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Everything in me wants to turn around and chase after Gianna, pull her into my arms and hold her like I used to. And I hate that I feel this way.
How we started feels wrong. How did we go from emotionless fucking to ending things in this calm, hiding our anger? A part of me wishes that she would run after me and tell me she was just joking. While another part of me is done being pliant.
I dial my trusted right-hand man, Clark, who carries out some of my transactions covertly.
“What's the next step, boss?”
“Buy him out.”
“On it.”
I end the call and enter my car. My hand grips the steering wheel tightly, trying to rein in my anger.
I know I need time to sort through my jumbled thoughts and conflicting emotions. But there's one thing I'm certain of: I'm never going to act like a dumb fool for her again.
I'm done apologizing and chasing after her when she's not the only woman in the world.
I had no problem cutting things off with Jessica. It shouldn't be hard this time with Gianna. Our arrangement hasn't even lasted a month. I drive off ignoring the growing ache in my chest.
Chapter 17
Gianna
I keep staring at the door, my mind racing with thoughts and worries about whether Chris would walk back in. After what seems like an eternity, I walk back to my seat with a heavy heart.
This is the right thing to do, so why am I feeling guilty? Did I do something wrong?
He had looked so angry and hurt. Hurt from what? I don't understand.
The door opens, and I immediately stand up, thinking it's Chris. I deflate back in my chair when Sam walks in.
She smiles apologetically. “I'm sorry… I'm not the person you are expecting.”
“And who told you I'm expecting someone?”
“You are obviously expecting someone who's clearly not me. And I guess that someone is that handsome man that just left.”
I avoid her gaze and pick up my pencil. “Sam, I'm not in the mood for chit-chat.”
“I know.” She places an Americano on my desk. “That's why I got you this.”
My heart melts at her kind gesture. “Thank you.” I give her a soft, knowing smile and take a sip of the coffee. “I really needed this. Thanks.”
She sits and crosses her arms.
“So?”
“What?” I absentmindedly ask, enjoying the taste of my coffee.
She straightens up in the chair, suddenly looking serious. “I must confess I listened in to your conversation, or let me say ‘argument,’ with Chris. I'm sorry.”
By the tone of her voice, I know she's not really sorry. She's just here to hear more. “And?”
“And I must say I'm perplexed by it all. You slept with Nala's brother? Your best friend's brother? I mean—” She gulps and continues, “I knew he looked vaguely familiar, so I googled him after he left. Tell me how you fumbled a relationship with the youngest billionaire in the world.”
I place my half-finished Americano on the table and give her a hard look. “Sam, I really don't want to talk about this.”
She frowns. “You look like you need someone to talk to, that's why I'm here.”
