Page 27 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 6

I slowly made my way back up to the house. But when I saw a second SUV parked in the driveway, I hurried up the steps on the deck. For just a second I thought maybe Matt had come for me. It was silly. But there was this hope in my chest. And it felt like my heart was full again. For just one second.

Because of course it wasn’t Matt. It was my dad standing in the middle of the kitchen with a scowl on his face.

“You’re supposed to stay with Miller at all times,” he said. “So you can imagine my surprise when I came into the house and you weren’t here. Where were you?”

No greeting. No, “Hello daughter who I’m keeping a prisoner. How are you feeling about your fate now?”

My dad turned his scowl toward Miller.

Miller scratched the back of his neck. He was only just healing from his last injuries. The last thing I needed was for him to get in trouble.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “I like to run alone. I insisted on it, actually.”

“Run? You’re not supposed to be running. You’re still healing.” He walked toward me, putting most of his weight on the cane in his hand. “How are you feeling?”

I used to think it was sweet when he was concerned about my health. Now I was just suspicious about what organ he was going to harvest next. “I’m feeling a lot better. And I’m not really running. It’s a super slow jog. More of a walk really.”

“Good.” He nodded. “It’s good to take things slowly. How do you like your new home? Do you have everything you need?”

It’s not a home.And of course I didn’t have everything I needed. I needed Matt. But my father didn’t seem to care about that. “I like the beach.”

He smiled. “It’s chilly out there. You should wear another layer.”

I got overheated on my runs. The hoodie I was wearing was plenty warm. “Next time,” I said, not caring that it was a lie. All my father knew were lies anyway.

“Very well. And how are your classes?”

“Fine.”

“I saw that you got a B on your first Algebra 2 test. Better take more time studying than jogging, yes?”

Of course he got a copy of my grades. He knew everything I did. Every move I made. Every B I got instead of an A. I just nodded. I would have been getting straight As if I hadn’t just had my whole life uprooted. But my dad wouldn’t care about that argument. I wasn’t even sure why my grades mattered. If my dad had his way, I’d be stuck here for years. That meant no going back to Empire High. No college. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. I looked down at my wet, sandy shoes. In myexcitement, I’d forgotten to take them off. Now there was a trail of sand through the house. I felt tears welling in my eyes. I didn’t care about the fucking sand. I cared about everything else.

My dad gently touched the bottom of my chin. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“My wedding’s next week.”

He started to shake his head.

“Dad, please. Let me talk to Matt. He deserves to know the truth…”

“I didn’t want to have to do this.” He snapped his fingers at Miller. “Briefcase.”

Miller grabbed my dad’s briefcase off the kitchen counter and brought it over to us.

My dad sat down on the couch and opened up the briefcase on his lap. He looked up at me. “You’ll want to sit.”

I had no idea what he meant by that. But I was tired from my jog. I’d noticed that recently. That even a little exercise made me sleepy. I wasn’t sure if it was because my body was healing or if I was deeply depressed. Probably a combination of the two. If it was up to me, I’d just lay on the beach all day staring at the water. Yeah, I was probably depressed.

But the last thing I wanted was to tell my dad that. He’d pump me full of drugs. He’d numb me. And I didn’t want to be numb. I remembered getting sick after drinking too much. I’d told myuncle it felt nice to be numb for even just a little. He told me that was no way to live. I didn’t get many moments with him. But I held on to that one tight. I didn’t need drugs or anything else. I just needed to feel this. Feel this and work through it.

“Really, you need to sit,” my father said.

I hadn’t realized I’d just been staring at him. I sat down and looked at the envelope he pulled out of his briefcase.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I just stared at him.