Page 178 of The Billionaire's Secret

"Will you answer my riddle?" A small smile curves her lips.

"You know I only ask, but never answer," I scowl.

"Just this once, Saint." She squares her shoulders, tips up her chin and holds my gaze, "Please."

My pulse thunders at my temples; my palms grow cold.Shit, why am I nervous about agreeing to this? Don’t do it, don’t.I jerk my chin, "Fine then."

Her lips twist. "What’s easy to make, but impossible to keep forever?"

I peruse her features.What is it? What could it be?A glimmer of a thought brushes against the edges of my mind.Nah, it can’t be. Not that.I glance around the room, drag my fingers through my hair, "I…can’t guess what it is."

"I’ll give you a clue." Her chest rises and falls. "You'll see me soon but you can't see me yet."

I frown; my heart begins to race.What the hell is she hinting at?"I..." I swallow. "That sounds implausible."

Her lips curve in a small smile, "Here's another hint." She leans forward, "The more you give up, the more it gives back to you."

My pulse rate ratchets up.She isn't saying what I think she is, is she? Nah. Not possible...I widen my stance. "That defies the laws of physics," I say. "I don’t think I like the sound of it," I laugh, the sound nervous.Bloody hell! What’s wrong with me?My palms begin to sweat. The ring slips from between my fingers, clatters to the floor, rolls toward the bed. I swoop down and grab it.

Her gaze falls to my hand, "You can guess it."

"I can’t." I rise to my feet, clutching at the ring like it’s a bloody lifeline. "Besides, whatever it is," my voice cracks; I clear my throat, "I don’t think there’s space in my life for it."

I pivot, head for the door.

"So, this is it then?"

Her voice brings me up short.

I pause, slide the ring into my pocket.

"How can you say you love me, when you don’t want to fight for us?" she cries out.

"There is no us. Not anymore." I stalk forward. "You were right. There are too many secrets between us, Gigi. That’s no way to start a relationship."

I reach the exit.

"Saint?"

I don’t turn around. "Goodbye, Victoria."

45

What did the cat say to her Valentine?

Answer: You are purr-fect for me

Victoria

I tear open the envelope, pull out the papers. "No." They slide from my fingers, hit the floor in a cloud of white and black. Like my life. I thought it would get easier with time, but every passing minute of every hour of every day, the hollowness in my chest grows bigger, more turbulent, louder, pressing outward, making my heart race, filling me with panic, telling me I was wrong. I should have given him a chance. A choice. Another opportunity to rip me apart, tear out my heart and trample it to pieces under his size 13, dusty cowboy boots.

Yeah, I know his shoe size.

No thanks to that weird-as-shit, eccentric taste in shoes he has. Who remembers the shoe size of a man who broke her heart? Correction: Okay, I left him, so technically I broke my own heart. I've been numb since I left the hotel, my life an endless cycle of days and nights.

The nights… They are the worst. The darkness taunts me. The cold sheets wind around my limbs, weighing me down, pulling me into a restless sleep filled with images of him, our time together, how he'd kissed me, how he'd wrenched orgasms from me. How he'd run his fingers over my skin, thrust them into my pussy, taken me, curled me into him, spooned me as we'd fallen asleep. Hell. The only way to escape is to wake up, make myself chamomile tea, and watch mindless television. Shit. I am turning into a hermit, never leaving the house, except for the checkup at the hospital, that had confirmed that my pregnancy is progressing well.

I massage my stomach—my child... Saint's child. Had I subconsciously planned this all along?