Page 84 of The Forbidden Billionaire
He puts down his spoon. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, so many times.”
We study each other across the table. It’s dark outside now, but the lamps fill the room with a warm glow. The one behind Luke casts a golden glow around his hair as if he has a halo.
“What?” he asks, lips curving up.
“You’re like my guardian angel.” The thought takes my breath away.
He has a mouthful of Sprite, embarrassed. “I was just doing my job.”
“Is that all it was?” I feel suddenly unsteady, like I’m standing on the deck of a listing ship. The events of the past few hours feel unreal. It’s beautiful here, but it feels like a dream. Another fantasy I’ve conjured up—me and Luke, stranded on a desert island.
Why do I over-romanticize everything? Maybe I was wrong and he’s not interested in me at all. And even if he is, he’s not going to allow himself to feel anything for me.
Emotion bubbles up inside me, overwhelming, too strong to stop. I’m so tired, angry, frustrated, frightened… My throat tightens, and I cover my face with my hands.
“Hey…”
Tears stream down my face, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.
His chair scrapes and his bare feet sound on the tiles as he walks around the table. “Don’t cry,” he says, but it just makes me cry harder.
“Baby,” he says, “come here.”
I barely register the endearment, too overwrought as he places his hands under my arms and lifts me to my feet. He bends and lifts me into his arms, and I loop mine around his neck and cling to him like a limpet.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he murmurs, walking across the living room. “I’m here.”
He obviously has no idea that’s why I’m crying. I should have demanded he stay in Auckland, or at least in another villa. Being so close to him is going to kill me, and yet I can’t let him go.
After turning into the first bedroom on the left, he takes me over to the bed. He lowers me down, but I refuse to release him.
“Aurelia…”
“Don’t go,” I whisper.
He sighs, but he says, “I’m not going anywhere,” and he climbs over me onto the mattress. Leaning back against the pillows, he draws me to him. I curl up beside him, wrapped in his strong arms.
When I bury my nose in his tee, I can smell his cologne. It’s become so familiar over the past six weeks. His car smells of it. Once or twice, he’s lent me a hoodie when I’ve been cold, and I’ve snuggled down into it, enjoying how it feels twice as big as mine, and liking the scent of rum and sugar that arises from it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, taking deep, shuddering breaths.
“Don’t apologize. You’ve had a helluva shock today. You’re coping incredibly well.” He strokes my back. “I’m just sorry we weren’t able to catch him before you found out.”
“Do you think I did something to him? Turned him down, or was nasty to him or something?”
“Aurelia… you’re never nasty. He just has a crazy fixation with you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It might be as simple as because you’re young, and beautiful, and vivacious, and he knows he would never stand a chance with you.”
I’m so tired. My eyelids droop, and I feel his hand on my hair. “You think I’m beautiful?” I murmur.
“I think you’re possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
I close my eyes, his words thawing the ice that has circulated in my veins since the moment I walked into my bedroom and saw the items on the bed.
I think he kisses my hair, but I’m asleep before I can process what it means.
