Page 119 of The Rebel Billionaire

I drop my forehead against the steering wheel before sitting up. She turns as she enters the building, shooting me one last glance before she disappears.

“What the fuck, Sandro,” I hiss, using the nickname my parents have always used. “You’re her boss and fifteen years her senior. Sue in HR would have a fit, not to mention everyone else.”

But that doesn’t stop the longing in my chest, or the throbbing of my cock when I think about the taste of her lips on mine.

Fuck!

The streets are surprisingly quiet. Most of the Christmas revellers are on foot rather than driving.

I pull into the underground garage of my building.

The elevator arrives immediately when I call it, taking me straight to the penthouse.

My penthouse spans two floors and offers three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of New York from its various rooms.

I pour myself a scotch and down it in one. The burn at the back of my throat offers a small measure of relief.

I pour another, carrying it towards the window and staring down at the city below.

I stayed off alcohol all day, not wanting to compromise my judgement.

Ha, how did that work out for you, old man?

I can almost hear Dante’s gibe.

I don’t know what it is about her. It’s like she’s mature beyond her years. Like she understands the life I live, but that’s impossible. You have to have been raised in this fucked up world to understand the fake smiles and air kisses shared among so-called friends who would stab you in the back at the first opportunity.

It’s why I fell in love with Loretta. She may have been a model, but she was normal. Raised by working-class parents, she had developed a backbone that meant she could hold her own and was not afraid of hard work. In all the time we were together, her head was never turned by the fake glitz and glamour that surrounded us. I was the one to fuck that up.

I take another swallow, throwing my head back.

I don’t even blame her.

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

“I’m leaving you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

It’s been a long day… a long week if I’m honest, and my body is bone-weary.

“I’ve tried, Alex, I really have,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks. “But it takes two to make a marriage work. I can’t do it alone.”

I take a step forward, unsure where this has come from, but pause when she steps back. I run a hand through my hair. “Do we have to do this now? I’ve had a really bad day. Let me grab a quick shower and we can talk.”

She smiles sadly. “That’s the problem. It’s all work. I’ve been trying to do this, make you listen to me for months. It’s not working. I want more.” She lets out a sob. “No, I deserve more.”

My eyes are drawn to the suitcases by her feet.

Fuck! She means it.

“Look, I’m not sure what’s happened but I promise to try harder.” A crushing pain hits my chest.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I love you. I think a part of me always will, but I can’t cope with being your second or third choice.”

“You’re not,” I say, the desperation in my tone growing. I reach for her again, but she sidesteps. “I love you too, Lori. We can work this out.”

She shakes her head sadly.