Page 31 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

I cocked my eyebrow. “Then why don’t you marry her.”

He chuckled like I had just uttered the funniest joke. I was dead serious. “It crossed my mind, but she wants you.”

A grim smirk slashed my face. “Well, she won’t have me. So you can tell her you’re the next best thing.”

Despair entered Father’s expression. “Byron, you have to listen to me. I—”

“Let me cut you off right there, Father.” His spine stiffened. He hated being interrupted. “I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say. I’m a grown-ass man. I make my own money. Run my own company. Have my own fortune. So why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me why you’re really here.”

Our wills battled. Our gazes locked, anger and so many unspoken words sizzling through the air. It didn’t matter. He’d lose; I’d win. I’d been winning for the better part of the last two decades.

He spoke first. “I owe her father two and a half million dollars.”

I let out a sardonic breath, shaking my head in disgust. I wished it was in disbelief, but we had been here way too many times before. He didn’t see family when he looked at me. He only saw dollar signs.

“Is that all, huh?” I asked, sarcastically.

“It’s pocket change to you,” he sputtered angrily. I’d disagree with that assumption. Yes, I had plenty of money, but none of it was pocket change. I worked for it. My brothers worked for it. So did my baby sister. Regardless of our mother’s inheritance. My father, on the other hand, just liked to grease palms and pretend to be a hardworking man of the people.

“And dare I ask why you owe him so much money?”

He shrugged. “There was a charity gambling event.”

My brows shot up. Father didn’t believe in charity. He only believed in self-serving causes. “And what might that charity cause be?”

He cackled like some old woman. “A few whores can retire early.”

“One day, all this shit will catch up to you,” I hissed. Father was a spoiled, entitled prick. That was all it boiled down to. “And who was there?”

“Nobody.” He answered so quickly, I had no doubt he was lying.

“This is the last time I’ll ask, Father. Who was there? I want names, ages. Fucking everything.”

I got the low-down. All the dirty, fucked-up details.

My jaw clenched as I listened to him tell me about the rendezvous these old men had had with high-end escorts-slash-hookers for the past month. And how my father’s tab was settled by his “prestigious” fellow friend—Nicki’s father.

Twenty minutes later, I sent my father packing with a promise to settle his debt, if only to keep my name out of the mud alongside his.

Now, I’d settle my own affairs, go back to the yacht, then go after the woman that had me feeling things I never felt before.

Chapter11

Odette

By the time I arrived at the hospital—three hours later—the tension was so strong, it overwhelmed all my senses. In a daze, I went home, took a shower, forced myself to down a cup of coffee, and finally went to the hospital for my shift.

As I rushed toward my father’s office, I caught glances of the other doctors and nurses. I couldn’t decide if it was all in my head. I hated to admit it, but Senator Ashford—the fucker—managed to unsettle me.

There was no chance in hell he could do the things he threatened me with. He probably just wanted to get his way, and just like the rest of the world’s stuck-up and entitled pricks, he exercised his connections and power to make me feel small and insignificant.

I finally arrived at my father’s office just as three men in dark suits were making their way out. They didn’t spare me a glance. In my Lululemon leggings and plain white top, I looked like a nobody. I preferred to wear minimal but comfortable clothes under my white uniform.

Pushing the door open, I froze halfway through. My father held his head in his hands, hunched over his desk, looking just the way he did the day we learned Maman died.

Billie! Oh my gosh, Billie.

“Dad?” I whispered softly. He raised his head and glanced at me. He looked like he’d been choked half to death. “What happened?”