Billionaire Unloved

Number two, he worked a lot. When we were at Marcus’s condo, Jett was almost always deep into his computer work with a laser focus that I wished I had.

Number three, I’d hurt him when I’d refused his marriage proposal. As hard as it was for me to accept, his offer had been sincere, and ever since I’d refused him, he’d been reserved and distant.

I knew I had done the right thing when I’d given him my no answer at the hospital.

For me, the marriage would have been the one lucky thing that had happened in my otherwise nightmarish life.

For Jett, making me his wife would be an act of kindness.

So while I regretted the fact that I wasn’t going to be married to the man who had been so good to me since the day we met. I knew he didn’t deserve a homeless woman with no decent future in sight.

Unfortunately for me, I still had a childhood fairy tale in my head that said that a couple should be in love when they get married. And although I’d gladly take a marriage of convenience and friendship opposed to the miserable life I had now, Jett should be looking for a whole lot more.

He’d felt sorry for me.

And pity was no basis for marriage.

Jett had gotten me through giving my statements to the police and the FBI interviews that followed by claiming me as his girlfriend, and giving me his home address and information. So even though we weren’t married, I was under his protection when it came to my fears of being ignored or disregarded.

The kingpin of the human trafficking organization had been taken down by Jett’s sister, Dani, so all that was left for us to do was to testify against our kidnappers and we were currently waiting to find out more about when that would happen and how everything was going to work out for indictments.

“Are you okay?” Jett asked gruffly from across the small table of the restaurant he’d chosen for dinner.

I realized I’d been staring at the wall, lost in my own thoughts as I answered, “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Is this about the stuff I picked up for you? Because if it is, we can exchange anything you don’t like.”

Oh yeah, there was a number four. Jett Lawson seemed to think it was his duty to get me everything I didn’t have.

I knew from our conversations that Jett had a good job, but I had no idea how much he made as a tech guy who owned his own business.

Obviously, he’d had enough money or credit to pay over a hundred grand to buy my freedom. But by freeing me, Jett could have completely cleaned out his savings and credit lines. And I worried about that since I didn’t have a job or a place to live, so I couldn’t get that money back to him anytime soon.

“Every single thing you got was top of the line. How could I not like that stuff? But I don’t like the fact that you’re spending money on me.”

Jett had gone way overboard on buying me what he considered necessities.

Once he’d found out what size I wore when we’d made a stop to buy me jeans and shirts, he’d ended producing a whole wardrobe for me a few days later.

New things came every single day to Marcus’s condo, and my guilt was pretty much choking me. Jett and I were using Marcus’s place until we were done with all of the FBI questioning and interviews, so at least he wasn’t paying for our stay. But what he saved wasn’t nearly the same amount as the items he was buying.

We’d had several discussions about his over-the-top tendencies when it came to getting things he thought I needed. But I usually felt like I was talking to a brick wall.

Today, I’d gotten the latest and greatest cell phone on the market, and a laptop. I’d cringed at the amount of money it had costed him.

He shrugged as he set his menu aside. “The stuff didn’t exactly break me.”

Relieved, I smiled back at him. “I really would have been okay with just a few pair of jeans. I didn’t need anything else.”

Just having an extra set or two of clothes was a big deal for me. I’d end up back on the streets once Jett left, a place where anything except food and clothing just weren’t all that important.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have been good with that,” he said.

As usual, his comment was vague, with no explanation as to why he felt he needed to give me things that I’d never be able to carry with me once I was homeless again.