Christien di Luca stood stiffly next to his car, which was parked across Angel Falls High. It was not how he envisioned meeting Kharis Stamos again, but the girl left him no choice. She hadn’t shown up last night at Howdy, and the way the two old men had glared and scowled at the billionaire made it obvious asking them questions would get him nowhere.

I’d like to talk to you. Could you please call me at this number? Or give me yours so I can call you?

He must have sent a dozen other variations of that message last night. He hadn’t slept a fucking wink, had waited for her to answer his emails the entire time. But nothing had happened, and in the end Christien had thought, fuck it. He would face her grandfather then, and damn the consequences. He would make the older man understand that while he was willing to wait for Kharis until she turned eighteen, he would not step out of her life.

Or at least that had been the plan – until he had driven up to their farm and saw that the property was for sale.

The sight had his heart clenching hard and his chest tightening with a strange, choking emotion. And because he wasn’t used to feeling anything, it had taken the billionaire several moments to understand that what was making it so hard for him to breathe was none other than…fear. Terror even.

He was terrified that he would never see her again, and the terror consumed him so that it took his entire willpower not to let his fear overcome his every rational thought. Forcing his brain cells to work, he had looked around him, his mind systematically going over every possible strategy.

Hiring a private detective could get the answers he needed, Christien knew, but that would take time. And he wanted – needed – to see her now. When his gaze had fallen upon the For Sale signboard, he saw the real estate agent’s number written below it, and that had been it.

Posing as a potential buyer, he had called up the agent, asked a few questions about the property’s original homeowners, and eventually the agent had let it slip that the owner’s grandchild studied in the town’s local high school.

And so here he was, Christien thought. A pedophile in the making – and he no longer gave a damn. From a distance he heard the last bell ring, and his powerful form became tauter with tension.

A moment later and high school students started spilling out of the front doors, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. An expressionless mask fell over the billionaire’s handsome face as he scanned the crowd, his gaze narrowed and intense. His focus was so it left him unaware that almost all the students who had caught sight of him had halted in their tracks just to stare.

The high school boys were plain envious, and they openly gawked at the billionaire’s impressive ride. It was the latest Maserati, making the older man’s car more expensive than their houses.

The high school girls, on the other hand, were completely infatuated. In his pinstriped suit and handmade Italian shoes, Christien was the most sophisticated man they had ever seen, and they couldn’t stop whispering and giggling among each other.

Who was he? And why was he here?

Everyone had a different idea, but none of them had hit upon the truth. None of them ever could because they all knew Kharis Stamos, and she was not the type of girl to attract such a man.

But they were wrong, of course.

When they saw the wealthy-looking stranger straighten and start walking, his gaze pinned somewhere behind them, heads immediately turned around, all of the students eager to find out who it was he had come for.

Could it be one of the prettier teachers of the faculty? Could it be one of their popular cheerleaders?

They followed the man’s line of sight, and the wave of shock that went through the crowd of gawking students was palpable.

This man came here…for Kharis?

* * *

Her long blonde hair was plaited in a single braid, and she was playing with its tips as she walked down the steps, her nose buried in a book.

The billionaire didn’t like it.

Hadn’t she once mentioned that she disliked reading? And yet now – it was as if she couldn’t keep herself from turning the pages. It suggested a change – and if she could change that way, couldn’t it mean that her feelings for him could change, too?

Christien realized then it wasn’t dislike that had him clenching his fists – but fear.

He stepped in front of her, and she stopped. Without looking up, she mumbled, “Excuse me.”

He didn’t answer, only waited as tension grew inside of him with every second.

He watched her close her book before looking up---

Her face paled.

“Hello, Kharis.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, and he breathed hard. He didn’t want this. It didn’t used to be like this – but now it was, and he knew he only had himself to blame.

Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he asked under his breath, “If it’s alright – I’d like a moment of your time.” She started shaking her head, and his jaw clenched. “I misspoke.” Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t actually asking. I will have a word with you---”

She paled even more.

“And we can either do it here in the open or inside my car.” The billionaire’s tone remained quiet, but his blue eyes glittered with resolve. “So which way do you prefer?”

She bit her lip then gestured to the car.

“Good choice.” He opened the car door for her and waited until she had stepped inside before closing the door for her and joining her inside. He switched the engine, saying, “Fasten your seatbelt please.”

When a look of protest crossed her face, he said calmly, “The windows of this car aren’t tinted. Do you really want to have them as your audience while we talk?”

She hesitated, then after a jerky shake of her head, she reached for her seatbelt.

He started to drive, and she remained in her seat, not looking at him, silent.

It didn’t use to be like this either, the billionaire couldn’t help thinking, and his chest tightened even more. Why had she changed so much? And how much of it had to do with him?

Christien sensed her tense as the car rolled down into Nightmare’s basement parking. He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, and his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

If he was too late---

What then?

Parking his car in its reserved slot, he switched gears to lock it in place before slowly turning to face her.

Her head was lowered, her gaze falling squarely on her lap. She had her hands shoved under her, and when he slowly reached for one of them, he felt her tension rip all the way across her body, and he stilled.

“Kharis.” His voice was guttural.

She didn’t look up.

“Kharis.” A hollow laugh almost escaped him. How fucking ironic could this be? When they had been…together, he hadn’t been able to make himself say her name. And yet now, it felt like he couldn’t stop saying it enough, like he had to say it over and over because there was a chance…

After this, her name was all that would belong to him.

The thought had him sucking his breath.

And so he said it again.

“Kharis.”

But this time, his voice had all of the emotions that she had taught him to feel---

And slowly, she looked up.

Ah, God.

Now he realized why she hadn’t said a single word the entire ride.

When he reached to wipe her tears away, she choked, and the tears fell faster.

She had been crying the whole time, he thought sickly, and he hadn’t even known it.

Death started whispering in his mind, and he closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to hear what Death had to say. But he was powerless to stop the words.

That’s proof enough, boy.

Stop fooling yourself.

How can this girl be your rainbow when you didn’t even know you’ve been breaking her to pieces?

Christien opened his eyes.

You’re fucked. That won’t change. No one can change that.

He inhaled sharply. “Kharis---”

But you’re not so fucked not to know what’s right from wrong.

His blue eyes captured her for one last time.

Leave her before you fuck her up, too.

“I’m sorry.”

Leave her.

But when he started to pull his hand away---

She caught his hand.

Pressed it to her face.

And whispered, “Don’t leave me again. Please.”