The Question He Refused To Answer
1196 Words
I woke from a shallow sleep to the sound of rain striking the penthouse windows, and for a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then everything returned. The ballroom. The champagne. Chloe. My mother's company. Bryan. And the four words that wouldn't leave my mind. 'They want you dead.'
I pushed myself upright. The IV was gone. A glass of water sat beside me. And Bryan was standing near the window, reading something on his phone. He looked impossibly composed. As if my entire world hadn't collapsed twelve hours ago.
“You stayed.”
His eyes lifted.
“You're awake.”
“You stayed,” I repeated.
“I said I would.”
“Why?”
He put his phone down.
“I don't know yet.”
That answer should have irritated me but, instead, it made me smile.
“At least you're honest.”
“I usually am.”
“Usually?”
His mouth twitched. I noticed. For the first time ever, I saw the man beneath the billionaire. Not much. Just a crack. But I saw it. I stood. My legs were steadier now.
“Tell me all you know about my mother.”
His expression changed instantly.
“No.”
“Then tell me about Richard.”
“No.”
“Chloe?”
“No.”
His voice was firmer this time and I stared at him.
“You're incredibly frustrating.”
“So I've been told.”
“Do you always refuse to answer simple questions?”
“Only dangerous ones.”
I walked toward him.
“And what makes them dangerous?”
“You.”
I stopped. He didn't move. The distance between us suddenly felt smaller than it was.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have a habit of walking toward things that can destroy you.”
I smiled.
“Maybe I enjoy dangerous things.”
His gaze dropped to my lips. It lingered. Then returned to my eyes. My breath raced.
“Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Play games with me.”
I stepped closer.
“Who said I'm playing?”
I noticed something about Bryan. His jaw always tightened whenever he's angry or serious.
“You're trying to get information.”
“Of course I am.”
“At least you're honest.”
“I learned from you.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. It was the first real laugh I'd heard from him. Deep. Unexpected. It changed his face.
Then I suddenly understood why women probably lost their minds around this man. He was devastating when he smiled. I tilted my head.
“Tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
His expression became unreadable again.
“You were in danger.”
“That's not the whole answer.”
“No.”
“What is the rest?”
He stepped closer.
“Because when I saw you standing in that ballroom, surrounded by people who wanted to destroy you, I couldn't walk away.”
My breath caught.
“Why?”
His eyes held mine.
“I don't know.”
That was the first answer that sounded completely honest. I looked away before he could see what it did to me. Then I noticed something on the table.
A file.
My name was written across it. I reached for it. Bryan's hand covered mine.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because once you read it, you won't be able to pretend your life is simple anymore.”
I looked at his hand over mine. Then at him.
“Bryan.”
“Yes?”
“I'm not pretending anymore.”
He slowly removed his hand and I opened the file.
The first photograph was of my mother. The second was Richard. The third was Chloe. The fourth made my blood freeze.
It was a photograph of me. Taken three months ago. In another country. I looked at Bryan.
“You've been watching me.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“For a long time.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Why?”
His expression was painfully calm.
“Because you disappeared.”
“I was supposed to.”
“I know.”
“You looked for me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He didn't answer. I stepped closer.
“You knew I was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you find me?”
His silence became the answer. I felt anger rise.
“You could have found me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have contacted me.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
His eyes darkened.
“Because I wasn't sure whether finding you would save you or kill you.”
The answer silenced me. For a long period of time, after the death of my mother, I had believed I was alone. Maybe I hadn't been. Maybe someone had been watching from the shadows. Protecting me. Or hunting me. I couldn't decide which frightened me more. I closed the file.
“Tell me the truth.”
Bryan stepped closer.
“I am.”
“No. You're giving me pieces.”
“Because the whole truth is dangerous.”
“So am I.”
His eyes held mine.
“I know.”
The tension between us became unbearable. I could feel his breath. I could see the restraint in his expression. He wanted to move closer. But he wouldn't. That realization gave me an unexpected advantage. I stepped forward. His breathing changed.
“Laura.”
I smiled.
“What?”
“Don't.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep testing me.”
“Maybe I'm trying to find out what you're hiding.”
His gaze sharpened.
“And if I tell you?”
“Then I'll decide whether I believe you.”
A long silence followed. Finally, he whispered,
“Your mother's death wasn't an accident.”
My smile vanished.
“What?”
He looked at me with something close to regret.
“I told you not to ask.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Who killed her?”
“I don't know.”
“But you know why.”
He didn't answer. I think that was enough at that moment. My eyes burned. I stepped closer anyway.
“Tell me.”
Bryan's hand rose slowly, stopping just short of my cheek. He hesitated. Then his fingers gently touched my face. The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that my anger faltered. His thumb brushed away a tear I hadn't realised had fallen.
“I will tell you,” he whispered.
“When?”
“When I know I can keep you alive afterward.”
I looked into his eyes. And for the first time, I wasn't looking at the billionaire. I was looking at the man who had searched for me. The man who knew something about my mother. The man who had just promised to protect me. I leaned closer enough.
“Then don't let me die.”
His eyes darkened.
“I won't.”
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