Page 104 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

If I leave, this is really it. He’ll let me walk away, no questions asked. I’ll never see him again… Not even online, considering he isn’t on social media anywhere. And he may not release another album again. Not if he’s as blocked as he claimed. Which is a pity. The alphahole is bloody talented. He was meant to compose, to sing, to burn up the stage with his presence and dominate his audience, as he’d taken control of me…my reactions…my orgasms. And the truth is, no one can make me come like he does.

I owe it to myself… Well, at least, for the future of my sex life—which he’s spoiled completely for me, now that I know how it could be with him. Aargh! I drag my fingers through my hair. What the hell do I do?

I step down, turn to walk away, then hesitate. So, he told me to leave, and what? I am going to obey him? I am going to turn my back on him? When had I ever done as I was told, huh? Not with my parents, and certainly not because a certain rock star has ordered me to. At the very least, he owes me an explanation for why he's turning me out of his life.

Turning, I key my password into the keypad, then push open the door and slip in.

33

Damian

"Fuck this shit." I raise the guitar by its neck then fling it aside. It hits the fire head-first and the flames flicker up its body. The blaze fills its sound hole, leaps up to wrap lovingly around the inlay. "Fuck." I curl my fingers at my sides. I’d let her go. I’d made her come, then hurt her with my words and escorted her out.

A noise reaches me… I jerk my chin toward Riley’s room. What the hell is wrong with me? I’d flown into a typical spoiled rock star rage. I’d slipped up and made enough noise to scare my daughter. When will I stop being selfish? Stop thinking solely of myself, and put my daughter’s needs first? I race toward her room, come to a stop inside the doorway.

"Angel?"

Riley blinks up at me from the bed.

"Daddy?" She frowns. "I am scared." She sucks on her thumb, and my heart stutters.

"Shh!" I walk toward her. "Daddy’s here now; you are safe."

Her chin trembles. "Will you read to me?" She sniffles.

"Of course, baby."

I sink into the chair next to her, "Which story, honey?"

"Alice." She cuddles her kitty cat doll close, "Will you read Alice and the white rabbit?"

"Alice in Wonderland," I correct her.

"Alice in W a n d e l a n d," she pronounces, using the phonetic spelling.

"Good girl," I praise her.

"Story, Daddy," she prompts.

"Last one, Poppet." I take in her features, her pink cheeks, the tousled locks, "Then you have to leave."

"B...but, I don’t want to go." Her lower lip trembles.

"I don’t want you to leave either," I confess.

"So why are you sending me away?"

"Because," I swallow down the thickness in my throat, "because sometimes we all have to do the things that we hate, because it’s the only way to move on. When the time comes, baby, we all have to leave."

"When will my time come, Daddy?" She rubs her cheek into her pillow.

My heart stutters. "Not for a long time, baby."

"Will you stay with me until then?" She smiles at me and a pressure builds behind my eyes.

I reach over and kiss her forehead, "I promise."

She yawns, snuggles into the bed. "Read to me, Daddy," she mumbles. "I love to hear your voice as I’m falling asleep."