Read Online HIS: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Part Three) by Glenna Sinclair - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Glenna Sinclair
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more than a slight tap, falling to the floor undamaged.
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t want to, but there are so many secrets between us still that I don’t know what to believe.”
He nodded, his shoulders drooping as though a heavy weight were resting on them. “Then I guess it’s time we fix that.”
He gestured for me to join him on the small couch pushed into a corner of the room, him on one end and me on the other. And then he just started talking.
He told me about his mother, of the horrible things she made him do when she needed a fix and didn’t have the money to get it. The long days and nights she abandoned him on his own when he wasn’t even tall enough to see over the top of the stove. The things he heard and saw her do to survive.
He told me about coming to Los Angeles on his own, only sixteen and with less than a hundred bucks to his name. He told me how he talked his way into a job on one of the studio lots, lying about his name, his age, and his experience.
He told me how he convinced the studio to back an unknown director on a loser project that was bound to lose more money than it would cost to make it. And how he became a golden child over night when the project became a sleeper hit.
He told me about the women, the drugs, and the will it took for him to resist falling prey to his mother’s disease.
“I didn’t think alcohol was that big of a deal,” he said. “My mother’s drug of choice was heroin. I thought, as long as I stayed away from the hard stuff—heroin, cocaine, meth—I would be okay. It never occurred to me that something as innocuous and common as alcohol could be my downfall. Even when Adam told me I was making a fool of myself, when he warned me that I was walking down the same path we’d barely escaped, I didn’t see it.”
I looked at me with honesty so painful I could hardly stand to look at it in his eyes.
“I thought I could conquer everything. But alcohol got the better of me. So I went to rehab, got sober, and did everything I was supposed to do. I did it all right. And when I was sober, I was ready to have everything they promised you. I was ready for the beautiful wife, the perfect children, and the American dream. I had the money, the dream job. I wanted the rest.
“That’s when I met Aurora.”
I reached over and touched his knee. He took my hand between both of his.
“I thought I loved her. She was the first woman I dated after rehab. I told her everything: my childhood, my drinking problem, my dreams for the future. And she swore she was right there with me, ready to settle down and have a good life together. I thought, hell, I’d made it through. I was that rare survivor of drug addiction. I was going to have everything my mother pissed away with her addiction.”
He laughed as he thought about it, a bitter laugh that chilled me down to my soul.
“All I did was marry my mother. I just jumped right back into the deep end of that shit hole.”
He lifted my hand and kissed the palm lightly. “At first, it was little things. Comments she made, texts on her phone, weird looks from other men at parties. And the rumors. There were a lot of rumors, but I was so blind. I ignored them. Put it down to jealousy. And then, less than six months after the wedding, I caught her with that hors d’oeuvres plate, her cocaine lined out on it in perfect stripes. When I asked how she could do it to me, how she could do drugs in my house after everything I’d told her about my mother, you know what she said?”
I shook my head, but I could imagine.
“She told me I should get off my high horse. I’d be a better person if I did it too. And then she laughed.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I called my lawyer right then and there, tried to file for divorce. But she told me if I went through with it, she would OD and I’d have to explain that to the press.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair, exhaustion clear in his eyes. “I put
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t want to, but there are so many secrets between us still that I don’t know what to believe.”
He nodded, his shoulders drooping as though a heavy weight were resting on them. “Then I guess it’s time we fix that.”
He gestured for me to join him on the small couch pushed into a corner of the room, him on one end and me on the other. And then he just started talking.
He told me about his mother, of the horrible things she made him do when she needed a fix and didn’t have the money to get it. The long days and nights she abandoned him on his own when he wasn’t even tall enough to see over the top of the stove. The things he heard and saw her do to survive.
He told me about coming to Los Angeles on his own, only sixteen and with less than a hundred bucks to his name. He told me how he talked his way into a job on one of the studio lots, lying about his name, his age, and his experience.
He told me how he convinced the studio to back an unknown director on a loser project that was bound to lose more money than it would cost to make it. And how he became a golden child over night when the project became a sleeper hit.
He told me about the women, the drugs, and the will it took for him to resist falling prey to his mother’s disease.
“I didn’t think alcohol was that big of a deal,” he said. “My mother’s drug of choice was heroin. I thought, as long as I stayed away from the hard stuff—heroin, cocaine, meth—I would be okay. It never occurred to me that something as innocuous and common as alcohol could be my downfall. Even when Adam told me I was making a fool of myself, when he warned me that I was walking down the same path we’d barely escaped, I didn’t see it.”
I looked at me with honesty so painful I could hardly stand to look at it in his eyes.
“I thought I could conquer everything. But alcohol got the better of me. So I went to rehab, got sober, and did everything I was supposed to do. I did it all right. And when I was sober, I was ready to have everything they promised you. I was ready for the beautiful wife, the perfect children, and the American dream. I had the money, the dream job. I wanted the rest.
“That’s when I met Aurora.”
I reached over and touched his knee. He took my hand between both of his.
“I thought I loved her. She was the first woman I dated after rehab. I told her everything: my childhood, my drinking problem, my dreams for the future. And she swore she was right there with me, ready to settle down and have a good life together. I thought, hell, I’d made it through. I was that rare survivor of drug addiction. I was going to have everything my mother pissed away with her addiction.”
He laughed as he thought about it, a bitter laugh that chilled me down to my soul.
“All I did was marry my mother. I just jumped right back into the deep end of that shit hole.”
He lifted my hand and kissed the palm lightly. “At first, it was little things. Comments she made, texts on her phone, weird looks from other men at parties. And the rumors. There were a lot of rumors, but I was so blind. I ignored them. Put it down to jealousy. And then, less than six months after the wedding, I caught her with that hors d’oeuvres plate, her cocaine lined out on it in perfect stripes. When I asked how she could do it to me, how she could do drugs in my house after everything I’d told her about my mother, you know what she said?”
I shook my head, but I could imagine.
“She told me I should get off my high horse. I’d be a better person if I did it too. And then she laughed.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I called my lawyer right then and there, tried to file for divorce. But she told me if I went through with it, she would OD and I’d have to explain that to the press.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair, exhaustion clear in his eyes. “I put
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