Page 8 of How to Win the Wild Billionaire

“Mmm. The room is very neutral and a little bland,” Bay stated, her voice a little raspy. “Neutral, but...”

“Boring?”

“Yeah, boring.” Bay nibbled her full luscious bottom lip, and he wanted, very badly, to know whether it tasted as good as it looked. But she hadn’t given him a hint that his attraction was reciprocated so no moves, dammit, would be made.

So sad, too bad.

“The light is incredible and the proportions fantastic,” Bay said, her light, bright eyes darting everywhere.

Digby tried to see the space through her eyes and admitted it was. It was a double-volume room with crowned ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows and a highly polished wooden floor. His parents had been married in this room and he’d watched the video of their expensive wedding. His mother looking sensational wearing a Chanel gown, his father in a black topcoat and tails, his face alight with laughter.

Three months after their wedding, his father took over as CEO of Tempest-Vane Holdings and started looting the company. By the time Digby was a teenager, twenty or so years after that society wedding, there was nothing of the family fortune left and the Tempest-Vane holding company was declared insolvent.

There had been no remorse about transferring the company’s wealth to their individual bank accounts and, ultimately, to a trust, and their desire to live harder, faster, crazier lives in the pursuit of pleasure simply increased. Man, they’d been useless parents in every possible way.

No wonder he was emotionally stunted.

Bay cleared her throat and tipped her head to the side. “You don’t like this room,” she commented.

He liked the room just fine, it was the memories he hated.

Needing air, Digby walked over to the floor-to-ceiling French doors and quickly unlocked them, sliding them against the wall. He walked onto the expansive balcony and gripped the balustrade, looking down onto the rose garden first established by his great-great-grandmother. He smelled Bay’s perfume, subtle but sexy, as she joined him and he noticed that her head just reached the top of his shoulder.

He wondered how well she’d fit into his arms...

Bay looked down and gasped. In the garden below them, white roses slid into pink roses, then red, then scarlet. It was, he admitted, a hell of a sight and best seen from up above.

“Mama B would love this,” Bay said, resting her forearms on the railing, her eyes dancing over the rose garden.

“Who is that?” Digby asked, turning to lean his hip against the railing.

Bay’s smile was soft and gentle. “Mama B is Bella Samsodien, my late sister’s grandmother-in-law. The owner of the sloth, Livvie, is her great-granddaughter.” Bay darted him a quick look, as if deciding how much to tell him. Then she shrugged quickly and continued.

“My sister and her husband died in a car crash six months ago and they named me as Olivia’s guardian.”

It took Digby a minute to make sense of her words, to understand that she was raising her sister’s child. Intellectually he knew that her actions weren’t that out of the ordinary, but since he was a product of parents who hadn’t shown any interest in raising theirownsons, her unselfish action amazed him.

Digby looked at her profile and saw the tension in her mouth, in the cords of her neck. He knew what it felt like to lose a sibling. “I’m sorry. I lost my brother too and I know how hard it is.”

Bay nodded. “I miss her, but I’m lucky to have Liv. She’s the most amazing little girl.”

Digby, who had no experience of children, and didn’t want any, didn’t know how to respond to that statement.

“Having Olivia in our lives is such a blessing, and Mama B adores her. Ali, my brother-in-law, was Mama B’s grandson—she raised him from a baby because her daughter died in childbirth.” Sadness flitted across her face. “She’s endured so much loss—I don’t know how she goes on.”

You plow on because you have no damn choice. As he damn well knew. “And you are fond of her.” That much was obvious; he saw her face soften every time she mentioned the older lady.

“She’s amazing,” Bay told him, turning to look at him, her expression earnest. “I was overseas when I heard about the accident. I returned to Cape Town immediately, only to find out that I’d inherited their house and was named Liv’s guardian. I was reeling, trying to deal with Layla’s death and trying to wrap my head around the fact that I had a child to care for. I knew nothing about children, wasn’t even remotely interested in them.”

Bay dug into her bag and pulled out her phone, swiping her thumb across the screen. She held it up. “This is Olivia.”

Cute, Digby thought. Olivia sported a head of wild dark curls. With her massive round black eyes, rosebud mouth and lovely brown skin, she was the definition of gorgeous.

“We stayed with Mama B for three months, and Liv and I moved out three months ago.”

Digby wanted to ask her about her parents, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned them, but he could visibly see her retreating. It was obvious that she thought that she’d been too open, shared too much. But he wanted to know more and that was dangerous. He wouldn’t be seeing her again...

Pity.

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