The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(82)

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Strong like me?”

I nod. My throat grows tighter as if it wants to stop me from spilling secrets.

Don’t do it. You open up this kind of wound and you’re asking for her to pick at your weaknesses.

But what if she’s not like him. Zahra is kind, loving, and everything good in the world. She’s nothing like my father. She wouldn’t judge me. No. Because she actually likes me—the complete opposite of him.

An asshole who doesn’t care about making others cry, beg, or poor. Someone who’s chosen himself time and time again because if I didn’t protect myself, no one would.

“I—I was very affected by my mother’s death.”

Zahra’s entire face changes. Her smile drops and her eyes soften around the edges. I’m tempted to stop. To erase that look and never bring up the subject again.

But she surprises me. “A kiss for a secret?”

I nod, unable to get any words out. She presses her lips to mine. The feel of her body against mine urges me forward. To take. To own. To make her remember who I am, regardless of my hidden weaknesses disguised as secrets.

I dominate her lips, branding her with my tongue. Showing her I’m still the man she likes no matter what I might say that makes me seem less than.

Don’t be stupid. She wouldn’t think that.

She pulls away and cups my cheek. “My secret.”

I sigh. Am I really going to tell her about this? Can I even do it? That part of my past is under lock and key, submerged somewhere deep within the crevices of my darkest memories.

She wraps her legs and arms around me. Her warmth trickles into my skin, bringing back some kind of warmth to my chilled veins.

I release a tense breath. “My dad was a latchkey kid who had access to anything money could buy. Private jets. Boats. A full-time wait staff. But none of it mattered once my mom came into his life. They are—were the closest thing to true love. At least that’s what I was told because I was too young to remember much about them together. But Declan always said that whatever my mom wanted, my dad granted.”

Zahra pulls back. “That’s so sad.”

Shit. “Don’t feel sorry for my dad. He’s an asshole.”

“I feel sorry for all of you.”

I clear my scratchy throat. “My parents loved Dreamland as much as my grandfather…until everything changed.”

“When your mom got sick?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry. No child should lose their mother at such a young age like you did.” Her hand reaches out and grabs mine. I open my fist, letting our fingers lock together. The simple gesture shouldn’t mean much but holding on to Zahra feels like clutching onto a lifeline. Like I could hold on to her or get swooped up into the darkest corners of my mind.

“One of the last memories I have with her was at Dreamland.”

Zahra nods, her eyes reflecting some sort of understanding.

“My mom was everything to us. And the few good memories I have of my parents together include my dad waiting on her hand and foot. If my mom smiled at something, my dad found a way to own more of it. If she cried about something, my dad was hell-bent on demolishing it.”

Zahra shoots me a wobbly smile. “He sounds like a man in love.”

“Love. Such a simple word for something so devastating.”

“Nothing that good can be given freely.” Her hand squeezes mine even tighter, cutting off any chance for blood flow. I’m not sure who she does it for but I’m grateful for the grounding caress of her thumb brushing across my knuckles.

“My dad was never the same after she passed, and neither were we.” My eyes focus on the fireplace beside us rather than Zahra’s face because I can’t take her sympathy. Not when I don’t deserve it. The selfish monster I’ve become over the past two decades is a far cry from the boy she pities.

I stare at the dancing flames. “My father treated us like shit because I think he was scared. Because taking care of us on his own meant accepting that my mother was truly gone, and he wasn’t ready for that. He abandoned us when we needed him most and replaced himself with someone none of us recognized. And instead of losing one parent, we lost both. One to cancer, and the other to his vices.” My voice cracks.

“We protected him because we thought he would get better. Looking back, we were too young to know any better. We should’ve told someone about his issues. But he kept his alcoholism so well hidden. Our grandfather was suspicious, sure, but we protected our father. Not out of loyalty for him, but maybe for our mother? I don’t know.”

“You were children.”

“But maybe if we had gotten him the help he needed early, we could’ve stopped the years of pain we felt after.” I shut my eyes, afraid Zahra might catch the wetness building in them.

Men don’t cry.

You’ve always been weak.

Pathetic.

All the memories flood my head at once.

“Pain tests us all in different ways.”

I nod. “I think for him, he ruined what everyone else loved because he couldn’t stand to lose the one person he cared for most in the world.”

“And what do you think he ruined for you?”

“The one thing I was good at. My brothers had sports, or comic books, or special clubs. But me? I was the odd one out. The disappointing artistic one who talked too much and dreamed too big.”