Page 136 of The Billionaire's Baby

"What?" He blinks. "You expect me to let you go, not knowing if you will return to me?"

"That’s the whole point. It’s called taking a risk." I twist my lips. "Do you have the guts to take this chance on us? Do you, Arpad?"

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you’ve lost me anyway."

He squeezes the bridge of his nose, then mutters, "Fine."

"What?" I stare. "What did you say?"

He lowers his hand to his side, stares at me, "I give you your freedom," he snaps, "for now."

"And you promise that you won't come after me."

"I," his jaw tics, the skin around his mouth tightens, then he nods, "I promise."

"No matter what you see, you won’t interfere in my life?"

His lips firm and he looks like he’s about to refuse, then he nods again. "I won’t interfere, no matter what."

"Promise." I hold out my hand, palm face up.

"I promise." He stares down at my palm. "If I touch you, I’ll never let you go."

His shoulder muscles bunch, his chest planes ripple, and anger rolls off of him in waves. A drop of sweat slides down his throat, drawing attention to his sculpted torso. Jesus, why does he have to be so hot?

I hesitate, and he jerks his chin to the door. "Leave," he growls.

I blink at him.

"Now," he snaps. "Get out while you can, Sparks."

46

Arpad

"You agreed to let her go?" Edward frowns at me from across my cabin on theHeartbeat.

"I told her to leave while she still could." I raise the bottle of vodka to my lips and chug it down. The alcohol slides down cold, only to hit my stomach, and heat explodes up my spine. Even the bloomin’ alcohol from her country of origin is full of contradictions. Just like her. Hot and cold. Giggling one second, all flashing eyes and heaving breasts the next. And why the hell am I still thinking about her?

Perhaps it's because I'm still on the yacht? I couldn't bring myself to leave here though. After all, I'd first made love to her here. When I am here, I feel closer to her; yet the ghosts of our coupling make me miss her more intensely. The pain is a dull throbbing ache somewhere behind my rib cage. Good, I deserve it. A reminder of how I'd screwed up. Edward had tried calling me, and when I hadn't answered he'd tracked me down here.

"Vodka?" He eyes the drink in my hand, "Since when did you start drinking vodka?"

I glare at him and he chuckles. "Is it because it’s her favorite drink?" he asks.

"Who’s favorite drink?" I grumble, then drink more of the liquor.

"Are we going to pretend that you’re not heartbroken because of how you acted toward her?"

"No," I polish off the remaining alcohol, then slam the bottle down on the bar counter, "we are going to pretend that you never said that." I point a finger at him, then blink when his image splits into two.

Shit, maybe I drank too much. On the other hand, I’m still standing, so perhaps it’s not nearly enough.

I pull out the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, toss one between my lips. I light the cigarette. The flames lick my fingertips and I hiss, before dropping the lighter on the counter.

I take a healthy drag, then cough. What the hell? Have I become so pussy-whipped that I’ve forgotten how to smoke?