My Billionaire Fling by Maci Dillon
GABE
“Why didn’t you tell me, man?”
Meeting with Ben was at the top of my list of things to do before I return to London. I’d intended to tell Sophia the truth before I left, but I was able to give the interview to the New York Times with the promise they wouldn’t run it until Sunday. As soon as I leave Ben, I’m back on the jet bound for home.
And no more excuses. There will never be a good time to tell Sophia, but it must be done today.
“It’s not as if I lied. Gabe Lugreno is my legal name. I changed it for a reason, to be rid of my father’s name. What use would it be if I went around telling everyone my birth name?”
When I decided long ago to change my name, it was a personal decision to break away from my father’s name. I didn’t do it out of guilt for what he’d done but because I hated hearing his name, one that will, in my mind, always be associated with a monster.
“Look, I get it. But it was hard learning this from a stranger. I felt stupid not knowing, as if you couldn’t trust me with the information.”
“You shouldn’t, and it’s not about trust. I didn’t do this to fool anyone into thinking I’m somebody I’m not.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
We enjoy another round of beers before Henry reminds me it’s time to get moving. “Always good seeing you, Ben. And thank you. For everything.”
He offers me a hand, and I take it, bringing him in for a hug.
“Good luck with Sophia.”
I’ll take every bit of luck I find between now and then because fuck knows, I’m going to need it. “Thanks, man.”
Sophia has been trying to call all day, and now I have the chance to respond, I can’t get her to answer. I make a quick call to Kassidy.
“Gabe,” she answers after a few rings.
“Hi, Kassidy, sorry to call you like this. I can’t get hold of Sophia. Have you seen her?”
“She left Maximum an hour ago…” her voice fades, “… my guess is she’s sleeping.”
It’s hard to miss the hesitation in her voice.
“What aren’t you telling me, Kassidy?”
“Ugh, she’ll kill me for saying anything to worry you, but a guy showed up tonight, said he was the son of the pilot who died alongside her parents. He was leaving as I arrived, but it shook them all.”
My blood pressure skyrockets, but I hold my tongue.
“What else did he say?”
“I wasn’t there, Gabe, but he mentioned the truth being revealed this weekend. Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s who he says he is. Reminds me of a money-hungry loser with a cross to bear.”
“Thank you, Kassidy. I’ll be home in a few short hours.”
Ending the call, I walk into the cockpit. “We have an emergency. Let’s get these wheels up now so I can get the hell home to my fiancé.”
There’s not enough Macallan 18 on this aircraft to settle my nerves. Sophia is still not answering as the doors close, and we prepare for takeoff. I phone Viktor and ask him to check in on her. “She requested I drop her to the old apartment, sir, after having me stop via the bank to retrieve some hefty filing boxes from her safety deposit boxes.
“She knows.” The words are coarse as all blood runs from my face.
“I’m not sure what she does or doesn’t know, but Danny Thorne walked out of Maximum tonight not long before she did. I’m sitting out front of her building to ensure he doesn’t show up.”
“Thank you, Viktor. I’ll see you soon. Don’t come for me, I’ll Uber to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
I tap the window of Viktor’s town car to alert him to my arrival.
“Have you seen her since she went up there?”
“No, neither of them.”
Thankfully, I still have a swipe card for the apartment. We’ve been slowly redecorating it to use the place as a safe home for victims of domestic or sexual abuse. Sophia is colluding with her contacts through the Child Slavery Foundation she runs to open it for victims in need of a place to hide from their perpetrators while they seek legal counsel or other assistance they require.
Opening the door to her apartment, the only light is in the living room, where I find Sophia surrounded in paperwork. Files lay open on the floor around her, where she sits cross-legged on a cushion in the center of the room.
She doesn’t hear me walk in, and I don’t want to startle her. From where I stand, she appears defeated, overcome with sadness. Her tear-stained cheeks glimmer under the fluorescent lighting, and her eyes are blotchy and red.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper. Her head spins in my direction, her eyes dark and outraged as they zero in on me.
“Don’t you sweetheart me, you lying son of a bitch.”
She makes no attempt to move as I walk into the room. The pain and suffering I’ve caused her are written all over her face. Newspaper clippings, photos of her parents, her family—all the childhood memories she has kept boxed away now cover the rug.
“Sophia, I can explain.”
“You think an explanation for hiding your identity will suffice?”
“I never hid my identity, I just didn’t reveal my past.”
“Because you can’t handle the truth or because you never wanted me to find out your father killed my parents?”
Running my hand through my hair, I close my eyes. “Both.”
“Oh my God, Gabe. How could you lie to me about something this important?”
“Sophia, please…”
“No, Gabe. You don’t get to ask anything of me ever again.”
I shake my head. “I never lied to you. And I was going to tell you everything a few days ago, but you weren’t well.”
“How fucking convenient!” she snaps, crawling from her post on the floor and getting to her feet, an old newspaper article clutched to her chest.
“Is this you, Gabriel Bartholomew?” She shoves the article in my face, a mix of anger and sympathy in her bloodshot eyes.
