The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride by Nadia Lee

Chapter Nineteen

Declan

After tossing Ella out, I return to my place, extremely pissed off.

I didn’t know how Yuna would react to Jessica, but was relieved when she handled herself so well. It was the same when Ella showed up. Actually, I marveled at the way Yuna pushed all the right buttons to drive my half-sister insane. She should be writing a screenplay, not Benedict. Hers would be fun, snappy and hilarious.

But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with Ella or anybody assaulting Yuna physically. Fuck. I should’ve thrown that bitch into a pit of vipers.

Yuna’s seated on a couch and sipping her coffee, her legs out. “Hey, you’re back. All good now?”

“She’s gone.” I crouch in front of her and examine her legs for wounds. Whatever Ella did must have been pretty vicious if she broke her nails. “Where are you hurt?”

“Here.” Yuna twists her left leg.

A red gash runs about an inch or so above her ankle, across otherwise flawless skin. The sight of it further stokes my temper. Ella isn’t fit to touch Yuna, much less put a mark on her.

Yuna looks down at it. “It’s not that bad.”

“You made it sound like she took a cheese grater to you.”

“All just part of the drama.”

She’s studying her ankle like she’s observing something that happened to somebody else. I don’t know how she can be so clinical about it. Any of my exes would’ve been hysterical. And Yuna’s had a far more sheltered and privileged life than they have.

I take a closer look. One or two tiny beads of blood have appeared along the red line. “She did break the skin.” And the fact that Ella did that makes me want to go after her and… Well, physical violence isn’t really an option. I’ll have to find something else.

Yuna shrugs. “As long as it doesn’t scar… I don’t think it will, do you?”

“I doubt it.”

Her being so blasé about it makes me feel worse. Yuna doesn’t strike me as the type who got into fights growing up. Not that she’s some delicate flower who can’t survive outside the greenhouse, but it’s obvious from her demeanor and background that she grew up away from the rougher side of life.

I go to the medicine cabinet in the closest bathroom and take out the small first-aid kit I keep there. Then I lift her calf up, placing her foot on my knee, and apply antibacterial ointment to the gash. She inhales slightly, and I scowl with a fresh wave of anger at my worthless sister.

There are foods that give dogs amazing diarrhea. Cheese is good. I could probably rent a hundred Great Danes and release them on the beach where she’s planning to have her wedding the night before the ceremony…

Yuna inhales again. “Stings a little.”

“Sorry. Almost done.”

Ella should be thrown into a dungeon for a decade for the capital crime of marring Yuna’s skin. A sudden urge to kiss along the red line grips me. Like somehow kissing her leg will make it better, although I’m not sure if it’s me or her I’m trying to comfort. Or maybe I just want to put my lips on her, to feel that soft smoothness under them…

“I’m glad I didn’t have to throw this at your sister,” she says, holding up the coffee, as I place a Band-Aid over the wound.

I glance up. “You should have. Right in her face.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It’s the least she deserves. In fact, as your new boss, I order you to throw a cup of coffee in her face if you ever see her again.” The image of her covered in brown fluid pops into my head, making me feel a hundred times happier. “It’ll serve her right.”

“Wow. You really don’t like her, do you?”

I shrug. “Why should I?”

“Because…she’s your sister? Unless she tried to steal the love of your life or something. Then I totally understand.”

“You don’t understand. But here, I’ll show you.”

I pull the video up on my phone and flip it around so it faces her. The video starts, showing a suburban street at night. A car is stopped at the curb. The door opens, and a small dog is tossed out onto the pavement. It turns and immediately tries to jump back into the car. It almost makes it. One hind paw bicycles in the air as the dog tries to pull itself up onto the car seat. A woman leans out of the car, pushing the dog back onto the asphalt and making a shooing motion. I freeze the video—the woman is clearly Ella.

Yuna puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God…”

I start the video again. This time, the dog—you can see that it’s a Pomeranian—has been pushed far enough that Ella has time to shut the car door. She drives off. The puppy gives chase for a few yards but then gives up. It stares after the car as a woman’s voice near the camera says, “Can you believe that? Some bitch just abandoned her dog out here at three a.m.!”

I stop the video.

Yuna’s mouth is hanging open—the same reaction I had when I first saw it. “How did you find out about this?”

“The video went viral, and whoever filmed it got Ella’s license plate. So she got doxed, and I heard about that.”

“Why on earth did she throw that poor dog away?”

“Because it was just too much work to take care of. As embarrassing and terrible as the story is, I figured it’s best you know who you’re dealing with.”

Yuna’s eyes are wide. “Wow…” She drags the word out, as though she’s trying to give herself time to process. “Now I wish I had thrown the coffee.”

“There’s always next time.” Although hopefully there won’t be. My lawyers should keep Ella occupied. Chantel’s going to be upset, which I don’t like, but I’m not going to go soft on Ella. If I do, she’ll get even more out of control.

“Oh, trust me. I will,” Yuna says, looking at the cup she’s holding. Then her gaze slides beyond me, and she perks up. “Wanna have some cookies? Nothing like a little sugar to clean a bad taste out of your mouth.”

Not really, but I can’t say no to such a hopeful face. “Sure. Just one.” I’ll eat maybe half. And run an extra mile tomorrow.

I realize I’m still crouching with her foot on my knee. The position isn’t particularly comfortable, but I don’t want to move, because that would mean I’d have to put her foot down…

But she wants me to pick a cookie, and I can’t stay here forever. So I gently lower her foot to the floor, get up and bring the package over. It’s an assortment of organic cookies and must be Benedict’s, since I don’t eat these. Only three left—one sugar, one chocolate chip and one oatmeal raisin, which is disgusting. I’ll have him expense a new bag when he comes back.

I sit down next to her, close enough to feel the warmth from her soft, feminine body.

“Take your pick,” Yuna says, gesturing at the cookies.

“Ladies first.”

“No, no. You’re the boss.”

Her mouth is set in a stubborn line. And she gave in about the door. I start to reach for the chocolate chip, then stop. Maybe she wants that one. Women love chocolate.

My fingers hover over the oatmeal raisin for a second, but I can’t make myself eat it because oatmeal doesn’t belong in cookies. Some of my exes loved it, saying it was healthier…which is part of the reason they’re exes.

I pick the sugar cookie. That’s probably the least preferred among women, so hopefully not something Yuna likes.

Sure enough, she rips a corner off the chocolate chip cookie and puts it in her mouth.

Score one for the home team.I feel good that I was right.

I have a single bite and put my cookie down. Yuna eats only about a quarter of hers and stands up.

“You can finish the rest,” I say. No reason for her to watch her carbs just because I’m refraining.

“I kind of don’t want to. American cookies are way too big.” She smiles. “Besides, I don’t want to interrupt your schedule. According to the calendar app on the phone Benedict left for me, you have to go over some scripts because you’re having lunch with your agent tomorrow. So let’s get started.”