Page 10 of Saved By the Billionaire

That was surprisingly tempting. There was something about this man that made her want to confide. To lean on someone.

“Okay.” A moment later, he was carrying her through the apartment and she had to remind herself that this wasn’t permanent. This wasn’t real. He’d helped her last night, but he’d also made it clear that it was for one night only. So she let herself relax into how good his arms felt, how secure she felt, and didn’t worry about anything more complicated. Soon, she’d be out of here, back to whatever her life had been like before last night. Reality…

Chapter Three

THE SOFT MORNING LIGHT landed in the room in a way that was both familiar and different, casting Kate in an ethereal glow that made her seem somehow so much more vulnerable. Even when it was patently obvious that she wanted to project an image of strength, her every word reinforced a sense that she needed help.

That she needed protecting.

Every time he glimpsed her bruised face, he felt a new stab of rage for the assailants, and what might have been.

“Coffee?”

She stared up at him as though he’d started to speak in a foreign language, then nodded slowly, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

He moved into the kitchen and poured two cups, texting Garrett as he did so.

“Right.” He placed a mug in front of her and watched as both hands lifted to cup it, curving around the warm edges as though it were a talisman. “Talk to me, Kate.”

His voice was all raw intensity. He took the seat beside hers, shifting his body so he was facing her, his much larger frame almost feeling like a cage to her far smaller one. But she didn’t startle, nor pull back. If anything, she almost imperceptibly leaned closer to him.

“Do you remember what I said last night?” She sipped her coffee.

He continued to stare at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I don’t trust anyone.” Her eyes stayed latched to the table. “And you’re asking that of me.”

He frowned. That wasn’t untrue. “You need help.”

She glanced up at him, frowning. “You’ve already helped me.”

“Not enough.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell.”

“How?”

“I understand people. I think I particularly understand you.”

She looked around, an expression of disbelief on her beautiful face. “I highly doubt that.”

She had every reason to doubt. This was the home of an unashamed billionaire, a man whose life was surrounded by wealth and ease. There was no way to tell, just by looking at it, that he’d grown up not knowing where the next meal—or drunken beating—was coming from.

“What brought you to America?”

She worried with her fingers in her lap, and stayed silent for so long he wondered if she was going to ignore his line of questioning altogether. Eventually, though, her throat shifted and she lifted her big, clear eyes to his and said, “I’m looking for someone.”

Memories slammed into him, unwelcome and urgent. Looking for Grace, when he realised she wasn’t safely travelling abroad, but rather lost to the dark fringes of this city.

“And you haven’t found them yet.”

She shook her head slowly. “I thought three months would be enough, so I applied for a normal tourist visa. But I’d barely scratched the surface by the time it ran out. I arrived in New York two weeks ago, and I’m…”

She lifted one shoulder, almost apologetic.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered, cheeks flushing with a welcome hint of colour, making her look more spirited, less vulnerable, so he was instantly glad. “But this isn’t exactly the best city to be in with dwindling savings and no legal way to work.”