Page 5 of The Billionaire's Angel

He was pissed at me. Still. Or maybe, again. For what, I wasn't sure, and Aiden wasn'ttalking.

There was a long list of possibilities; I'd run out on all of them after Olivia and Hugh had died. None of them really knew why. I'd been eighteen, lost in grief and guilt and fear and I'd abandoned my family. I had to live with that, but the last six months seemed like enough penance tome.

I didn't know if Aiden was mad that I'd left, or mad that I'd come home. Or pissed that I'd spent the last thirteen years throwing myself into danger when I didn't have to. Shit, if I really wanted to make a list of all the reasons Aiden had to be mad at me, it would take allday.

Unfortunately for him, I was back, and he was going to have to deal with me. So far, he'd proven adept at dodging me, leaving the house early and working late. The night he'd been home for dinner, we had been surrounded by the rest of the family and Aiden had been careful to preserve his distance. So far, I'd let it go. Now, I wasdone.

Aiden stepped out of the dining room, a folded newspaper in his hand, and stopped short when I blocked hispath.

“Gage. You're up early,” he said in a politely distant tone. “Mrs. W is still serving breakfast if you'rehungry.”

He moved to walk around me. When I stepped to block him, his eyes narrowed briefly before he raised one eyebrow and gave me the look he used when he wanted to send people scurrying in the otherdirection.

It didn't work onme.

I was a soldier. And I’d shared a room with him when he still wet the bed. It took a lot more than Aiden's glare to send merunning.

“I'll eat in a minute,” I said. “I want to talk to you about thecompany.”

Aiden checked his watch in a show of impatience and said, “Can we do this later? I have an earlymeeting.”

“You can spare two minutes,” I said. “I want to come to work. I'm not expecting any favors. We can talk about the skills I have and how we can use them, but I have a stake in Winters Inc., and I'm tired of sitting around, doingnothing.”

An undefinable emotion ghosted over Aiden's familiar features. Regret, or grief, tinged with anger. I’d been right. He waspissed.

Checking his watch again, he said, “Gage, you just got home. You need to take it easy. Relax, settle in. I'm happy to have you at the company, but why don't we table this until after the holidays? The next few weeks are going to be busy between Charlie's wedding, and then Tate's. You've been gone thirteen years. You can wait another fewweeks.”

“Aiden,” I tried again, “we need totalk.”

“Later,Gage.”

Aiden skirted around me and was gone, heading past the kitchen to the garage. Temporarily defeated, I entered the dining room to find it empty. It was still early, just after seven. Aunt Amelia and Sophie were probably still asleep. Considering that Sophie had been up half the night, I hoped she was still asleep. I wasn’t ready to face her indaylight.

The door leading from the butler's pantry into the dining room swung open, and Mrs. Williamson's familiar face appeared. “Scrambled eggs with cheese, sausages, and black coffee?” she asked with awink.

“That would be great, thanks, Mrs.W.”

I sat at the table, smiling to myself. I hadn't expected my homecoming to be easy. I'd spent too much time away for that. But Mrs. W was just as I'd remembered her. She alone seemed to bear no resentment over my absence. She'd welcomed me with a firm hug and a kiss on one cheek, only saying, “I missed you, and I'm so glad you'rehome.”

We’d both pretended to ignore the shine of tears in her eyes, andmine.

Even Aunt Amelia had given me shit after she enfolded me in a fierce hug. She hadn't been able to stop herself from scolding me for getting captured in the first place. Like that was the plan. At least I'd gotten my team out of harm's way before I'd gone down. But did I get any credit for that? Not from myfamily.

I knew they'd been scared. After so much death and loss, learning that I was missing must've been awful. I got it. I did. But I was home. I was even in one piece, which was a miracle, all thingsconsidered.

Mrs. W came in, setting a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me, along with a woven silver basket covered with an embroidered napkin, the crimson ‘W’ standing out against the snowylinen.

Steam wafted up, smelling of biscuits and butter. I'd missed a lot of things about home, but the food had to be at the top of thelist.

Mrs. W squeezed my shoulder and left. From her, that was the equivalent of a long embrace. Mrs. W had firm ideas about her place in the family. Mostly that she wasn't family. The rest of us disagreed, but we’d long since learned not to bother arguing with Mrs.W.

Now that our parents were dead, Helen Williamson was the closest thing we had to a mother, and every one of us loved her likeone.

I thought of the bugs taped on the insides of the lampshades in the library and mentally corrected myself. Almost all of us loved her like family. Aunt Amelia, not so much. I’d never really understood why those two didn't get along. Since Mrs. W would rather die than admit she disliked a member of the Winters family, she refused to talk. When I'd asked Amelia, she'd only narrowed her sharp eyes and shook her head saying, “I have myreasons.”

I didn't envy Sophie the job of keeping the peace between thosetwo.

Sophie.