Wicked Billionaire - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,56

was inexcusable.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not,” I cut in. “I shouldn’t have brought you there. I knew that might happen. Or at least, I knew they’d be their rude and arrogant selves. I didn’t realize they’d be so focused, though. I thought they might abide by some common decency.”

Bailey gives a wan smile. “Your family is… interesting.”

“My family is a bunch of assholes,” I mutter. “I’ve been called that a time or two myself, so I know the title is appropriate.”

Bailey giggles, and I’m glad to see she’s taking this with a bit of humor. “You’re not an asshole.”

“So magnanimous,” I reply dryly, shaking my head.

Now I get a full-throated laugh, and fuck… it’s sexy. It’s why I’m in no way offended when she admits, “Okay, I thought you were an asshole when I first met you.”

“I could tell.” I swirl my wine in my glass with the memory of her cleaning my suite. Who would have thought we’d be where we are today?

Bailey gives a tiny cough, causing my gaze to move up to her face. She winces slightly as she asks, “Was that… um… a typical dinner?”

“You mean the formality?” I ask with a wry smile. “Or the multitude of servants who would wipe your ass if you demanded it? Or maybe the fact no one in my family seems to like each other?”

“All of it,” she replies with a grin.

“Sadly,” I muse, taking a sip. “That was pretty typical. Horrible conversation because everyone is trying to toot their own horn. Parents not engaged with their kids because, let’s face it… they don’t give a crap. That’s what it was like growing up a Blackwood, so you can see why I didn’t mind going away to boarding school.”

Her eyes fill with pained sadness, and I give a hard shake of my head.

“No,” I instruct with a wag of my finger. “You are not allowed to feel sorry for me.”

“But it’s awful,” she murmurs.

“It was normal.” She blinks in surprise because my tone conveys I don’t have any bitterness. “I didn’t know—don’t know—any different. If there’s something better out there, it’s beyond me.”

“Really?” she asks.

“It was normal,” I assure her.

“Doesn’t feel normal now, does it? It’s why we left.”

I’m the one who reels in surprise at that proclamation. And she’s absolutely right… it didn’t feel healthy at all. It felt oppressive. Plus, the tension bothered me, whereas before, I could always let it roll off my back.

I smile with a feeling of tenderness I don’t quite understand. “Nothing’s been normal since I met you, Miss Robbins.”

She snickers, then takes a small sip of her wine. When she swallows, she points out, “You used to call me Miss Robbins to put distance between us. Remind me of my place. But now it’s just kind of sexy when you do it.”

This time, a deep laugh tears free of me, and I like the way it feels. She’s absolutely right about that. Now when I call her Miss Robbins, it is in no way done as a means to keep my distance.

“You said something to your mom as we were leaving,” Bailey murmurs, and the somber tone has my laugh dying a quick death.

I nod because I know exactly what she’s remembering. And I hadn’t meant for those words to come out, but they had. Of course, Bailey latched onto them.

“You implied I was more than an employee,” she says.

“Yes,” I admit without hesitation. No sense in hiding it. “Which is at odds with what I thought I wanted.”

“Which was?” she inquires.

“Life without commitments. No expectations. Minimal ties. All that means there can be no disappointments. Freedom is what I wanted.”

Bailey frowns as she considers my words. “I can tell you don’t like having feelings. They’re hard for you to reconcile.”

There’s not much I can say to that except, “True.”

She nods in understanding. “Just so you know, I’m sort of the same. This wasn’t anything I was looking for or wanted.”

“And yet here we are,” I murmur.

“Here we are,” she echoes.

Silence ensues, and it’s not uncomfortable. We digest the admissions we just exchanged, Bailey staring into her wine and me staring at Bailey.

She’s so beautiful, and it has more to do with who she is inside than outside.

Weird.

“Are we going to do something about this?” she finally asks.

Once again, I’m surprised at the blunt question. “You mean like… have a relationship?”

Bailey shrugs. “That, or go back to the way we were. Sex only at the club.”

I see what she’s doing. She’s forcing me