Page 122 of Bribed by the Billionaire Bad Boy

I ran off with a guy I’ve known for less than a year and lied to her. I’m the worst daughter in the world. Except the way she phrases it isI must be the worst mother in the world. That cuts far deeper than any insult directed at me might.

That forces me into a position where she expects me to deny it, to provide reasons to convince her she isn’t the worst motherin the world. It puts the pressure of finding those reasons on me, when I’m running out of valid points and the energy to search for them.

I pass Lex the phone, and he looks from it to me. “Do you want me to read her messages, or…?”

I shrug, standing to head toward his bathroom. I like his bathroom. It’s all cool tile and clean smells. Big and fancy. “I don’t have my charger. Is there any hope you might have one that fits?”

He inspects the input. “I can pick one up for five bucks. I have to take you shopping anyway. It’s shopping day, right?”

I already went shopping today. This morning. Back when everything was normal and okay. It seems a world away. Wincing at the horrible frizzy monster I am in the mirror, I begin undoing my braids and try not to crush Lex’s efforts at cheering me up or keeping things normal. “What do you need to get, besides a charger for my phone?”

“Clothes. Feminine products. Maybe a stuffed animal.”

I freeze, glancing at him. “What?”

“Sorry. Was mentioningfeminine productsa little too personal?” Only the way he’s looking at me feelstoo personal.

My stomach clenches, and my tongue tastes like ash. “How long do you think I’m staying here?”

He doesn’t flinch. “Forever.”

My heart thumps.

His brows furrow, and he stands, crossing the room to lean against the bathroom doorjamb. “Sorry. I have permission for you to stay forever, but everything is ultimately your choice, sugar. Just know you have a place here. Always.”

My voice cracks. “You havepermission? From your father?”

A strange little smile tugs on his lips. “Yeah. He really likes you. Go figure, right?” I can hardly appreciate the seductive tint his lips take as he murmurs, “I even asked if you could stay in myroom. He didn’t say ‘no’.”

“You didn’t,” I breathe.

His brows wiggle. He did.

He did, but I’m clearly still here, and he wouldn’t be telling meforeverif my continuing to stay here was in any kind of question.

I press my palms to my eyes. Somewhere, it feels like things will go back to normal, like I’ve already been here a hundred times before and I’ll find my way back. But, every time, I don’t know how. At least this time I’m not curling up alone in my bed and trying not to make a sound while I cry.

Or is that better? At least then I’m still home and in reach. Then there are fewer places for Mom’s anger to fall. She can forgive me because I never left her. There’s no needing to come back and confront the issue. There’s just waking up and pretending like it never happened.

“She means well,” I whisper.

Lex’s tone is flat. “She was yelling at you.”

I drop my hands, wrap them around my waist, look at the half undone braid dangling in front of me. “She wasn’t.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, sugar.” Lex reaches for my braid, slips his finger between some twists, and draws down to unravel it more.

I feel like the whipping strands, helpless and effortlessly torn apart.

“I will say this. What I saw this afternoon wasn’t right. If she refuses to take responsibility for it, I—personally—don’t want you anywhere near her. I’m not going to fight you or leave you or think anything worse of you no matter your decisions, but that’s my opinion.”

I watch Lex’s fingers work my braid completely away, then I ground myself in the feeling of his fingers pulling through my hair. Without prompting, he rounds to my other side andcontinues. I remain motionless, like a doll, and he reaches for his brush. The first slip of the bristles through my hair tugs on too many tired memories painted with calm and happiness. Years ago, Mom always did my hair. “But, she’s my mom.”

“Yep,” Lex confirms. “Which means she needs to take responsibility for the wounds she’s dealt her own child. If she can’t do that, you establish boundaries, and if she can’t respect them, you live with me forever.”

The way he states things makes it seem like that’s the most natural progression, a plain given. We aren’t even dating.

We just love each other.