Page 26 of The Elusive Billionaire

Grey’s growl echoes in the large room.

“Right.” Braxton laughs. “Like I said, don’t kill each other. And get some sleep. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be hell.”

“Agreed. Hell is exactly where I’ve landed.” Grey takes the phone from my hand. “Tell Sage I love him, and I’ll be in touch soon.”

He disconnects the call before Braxton can reply.

“Reconnecting?” He squares off to face me, his shoulders tense around his ears. “To be very clear, Savannah. We’re stuck together because even Mother Nature is a crazy bitch sometimes. I don’t forgive you. I won’t forgive you. We will never be friends.”

God, why is he such a little baby?

“Screw you, Grey. If I’d known you were such a little bitch, I never would have slept with you in the first place.” He pulls back, eyes wide and twitchy. It feels like a small victory for me.

“I’m the little bitch?” His tone is a low, dangerous warning I don’t heed. The heat from his anger soaks into my borrowed clothing that hangs off me like a wet towel.

“That’s what I said.” Lifting my chin, I cling tight to my defiance. “Did you ever once stop to consider that not everything is about you? While you were tucked away in your ivory tower of guilt and greed, some of us were forced to make decisions no one should ever have to make. But that’s the thing, Grey. Not all of us are given a choice. Some of us only have the option of survival. Does that sound like much of a choice to you…you overbearing, condescending, arrogant prick?”

A vein in his forehead bulges, and his nostrils flare. “You want to talk about choices, Savannah? You spout off about ivory towers of greed and guilt, but you have no idea the sacrifices I’ve made. You can call me whatever names you want, but the fracturing of you and me? That all stems from the one time I let down my guard, the one time I let someone in, and you shat all over my vulnerability, then had the gall to react as though I’m the one in the wrong. So yeah, fuck me for trusting you. But fuck you for hurting me.”

Silence. Thick, debilitating silence hangs heavy and resolute in the room as his words play on repeat in my mind.But fuck you for hurting me.

It’s the truth. The most honest thing he’s told me in months, and I see it written in the lines of his face as clear as an opera singer standing center stage after the love of her life falls on his sword.

“I know you don’t believe me,” I say as he storms off, his shoulder brushing mine on his way by. I raise my voice. “But I am sorry. Nothing I’ve done ever had an ounce of malice in it.” The sound of bare feet slamming against the steps has me raising my voice even more. “Not everything was about you,Grey. I was trying to be your friend while saving myself. I never meant to hurt you.”

A door slams.

“Fuck.” His curse carries an edge of violence I’ve never seen from him. Another door slams, and another, and then one more. “Looks like we’re sharing a bed, Savannah. I’m not sleeping on the floor, and as much as I hate you, I don’t want to upset Madi. But so help me God, I don’t want to hear another lame-ass excuse from you. In fact, I don’t want to hear anything for the rest of the night. If you can’t do that, then find your own damn place to sleep.”

“I—”

Another door slams.

I have no idea what time it is, but it feels late, so with a lump in my throat, I follow the pissed-off man-child up the stairs.

It only takes a few moments to confirm what he said. His three guestrooms are covered in glass and rain. I bet they never thought placing the beds under giant windows would end like this.

If Greyson and I must learn to coexist, what better way to do it than sleeping with the enemy?

Sticking out my chest and lifting my head, I march toward his bedroom, determined to make the most of this mess.

I enter his room, climb onto the side of the bed I know he doesn’t sleep on, then settle into the mattress with the sheet pulled up to my chin. It smells like him—a mixture of clean laundry and cinnamon.

He must be in the bathroom, though he doesn’t make a sound.

But fuck you for hurting me.

A familiar pang pinches and claws at my rib cage—it’s a painful sensation I taught myself to forget a long time ago—but it comes at me with a vengeance now.

I was five years old when I stopped trying to make people like me, six when I stopped begging for love and affection. I found my worth, and I clung to it because it was all I had.

I’ve lost it once before, and I can’t allow myself to do it now.

Somehow, this man who stares at me as though all he can see is the worst type of monster has turned me back into that love-starved little girl who just wanted someone to care.

Funny how the heart always wants what it can’t have.

The bathroom door creaks open, and I roll to my side. Over the years, I’ve trained myself not to cry, but I haven’t slept very well since Madi’s wedding, when the news of Riley’s release and then the obliteration of Grey and me sapped me of any remaining reservoir of control I ever had. I knew I was spiraling after the wedding, but now, the events of this storm have the frayed edges of my soul unraveling faster than I can cauterize them.