Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance Kara Hart (100 books to read .TXT) 📖

was a good person, but she was hung out to dry by her community. And the fact is, I just wasn’t as available as I should have been. I chose a different path.

It still doesn’t feel worth it.

Staring at the ceiling, I try to find the right words. “It’s not easy to say.”

She turns to face me. “Look, Marc,” she says, “if this is too much, I can go home.”

But something takes over, pushing the fear out of me. I take her hand, and I squeeze. Maybe it’s a release from the pressure of holding in the truth. I haven’t been with too many women I felt like I could talk to, but Ali doesn’t hold grudges. Not for that long, anyway. She’s just got some walls I need to break down. We all do. That won’t be hard.

“What if I don’t want to see you go?” I ask.

Peering down at our intertwined fingers, a soft smile caresses her face. She lowers our hands to her lap and squeezes back harder. “Then I won’t go.”

“You’ve got class tomorrow,” I say. “You sure?”

She glances at her slumbering dog. “It’s good that your house is closer,” she says, rounding off her words with a click from her tongue. “I’m sure.”

A smile betrays my stoic exterior. This came together easier than I thought. The only difficulty now is my growing appreciation for her.

When I’m near her, my stomach flutters. Her perfume is familiar now, a comfort of our home. With every breath, I try to get closer to her. This never used to happen. I was always so confident. What is happening to me? I’m melting for a girl I hardly know. I’ve heard this happens, from time to time.

“So,” she says, fingers coiled against mine, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

My excitement drops a few bars.

This is such a downer conversation. I’d rather save it for a rainy day. Suddenly, I hear my team leader Sandra’s voice. You have to tell her. I’m used to avoiding that voice. Of course, it’s right. I need to tell her everything.

I open my hand and straighten my back against the couch. “It’s about Sammy,” I say.

“I figured.”

My jaw already feels stiff. I breathe like I’m about to jump off the tallest building. “I should just come out and say it. She’s not my daughter,” I say. Realizing how misleading that sounds, I follow it up with, “Biologically.”

Ali follows my words. Her lips part as soon as I’m finished, confusion taking over. “You adopted her,” she says. It feels more like a question than a statement.

The room feels hot. My heart pounds against my sternum. Sweat is building on my forehead. Why is this so fucking hard?

I recall that night, bitterly. It was a celebratory night that ended in tragedy.

“Years ago, I was at my first company’s party. Big celebration with streamers, as much champagne as the employees could drink, and fireworks that shot off the roof. Illegal, of course. But we didn’t care. We were a small company that grew the size of the world in a matter of hours. We were celebrating our first billion.” I frown, so she can get a sense it’s not something I think back on with pride.

The corners of her eyes tilt. I’m ruining the night by telling her this, but my feelings come second to my daughter.

I keep talking. “The party lasted hours, we were all pretty drunk. Some of us went out to the plaza to take a group picture. And then I got a phone call,” I say, pausing. “It was my sister. She was in trouble again. There was always something going on with her. This time, she needed some money for something she claimed was going to make her feel better. Medicine. I knew it was drugs, so I told her off in the harshest way possible.”

I take another pause. How much do I want to reveal to her? Do I want to tell her I screamed into the receiver and told her to never fucking talk to me again?

Reflecting on those moments makes me hate myself. Friends told me they would’ve reacted similarly. It was twelve years of addiction, then a kid, and then the bailouts from jail started to really stack. But you can’t just throw away family. My parents weren’t in the picture anymore. Not for her. It was just me. In the end, I couldn’t keep my temper down. Not even for my little sister.

When I start back up, I’m pretty numb. “She asked me again. Maybe ten more times. I kept denying her. It was the first time I ever really ended on a no.”

I laugh, stunned. Not because it’s funny. It comes out of frustration and disbelief. That happened so long ago, but it feels like fucking yesterday.

The heaviness doesn’t always hit me. I’ve recanted this story so many times it’s become something of a fiction. Sometimes, it feels like it never really happened. But there are moments of real emotion that hit me randomly. That’s when I’m taken back.

With more care in her eyes than I deserve, she slides her hand across my bicep. “It’s okay,” she says.

“The next day, they found her. Someone tipped off the cops. She got her money, and then she left her daughter behind,” I say. “Two days later, I picked her up. That was Valentine’s Day.”

Without pausing, she slides her arms around me, her mouth near my neck. Her breath is hot against my skin, and she smells so unbelievably good. This is supposed to be a hard admission, but she’s making it so much easier.

She pulls back and says, “I’m so sorry, Marc. I didn’t know.”

“I don’t often tell people that story,” I say.

“I want to help you in any way I can,” she states.

Seeing the empathy shine in her eyes just makes me feel worse. “That’s the thing. I don’t need help,” I say. “I just need you to know that, sometimes, it’s not so easy. There’s real shit