BILLIONAIRE (Part 6) by Juliette Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

exotic-looking.  Animal skins and leather.  Maybe this was
where Alexander shopped, I thought, a pang of confused despair seeping into my
bones.
    Now
one step removed from the bad dream and the locked door, a glimmer of calm
sanity was returning to me.  But I was far from cured.  That horrible dream had
reignited hidden, painful cloisters of my past that I’d hoped were well and
truly behind me.  Something about the dream and the damage clung to me, like
cold, wet, invisible leaves.  Damn it all.  Maybe I needed therapy.  I thought
I’d managed to evade all that, to work through these issues myself through
study and hard work and convoluted avoidance techniques.  Why was it all
returning to me now?  When I thought I’d moved on?
    My
only answer to this question was that Alexander’s behavior had kicked up an
innate, survivalist defiance in me.  My piece of mind and sense of safety had
been profoundly violated as a child, shattered many times over.  As much as I
loved the protectiveness Alexander showed towards me, there was a line that had
been crossed.  It pissed me off, too: I’d told him about all that.  Had
I mentioned how he , the monster, had locked me up?  Had I made it clear
how terrifying that had been for me?  That Alexander knew all that – or
at least some of it – and still chose to lock me in his
admittedly luxurious prison, it just didn’t sit well.  At all.  I needed a
break.  I needed some time to think and to breathe.
    Still,
I missed him.  I missed the haven of him.
    Of
his apartment and his money.
    Of
his strong arms.
    I
missed his face.
    Had
I acted too rashly?  Probably.  The two glasses of champagne I’d chugged had
given me a frantic courage and, now, cast the city light in a soft, sparky
glow.  The fact that I had no money and no phone seem less urgent than maybe it
should have.  I could always go to Eva’s, I reasoned.  She probably had another
roommate by now, but I knew she’d let me sleep on the couch if it wasn’t
already being occupied.  Or even in her bed, if that wasn’t already
being occupied.
    I
didn’t feel like going there yet.  In fact, after thinking it through, I
decided I wouldn’t go there.  Alexander would look for me there.  He knew where
Eva lived and it would be the first place he’d search.  I wanted him to worry
about me.  I wanted him to be anxious, after what he’d put me through.
    What
I felt was completely reckless.  Utterly lost.  Free, in the loosest sense of
the word.  Not good free, entirely, but adrift.
    “Wow,”
a male voice said, diverting my attention.  A man stood next to me, and he was
facing the window, but his head tilted towards me, stealing a glance.  His eyes
roved my face, my lips, my hair, wandering to the low cut of my dress and the
curve of my breasts.  “That leopard sofa is amazing.”  He wasn’t looking at the
sofa.
    His
eyes were green.  He had dark blond hair and a business suit on.  A nice one. 
Expensive.  He wasn’t excessively handsome but he was nicely groomed.  He was
making the most of what he had.  “My name’s Mick.  Mick O’Neil.”
    “Hi,
Mick O’Neil.”  I wasn’t feeling especially social.  I turned back to the
window.
    But
Mick O’Neil was persistent.  “Can I buy you a drink?  Or something to eat?  I
was just going to that new fusion restaurant on the corner, and I’d love some
company.  If you’re not busy.”  He was a flirt, and his eyes were friendly,
edged with undisguised interest.  He had that Irish thing going on, of smiling,
open-faced eagerness.  He seemed harmless enough and I was hungry. 
Famished, in fact.  In the end I hadn’t eaten much of the ice cream, I
remembered, feeling a stab of curling woe at the memory.  Among other things. 
Mick noticed the blush that rose to my cheeks as I recalled the only form of
nourishment I’d had so far today.  Mick couldn’t have know what caused me to
blush but he seemed riveted by it.