Page 33 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

But everything that made her Bay was gone. Her vitality, the passion in those unusual eyes, her humor and her spirit. Her soul was gone and she’d taken his heart with her...

Digby was about to shut the lid of the casket when her eyes flew open and her hand reached out to grab his tie.

He stared down into her sad, sad eyes and waited for her to speak.

But instead of saying something profound, deeply meaningful, her eyes fluttered closed and Bay slipped away. And this time Digby knew she wasn’t ever coming back...

His heart pounding, Digby shot up and looked around his bedroom, relieved to see the first rays of light peeking through the edges of the motorized blinds in his bedroom. Picking up the tablet from his bedside table, he tapped the button to open the blinds and as they rolled up he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his fingertips.

Damn, that had been a hell of a nightmare. Digby felt moisture on his fingertips and stared down at his hands, slowly registering that he’d been crying in his sleep.

Well, that was a first.

It was an overcast day, the mountain was concealed behind a thick cloud and the weather perfectly matched his mood. Sitting up, Digby rested his forearms on his knees, staring down at the damp print his palm left on his white sheet. He was, he decided, a basket case...

He’d had the same dream for most of his life but it was morphing into something deeper and darker, and every time he had the dream, he felt like he was losing a little bit of his soul. Maybe he should see someone...

And what would he say?Hey, Doc, I’ve been having dreams about my brother dying most of my life. But this morning he was replaced by a woman I’ve only just recently met, whom I crave with every breath I take, with every beat of my heart. I want her; I need her. But I won’t let myself have her. Because if I love her and she leaves me, that’s me done. I’m not brave enough to take that risk...

Loving someone and losing them? He refused to do it again.

Digby scrubbed his face with his hands, uncomfortable with the roiling, churning emotions swirling inside his gut.

A week had passed since Bay walked out of his bedroom and back into the friend zone and he was over it. Over the stilted conversations, over trying to keep his hands off her, over boycotting his office because it hurt too much to be around her and not be kissing her, laughing with her, goddamn talking to her.

Somehow, Bay Adair had snuck under his carefully constructed armor.

One week. In seven days, the custody hearing would be over—though he suspected Bay would want to wait a few weeks while the judge considered his decision—and then...what? What did he want from her, from this thing that was growing between them?

If he couldn’t love Bay the way she needed to be loved, then he should let her go. But how could he? She was everything good and bright and colorful in his life.

She’d make his life better; the converse wasn’t true.

Irritated with himself, Digby pushed the sheet back, thinking that he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. He wanted Bay with an intensity that scared him but he’d never imagined himself settling down, making a solid commitment.

But neither could he imagine her not being in his life.

However, along with Bay came Olivia; that meant sharing Bay with Liv, and he wasn’t ready for an instant family. That was one step too far. But, if they got to the point of dating, he and Olivia would start to develop a relationship, as well...

And if he ran true to form, and he always did, and decided that he wasn’t cut out for attachment and permanence, Bay wouldn’t be the only one who’d be hurt.

He didn’t want to cause either of them any pain. So he wouldn’t. But that meant not being with Bay, ever again.

His stomach lurched into his throat.

Digby swung his legs over the edge of the bed and picked up his phone, looking for a distraction. As always, there were a slew of emails but one caught his eye. He read through it quickly, cursed, and immediately called Radd.

Radd, very unusually for him lately, answered his call.

“I take it you got the email then,” Radd said, dispensing with their normal “how’s business?” and “how’s your holiday” small talk.

“Yeah.”

“So, the beneficiary of our parents’ trust is asking us to meet with them early next week.”

Yeah, he got that; he’d read the damn email not five minutes ago. “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Digby muttered.

“Did you get out on the wrong side of the bed?” Radd asked him, sounding a trifle amused.

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