aren’t?" He smirks.
"I don’t have a wife and a kid on the way to worry about."
"No, you’re too much of a coward to commit to anyone."
"Is that what you think?"
"What other explanation is there?" He shrugs. "Not that it matters, to be honest. I am sick of this shit, anyway. You come home and everyone celebrates, as if you’re a vanquishing hero. Little do they know how much of a weakling you really are."
"Weakling, huh?" I glance around, then place the folder on a coffee table nearby. I straighten, curl my fingers into fists, "Let’s take this outdoors, shall we?"
27
Baron
"Actually, let’s not." Saint rushes toward me. Asshole swings with his fist, catches me under the chin. My head snaps back; pain squeezes the backs of my eyes. My vision wavers. I shake my head to clear it, straighten but he’s already in my face again. He lands a punch in my side, then the other, in my shoulder, back to my stomach. My body protests, my shoulder screams, and the breath screeches out of me. I lurch forward, throw my arm around him, and we hug each other in the semblance of an embrace that isn’t really one. He punches me in the side, and again, as I lean the bulk of my weight on him. He staggers back, and I shove at him, my shoes squeaking on the floor as I propel the both of us toward the back of the room. I lean back, swing, catch him under his chin. Blood spurts out as he tumbles back into the wet bar. The force of his momentum carries him over. At the last moment, he grabs my collar and the impetus carries me along. I crash to the floor, his body knocks into me, and the bottles from the shelves above rain down on us. A bottle from the top-most shelf teeters over, then plunges down toward us, and I throw my arms around his head to shield him. The bottle hits the back of my hand, bounces off. I grunt as pain whips up my arm.
We stay that way for a few seconds. Another glass rolls over the counter, falls over to the other side. The crash echoes through the space, then there’s silence. The scent of alcohol deepens. Puddles of liquor surround us, dotted with broken glass shards.
Saint pushes me off of him and staggers to his feet, pieces of broken glass sliding off of him. He holds out his hand. I stare at it, then up at him.
"Thanks," he grumbles. "You protected me from getting hurt."
I firm my lips, then nod. I grab his hand and he hauls me to my feet.
"You guys okay?" Weston asks from the other side of the bar. "Figured it was best to let you chaps fight it out."
"What happened here?" Arpad walks in, followed by Damian and Sinclair.
"Thought we heard the sound of breaking glass." Damian glances around the space.
