Page 18 of The Billionaire's Angel

Fuck,I'dexpected me to do thesame.

And then I hadn't. I'd woken up the morning after the funeral and been smothered by the weight of grief and guilt and loss. At the thought of taking my rightful place at the company, nausea had turned my stomach. I couldn't do it. I didn't deserve to fill my father’sshoes.

I'd been too young to save him and my mother. I didn't have that excuse for Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia. I'd been home. I'd been right in this fucking house while they were dying and I hadn't saved them. I didn't deserve my legacy. The idea of walking through the doors of Winters Inc., of claiming my position as the heir along with Aiden, of pretending that I deserved the honor the way that he did, made mesick.

I couldn't live that lie. So I'd run. Aiden had left to go back to college – to finish the semester and then move home. When he'd returned to Winters House, I hadn’t beenthere.

It was the worst betrayal either of us could've imagined. He might never forgive me. I wasn't sure I deserved forgiveness. I couldn't forgive myself. That didn't mean I was going to giveup.

I'd almost died in that cell a world away from home and family. Life was precious, and I'd spent enough time being careless with my own. All those hours with nothing more than the rats and my own thoughts for company had forced me to see thingsclearly.

My penance had become self-indulgence. I'd run away and joined the Army to punish myself for failing to save Olivia and Hugh. Then, once I'd been gone too long, it got harder and harder to come home. To faceAiden.

The rest of them forgave me easily enough. For everything. Never asked why I wouldn’t come home. Never demanded to know why I hadn’t saved Olivia and Hugh. I don't know that it occurred to them. They were younger and inshock.

Aiden had thought about it. I'd seen the understanding in his eyes, the accusation. He’d lost his parents, and I hadn't saved them. I'll never forget the raw agony in his voice when he asked, “Where were you? Why didn't you helpthem?”

I didn't have ananswer.

Not one that would satisfy him. It sure as hell didn't satisfyme.

The past weighed on me. It weighed on all of us. But that was life. You can't escape where you come from; you can only chart your course for the future. I couldn't fix the past. I couldn't bring our dead back to life. And I wasn't going to let Aiden hold a grudgeforever.

After another hour of reading, I closed the laptop and forced myself to go to bed. I already knew I wouldn’t sleep well, but I had to try. My mind drifted off after only a few minutes in bed, drawn into dreams that twisted intonightmares.

I’d only been out for an hour when I woke, heart pounding, every nerve firing in a remembered pain so real I looked down and expected to see blood staining mysheets.

I was whole and un-injured.

Laying back against the sheets, I tried to calm my ragged heartbeat and steady my breath. The torture had been worse in the beginning. The first two months they had me, my captors had vacillated between punishing me just for being an American soldier and using me forleverage.

At first, they'd attempted to trade me, but my mission had been so far off the books the military refused to acknowledge that I'd even been taken. Not officially. Officially I was still back onbase.

That was part of the deal, and I had no resentment over it. I'd just been relieved I'd managed to get my team clear before I'd gone down. Once they realized they couldn’t trade me, they'd been determined to coerce me into making one of those videos. They wanted to broadcast an American soldier renouncing his government. That wasn't going to happen. Didn't stop them fromtrying.

I'd always had a high pain tolerance, but I fucking hated being shocked. When we were teenagers Aiden and I had gotten our hands on a game, intended for adults, that was little more than a rubber ball with metal sensors embedded on the outside. The game was simple: toss the ball back and forth. If you dropped the ball, you lost. The catch was in the metal sensors that delivered electric shocks at randomintervals.

Aiden mastered that thing like a pro. Even the strongest jolt didn't faze him. He got endless amusement out of the way I'd drop the ball at anything other than the mildest shock. The crawling, prickling sensation of electricity, the pain that wasn't pain, short-circuited something deep in my brain, somethingvisceral.

I hated it. Fucking hated it. My captors could bring out the knives, and I wouldn't flinch, but that fucking car battery with the wires attached made me crazy. The nightmares were bad enough, but when they were about that fucking carbattery…

I rolled out of bed and headed straight for the shower, needing to wash off the cold sweat. The house was cool in the winter night, but not cold. Still, I was covered in goosebumps, the sweat slicking my body stinking of fear. I'd had enough of these fuckingnightmares.

Turning on the steaming water and stepping beneath the spray, I considered again if it was time to think about talking to someone. Was I willing to risk word getting out? And if it did, what would that do to my chances of getting back in through the door of Winters Inc.? If it became common knowledge that I was seeing a psychiatrist, Aiden might use that as an excuse to shut meout.

I’d think about it later. Pulling on a T-shirt and a pair of cargo pants, I left my suite and jogged silently down the stairs. I wasn't going for a drink, and I didn't want a book. Remembering that sad bowl of sliced fruit at dinner, I knew exactly what Iwanted.

Looked like I wasn't the only one thinking about a midnight raid on the kitchen. The lights were on when I got there. At the sound of my feet on the hardwood floor, Sophie jumped and let out a tiny shriek. She whirled, the refrigerator door swinging shut behind her, and clutched her hands to her chest, her green eyeswide.

The warmth that flooded my chest at the sight of her took me by surprise. I thought I was coming to the kitchen for food, but once I saw Sophie, wrapped in that bulky white robe, her silvery blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, I knew what I really wanted washer.

Chapter Seven

Sophie

Ialmost hada heart attack when I turned around and saw Gage standing there. I still wasn't used to running into someone else in my nightly wanderings. Plus, he'd caught me raiding the fridge. That would've been fine if this were my house, but it wasn't. I knewbetter.

I was an employee. I wasn't family. I shouldn't be raiding the fridge after midnight, looking for something sweet. Especially after lecturing Amelia on eating too many cookies. I was such a hypocrite. But I wasn't a diabetic and, secretly, I completely agreed with Amelia. Fruit was great, but it wasn'tdessert.