Billionaires Runaway Bride

“Um, no, sir. I don’t think so.” He motioned for me to walk up the stairs.

“Sure as hell seems like it.” I walked up the stairs and moved to sit in my seat. The leather swelled around me, pulling me down and fitting me perfectly. I glanced over toward Molly’s seat, and my heart ached.

“So, I guess congratulations are in order?” The pilot walked back to where I was and stopped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“For what, exactly?” I buckled up and reclined a little.

“For the huge win on your new launch. The new product is doubling the value of your company.” He gave me a sheepish look. “I mean, of course you know this, but as a stockholder, and a small one mind you, I’m thrilled! You’re absolutely brilliant, sir. We all think so.”

I forced a smile, praying like hell that it was at least a little genuine. “Thanks so much. I have been watching it. I think after all of the hours I and my staff have put in, we’re all just a bit weary after this one.”

“Hopefully you get a little bit of time to yourself. You most certainly deserve it.” He nodded

and let out a sigh. “Well, let me get this bird in the air and get you home. I know everyone will be glad to have you back.”

“Right,” I mumbled as he turned and walked to the front of the plane. Everyone as in no one. I didn’t have too many connections because my business was my best friend, my mistress, my only possession.

That could have changed so easily.

Sickness rolled through my chest, and I ordered a double shot of bourbon. I didn’t stop ordering them until my head rolled to the side, and I passed out. Peace. Finally.

*

There was something about going into my empty, quiet home that set my nerves on edge as I walked into the estate in Devon. William had done as I’d asked and made sure that everyone was gone by the time I arrived.

The place was cleaned recently and smelled fresh, which annoyed me a little bit too. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected exactly, but it wasn’t the smell of cleaner. Maybe Molly’s perfume? Butter and garlic?

I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of wine as the world seemed to crumble around me. Two coffee mugs sat on the side of the stove, both of them washed. It was a cruel reminder that I’d needed them both before she left, but now…I only needed one.

“I’ll only ever need one.” I picked it up and considered smashing the fucker on the ground below me. It wouldn’t do any good. A phone call would. A simple phone call to tell her that I meant no harm, that I truly found myself throat deep in love with her, but no….

I needed to get some rest, and the right answer would show it. It always did. After getting a glass of wine, I retired to my father’s study and found a picture book that he kept hidden in his bottom drawer. My mother had never seen it before, and I wasn’t sure if he knew I had before he passed.

Flipping through it, my eyes burned with tears. Though my mother never knew it, he worshiped the ground she walked on. Picture after picture of me and mum together, loving life, looking happy. Not a damn one of them had my father in it.

He’d never told her that he was madly in love with her until it was too late, and he sure as fuck had never showed her. Making money and taking care of us was his way of screaming from the top of his lungs that we were his everything, but actions with no words are most times misinterpreted.

I should have told Molly what I’d done without having her pull it from me. I looked like a liar and a cheat, neither of which were me, but the damage was done.

Logan was right…I was turning into my old man, and not the best parts of him either.

The saddest part was that I had no idea how to change it, but I knew one thing, I wanted to.

Chapter Thirty

Molly

Sunlight danced across the ceiling. I stared up at it while I half-listened to the birds chatter outside on a tree branch. Distantly, I could hear Peyton moving about downstairs in the kitchen followed by the sound of dishes being clanged about. It had been two days since the blow up with Alfie, and I couldn’t force myself to do shit.

Get up, Molly. Get your ass out of bed. You didn’t even do this over Harry.

I couldn’t get over it though. My phone remained charging on the bedside with no phone calls or text messages. Nothing. That stung the worst more than anything else. Surely, he didn’t expect me to call! He’d be out of his fucking mind if he did. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Footsteps approached the bedroom door a few minutes later. I tugged the blankets over my head to hide my red and splotchy face from crying all morning right as the door pushed open.

“You have to stop this,” Peyton said, exasperated. “You didn’t even do this over Harry from what you told me.”

“That’s because I expected Harry to be a prick,” I replied, burrowing deeply into the blankets. “I didn’t expect this sort of thing from Alfie.”