The Billionaire’s Secret Love (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance) by Alexa Wilder, Ivy Layne Page A
Authors: Alexa Wilder, Ivy Layne
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been brutal when Jacob’s parents had died. I didn’t remember the fallout from losing my own mother and father, but losing my aunt and uncle had been hellish—both the sudden loss and the unrelenting harassment by the media. At least we'd had each other to lean on, to buffer the intensity. Emily had been on her own, dealing with survivor's guilt on top of everything else.
“Walking into that garage this morning must have been horrible for her," Abigail said. "Is she all right?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. She told me she couldn't deal with me anymore and kicked me out."
"She kicked you out? And you just left?” Jacob demanded. I heard the censure in his voice, but he hadn’t seen Emily. The last thing I’d wanted to do was push her when it was taking everything she had to hold herself together. She’d asked me to go, so I’d gone.
“You don’t understand,” I said, echoing Emily’s comment to me.
“So what are you going to do?" Jacob asked. "Or is this going to be the shortest relationship in the history of relationships?"
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, irritated. It wasn't like Jacob was a relationship expert. He rotated through the same group of socialites, but he never kept any of them around for long. I'd never seen him display the kind of easy affection he'd showed Abigail.
"I don't know," Jacob said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Go apologize? Beg her forgiveness and tell her you can work things out? Or is her condition too much and you don't want to deal with it?"
"It's not too much," I protested. "But I can't force her to want to be with me. And she's right, we do have to deal with the media. I can try to keep her safe from that, but I can't make any promises. I won't lie to her."
"Do you love her? Or are you just having fun?"
"We haven't been together that long," I said, wishing I knew the answer to his question. "I've never been in love before. I know I don't want to lose her. I've never felt like this about any woman. I just don't know how to fix this."
"Tell her how you feel," Abigail said softly. "Be honest with her and tell her how you feel. She had a shock this morning, and she probably regrets breaking up with you. I'd give her a little space to get over the panic attack, but not too much, and then go talk to her."
I leaned against the counter and looked down at my feet, thinking. There had to be a way to work this out with Emily. I couldn't let her go. I wouldn't put her in a situation that was bad for her, wouldn't ask her to subject herself to the kind of thing that happened this morning. But we would find an answer. What we had was too good to throw away.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
I stopped at my front door, my hand on the knob, checking my back pocket for my keys as I balanced a wicker basket in the crook of my arm. The basket hadn’t seemed that heavy when I was packing it, but now that I was carrying it, I realized I’d misjudged. Fortunately, I didn’t have that far to go. It had been two days since I’d seen Tate. Two very long days. I missed him, missed him so much my heart hurt just thinking about it, but I’d had to do some thinking, then some talking, and after that, more thinking. Now it was time to act.
I left my apartment, locking the door behind me. It was time to talk to Tate. I wasn’t sure he was home, but I’d try there first, even if it meant pushing my way through more reporters. Jo had told me that interest had calmed down, but there were still a few of them trolling the street in front of the building, looking for a story. She still didn’t know what had happened. No one did, not really, but that wasn’t stopping the papers from trying to tie Tate’s cousin, Holden’s brother, Jacob, to organized crime and gang violence. The whole thing was nuts. I was so absorbed in thinking about Tate and the drama at Winters House, I almost walked into the door to the stairwell when it swung open.
Taking a quick step back, I looked up and met
“Walking into that garage this morning must have been horrible for her," Abigail said. "Is she all right?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. She told me she couldn't deal with me anymore and kicked me out."
"She kicked you out? And you just left?” Jacob demanded. I heard the censure in his voice, but he hadn’t seen Emily. The last thing I’d wanted to do was push her when it was taking everything she had to hold herself together. She’d asked me to go, so I’d gone.
“You don’t understand,” I said, echoing Emily’s comment to me.
“So what are you going to do?" Jacob asked. "Or is this going to be the shortest relationship in the history of relationships?"
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked, irritated. It wasn't like Jacob was a relationship expert. He rotated through the same group of socialites, but he never kept any of them around for long. I'd never seen him display the kind of easy affection he'd showed Abigail.
"I don't know," Jacob said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Go apologize? Beg her forgiveness and tell her you can work things out? Or is her condition too much and you don't want to deal with it?"
"It's not too much," I protested. "But I can't force her to want to be with me. And she's right, we do have to deal with the media. I can try to keep her safe from that, but I can't make any promises. I won't lie to her."
"Do you love her? Or are you just having fun?"
"We haven't been together that long," I said, wishing I knew the answer to his question. "I've never been in love before. I know I don't want to lose her. I've never felt like this about any woman. I just don't know how to fix this."
"Tell her how you feel," Abigail said softly. "Be honest with her and tell her how you feel. She had a shock this morning, and she probably regrets breaking up with you. I'd give her a little space to get over the panic attack, but not too much, and then go talk to her."
I leaned against the counter and looked down at my feet, thinking. There had to be a way to work this out with Emily. I couldn't let her go. I wouldn't put her in a situation that was bad for her, wouldn't ask her to subject herself to the kind of thing that happened this morning. But we would find an answer. What we had was too good to throw away.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
I stopped at my front door, my hand on the knob, checking my back pocket for my keys as I balanced a wicker basket in the crook of my arm. The basket hadn’t seemed that heavy when I was packing it, but now that I was carrying it, I realized I’d misjudged. Fortunately, I didn’t have that far to go. It had been two days since I’d seen Tate. Two very long days. I missed him, missed him so much my heart hurt just thinking about it, but I’d had to do some thinking, then some talking, and after that, more thinking. Now it was time to act.
I left my apartment, locking the door behind me. It was time to talk to Tate. I wasn’t sure he was home, but I’d try there first, even if it meant pushing my way through more reporters. Jo had told me that interest had calmed down, but there were still a few of them trolling the street in front of the building, looking for a story. She still didn’t know what had happened. No one did, not really, but that wasn’t stopping the papers from trying to tie Tate’s cousin, Holden’s brother, Jacob, to organized crime and gang violence. The whole thing was nuts. I was so absorbed in thinking about Tate and the drama at Winters House, I almost walked into the door to the stairwell when it swung open.
Taking a quick step back, I looked up and met
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