Page 93 of Billionaire’s Heartbreak

Together.

I knew what I wanted. I only wished June was on the same page.

I lay on Dannie’s bed, staring at the ceiling. It felt strange sleeping in his bed, knowing June was on the sofa outside. She should have been the one in the proper bed, but I hadn’t argued when she insisted.

I’d learned a long time ago that arguing with June once she’d made up her mind was a waste of oxygen.

A soft knock sounded against the bedroom door.

“Are you still awake?”

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly. June stood there in an oversized T-shirt and loose sleep pants, her hair falling messily around her shoulders. She looked tired. Beautiful. Human.

She slipped inside and closed the door. I shifted toward the edge of the bed, making room, and she climbed in without saying anything. For a while, we simply lay there facing each other.

“Do you want to have sex?”

The question came so quietly that for a second I wondered if I’d imagined it. Her lips trembled.

“Come here.”

I reached for her instead. She moved closer, and I kissed her forehead before wrapping my arms around her. She rested her head against my chest.

Neither of us spoke.

Because I knew she didn’t want sex. Not really. She wanted comfort. To feel safe. Someone to hold her after everything she’d survived.

And selfishly, I wanted to be that person.

So I held her. Nothing more. Just a long, overdue hug neither of us seemed ready to let go of.

I woke to the sound of a rooster. For several seconds, I had no idea where I was. Then the lights slowly brightened, mimicking sunrise. Dannie. Of course. Even without windows, he’d wanted this place to feel like a real home.

I glanced toward the other side of the bed.

Empty.

June was already awake.

I showered, dressed in a clean T-shirt and jeans from Dannie’s wardrobe, and walked into the kitchen.

“Breakfast?” That was June’s greeting.

I stopped.

We were wearing almost identical outfits: T-shirt, jeans. The only difference was that June had a handgun tucked into her waistband and a knife secured at her side.

I grabbed a cereal bar from the large bowl in front of her. “I’m ready.”

June looked at me. “So am I.”

We walked toward the keypad together.

The six-digit panel looked exactly the same as yesterday. Small. Ordinary. Completely capable of deciding whether we lived or died.

June stood in front of it. “Any suggestions?”