Kian (Undercover Billionaire, #1)(5)

Four years. It had been four years since she’d sat across from him, looked at his beautiful face, felt his nearly magical touch. It felt as if it had been an eternity.

That panic Roxie had been feeling all night rose inside her like a volcano about to erupt, and she tried desperately to focus on the breathing techniques she’d read about. They weren’t helping her at the moment. She wasn’t sure anything could. Kian wasn’t supposed to be here.

Kian had shattered her, had broken her into mere fragments of the person she’d once been. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t intended to do it; it only mattered that she’d felt so broken, she’d had to run to save herself. He had also been in the category of those she hadn’t said goodbye to. One night they’d been making love; the next night she’d been gone with very little explanation.

She wanted to hate him for her own loss of identity, but she didn’t. It wasn’t his fault; it was hers. All her problems were her own. She’d hoped to never face this man again, because she feared herself when she was around him. But fate had a funny way of putting in front of you what you tried your hardest to avoid. Maybe fate got bored, or maybe it just liked to torture people. She couldn’t even begin to think she had any answers about life, especially when it came to dealing with her own.

The worst part was that Roxie knew if she’d had the strength to understand herself better, she wouldn’t have spiraled so far out of control. Kian had been a good man to her, loving and attentive, sweet and in love. They’d been young and he’d been out of her league, but he’d never treated her as if she were in any way less than he was. All of it had been in her own mind. And she had hated herself for that.

With him now sitting before her, Roxie felt all those uncertain emotions creeping back in, making her truly feel like a lesser person, making her feel shame and regret. Seeing him caused an ache unlike anything else she’d ever felt.

The instinct to run crept into her feet and made her fidget as she sat before him, not knowing what in the world she could possibly say. She wasn’t owed his forgiveness. She hadn’t earned it. And she didn’t think it was possible for her to receive it. This was a mess unlike any of the other messes she’d ever been in, whether self-inflicted or beyond her control.

Seconds passed without sound beyond that of their breathing. He seemed to be recovering a lot faster at the sight of her than she was at seeing him. Kian had always been like that, though. He could control his emotions and expressions, where she couldn’t. It was only one more thing for her to be angry with him about. Another irrational emotion she was feeling.

In four years, Kian had changed. Thirty-five looked good on him. His shoulders had always been broad, but now they seemed massive beneath the light-blue scrubs he was wearing that hinted at the beautiful muscle beneath. His jaw was square, shaved clean, and his dark eyes were now blank, not showing an ounce of the emotion that had flashed in them just seconds before. She could see where laugh lines wanted to emerge, but they certainly weren’t showing at the moment.

The biggest change she noticed about him was that gaze. Kian had always been the first person to offer a smile and reassuring words. Now, this man before her was gazing at her with icy coolness that made her want to shiver.

When she’d rushed home tonight, she hadn’t been worrying about running into Kian. And now that she was here, she couldn’t afford to spiral into a pit of despair, not when she had Lily to take care of.

Kian slowly stood up and towered over her own respectable height of five foot five, and she suddenly felt smaller and more insignificant. If she’d ever allowed herself to think about her emotions regarding this man, then maybe she wouldn’t be feeling the insane grief she was experiencing, sitting before him now. If she’d faced her feelings instead of running away from them, then maybe she’d be able to give him a polite hello and ask him to move on, and not have to worry about endless torment. She had enough to last her a lifetime as it was.

If was a word Roxie had always hated. Life wasn’t about ifs. It was about living without regret, though she failed in that so much because she did have regrets. But she’d tried to stop adding any more to her already-long list. Every decision a person made helped shape them into who they were truly meant to be. A person filled with regrets was a person who hadn’t truly lived. But Roxie was failing miserably at the moment to practice what she so often preached.

“Hello, Roxie,” Kian finally said, his rich baritone deep and sure. There was the slightest edge of gravel to his voice that had always melted her, and it seemed time hadn’t changed that at all.

Her stomach quivered as her knees shook. She was grateful to be sitting, as she didn’t think her wobbly legs would be able to hold her up right now. She was also grateful Lily was sleeping. This man had power in ways she was sure he didn’t understand. Or maybe he did. How was she to know who he was anymore? He’d once been full of life and light that naturally drew people to him. Right now, he didn’t seem to be full of anything except disgust. And he had a right to feel that way.

“Kian,” she said, her voice coming out raspy and unsure. She was almost saying his name as a question. She wasn’t sure what to say, think, or do. And she certainly didn’t know what the question would be if she were to ask one.

Her niece stirred in the bed, and that caught Roxie’s full attention as she looked down and saw Lily open her eyes. It had been a while since she’d Skyped with her niece. Those moments had mattered a lot to Roxie, but guilt consumed her that even with that, she still hadn’t come back home to help raise the fragile child.