Page 94 of Filthy Rich

He’s glaring at one tile on the floor, as if it punched his sister. “I’m doing this for them.”

“I knew it.” I grab his hand. “And May? Are you two really dating?”

He rounds on me so fast, I almost fall backward on my butt. “No way.”

I can’t help my smile. “No?”

He exhales loudly. “How could you even think that?”

I can’t help it. I burst into tears.

“Oh, no, don’t.” He reaches for me, and then he yanks his hand back. “It’s—I’m bad, Octavia. I don’t deserve you, believe me. If you knew. . .” The next breath he drags in is ragged. “You would run.”

“Try me,” I say.

“What?” He’s frowning.

I wipe at my tears. “I’ve spent every single day since we broke up thinking of what I might have done wrong. I’ve analyzed and re-analyzed, and I swear I’ll do better this time, if you give me another chance. I’ll be so breezy, and so easygoing that you would barely know we were dating.”

“It wasn’t you.” His eyes are sad. “I swear.”

“I’ve also gone over and over what might have made you dump me if it wasn’t my fault, and I haven’t been able to think of a single thing I couldn’t forgive.” I pause. “Well, mostly.”

“Mostly?” His eyebrows rise. “What does that mean?”

“Have you molested children?” I can’t help wrinkling my nose. “Or really committed any kind of sexual assault.”

“Absolutely not,” he says.

“Have you murdered anyone?”

He exhales slowly. “No.”

“What about stealing? Did you go back to that? Because you have all that money, and you said you don’t really spend it, but maybe when you bought my dress?—”

“Octavia.”

I turn to face him, my bad side still turned his way. “What?”

“You have to stop. I can’t tell you why, but believe me when I say this is for the best.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. I never will. I think, just like you finally did with Dave’s photo, you should tell me the truth and let me decide. And if you don’t, I may never forgive you for that, for not trusting me.”

He swallows. “That’s not. . .” But then he frowns, and he seems to be thinking about it.

I strike while I have the chance, remembering that Bea said he had to be shoved. “Your family loves you, too. They deserve to know what’s keeping you away. If it’s something that makes them cut you off, well, then you’ll be exactly where you are now. If it’s not, then you’re being a real idiot.” I quirk one eyebrow. “I still love you, so I’m definitely an idiot, and they say it takes one to know one.”

“You still. . .” He drops one hand over mine. “That’s what scares me. When you hear the truth, you won’t.”

“Then out with it,” I say. “Because I’ve been trying everything to get over you, so if this truth will really help, if it does what you say, then great. I welcome it.”

He stares.

“Come on.”

“My dad’s not my dad,” he says. “He’s my uncle. My real dad’s a serial killer, and my mom fell in love with him while they corresponded back and forth. She got pregnant with me on a conjugal visit, and then?—”

“Wait, you’re saying your dad’s the?—”