Page 7 of The Billionaire's Angel

Grateful for the distraction, and something productive to do with my day, I headed for the treadmill. I'd get in some miles while I planned the rest of my workout. Six months of captivity, followed by weeks in the military hospital, had left me ridiculously out of shape. I was headed to a desk job at Winters Inc., but that didn't mean I was goingsoft.

I ran for an hour before I hit the free weights. By the time I was done, my muscles were wrung out, fatigue pulling at me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept well, and the night before was no exception. After walking Sophie to her bed, I’d gone to myown.

I’d fallen asleep right away, for once, but woken an hour later, my heart thudding in my chest, covered in a cold sweat, my hands shaking from a nightmare I couldn’tremember.

Fuckingflashbacks.

I had a theory that if I exhausted my body, my mind would shut down and let me sleep. Putting it to the test, I jogged up two flights of stairs to my bedroom suite, took a quick shower, and climbed into bed. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to fallasleep.

I might have slept. Mostly, I drifted in a light doze, the sounds of the house creeping through the heavy wooden door of my suite. A vacuum running. Female voices. A scream that shot adrenaline through my veins before I remembered the construction paper insects in the lampshades in thelibrary.

I almost gave up on sleep after that, but I hadn’t gotten more than a few hours a night for months. If I couldn’t get past this, I’d never get my shittogether.

I closed my eyes again, breathing in deep, slow inhalations. Gradually, my nervous system went off high alert and my muscles relaxed. I rolled over and doubled up my pillow, trying to getcomfortable.

My surroundings were unfamiliar, the house I’d grown up in strange. Alien. As a teenager, I’d shared these rooms with Aiden, his parents in the suite that was now his. Sometime after they’d died and I’d left home, Aiden had moved into their rooms. I didn’t care about that. Aiden was the oldest, just as his father had been. Those rooms were his by right. I didn’t wantthem.

It probably seemed logical to redecorate our old room after he moved out. I was gone, and we weren’t kids anymore. Our double beds had disappeared, along with the identical dressers covered with trophies and cork boards pinned with concert tickets and snapshots taken withfriends.

Everything of our shared childhood had been stripped from the room and packedaway.

Now, the suite was elegantly decorated with a bedroom set in dark wood, one I might have chosen for myself if I hadn’t preferred that everything stay the same. The sitting room where we’d hung out and studied had a new flat screen TV and a comfortablecouch.

As teenagers, we’d begged for a TV in our room more times than I can remember. Now that I had one, bigger than anything I’d dreamed of at seventeen, I just wanted it gone. That TV was one more reminder of how much things hadchanged.

How everyone but me had moved on. I’d left home to escape my memories, but they haunted me all thesame.

It felt like I lay in that bed for hours, half asleep, lingering just on the edge of dreams. I finally got up and stretched out on the couch to watch a movie. I must have slept for a while because I woke to find the sunsetting.

Instead of refreshed, I was slow. Groggy. The house was empty when I left my suite. At the sound of my feet on the stairs, Mrs. W came out of the kitchen to tell me that Aiden had a dinner meeting and Aunt Amelia was at her bridge club withSophie.

I ate alone. I could tell Mrs. W felt badly about it, and I didn’t know how to tell her I wasrelieved.

I loved my family. Maybe it didn’t seem like it after I’d left home and rarely come back, but I did. It’s just that there are a lot ofthem.

After six months in a cell, I wasn’t ready for crowds. In the airport on my way home, the press of people had left me feeling as if my skin wanted to crawl off mybones.

I wanted to be with my family, that’s why I came home, but the collected mass of my relatives and their significant others was a crowd, loud and rambunctious. I craved them and wanted to flee at the sametime.

After a solitary dinner, I went back to my suite and sat at the desk to make a list. I needed to get in gear, to get my life back. At eighteen I’d walked away from my future, from the life I’d planned for myself, and if Aiden’s attitude was any indication, no one was going to hand it back tome.

That was fair. But if Aiden thought I was going to sit back and let him push me out of my own company, he’d learn he was mistaken. I could give him time. I owed him that. But I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him to get overhimself.

I needed the basics. A new phone. A laptop. A wardrobe that consisted of more than athletic shorts and cargo pants. I wasn’t flying to London for my suits like Aiden - the thought of sitting through a crowded flight twisted my gut in a knot - and I wasn’t asking Aiden for access to the company plane. Notyet.

I’d talk to Vance. My little brother wasn’t so little anymore, and he had good taste. He also wore clothes aside from suits, had little patience for shopping, and was speaking to me. All things I couldn’t say about Aiden. I made a note to call him in themorning.

The phone and laptop were easy enough. A quick trip to a big box electronics store and I’d be in business. I added a tablet to my list. Mine had broken shortly before the mission that had derailed my career and my life, and I hadn’t had a chance to replaceit.

Setting down my pen, I stood from the desk and stretched. Once I had the laptop, I could get to work. I had a lot of catching up to do on Winters Inc., and I could start with everything available in the publicrecord.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and paced the sitting room of my suite. I needed something to do. Even after my nap, I should be tired. I had months of broken sleep to make upfor.

I was tired. There was a part of me that was so deeply exhausted, I doubted I’d ever sleep enough to fill thewell.

Still, after months of insomnia, I knew I wasn’t close to tired enough to sleep. Another workout wasn’t the answer. I thought about a movie but rejected that idea. Maybe later. What I really wanted was abook.

The library was deserted, a single lamp lit in the corner of the room. I went straight to the built-in shelves on the right side of the fireplace, to the bottom where Uncle Hugh always kept his mysteries. Aunt Olivia made him hide them below eye level, the brightly colored spines clashing with the more formal leather-bound volumes that made up the bulk of thecollection.