A Billionaire's Revenge

Ch. 26: Everything

Carmen

I follow Corden through the thick crowds of people, fighting the dip in my stomach of anxiousness to figure out where he plans to take me. Tonight has been different for multiple reasons. I've seen glimpses of the man Corden is beneath the weight of his job and the memories he carries because of it, but tonight is something foreign altogether.

The way he looked at me at the table when he noticed I was upset.

How tenderly he held me on the dancefloor.

I don't like what it's doing to my heart. I feel like a teenager all over again when he takes my hand once we're away from prying eyes and the glitz and glamour his mother put together. I've never been anywhere like this in my entire life. The champagne tower likely cost more than an entire month's worth of food for my parents' village. It's almost sickening to think about, so I push the thought out of my mind when Corden leads us into the main house and opens the door to...

The kitchen.

"You led me to the kitchen," I say dryly, eyeing the surprisingly small setup for the size of this house. It's nothing more than a butcher block, a fridge, a farmer sink, and a double oven.

"The butler's kitchen," he corrects.

Ah.

That would explain the size.

"And this is where you wanted to come to be alone?"

He shrugs and opens the fridge like he owns the place. "We're alone, right? In a quiet space?" When I don't answer, he glances over his shoulder and adds, "I used to come here a lot when I was a kid with my brother Lincoln. Anytime we were bored or trying not to get caught, we'd wind up here. Lisa, the cook, used to stash cookies in here for us."

He's still looking around in the fridge, and I can't help but notice the corded muscles in his back beneath the white dress shirt. Corden Nash is a sight to behold, and add his slicked-back shoulder-length hair on top of him being emotionally vulnerable?

Yeah, I'm a goner.

"Alas, it seems Lisa stopped making them." He shakes his head and closes the fridge. "But I do happen to know where the adult version is stowed." I watch as he opens a cupboard beside the oven and pulls out a bottle of dark liquor. "Aged to perfection," he hums. "Want some?"

I nod, incapable of speaking when he finds two tumblers and pours us each a good amount. Normally, I'm not nervous. I'm outgoing, confident, and have the biggest backbone I know. But when I'm around Corden, I become a different version of myself. I find myself being vulnerable, too, which is a side I've never let anyone see before. It's unnerving, to say the least.

With two fingers, he pushes a glass across the butcher block to me before taking a sip from his own. "So, what happened?" he asks. "If you still feel comfortable sharing."

Telling Corden what happened with Archer isn't going to solve the hurt Archer's words left, but if I'm expecting him to be open with me about his life, I should give him the same courtesy in return. "Archer found out that I dance at The Harbor," I admit.

Corden pales. "What do you mean he found out? Did he... Did he find out about me? Us?"

I shake my head. "No. At least, I don't think so. He didn't say anything about that. I met him at a restaurant for dinner, and he had a manilla envelope compiled with information about me. I didn't have any interest in looking at it. Not after what he said."

My words have Corden stiffening, his fingers clenching around the glass. "What did he say to you?"

"It's not important."

His nostrils flare. "Like hell it isn't. What did he say to you, Carmen?"

I take a large swig of whiskey, wincing from the burn before I place it back on the countertop. "What he said is irrelevant. All that matters is that I ended things. We're over."

Corden has always made me feel like the most important person in the room, but when he sets his glass beside mine and rounds the counter to grip my chin with his fingers, tilting my gaze to meet his, it feels as if I'm a lot more than important.

It makes me feel like I'm everything.

"What did that son of a bitch say to you?" He whispers, searching my eyes as if he'll find the answer. "I thought you were sad tonight because you missed him, but that isn't the case at all, is it? He hurt you."

Tears well in my eyes, and even though I desperately attempt to keep them at bay, it's useless. Fat, salty tears stain my cheeks. "Fuck, I hate crying," I mutter. "It doesn't matter. I'll get over it."

"It does matter." He moves his hands to my arms, rubbing in soothing strokes that leave goosebumps in their wake. "If it's too much to tell me now then I'll understand that, but if you're holding back because you think it's pointless then you're sorely mistaken. Anyone who makes you upset is automatically on my radar. I'm here for you, Carmen, and I'll gladly listen to you vent if it means it'll help get it off your chest. I know what it's like to keep everything inside, and it only makes things worse."

Ugh, how am I supposed to hold myself together when he says a speech like that? In seconds, I'm a blubbering mess, relishing in the way he tugs me against his chest, not a care in the world when my tears stain his button-up shirt.

"He found out I danced and assumed I was sleeping with the clientele. He claimed I had no self-respect, and as his girlfriend, I shouldn't be showing off my goods that belonged to him. He spoke to me like some Neanderthal—like I was an object and not a human being. I've had this issue happen in the past, but never has someone's words made me feel so fucking worthless."

Corden doesn't say anything right away, but with my ear pressed against his chest, I can hear his heart beating more rapidly. I can feel how tight he's holding me now like he needs to hold onto me to prevent himself from doing something he shouldn't.

"You are not worthless," he mutters. His voice has dropped into an icy, venomous tone. The kind he uses on those he considers an enemy. "Dancing is your passion, and your damn good at it. It's a part of you, and if Archer can't accept that, then he's not the right one for you."

His speech has my tears lessening, but the hurt still remains. Sure, that's probably the truth, but what man would willingly put up with a girl who dances at night? It seems as if every guy I date has the same opinion. At this rate, I'll never know what it's like to be in a happy relationship.

All I know is Corden has made me feel like the sexy, badass woman I am since the first time we met. Sure, he fucked up by pushing me away, but the more I get to know him, the more I'm realizing that all of that was to keep me safe. Whether I want to admit it or not, I mean something to him. I don't know what I mean to him, but it's...something, and I'm done trying to fight it.

He's dangerous, and he's warned me already, but I'm over trying to feel bad about wanting him because something tells me that Corden will make me gladly accept any repercussions that will follow. Stepping over this line with him means I'm willing to enter into his world. Willing to be put on his enemy's radar. But if time has told me anything, it's that living without him will have me in more misery than having to up security or whatever the hell Corden will implement in my life to ensure I'm not in harm's way.

Regardless, I want this. I've wanted this for months.

And Carmen Abdullahi takes what she wants.

Stepping out of his grasp, I swipe away the remainder of my tears and ask, "Do you prefer Corden or Jett?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His throat works on a swallow when he says, "Corden. It's my father's middle name. Makes me feel connected to him." Another beat and then, "Why?"

I sink to my knees before him, my thighs pressed together from the immediate arousal that clouds his vision. Staring up at him like this makes me notice just how powerful he really is. Standing there in all his six-two glory... His hands that have brought death to others without a question asked... And yet, I've never felt safer in someone's presence.

Sending him a sexy smile, I bite back a laugh when his jaw visibly clenches. "Because when you inevitably make me come tonight, I want to make sure I moan the right name."