Always My Babygirl A Billionaire Romance - Jane Henry Page 0,59
to her voicemail.
“Where to, sir?”
I give him her address, the same address I’ve had memorized for months. I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. My phone rings again, and I reach for it. This time, my heart soars in my chest.
Miranda.
“Hello?”
“Don’t even think about coming over here.”
It’s uncanny how well she knows me.
“We need to talk.”
“I need some space right now, Gabriel.”
Gabriel, not daddy. I hate that.
“And I have a few things to say.”
“Not now. I want you to just give me some space and time to process everything.”
“You don’t even have the full truth!”
“I know enough.” Her voice is pained and ragged, and it tears my heart in two. “And I need you to leave me alone.” Her tone shifts to her professional business owner one. “I apologize for negating the terms of our contract. You’ll be paid back in full.”
“Miranda, I—”
The phone goes dead. I stare at it for a moment as if that conversation didn’t just happen. I want to throw this goddamn thing out a window.
My driver looks in the rearview mirror. “Same plans, sir?”
I speak through gritted teeth. “Same. Plans.”
I shoot Miranda a text.
You maybe saw the news about my “wife.” I have no wife. I was married before in France, but that wedding was deemed invalid in France, and sure as hell isn’t valid in America. It was only on the French news, and I covered it up in America because I wanted a fresh start.
No response.
And I know you know Shane had a key to your apartment, but I can explain everything.
Can I? How do you tell a woman you love her when she won’t even answer her phone?
We arrive at her apartment, just as dusk settles.
I take in a deep breath and square my shoulders when I get out of the car. I know exactly which number to press, and just how the concrete’s broken a few paces outside the door. I know the mail comes at noon, and there’s a woman on the bottom floor who owns a chihuahua that no one “knows” about because it’s against policy to have pets here.
Maybe I’ve taken things too far.
Ok, I definitely have.
I buzz her number, but there’s no answer. I’d bet anything she’s home, though. I want to go all caveman and pound this door down, yell for her. Instead, I take in a deep breath and pull my phone out again.
I send her a text.
Open the door. We need to talk.
A few seconds later, I get a response.
No.
She’s making me angrier. I want to take her by the shoulders and shake her, then spank her ass good and hard.
Is this how you handle things? You make up your mind ahead of time about what’s true and don’t bother to listen to the other side? Real mature, Miranda.
Her text is quick and succinct.
Fuck. Off.
I feel my eyes narrow and my pulse quicken.
When I get ahold of you, I’m going to turn you over my knee and spank your ass till you can’t sit.
You lost that privilege.
I’m fuming, pacing on the front step. A mailman comes and places a box on the step beside me, and I want to kick it down the damn stairs. He watches me, eyebrows slightly raised, as he takes out a key ring and puts the mail in the correct boxes.
“Everything alright?” he says.
“Locked myself out,” I mutter. Will he be able to get me in? Just then a door opens and a mother and her children come out.
I give him a forced smile. “Looks like I’m in luck.”
I sidle into the building like I live here. Someone protests behind me, but I walk with purpose, until I get to her stairwell. I take the steps two at a time and finally get to her door.
I’m tempted to break the door down, but I make myself have a little more composure than that.
I knock three times.
No answer.
“Miranda. Open the door!” I knock again.
No answer.
My phone buzzes and I glance down.
If you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops. You shouldn’t be in here.
My response is quick. And you should have the decency to answer the door so we can at least talk.
There’s a pause. I hear hushed whispers and raised voices but can’t tell what they’re saying.
I press on.
Jesus, I’ve fucked up.
I’ve fucked up bad.
This woman means the world to me. I will devote my everything to her, if only she’ll give me a chance to make things right again. She has to.