Page 118 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

“Dr. Swan.”

My pulse charged across my skin while my heart thundered so hard, I feared it’d explode into red confetti in my chest. Why was I so anxious? I had nothing to hide. I didn’t do anything wrong. But this man, on the other hand, I’d begun to realize, did plenty wrong. And not just to me and my family, either, but through his position in politics. It rippled off his greasy stature and made my skin crawl.

“Senator,” I bit out. I still hadn’t extended my hand to shake it. I didn’t want to touch the snake. Even after six years, his words stung. Even after six years, his threat while I lay scared and helpless in the hospital—because this man didn’t care whether he hit people when they were most vulnerable—still felt fresh.

His kind and my kind didn’t mix. He was right. Because his kind was rotten to the core.

The senator extended his hand and held it out for me to take. I made no move to do so. I didn’t forgive, and I wouldn’t forget. And I definitely wouldn’t pretend nothing had ever happened between us.

After a few moments, he slid his hands into his pockets, observing me with detached dissatisfaction. As if I were a speck of dirt under his boot. As if he had never wronged me. Like he hadn’t taken something precious from me. My chance at happiness. My son’s chance at having both of his parents, together.

My father, I thought, feeling the familiar sadness creep into my heart.

“Dinner is ready,” Maria, Byron’s cook, announced and not a moment too soon.

Byron took my hand, then Ares’s and led us into the formal dining room while everyone else followed behind us. The tension filled the manor, and for the first time since Byron brought us here, I hated this place.

All because of him. His father.

“You okay?” Byron whispered.

I nodded. By now, I was certain that Byron truly had no idea what his father had said six years ago. Or done.

And in this wretched moment, I was so mad—so upset—that I wanted to lash out and make Senator Ashford suffer. Make him pay, like he had made me pay. He took my father from me. Maybe not physically, but he drove him to take his own life. Senator George Ashford needed a taste of his own medicine in this twisted universe.

“Well, we can use this dinner to celebrate your marriage,” Aurora stated as Maria scrambled to place another setting for the uninvited guest. Once she was done, we all sat down. Aurora was pretty with dark hair and even darker eyes. Her appearance was contrasted by her tattooed husband’s, with his unnerving pale blue eyes and his blond hair that was so bright, it almost seemed bleached. I doubted it was, though. Back in New Orleans, I saw two other men who looked just like him and their hair was bleach blond.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Byron agreed. “Winston and Billie—my wife’s sister—were the only ones there for the ceremony, so this will make up for it.”

“Where is Billie, anyhow?” Winston asked me.

I shrugged. “Chasing her dream.” This was her time, and from Billie’s texts, it was clear she didn’t want me to tell anyone where she was.

I could tell by Winston’s gaze that he knew something. Not that I expected him to reveal it.

The food was brought out and the conversation stilted. Byron filled the uncomfortable silence with safe topics. Sports. The children.Even the weather. All the while, his father’s eyes never left me. Kostya, Kol, and Ares sat next to each other, oblivious to the tension dancing through the air. I pushed my food around on my plate, studiously ignoring the man with the cold eyes, barely paying attention to the conversation. I felt out of my element.

“Byron says you are a surgeon.” Royce aimed his question at me, trying to pull me into the conversation.

“Yes.”

“Where do you practice?”

“I spent the last year in Ghana with the UN, offering healthcare through one of their organizations. You might have heard of it, it's the World Health Organization.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Aurora chimed in. I shrugged. “And you did all that with your son by your side? Or did your family keep him in the States?”

Lowering my gaze to my plate, I answered. “My sister helped. She came along with my son and me. Both my parents are dead.”

Resentment built in my soul, slowly but surely. It brought back the hate and bitterness toward the man who’d driven my father to suicide. A part of me wanted to make him pay, punish him, so he’d feel the pain of such a loss, just as my sister and I had.

“Are you working now?” Royce asked, almost as if he could sense my anger building up. “I want to make sure if I ever need surgery, I’m worked on by you.”

I shook my head, bringing water to my lips and taking a sip. I put my glass back on the table. “No, not yet. I’m talking to the head of George Washington for a possible opportunity. But since we’re family now, I wouldn’t be able to operate on you anyway. I’d lose my license.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see—and feel—Byron stiffening. I hadn’t told him I heard from Marco again. George Washington made me an offer to join their emergency surgical team, on Marco’s wife’s recommendation. She ran my credentials and touched base with my WHO and UN contacts. It turned out, she was eager to have me on her team, but I was dragging my feet with my final response.

“I don’t think you’ll have any problems getting a job,” Alexei stated coldly. Man, that guy could be scary. Haunting secrets lingered in his pale blue gaze. I suspected that man hadn’t had an easy life.