Page 52 of Trailer Park Billionaire (Distinguished Billionaires #3)

BEN

T he minute I step out of the apartment, the air feels colder. It’s like losing the warmth of her hands and her voice sends a cold shower down my back.

I take the stairs two at a time, hands shoved into my pockets. Alex opens the door, looking pale and clammy. When I ask if he’ll be alright, he just excuses himself. I close his door and make a mental note to bring him some medicine when I return.

While Alex is running to the bathroom, I’m mentally running through the speech I’m about to give Helena—like I’m prepping for a court hearing.

Or for a confession that could completely wreck my shot at happiness with the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

The only one who ever made me feel like I belong.

Hey, so I’ve been lying to you this whole time… but for good reasons! Sort of. Also, please still kiss me afterwards?

Yeah, that’ll go well. Now I seriously question how good my reasons really were. They made sense at the time. But now?

I unlock the RV and slide behind the wheel. The keys rattle in my hand for a second before I start the engine.

“I’m going to tell her,” I mutter aloud, just to hear how it sounds. “What’s a little betrayal between lovers?” I shake my head. “Not lovers. Between people who love each other. Because I think… she might love me too.”

Which just makes this betrayal even worse. I should have just told her the truth from the beginning.

The engine agrees with a sputter and a growl. I pull out of the parking lot and head toward the sushi place. I picture her sitting next to me now, arms crossed, that lethal little brow drawing together with every word I say.

You lied to me.

“Yes,” I say to imaginary Helena, gripping the wheel tighter. “I did. But not to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

First you let me think you were a billionaire philanthropist, when you were really just a con artist…

“I did,” I say to the empty seat. “But in my defense, we didn’t know each other back then… and you did seem to like me better after you found out that I wasn’t a billionaire.” I sigh and flick on my turn signal, like it’ll help steer this imaginary conversation in my favor.

And then you lied some more when I found out?

We were partners. We were more than that. I trusted you.

“I know.” My voice roughens, and I hate that it does. “I know, and that’s the worst part. You trusted me. And I was too afraid to trust you back. Too afraid to tell you the whole truth. I was scared you’d walk away if you knew.”

And that’s really what it comes down to.

Fear.

Not of the cops. Not of the heist failing. Not even of jail. But of her turning around and saying, You’re not who I thought you were.

And she’d be right. She deserves better. Not someone who lies and pretends.

After making it through all the traffic, I pull into the sushi place’s parking lot and try not to look like a man on the verge of an emotional breakdown when I step inside.

The hostess at Neta smiles at me when I place my order. I ask her to triple the amount of Rainbow Rolls, because those are her favorite.

She gives me a look like I’m just some sweet guy doing something thoughtful for his girlfriend—not some lying asshole trying to earn her forgiveness before she even knows what he did.

While I wait, I rehearse a dozen different versions of the same speech. None of them sound right. All of them end with her leaving (some with her kicking me in the crotch). But in the tiniest, most desperate corner of my mind, I imagine something else.

I imagine her forgiving me.

Not immediately. Not easily. But someday.

I imagine her understanding why I did it. I imagine her learning to trust me again. I imagine… an us .

Us being together.

Us moving in together.

Us having a future.

Just us. No lies. No aliases. No heists. Just Helena and Ben.

And because I am an idiot, and desperate, and in love, I also imagine us traveling.

I imagine lazy mornings in bed. I imagine us opening a little gallery where she sells her art and I breakfast. I imagine us growing old together.

Grey hair. Wrinkles. Laugh lines. Arguments about whether Reuben gets his own room in our house.

And sushi nights. Sushi nights, where I still order extra Rainbow Rolls just because I know it makes her eyes light up.

I shake my head and want to slap myself.

The hostess calls my name, I take the bags, and drive back faster than I should.