Mason: I could be much more if you’d let me.
Me: That’s a subject we’ll have to return to at a later date. Right now, I need to concentrate on saving enough money to pay my bills.
Mason: I’ll wait for you, but I’ll only wait so long. There’s someone at church who expressed interest in me, but I told her my heart belongs to you.
Ugh. This conversation made me so uncomfortable.
Me: Don’t wait for me. If you think there’s a chance with someone else, you should take it.
He didn’t respond for at least five minutes and I began to despair that I’d really hurt him this time. I cared about him and didn’t want to be the source of pain in his life.
Mason: We’ll talk about it when you get back. I won’t make any decisions until then.
Me: If you like this woman, and she likes you, then you should go for it.
Mason: She’s a friend and that’s it.
Me: Mason, that’s what our relationship is . . . friendship.
Mason: I know, you don’t need to remind me.
Why did friendships with guys have to be so painful? I felt like I was walking on eggshells and no matter what I said or didn’t say, I would hurt him in some way. I had to be careful not to mislead him, but I also wanted to give him a chance. If only my feelings would catch up to my brain.
I put my phone away and headed inside. It was time to get to work and put relationships and men out of my head. I had to keep my eyes on my goal: save up enough money to hire an investigator.
That was the only thing I would allow myself to focus on.
Chapter 9
Lucas, 12 years old
The nurse sat down on a rolling stool, and she typed away at a mobile computer. “Lucas, you’re here for a follow-up for your broken arm, correct?”
I nodded, glancing at my cast.
“That’s right,” Dad said, looking stiff and uncomfortable in his dark blue suit. He ran a hand over his bald head. He was older when he’d had me, so he didn’t look as young as a lot of my friends’ dads.
“How did it happen?” the nurse asked.
“He was playing baseball during his sixth grade P.E. class,” Dad said. “He decided to slide into home plate. Boys will be boys. Isn’t that right, Lucas?”
I nodded again but didn’t say anything.
“He has a small cold as well,” Dad said, “but that’s nothing to be concerned about.”
The nurse typed something else and asked a few other questions. When she was done, she got up to leave. “Doctor Wilson will be with you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Dad said, and then he went back to scrolling through his email on his phone. He always did that . . . constantly. Whenever we were anywhere, all he did was check his email and text messages.
I couldn’t believe he was here with me today. He hardly ever came to my medical appointments. That was left up to Stella, my nanny. But today, he insisted he should be the one to come along.
He glanced at me. “Once this is over, I’ll take you for ice cream. How does that sound?”
I frowned. Why was he being nice all of a sudden? He never offered to take me for ice cream. “Um . . . good?”
He smiled. “And when we get home, I have a special present for you.”
“You do?”
Dad gave me and my sister, Calista, anything we wanted, but it didn’t usually come with wrapping paper unless it was Christmas. Even then, we already knew what all the presents would be because we chose them ahead of time. There were never any surprises, and Dad never had a special gift for me or something he picked out himself.
He put his phone down and stared at me with a serious face. “Yes, the present is at home. Just make sure you handle the doctor’s questions the way we discussed.”
“Okay.” I bit down on my bottom lip and studied the floor.
“Look at me.” He waited until I met his gaze and his eyes darkened. “I would hate for something worse to happen if you veer away from what we practiced.”
I swallowed. “I know what I need to say.”
“Good.” He went back to scrolling through his emails, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
The doctor burst into the room with a smile on his face. He had brown hair and brown eyes, and he looked younger than most of the doctors I’d seen before.
He reached forward to shake my hand. “Lucas, how are we doing today?”
I shook his hand with the arm that wasn’t broken. “Fine.”
“I hear you have a small cold. Yesterday, a patient asked me, ‘How do I stop my nose from running?’” He grinned. “You know what I told him?”
I shrugged and shook my head.
“Stick your foot out and trip it,” he said.
It took me a couple of seconds to realize he was joking, but it wasn’t funny to me. It was just a dumb joke.
“Aww. That didn’t bring a smile? How about this one?” he asked. “Why did the house go to the doctor?”
I shrugged again.
“It had a window pane.”
The corners of my mouth tipped up just a little. That was kind of funny.
“Ah . . . I see I’m getting a smile.” He sat down on the rolling stool and moved closer. “Why did the book go to the doctor?”
I lifted a shoulder, a small smile playing at my lips.
Dr. Wilson paused for effect. “Because it had a broken spine.”
“Is this necessary?” Dad shifted in his chair and looked irritated. He glanced at his phone and frowned. “I’m on a time schedule, so if you could hurry this up that would be greatly appreciated.” His voice wasn’t exactly appreciative, but that was Dad pretending to be nice.
Dr. Wilson pressed his lips together. “Of course. Sorry. I just like to see my patients smile.” He asked me a number of questions about my arm: how it was healing, and if I had any pain. He typed my responses into his computer. “All right, let me check a few things out.” He looked into my eyes while shining a light on them and told me to open wide.
After studying my throat, he took out a stethoscope. I remembered my teacher calling it that during a health lesson. He listened to my heartbeat and moved it around to different places on my chest. Lifting my t-shirt just slightly in the back, he placed the circular part on my skin. When he stiffened, I glanced up and saw him frown.
“Mr. Armstrong, would you mind stepping out to the waiting room while I finish my exam?”
Dad’s head shot up from his phone. “Why?”
“I’d like to ask Lucas a few questions and sometimes kids feel more comfortable talking when their parents aren’t around.”
“Absolutely not,” Dad said. “I have a right to be here. You can’t separate me from my son.” His phone rang, and he hit the side button to silence it. “Whatever you want to ask, you can ask in front of me.”
Dr. Wilson nodded. “Okay. Lucas, I just noticed quite a bit of bruising on your back. Can you tell me how it happened?”
I glanced at Dad and then looked at Dr. Wilson, my heart thumping in my chest. “I play a lot of sports at school.”
Dad’s phone rang again, and he silenced it, looking frustrated.
“What kind of sports?” Doctor Wilson asked.
“Baseball, soccer, flag football.”
“You must play rough. Do you know how I know that?”
I shook my head.
“Because the bruises are different colors. That means they’re in various stages of healing. In other words, they didn’t happen all at once.”
“I fell on my back a few times.”
Dad’s phone rang again, and he hit a button and mumbled something under his breath, glancing to the side as if deep in thought.
“It’s normal for boys your age to be active,” Dr. Wilson said. “I remember playing sports when I was a kid. But you need to take care of yourself and not be too reckless or you’ll get broken bones.” He tapped a finger on my cast.
Dad’s phone rang again, and he st
ood to his feet. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” He put the phone to his ear and walked out the door, yelling at whoever was on the other line.
Dr. Wilson glanced back at me. “Lucas, if I ask you some questions, will you tell me the truth?”
I nodded.
“Do you live with both parents?”
“Just my dad.”
“Is your mom in the picture?”
Letting out a breath, I glanced away. I didn’t like these questions. I hoped he would finish soon so I could go for ice cream with Dad. “No, she left when I was younger.”
“What happens when you do something your dad doesn’t like?”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
“Is there a consequence if you break one of his rules?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you give me some examples?”
“Um . . . He grounds me from watching TV.”
Doctor Wilson nodded. “What else?”
“That’s it. Nothing else happens.”
I looked down and felt sick to my stomach. If I told him what really happened, he wouldn’t understand. Plus, Dad had already told me what he would do if I didn’t answer the way he wanted me to. He wouldn’t just hurt me. He’d hurt my doctor too. I liked Dr. Wilson, and I didn’t want something bad to happen to him. He was kind of nice.
“Is there anyone in your life you’re afraid of?”
I swallowed again. “No.”
“Is anyone hurting you?”
I sat up straighter. “What? No, of course not.” A shiver ran down my spine.
“Okay.” He smiled. “I just wanted to make sure. But if you ever feel like you need to talk with someone, who would you go to?”
“I don’t know.”
He pursed his lips together. “You can always go to a teacher or call the police if someone is hurting you.” He pulled a card from the front pocket of his jacket. “You can also call me.” He studied me longer as if hesitant to end our conversation. “Okay?”
I nodded, taking the card from him. “Okay, but no one is hurting me.”
He looked at me with a concerned expression. “Sometimes it’s hard for kids to talk about things that happen to them, but it’s always better to tell the truth so adults can help.”
My brows drew together. “I am telling the truth. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because those bruises don’t look like they came from a fall.”
“I . . . They did come from a fall.” He was making me worried, and whenever I got worried I got angry too. I scowled at him. “If you don’t believe me you’re stupid. You need to go back to school.”
“Woah, buddy. I’m just concerned about you. I’m not calling you a liar.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Excuse me for a moment.”
He left the room, and I sat there for a really long time, wondering where Dad was and how much longer this would take. A few minutes later, Dad finally returned. “Where’s Dr. Wilson?”
“He left.”
“Did he say if we were done?”
“No.”
Dad made a loud noise in his throat and clenched his fists. “I need to get back to the office. This is taking too much of my time.”
“I’m sorry.” I hated feeling like I was in the way, but that’s how it was most of the time, so I was used to it.
The door opened and Dr. Wilson entered the room with a short lady with dark brown hair falling just below her chin. Dr. Wilson cleared his throat, glancing at Dad. “Mr. Armstrong, during my examination of Lucas, I noticed bruising on his back that didn’t look consistent with a fall. I’ve spoken with Lucas, and he denied anyone hurt him, but I’m still required by law to report any suspected abuse.”
“What?” Dad yelled. “That’s outrageous. No one hurt Lucas.”
“I know this is frustrating,” Dr. Wilson said, “but it’s standard protocol.” He glanced at the woman standing next to him. “Rosemary Evans is with CPS, and she will handle it from here.”
Dad glared at me and I shrank back. He turned to Rosemary. “Let’s make it fast. I’m a very important man, and I don’t have time to waste on idiotic assumptions made by wet-behind-the-ear doctors.”
“Of course, Mr. Armstrong,” she said in a low voice. “I just have a few questions.”
Lucas Current Day
Shifting in my seat, I glanced at the time. It was seven o’clock, forty-five minutes after Hillary was supposed to meet me for dinner. Not a surprise, considering she used to keep me waiting all the time when we’d dated. I’d offered to pick her up for our date tonight, but she’d said she had plans and would rather meet afterward.
I’d once heard her tell a friend when she thought no one was around that she liked to keep me waiting because it shifted the balance of power. If that was what she believed—fine. Unlike what most people believed, I didn’t feel I needed to control other people. There were a few exceptions, but the main issue was I didn’t like it when someone tried to control me.
Like Dad for instance. Everything I was doing right now was because of him. Most days when I thought of him I had to push down the growing anger threatening to boil over like a volcano. The man hated me. He’d hated me my entire life and forcing me to marry someone he approved of was another way to exert his control over me and prove who was boss.
I stared out the restaurant window at the ocean waves, watching people jump around and scream playfully. Everyone on the beach was with someone—presumably someone they loved. What a waste. I felt sorry for them. They were all smiles and happiness, but one day they’d figure it out. One day it would finally sink in that love wasn’t real. It didn’t last. People got tired of each other and left. Why put your heart out like that only to have it stomped on?
Now freedom—that was another story. I would give anything to be free. What would my life be like if I broke away from Dad’s influence? If I just walked away from it all, turned my back on everything . . . I wouldn’t ever do it. Too much was at stake. But picturing it made me wistful, made me long for a day when I didn’t have to answer to him anymore.
His health was failing, and I knew that. A part of me would grieve when he passed away. He was my father, the man who raised me. The man who provided a shelter over my head and gave me everything I had now. But the other part? The other part would only feel relief. Relief that I no longer had to live under his tyranny.
A finger trailed up my arm, and I turned to see Hillary, her platinum blonde hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her blue eyes glittered. “I knew you’d still be here.” She grinned.
I forced myself to smile. “Of course. Haven’t I always waited for you?”
She took the empty seat across from me. “Sorry, I just got caught up. I have a lot of suitors vying for my time.” She winked.
“Nothing’s changed then since the last time I saw you.”
She frowned. “The last time we saw each other you broke things off. Told me you were getting back together with Alexa.”
I grimaced. Unfortunately, she hadn’t forgotten. “Yeah, breaking up was a big mistake.”
“You admit it was a mistake to break up with me?”
For a quick second, I hesitated and averted my eyes. “Yes. Should’ve never done that.”
Her entire face lit up, and I felt a pang of guilt. Still, it was hard to believe she cared about me. She liked my status and what it brought her. She was a beautiful woman—always had been. But we didn’t have much of a connection, and we had even less in common besides the fact that we both came from money. Most of our dates in the past had consisted of me carrying all of her shopping bags and catering to her every whim.
Which is why it hadn’t lasted long.
But whatever reservations I’d had, it was time to put those aside. I had to convince her to marry me. End of story.
I’d planned on telling her everything up front—how I was forced to marry in order to receive my inheritance, how the marriage would be in name only. We’d live separate lives and make
occasional appearances together. But something told me to hold back a little. I’d come on strong with Alexa—pushed her into a corner— and she fought back hard. She’d hated the idea of a marriage in name only. Even though I’d offered an unlimited spending account and a house of her own, she still turned me down. She was another one who believed love was the answer.
What a misguided notion that was.
With Hillary, I needed to relax. Let her come to me.
A waiter brought menus, and I flipped through it casually. “I hear they have good seafood here.”
Hillary set the menu on the table. “I’m on a diet right now.”
I gave her a once over. “You don’t need to lose weight.”
She giggled. “I need to lose five pounds, silly. You don’t get to look like this,” she ran both hands down the sides of her waist, “and eat anything you want.”
“So, what does this diet entail?”
“Water with lemon.”
My eyebrows flew up. “So, you’re not going to eat dinner?”
“Nope.” She waggled her brows. “Maybe we should just forget dinner and take a romantic walk on the beach instead. What do you think?”
“I think you should eat.”
“Not going to happen,” she said with a frown. “But that walk sounds awfully nice.” Her lips formed a pout, and I recognized what that meant immediately. She wouldn’t stop until she got her way.
I’d eaten a snack at home so I wasn’t too hungry, but the idea of a romantic walk on the beach . . . Ugh, it wasn’t for me. Still, I’d come all this way to woo her, so I might as well get used to doing things I didn’t want to do.
This was my life now.
The new normal.
“Tell you what.” I closed the menu and stood, offering her my hand. “Why don’t we go on that walk?”
She grinned and took my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. We left the restaurant and headed for the sandy beach.
Two hours later, I drove home with an excruciating headache.
Hillary had complained the entire time about the drama she encountered at the hair salon this morning. Apparently, she was unhappy with the style she’d been given. Something about her beach waves looking unauthentic. I tried to tell her she looked fine, but every time I spoke she interrupted me and went on another tirade about how incompetent the staff was and how she deserved better and didn’t they know who she was?
The Ruthless Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (California Elite) Page 7
