Beauty and the Billionaire

"Who did you think I was?" Ford's voice broke over the question.

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The desperate longing I saw mirrored in his eyes wrapped us tightly in a bond I didn't know how to break. And I didn't know if I wanted it to break.

I wasn't a silly, naive schoolgirl. I knew how desirable Libby was; anyone with eyes could see the reasons why men loved her. Ford was young, he was younger then, so why did the past affair make such a difference to me?

"You were going to use me, just like you used her," I said. "It was just a casual kiss, no big deal, wasn't it?"

Ford grabbed me by the shoulders and his eyes were fierce. "That's not how it was, Clarity. Please tell me you don't believe that."

"How am I supposed to know what to believe?" I asked.

His grip lessened but did not let go. "I'll tell you the truth," he said. "And I want you to report everything to the Honor Council. I want to be held accountable for all of it. I'm not going to hide from it anymore."

I closed my eyes because I felt myself drowning in his intense gaze. "Tell me the truth."

"I was a different person when I started working here." I felt Ford lead me to the sofa and we both sat down. He moved his grip down my arm and held my fingers fast again. "I had been discredited as a journalist and my career was over. I never wanted to be a professor, but Landsman College made me an offer and I had no other course of action."

"I don't understand, lots of people apply to work here. It's a dream job for most," I said.

Ford brushed my hair back from my shoulder and silenced me with a shake of his head. "I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to be a journalist again, but that career door had been slammed shut in my face. So, I started work here and hoped it would save me from self-destructing."

I looked up from our intertwined hands. "Self-destructing? How?"

"I drank. A lot. All the way down to the cliché of the professor who tips a little whiskey from a flask into his coffee when the students aren't looking," Ford said. He tried to smile but it slipped away. "I tried to drink it all away but it didn't budge. So, I started making other bad decisions."

"Were you trying to get fired?" I asked.

He squeezed my fingers and nodded. "I think I was. I wanted a reason to fight for my old career, to face what happened at my old job, and I just couldn't do it myself. I needed the money."

I blinked hard. "I wish you had known my father then."

A real smile burned through the haze of Ford's torment. "Me too. He's too nice to kick my ass, but a few well-chosen words from a man of respect can cut through a lot of bullshit."

My heart warmed as he referred to my father as a man of respect. Ford was keeping me and my father at arm's length and I didn't know why, but those words had me hoping he would help us when it came down to it.

Ford cleared his throat and let go of my hands. "Libby expressed interest. She flirted. A few other students flirted too, but I never thought about it. I never intended to anything about it."

"What happened?" I asked. Hope fluttered again in my chest.

"The first alumni/donor dinner was a huge success for Landsman College. I was invited, but only stayed for a few minutes. I was blind drunk and lucky that no one noticed. Then there was Libby. She saw me, the state I was in, and she took her chance."

Ford hung his head and took a few deep breaths. "I could have written it off as a drunk mistake, but that only made the connotations worse. So, so I tried. I tried to make something out of it. We saw each other a few more times, but Libby was not who I thought she was. When she saw how I lived, that I didn't own a car, or have a fancy condo, she demanded that I change. I pointed out we meant nothing to each other. I guess she rewrote it in her head since then."

I edged away, uncomfortable with the mix of disgust and sympathy I felt for him. Ford had made a terrible, immoral, and reprehensible mistake, but there he sat telling me the whole truth of it. I felt like crying, but I also felt like comforting him.

He looked up and pinned me with a stormy-blue stare. "You mean a lot to me, Clarity," he rasped. "It has nothing to do with who your father is or that my job is on the chopping block. It has nothing to do with your age, our situation, or anything else but this."

He reached out and brushed a hand across my cheek. The searing undercurrents of his caress struck hotter than lightning. He felt it too.

"I should have thrown it all away to be with you," Ford said. "But, now it's too late. The least I can do now is help your father and save you."

"Save me?" I asked. I snapped out of the spell his confession had woven and stood up. "I don't need saving. I don't need protecting. As far as I can tell, between you, my father, and me, I'm the only one that can be trusted to seek the truth."

"The truth is not so simple," Ford warned.

"That's it," I cried and headed for the door. I had to escape before I gave into the urge to collapse in his arms. "I know you think I'm silly and naive but I can't help it. I prize honesty, I want the truth, and if you're not going to help me get it, then I will uncover it myself."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN