Page 122 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

Good God, maybe Senator Ashfordhadtruly fucked with his entire family.

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I was yet to finish the first paragraph of the medical journal I’d been trying to read for the past thirty minutes. My thoughts bounced off the library walls, hiding in the shadows and corners of this beautiful room.

After tucking in Ares, I let Byron figure out the sleeping arrangements for his siblings. I felt out of my element, and it made no sense to pretend I knew where they usually slept. So I let Byron be the host with the help of his staff while I focused on Ares and then found a corner to hide in.

The smell of leather-bound books and the soft buzzing of the dimmed lights were the only sounds in this wing of the house. The storm still raged outside, mirroring the one inside me as I curled up in the corner of the soft couch with the journal in my hands.

“There you are.” Byron’s voice, deep and strong, mixed with the sounds of thunder rolling through the sky. I raised my head to find him leaning in the doorway of the library, wearing nothing but black sweatpants and a white T-shirt. “Are you hiding from me?”

That familiar warm feeling danced through me, pushing me to him. His father was in this house somewhere—his whole family stayed—and knowing that man was under the same roof had my skin crawling.

My eyes roamed over my husband, wondering if there was ever a time when he didn’t look seductive. No matter what he wore—suit, casual daywear, sweatpants,nothing. Although there was something especially hot about seeing Byron so relaxed. It had my heart beating a little faster and the butterflies in my stomach fluttering harder.

I shook my head to snap out of this daze that seemed to fall over me every time my husband was around me.

“Should I be hiding?” I asked instead.

Byron pushed off the wall and strode toward me, his gaze focused on me. In fact, there was an intense determination on his face that put me on guard.

He sat on the couch next to me, then swiftly picked me up and placed me back down on his lap. He glanced at the book in my hands—Journal of the American College of Cardiology—then took it and set it on the table next to him.

“You and I need to have a conversation.” His arms wrapped around me, positioning me in such a way that I was forced to face him. I attempted to move off him, but his grip only tightened. “No, no more hiding. No more running. We need to talk.”

I didn’t know if I could go there. Just the memory of the ripple effects from that night we spent together had me in a chokehold.

“Byron, I’m tired.”

He tilted his face, his lips brushing against my neck. “Are you worried about my father?”

I froze on his lap, surprised he could read me so easily.

“I hate him,” I snapped. The words escaped me, my tone biting. “I hate that—” I couldn’t finish, all the emotions I suppressed over the years were suffocating me.

“Do you hate me?” he asked softly.

I blinked, swallowing hard. It would have been easier if I did hate him, but I didn’t. It felt wrong to hate someone who had gifted me with something as pure and beautiful as our son.

I shook my head. “Good,” he murmured, brushing our noses together. “We can work with that.”

“Please don’t ask me to work things out with your father.” I almost expected him to laugh me off, but he didn’t. Instead, he cupped my face, his eyes boring into me and rendering me speechless.

“Never, baby.” I inhaled sharply at his hard tone. “He will never come around us anymore. He’s gone for good, and if he ever approaches you or Ares, I’ll kill him.”

My emotions had been in turmoil ever since we left Ghana in the middle of the night, but since I married Byron, it was even worse. I loved him; I didn’t want to love him. I craved him; it’d be easier if I didn’t. I hated all these conflicting emotions.

“He’s here now, though,” I murmured.

He shook his head. “No, he’s not. He’s gone.”

I stared at him in shock. “You sent him out in this storm?”

My husband’s expression hardened. “Yes. He’s never welcome here again, and I wasn’t going to put up with him for a single moment more.”

The truth rang in his tone and his eyes. Then why was I so scared to trust it?Trust him, my heart whispered. But that night, I trusted blindly, and it brought me nothing but angst. Even worse, my family had paid for it.

He must have read something on my face, because he let out a heavy sigh. He seemed tired, just as I was. Maybe he just wanted a simple life too.