Page 143 of The Renegade Billionaire

I frown and stare at him. Is he freaking serious right now? I tell him that his dad’s scheming and lies almost broke me, and he asks if I’ve slept.

“Did you hear me?” I ask instead. “About the pill or your dad and Harry. Any of it?”

“I heard you,” he says, kicking off his tennis shoes. “When was the last time you slept?” he asks again.

My mouth opens and closes as he uses two hands to slide my body to the middle of the bed, then climbs in beside me.

“Madison,” he says, pulling me down and into his arms.

“Ah, sleep has been hard.” The words are garbled through a yawn.

“That’s what I thought.” He kisses the back of my head, but my lashes are already growing heavy. “We’ll talk after you’ve had some sleep.”

I’d love to argue. I should argue, but my mind is already slipping into unconsciousness.

I blink, wanting to explain, but the room is cloaked in darkness.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“How long have I been asleep?”

He lifts his arm from my belly and his watch illuminates with the time. “About twelve hours.”

Alarmed, I attempt to sit up, but he holds me to him—my head resting over the comforting beat of his heart.

“Twelve hours? I’ve been asleep for twelve hours? Have you been here the whole time?”

“Clover brought me some water and aspirin a few hours ago, but you’d need a team of Navy SEALs to get me out of this room while you were passed out.”

“I’m sorry, you should have?—”

“Madison,” he interrupts, his voice sharp, carrying an edge of fear. “The last time I left you alone in a bedroom, you disappeared from my life. If you think I would risk that happening a second time, you’ve lost your damn mind. I belong wherever you are. If that’s not what you want, I’ll go, but I’ll never be far away, not until we’ve worked out all this shit.”

“But—”

“Damn it, Madison. I told you I loved you. Do you think that’s a throwaway phrase for me? Do you think I’d say that if I didn’t feel every ounce of emotion that those three little words carry?”

“You’re angry.”

He has a right to be, doesn’t he? But so do I. The fears of what he knew or didn’t know bubble to the surface, reminding me to protect what’s left of my broken soul.

His long exhale blows the hair around the back of my head. “I’m not angry. I’m terrified that I’ve lost you and I don’t even know why. I deserve to know, don’t I?”

The muscles in his forearms flex. They’re a steel band around my middle, so I feel his sharp intake of air.

“You were one of the fifteen,” he says. “You brought the class action suit against Montgomery Media and donated all the winnings to an anti-bullying nonprofit.”

I nod, but it’s a monumental task that instantly zaps my energy.

“Ace was at the trial to ensure you all won your case, so you think I knew what my father did.” Sadness bleeds from his words.

“I don’t know what to think.” My voice is raw and thick.

His arm falls away, and he stares up at the ceiling. I hate that I instantly feel untethered and lost.

“And you didn’t trust me enough to ask. I noticed that you didn’t say I love you in return, but I thought you at least trusted me.”

“I did. I do. I?—”