Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Seventy

“You promised,” he whispers. He lets go of me to run his hands through his hair. “You promised me, Elna. Your beginning, middle and end.” Jumping to his feet, he folds his hands behind his head and murmurs, “You promised. You can’t leave me. Baby, please.”

Unable to look him in the eyes, I bury my face into the pillow and continue shaking my head. I know the answer to his question now, I am so certain of it. Do I still want him? Yes, I will always want him, more than I have ever wanted anyone but I can’t have him.

Murder is murder and he killed his brother.

And it hurts.

It hurts every fibre of my being. I love him so much it hurts to think of a future without him. I don’t think I can stop loving him but when I look at him, all I see is a killer. If I cannot look past his sins then I shouldn’t be in his life. It will be our secret, it’s not in my place to tell other people and I am fine with that. I will keep my lips shut but I can’t stay.

Brandon is still on his feet when I raise my head, his face is ashen with hurt, confusion and maybe fear. The most vulnerable I have ever seen him and I hide my face behind my palms. I don’t want to have to do this. Why am I so nosy? If only I had kept quiet. If I had listened to him, rescinded the invitation to his parents. They didn’t deserve to be here.

Swallowing hard, I sit up. He won’t do it, I’ll have to do it for us. “With a joint custody, we can still see the twins. You get your girls,” I say, almost choking on a sob. I pictured a life with my husband and kids in one house. Teasing and loving each other more. Not this. Staring at my hands on my laps, I uncurl my fists and rub them on my knees. “You get your girls on some days, I’ll have them for the rest of the week. We don’t have to see each other.” Before my courage fails me, I add, “People do it all the time, we can do it.”

He scoffs. I hear the screeching sound of a chair as he drags it in front of me. Seconds roll by, I assume he has taken a seat by the closeness of his voice. “You want a divorce?”

“Yes,” I reply in a breathless whisper.

A tear leaks to my robe, creating a wet patch on the silky material and I fist my hands. His knees touch mine, I refuse to look up. If I do, if he so much as begs me to stay, I will but I don’t want to. He grabs my hands to pry them open and I see the cuts I made on my palms. A chill runs up my spine when he traces the mark, I sink my teeth into my lip.

“What if I don’t want a divorce?”

“You have to,” I reply, eyes fixated on my leg. “I promise not to tell anyone but I can’t stay. I need you to agree to a divorce.” My breath catches in my throat, I swipe at my nose and shake my head. “You will get to see your girls as much as you want, I promise. It doesn’t have to be messy, it will be over before you blink. Say yes. Do it for me, them.”

“Elna.”

“I’m scared of you.” My head raises slowly to meet his, I put up a mental block to resist him and the hurt dancing in his eyes. “There, I said it. I’m scared.” He takes my second hand in his, eyes roving over my body. A soft sigh leaves my lips when he strokes the inside of my wrist to my forearm. He has control over me. “Brandon, please. I’m scared.”

“We can see a therapist, a counsellor.”

He doesn’t get it, he never does. This is not one of those things that can be fixed by a therapy session. It will take more than that. Selective amnesia or something worse. I sigh, he tightens his grip on my arm and heat scorches my chest. He doesn’t want to let go but I am tired of holding on. All I ever did was held on and look where it brought us.