BILLIONAIRE (Part 5) Read Online Free PDF

electricity.  The food .  But we were both relieved when I left for Princeton.”
    “Christ,” Alexander said, his rage muted by a compassion that was so full of understanding it undid me.  The memories didn’t make me cry.  Not even the relief that my life had changed so profoundly from those horrific dark days.  It was Alexander’s grasp of my damages that coiled right into my heart like a soulful, jagged knife, spilling fear and grief and loss along with my blood.  Releasing all those pent-up secrets.
    Confessing all that felt more than restorative. 
    It felt like solace.  It felt like life.  It felt like trust.
    It felt like love .
                                                           
    Alexander put his arm around me and stood slowly, guiding me along with him with careful reverence.  As though I was made of glass.  His eyes never left me.  “I’m taking you back to the hotel.  I’m canceling our meeting with Etienne.  We can do that another day.”
    He had made a dinner meeting with the editor-in-chief of the French edition of his magazine.  I’d been looking forward to it.  After all, it wasn’t every day a person dined with a billionaire and a Parisian editor of one of the world’s trendiest publications.  And it would be the first time Alexander and I had socialized with someone other than each other since we’d arrived in Paris.  “No, don’t cancel it,” I said.  There were lingering tears in my eyes but I didn’t feel distraught.  I felt comforted, if anything.  I felt surprisingly calm, and light.  “I want to go out.”
    “You’re not feeling up to it.”
    “Alexander, I’ve been living with these secrets for seven years.  The only thing that’s changed is that now you know what haunts me.  You said you wanted to know and now you do.  I’m over all that.  I escaped it.  And now I’m with you.”
    Alexander stopped walking and stood, facing me.  His hands were on my shoulders.  He seemed touched by something I’d said.  After several moments of staring, dazzled, into my eyes, he kissed me.  The kiss was so tender it almost brought fresh tears to my eyes.  “Yeah,” he said, and his voice had gone all husky.  “You’re with me.  And I’m going take such good fucking care of you, you’re going to forget all that other stuff once and for all.”
    “I already have.”
    He studied my face, not entirely convinced.  “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to our hotel room?  It’s a lot to confess.  I know that wasn’t easy to do. I can meet with Etienne tomorrow.  Or the next day.”
    “No.  I’m fine.”  More studious concern.  But I felt unusually sanguine in the aftermath of my confession.  I had never told anyone what I’d just told Alexander and the burden did feel lighter.  Like it had happened to another person.  Not entirely, but just a little.  Just enough.  “I want to go out.  I want to eat with you.  You should meet with your editor.  Don’t worry about me.  Rehashing old wrongs isn’t going to make them right.  I just want to forget about my past and live my present.”  I felt slightly more vulnerable than I was letting on, but that was nothing new.  Most of my existence had been conducted through a veil of feigned courage.  And in Alexander’s company, my imagined staunchness felt more empowered – more real – than it ever had.  “Bring it on.”
    This brought a half-smile to his lips.  He kissed me again, this time allowing some of that wildcat eroticism to creep back into his protective concern.  “Bring it on,” he whispered, repeating my words against my lips.  “All right, then, honey girl.  Have you had enough of Delacroix for today?”
    I nodded, and he lightly squeezed my hand, leading me out of one masterpiece-loaded gallery room and into another.  He was about to ask me a question; I could tell by the little crinkle between his dark