Page 79 of Billion Dollar Lie

But that was months ago. Even now, as I see him before me, anguished by that very same pain, I feel nothing, not even pity.

By now, my former heartache has been replaced by another. The misery I feel now is not attached to his name—but to Logan’s. Patrick has become nothing more than a black spot in my past, and I realize now that I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.

I was too busy falling in love with Logan—and my heart aches when I think about him.

“Well, I have given up on us,” I tell Patrick. “And so have you. You gave up on us the moment you started things with Stacey.”

I straighten my back, before I get back up on my feet, now towering above him.

“You don’t get to play the victim, when it was you who ended us,” I say. “I’m sorry if you thought I’d dwell on you forever and gladly take you back just like that, but that’s not going to happen. Ever. I have moved on—and so should you.”

We lock eyes, while tense silence fills the room between us, and I can see the expression on his face changing. Sadness gets replaced by determination, almost anger, as he rises to his feet.

“How can you be so cold,” he utters. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“Good,” I say. “That should make it easier for you. I know it did for me.”

My phone pings, causing both of us to flinch in surprise. I take a step back to avert his curious gaze, before I retrieve my phone from my jeans’ pocket.

My heart almost stops when I see the name flashing across the display. Logan hasn’t tried to reach me for two days, and he chosesnowto go for another attempt?

“You must miss your books,” he writes. “Can we arrange a time so Christopher can bring them by?”

And just like that, it’s back—the torment of my broken heart.

Chapter 35

Kat

My heart is running at a thousand miles per hour when I see the limousine arrive. I’ve been waiting downstairs, despite the cold. Meeting him out on the street makes me feel like I’m in control of our interaction, and I feel uneasy about having him step inside my current home.

If he’s even coming, that is. We arranged a day and time for this exchange, and he mostly spoke of Christopher without ever mentioning whether he’ll show up himself—but that doesn’t mean he won’t.

I swallow dryly when the car stops in front of the house and turns on the hazard lights. A terrible moment of unclarity passes, before the door at the driver’s seat opens and Christopher steps out, flashing me a polite smile as he tips his head.

I ignore the lump in my throat when I step forward, ready to help him carry the boxes with my books upstairs. But instead of walking to the back of the car and opening the trunk, Christopher comes to a halt in front of the door to the backseat. He opens it and gestures for me to get inside.

I freeze on the spot, throwing him a puzzled look.

“I thought you were bringing my books?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “I was instructed to pick you up, Miss.”

“Why?” I ask. “That’s not what Logan and I discussed. He said you’d drop by my stuff.”

Christopher makes a face, and I’m not sure whether he’s bothered by me or his enigmatic boss.

“I’m sorry for the confusion,” he says. “Please.”

He beckons me to step inside the car again, but I remain where I am.

“Where are we going?” I want to know. “Am I supposed to pack them up myself? Is that what this is about?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” he says. “But I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

I hesitate, running through my options as I stare at the luxury car, waiting to escort me to God knows where, while Christopher—polite as always—patiently awaits my decision.

“Please, Miss,” he urges eventually, casting a quick side-eye down the street. “I’m blocking half the street, I’ll get in trouble.”

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