Page 53 of Saved By the Billionaire

“You’ve walked too much today. You just said so.” Had she? Not exactly, she suspected, but her brain was too addled. She cursed Tia then for plying her with champagne.

“Why are you angry at me?”

He flicked her a glance then grunted as he stalked towards the bed. But he didn’t put her down; he dropped his gaze to hers and stared at her as though something in her eyes would have everything make sense.

“That’s not an answer,” she responded, waspishly.

“I’m not angry at you.”

“But you are angry.”

“I’m—why does it matter?”

“Is that how you want to play this? Just shutting me down whenever I ask a question?”

“What question do you want to ask? Am I mad because you left the apartment against my express⁠—”

“Instructions?” she interrupted with disbelief.

“Request,” he retorted, then moved to place her on the bed, propping her so she was sitting up, before straightening the leg with the sore ankle. She ignored how his sudden tenderness affected her, and focused on their acerbic words instead.

“Am I mad because you pounded back champagne with Tia even though you clearly can’t keep up?”

She snorted then. “Hey, I can handle my liquor.”

“All appearances to the contrary,” he rejected.

“I told you, I don’t day drink,” she muttered.

“Evidently.”

“So?” She crossed her arms belligerently, staring at him with fulsome anger. “Is that a problem? Does that piss you off so much you had to bring me in here all holier than thou? What exactly is the problem?”

“The problem is⁠—”

“Yeah?”

“The problem is⁠—”

“I’m listening.”

He dragged his hand through his hair then stalked across the room, standing for a full ten seconds with his hands braced on his hips. “The problem is that I don’t want to see you like this.”

Rejection surged through her, as sharp as any blade she’d ever known. She felt instantly wrong, as though she didn’t belong in his beautiful apartment with his beautiful friend.

“I don’t ever want to see you vulnerable and trusting, easy to take advantage of.”

Her heart hammered; she felt as though she were missing something important but couldn’t take hold of it. Was that because for one of the first times in her life she felt valued and wanted? Seen and needed? He moved back to her, sat on the edge. “Promise me that when you leave here, you’ll look after yourself.”

“I only went out for a walk,” she said. “To explore a little. I wasn’t⁠—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “After our contract date, will you be careful?”

Her heart seemed to wither into nothing, like the spent skin of an aged fruit. “Oh. I…I wasn’t drinking that night.”

He swore. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not blaming you.”

“Aren’t you?”