Claimed by the billionaire
Christian watched me from the corner of his eye, his jaw tight, his breathing heavy.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rough.
“You think I’m the devil, don’t you, Red? Can’t even look me in the eye.”
I didn’t look up, my fingers digging into my palms. He’s right. I can’t. The silence stretched, heavy, choking. My mind spun, stuck on everything—his darkness, the baby I hadn’t told him about. Say something? Run?
Then Christian spoke again, his voice quieter, raw.
“When I was a kid, my mom was abused.”