I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(18)

"What were you about to say?" he demanded, softly. His hard exterior was beginning to crack - I could see his eyes that he was anxious to know, but he knew he couldn't actually force it out of me.

I blinked slowly, and swallowed. "I was going to say, I'm sorry."

For a moment, I swore I actually saw the disappointment pass over his face. "I'm not asking for an apology," he said. "Just try to be a little less self-centered."

"Fuck you!" I shouted, before I had a chance to think about what I was saying. I squirmed harder, trying to break free from his grip. He just kept staring at me, silently, not really moving. It was infuriating how little effort he needed to expend to hold my arms in place. It didn't seem to be taxing him at all, no matter how hard I strained. My heart was pounding in my ears, all the pent-up anger and frustration roiling in my blood. I kicked my legs, but there was no part of him that I could reach that way. And he just kept staring down at me.

"Do you want me to let you up?" he said, finally.

I swallowed so hard I could feel the tendons in my neck straining. I knew he wanted me to say yes. He just wanted to prove that I had to ask. That I couldn't break free from him - mentally or physically.

I just stared back at him, silently, fuming.

"It's so very telling," I said, finally, after I'd given up the fight and relaxed beneath him - sort of. My nostrils still flared with every breath. "That the only way you get people to stay with you is by playing mind games."

"All right, then," he said, standing abruptly, letting me go, his hands raised in the air like I'd just ordered him to drop his weapon. "Fine. Go."

I sat up, my hands clenched into fists. "You know I can't."

"I'm sure you can," he said. "I have faith in you." His deep, green eyes were filled with mockery - and anger - and something else entirely, that I couldn't quite read.

"All I wanted was for you to act like I existed," I said, feeling the tears well behind my eyes. "Just for a minute or two. When everything's going well, when you're happy, then I'm here - and you act like…" I took a deep breath. "…but then things go wrong, and suddenly it's like I don't matter anymore. I could help you. I want to help you. I want to be there for you."




"You want to be there for me, or for yourself?" He stepped closer to me again, so quickly that I flinched a little. I wasn't sure why.

"I don't know what you're talking about!    " I shouted, no longer concerned if Lindsey overheard. "You think everything I do is selfish. Is it really easier to believe that, than to believe that I actually care about you?"

He was shaking his head, like he already wasn't listening again. "Did you ever consider for one moment what it might be like, to be me right now?"

I lifted my head up, fixing him with a tearful stare. "Did you ever consider for one moment what it might be like to be me?"





CHAPTER SIX





I couldn't tell if Daniel was angry, or sad, or both, or neither. He was just staring at me. Was I really the first person to ever ask him if he'd considered having a little empathy? He looked…stunned, almost as if I were.

Finally, he shook himself out of it, swiftly closing the gap between us and grabbing my hands out of my lap. "Everything has to come back around to you, doesn't it?"

"I think you might be projecting," I said, as he abruptly released my hands, grabbing me around the waist and tossing me on the bed.

I lay there, passively - it was the most defiant thing to do, it seemed like, at the time. I think he wanted me to fight him. Or maybe not. I watched him go to the closet - not his clothes closet, but The Closet, the one where he kept an ever-growing array of diabolical little things that only came out when he was in one of "those moods." I had no idea where he got them all. There always seemed to be something new, but I never noticed any packages arriving, either through the mail or under his arm. And I couldn't really picture him walking into one of those types of stores - especially not now. I could just imagine the Post headline - DANIEL THORNE, SEXUAL DEVIANT?

I giggled.

He turned, abruptly. "What's so funny?" he demanded, walking back over to me quickly and tossing something on top of me. Sitting up a little to look at it, I saw that it was a length of rope dyed in a deep, luxuriant purple.

"I was just trying to imagine where you buy all this stuff," I said, trying to look innocent. He climbed up on the bed again, this time trapping my legs between his. He picked up the rope and pulled a length of it taut, letting it slide between his hands. I shivered a little.

"I know someone who makes this," he said. "By hand. Every batch. It's hemp."

I had to giggle again.

He gave me a look. "It's the best material for the purpose," he said. "And I think you'll agree, it takes colors beautifully."

"Form and function," I said, flopping back down on the bed. "The best of everything. I should've known that's the only thing you'd settle for."

He was winding one end of the rope around my wrist, carefully. He tied an elegant knot, then began looping it around the bedpost.

"You know, if I were as selfish as you think I am, I'd never let you do this," I said, softly.