Page 31 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

Bay ran a hand over her face, her eyes darker with pain. “Yeah. I challenged them and they pushed back. I refused to back down, and my father became irrationally angry. He’s old-school, he believes his word is the law and his are the only opinions that matter. I’m not sure what annoyed him more, that I was calling him out or that I had an opinion different to his.

“Before I went to high school, he was affectionate and loving. We were exceptionally close and I idolized him. After I started challenging him, his attitude toward me changed and he became, well, mean. And nothing I said could sway him. Just made it worse. And when he realized that I wouldn’t back down and that he couldn’t intimidate me into changing my views, he pulled away and started to ignore or ridicule me. I went from being daddy’s girl to being a pariah in my own home. By the time I was sixteen, we could barely greet each other.”

Digby wished he could hug, or love, all her pain away. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“My mom told me to stop rocking the boat, to just agree with him but I couldn’t—I couldn’t condone what he was saying,” Bay explained, her whiskey-colored eyes murky with unshed tears. “After years of either him screaming at me or flat-out ignoring me, I left home, went to the university, again on a scholarship, and we didn’t have much to do or say to each other. Layla followed me to the same uni and those were the happiest years of our lives. She met Ali there and they were so in love. She couldn’t tell our parents that she was dating a mixed-race, Muslim man. She still had a relationship with my parents.”

Digby waited, knowing there was more.

“My parents surprised us at our flat early one morning. They rang the doorbell. I opened the door to them, half-asleep. Layla came stumbling out of her bedroom, quickly followed by Ali, and you didn’t need an interpreter to know what they’d been doing.”

“And the crap hit the fan.”

Bay nodded. “Big time.” Bay closed her eyes and Digby knew that her memories were still fresh. “My dad turned on me and blamed everything on me and my radical education and liberal views. If I had just stayed home, been a good girl, content with the status quo, none of this would’ve happened.”

Digby noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes and gently plucked her from her seat and cuddled her against his chest, kissing her hair as he did. God, parents were supposed to love their kids, not rip them apart.

“After telling us that we were dead to them, they left and Layla was gutted. I was angry and horrified and embarrassed and so, so sad. But Ali was so cool. He just picked up Layla, told her his family was hers and that they would be happy. And they were, they really, really were.”

“I’m glad that they found each other,” Digby said, lifting his lips off her hair to say the words.

“I am too. Anyway, Ali’s family is now mine too.” Bay used the balls of her hands to wipe the tears from her face. She sniffed, took a sip of coffee from his mug and scooted off his lap. She walked over to the second wall of windows, folded her arms and stared at the mountain, watching the tablecloth settle over the previously clear top.

Her next words were a bombshell he didn’t expect.

“They want Olivia, Dig.”

Her words were flat and cold and he couldn’t make sense of them. “What? What do you mean they want Olivia?Whowants her?”

“My parents are applying for custody of her and are going to tell the court that I’m unfit to raise her. They have money, they are still young, they are only in their midfifties and they have experience raising children.” Bay tried to smile. “It’s a good argument.”

Digby struggled to digest this new information. He stood up and walked over to her, noting her pale face. “But she’s mixed race. And you said that he’s a racist.”

Bay sent him a wan smile. “Ah, they’ll ignore that inconvenient fact. But I’m terrified they’ll raise her as they raised us, to be a good wife and daughter, to not have her own opinions, to believe that a man’s opinion is more important than hers will ever be. And if I lose her, Layla will haunt me forever.”

“You’re not going to lose her, sweetheart,” Digby told her, his hands reaching for hers. “Layla and her husband gave you guardianship—the court will take that into account.”

“God, I hope so. But the fact remains that I have no child-rearing experience and I’ve spent the last few years bouncing around the world. I’m also self-employed and my income stream isn’t long-term steady.”

“I think you are borrowing trouble, honey. I think you have an excellent shot of retaining custody.”

When her eyes connected with his, Digby knew he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “Unlike your previous girlfriends, Digby, you don’t have to worry about me using you to up my visibility. In fact, my worst nightmare would be us hitting the gossip columns—I cannot tell you how much I’d hate that.”

She removed her hands from his and wrapped her arms around her waist. She briefly closed her eyes and her chest rose and fell; her agitation was obvious. “I can’t be linked, in any way, to you, Digby. It might hurt my chances to keep custody of Olivia.”

Digby felt like she’d shoved a knife into his chest. “What?Why?”

“My lawyer says my judgment might be called into question if they—my parents or the press—discover that I’m dating or sleeping with you.” Bay bit her lip, her shoulders lifting to reach her ears. “You’ve led a bit of a wild life and...well...”

“Just spit it out, Bay,” Digby said, his voice cool. He knew what was coming—he’d been here before, taking on the sins of his parents. But, damn, it had never stung this much before...

Bay sucked in a deep breath and her words rushed out. “Some people think you are like your parents and, obviously, they’d wonder what effect you’d have on Olivia if you were to become a permanent fixture in my life. I told my lawyer that you are anticommitment, that nothing like that would happen, but she says that it doesn’t matter, that perception is all that’s important.”

“I’m not like my parents, Bay, not when it comes to the important stuff,” Digby said, his voice stiff with annoyance. God, he hoped she didn’t hear the hint of hurt under his irritation.

“I know that, Digby, but the judge and lawyers don’t. And I can’t take the chance of losing her, Dig.” In her eyes, he saw defiance and determination and knew that whatever they had was now lost, that the spark between them had been doused. “This is Olivia’s life we are talking about—I cannot take any risks that might backfire.”

“So you have to choose between her and me,” Digby said, his tone frigid. Would anyone ever put him first? Then the wave of shame broke over his head when he remembered that Olivia was innocent, a child, and he was an adult with a crapload of resources.

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