Beauty and the Billionaire

"Need a hand in the kitchen?" I asked. I stood up and stacked the dishes closest to me. Before he could make up an excuse, I moved past him and into the kitchen.

Quinn was at the sink, rinsing the dishes. The recycling was bulging with the take-out containers. She saw me notice and she smiled.

"I sure do miss my mother's home cooked meals," she said.

"Your mother isn't well," Mr. Thomas snapped from the doorway.

Quinn looked at me and bit her lip. Mrs. Thomas' wild mood swings had always been cause for concern, but her husband was still pretending everything was normal. Even after Sienna, whose personality could be the perfect mirror image of her mother's, had suffered for it.

"I'll just grab the last of it," I said. I headed back to the dining room and considered going right out the front door.

"You're right, Father, she isn’t well. Don't you think she might want to see a doctor?" I heard Quinn ask.

"That's not what I meant. She's just sick of seeing you so far off track," Mr. Thomas responded. "If you could pull yourself back together, your mother wouldn’t have to be so stressed and worried."

I gripped a fork hard enough to leave an imprint on my palm. I knew Mr. Thomas tried to find excuses for his wife's erratic behavior. But this was the first time I had ever heard him place the weight of it squarely on Quinn's shoulders.

"I'm worried too about her. Don't you think after what happened to Sienna, we should ask her to see someone?" Quinn asked. Her voice was faint but I could hear the resolve in it.

"What you should be worried about is ridiculous scenes like that dinner. Do you see now what a mess you're making of everything?"

I strode back into the kitchen and forced myself to place the dishes lightly on the counter. The saucers still rattled harshly and Quinn jumped. The look in her eye begged me not to say anything.

I pointed downstairs and then turned to Mr. Thomas. "Thank you very much for dinner, sir. Do you need a hand with drying or should I say goodnight?"

"Goodnight," Mr. Thomas said.

I left the kitchen and went down the hallway past the guest bathroom. The next door led to the basement and I slipped down it. Mr. Thomas generally retreated to his office after dinner and would not notice my car still parked out front.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and heard the blood pounding in my ears. I was angry. Angry that a father could ignore the problems of his family and pretend everything was perfect. Angry that people really expected life to be perfect and they fell to pieces when it wasn't. I could not watch Quinn give in to that way of thinking. It would destroy her and the thought made me see red.

"I think you should go home," Quinn said. She jogged down the stairs. "It’s been a pretty rough night. I can't believe you stayed."

"I was going to tell you the same thing," I said. I caught her hands and held them tight.

"It’s okay, really," Quinn said, but she would not meet my eyes.

"Fine, we won't talk about it," I said. "Maybe we do better when we don't talk." I kissed her, hard.

When our lips met again, I realized why I had felt so restless. I felt as if I had been taking on water, sinking lower and lower. All it took was Quinn's kiss to buoy me back up. I hoped it did the same for her.

It was impossible to read her chocolate brown eyes. She pushed against my chest, broke the kiss, and looked up at me for a long time.

"I'm worried, Quinn," I said. "I don't think this is you. You are the woman I saw in Vegas. Confident, inspired, and open."

"You mean carefree and fun," Quinn said. She turned away. "Sorry, Owen. This is my real life."

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you think you have to stay here? I know they are your parents and I know you love them."

"And I owe them," she said.

"Not as much as you owe it to yourself to live your own life."

Quinn stepped back and crossed her arms. When she turned to face me, her eyes flashed. "And how am I supposed to do that?" she asked.

"By leaving here. By telling your parents that you quit the nursing program. Go out and find what you want to do. I know of a job. You'd be an amazing Beta Tester. Your win at the tournament and a recommendation from me would get it for you no problem," I said.

"So, that's it?" Quinn asked. "I ask how I'm supposed to live my own life and you have an answer all ready? You even have a job lined up for me. Tell me, Owen, if I jumped from my parents’ house to your apartment and this whole vision you have for me, is that really living my own life?"