Caught Between Two Billionaires - Skye Warren Page 0,22
I’m going to do this for you, because he asked me to, and because it’s the only way I can protect you, even from yourself. You’ll give away every cent if you think it will help someone.”
“Protect me? This isn’t the Massachusetts Bay! I’m not sitting on the damn rail.”
“You told me to leave you alone then, too. And I’ll never regret staying on deck so that I could dive in after you. I’ll do it again if I have to.”
What would it take for this man to see me as a woman? As someone that can make her own decisions instead of as a maiden who needs saving. But I don’t think it’s even about me or what I need. He already told me, didn’t he? It’s his choice, and he would rather be a white knight whether it helps me or not.
“Christopher,” I say, my voice low and desperate. “That kiss.”
His black eyes sharpen. “What about it?”
“It means something to me.” Even if I have to slash my skin to pieces. That’s how much Christopher is worth to me. It’s more than a girlish crush, the way I feel about him. The feelings that are wavering like a drop of water on a petal, about to slide away.
“I told you it was a mistake.”
I swallow hard. “I think you’re lying. I think it meant something to you, too.”
His eyes are more opaque than ever, obsidian and shining. He twists his mouth into a look that’s worse than dislike—into pity. “You’re young, but I didn’t think you were stupid. A kiss doesn’t mean anything.”
My father’s death should have been enough to break me, but somehow I was whole. Until now, when I’m in a million pieces at Christopher Bardot’s feet. “No.”
“I felt bad for you, to be honest. That’s why I wrote you back.”
“You’re lying,” I say, hating the tears in my eyes.
“You weren’t a sister to me.” His words are cold, his eyes unfeeling. There’s no doubt he means those words. “You meant nothing to me. Just a poor little rich girl, all along.”
Betrayal knots itself in my stomach, so tight and so deep I’m not sure I’ll ever be free of it. “Then why don’t you walk away, if I mean so little? Let me manage the trust fund, and you never have to talk to me again.”
“Obligation. This is something I have to do out of respect for your father.”
Not out of respect for me. Never that.
Both men and money have a way of disappearing when you need them most. It’s something I learned early, but clearly I needed to learn it again. Neither my stepbrother nor the inheritance were anything I could count on.
Neither of them were anything I could trust.
SURVIVAL OF THE RICHEST
The paper in my hand has been crushed in my fist and smoothed out with shaking hands so many times the ink has almost faded. Almost, but I have the words memorized anyway.
“Where is he?” I ask the pretty receptionist without introducing myself. It must be obvious who I am, unless Christopher Bardot likes to torment women all over the country. He might have given her a heads-up; Like, “by the way, I have a stepsister who hates my guts.” Maybe they laugh about it before she gives him a blow job from beneath his desk.
That seems like exactly the kind of thing he would do.
“He’s in a meeting,” she says, clearly planning to block me. But her eyes give her away, her gaze darting to the frosted-glass doors to her right.
“Don’t bother buzzing me in,” I tell her, already heading in that direction.
When I push open the door, I’m confronted by a large conference room with dark wood paneling and leather chairs. There’s only one man inside.
And it’s not him.
Where Christopher’s hair is dark, this man’s is a deep gold, as if it’s been turned that way from hours spent in the sun. Instead of eyes black like obsidian, this man has blue eyes that look as bright as the sky on a hot summer day.
In so many ways they’re opposite, but there’s something about him that’s similar. The strength inherent in their bodies. The hunger for more than what he has. I recognize an ambitious man the way a gazelle lifts her head and senses a tiger nearby.
This man takes his time examining my body. I shiver a little in the cool office air, goose bumps on my skin. It’s only the air-conditioning that makes my nipples turn hard beneath