BILLIONAIRE'S LIES

is-he'd been told so by his family, by his friends-but it didn't matter. For him, it was simple: his care

"I've just been so career-focused. It's. ful

m his. "I get that. I really do. But sometimes,

small smile.

. Connections beyon

ing. He kept that part of his life compartmentalized, anyway. Love, family-th

e for that," he said gently, as not t

ck, until she was looking at him. "Not

wasn't something he could describe, but what she said, how she said it, made him.e

r it," he said finally, his voice quie

a moment before withdrawing. "It's all right, Benedict. I get it. You're on a roll with your career, a

ed in his head. Taking a look at Benedict as she hailed a cab, he felt a sense of strangeness crease

sn't it? Friendship. That's

l part of Benedict couldn't help but feel that maybe,

There was something about her - something he couldn't catch hold of. It wasn't beauty or charm; it was the ease with which he could feel comfort

. The clumsy boy whom nobody wants to befriend; everybody chose to make fun of him for his weird looks. They even called

ere was she: his protég

et of his apartment, the picture was there, sharp as a blade. She had been a force to be reckoned with: aggressive, as if fearless. A ski

thers belonged to an older group of boys surrounding him; they laughed at him and called his names, made jokes about his glasses and cloth

t she s

efiance. She spun about and caught hold of the ringleader by his shirt, thrust

er side. "You can't pick on him 'cause you're bigger t

chances on a fight with the undaunted girl. They slunk away, muttering to themselve

and from her hands and flashing him a

ss. The instant he parted his lips a voice sliced through the silence. "Little princess what are you wai

ttle girl spun on her heel but l

ng goodbye. "Don't let those

ondly nicknamed her. The nickname had stuck with him over all these years and could not help but prompt himself if he'd ever get the chance

leaned back on the chair, his heart racing as it began to fall into

en the girl; Sabrina could hardly be her. What were the chances? They'd crossed paths, hadn't they? Just two

reak, even now. The way she always seemed to know how

d to

or Sabrina, the connection, the feeling of knowing-since the first moment they met, that disturbing lack of which he couldn't exp

she