Page 63 of The Forbidden Billionaire
“Oh God…” She hiccups. “Marcus is going to hate me…”
“Of course he isn’t. You’re his favorite sibling. Don’t tell Caesar I told you that.” She doesn’t laugh, though. She’s genuinely really upset about this.
“Now, come on.” I speak firmly. As much as I’m enjoying holding her, I move back a little, retrieve some tissues from the box on her desk, and pass them to her. “Blow your nose.”
She does so and sniffles.
“Come here.” I take another tissue and wipe her face. Even with blotchy eyes and red cheeks, she’s still beautiful.
“He called me immature and hopeless,” she says softly. Fresh tears well in her eyes. “And he was right.”
“No, he wasn’t. It was a mistake. You thought you were speaking to a friend, right?”
She nods and tries to soak up her tears. “She’s one of mum’s friends and I’ve known her for years. We were just talking about Marcus and Wren.” She swallows hard and more tears tipover her lashes. “Caesar said I was being spiteful and trying to ruin Marcus’s happiness and his reputation.”
I feel a flare of anger toward him. “That’s bullshit. Doesn’t he know you at all?”
“I love Marcus,” she protests. “I was telling Caroline how pleased I was that he and Wren were together. I didn’t mean to mention Caesar at all, but we were talking about whether they’d have children quickly because Wren is thirty-three, and that’s when it kind of slipped out. Oh God, Marcus is going to be so mad…”
“He won’t,” I say firmly. “And neither will your father nor Caesar, not when they’ve calmed down.”
“I wasn’t being spiteful,” she whispers, looking up into my eyes. “You believe me, right?”
I look into those big green pools, my heart aching for her. “Absolutely, I do. I don’t think you have a spiteful bone in your body.” She’s not a gossip, and I’ve never heard her say one bitchy thing about another woman.
Her lips curve up a little. “I’m so glad you believe me.”
“I’m on your side, remember. And look. I’m sure it would have been easier for everyone if this had remained in the family, but secrets rarely stay buried forever. The world loves a scandal. But when it comes down to it, nobody has done anything wrong. Wren’s fertility clinic advised her to approach a friend because there’s a long wait for donors for single women. Marcus found out and asked her to marry him because he’s always liked her. In my opinion, what he did was romantic and honorable. And frankly, it’s nobody else’s business.”
She wipes her face. “That’s true, but Wren agreed to the marriage to provide Marcus with an heir for the company, and to get a baby. She wants separate bedrooms and she’s intending to separate after she gets pregnant.”
I snort. “Marcus won’t let that happen.”
“He might not have a choice.”
“He can be very persuasive. We all can, when we see someone we want.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and our eyes lock.
“This is such a mess,” she says softly. “It’s Dad’s fault for putting pressure on us to settle down. I’d never have met with Dom if he hadn’t said that.” She looks down at her hands.
My eyebrows rise. “That’s why you agreed to see him?”
She shrugs. “After the board meeting where he gave us the ultimatum, he told me he was disappointed I’d broken up with Dominic because he liked him. He said Dom was steady and hardworking, and he’d been thinking about offering him a place in the company, and that I didn’t know a good thing when I saw it. I felt guilty and wondered if I’d been a fool to break up with him.”
Pity filters through me. All she wants to do is please everyone.
“Fathers can be a right pain in the arse,” I say with feeling.
That makes her laugh. “Yeah.”
“If I ever have a daughter, I’ll do my best to let her make her own choices.”
She holds my gaze for a few seconds, then looks away. She seems sad, and I feel an echo of the same wistfulness. We can never get together while I’m her CPO, and I can’t expect her to wait for me forever. She’s young and gorgeous, and eventually she’ll meet someone warm and charismatic who’ll treat her gently, and then I’ll have to watch them together, like a Dickensian kid outside a toy shop in the snow, looking in.
“I’d better go,” I say, pushing up to my feet. “Keep your chin up. And you know where I am if you need me.”
She clears her throat and retrieves a mirror from her desk. “I might be here till late,” she says as she checks her appearance and starts clearing up her smudged makeup.
