The Billionaire from Her Past by Leah Ashton Page A

begun and so suddenly that Mila reached for Seb automatically, her body refusing to accept the space now between them.
    But the space was there, and her fingertips held nothing but thin air.
    â€˜We can’t do this,’ said Seb.
    â€˜Why not?’
    It seemed the only possible question. There was nothing more right, right now, than that kiss. Mila was absolutely sure of that.
    â€˜This is wrong,’ Seb said, and his unknowing contradiction was like a punch to her gut.
    Reality descended.
    â€˜You’ve had a tough night. I shouldn’t have done this.’
    â€˜ We did this,’ Mila said.
    He shook his head. ‘No. This is my mistake. This wasn’t supposed to happen.’
    â€˜I didn’t plan this either,’ she said, but he wasn’t really listening.
    Instead he ran his hands through his hair, staring up at the sky.
    As every second passed the rightness of what had just happened became less tangible.
    â€˜This can’t happen,’ Seb said, but Mila had the sense that he wasn’t really speaking to her. ‘It would change everything.’
    He’d walked a few steps away, but now came closer again, focusing again on Mila. Again the lack of light was frustrating. It was impossible to read whatever was in his eyes.
    â€˜I need you,’ he said, rough and earnest. ‘In my life. As my friend . Not like this. I won’t risk our friendship. Not for a kiss. Not for anything.’ A pause. ‘I don’t want this.’
    A car drove past along the road above them, its lights briefly revealing Seb’s gaze.
    But Mila could see nothing. He’d retreated, shut up shop, boarded up his windows.
    It took a few seconds for his words to start hurting. Maybe she’d already felt too much tonight. Surely soon she would run out of space.
    But, no—the pain found a way. Alongside her father’s rejection now lay Seb’s. And beside that the faintest echo of Seb’s very first rejection, all those years ago. When a teenage Mila’s raw heart had first begun to build its armour.
    Now she had fifteen years of further reinforcements, but tonight she’d let Blaine and Seb step right through.
    That wouldn’t happen again.
    Mila retrieved her shoes and finally stepped around Seb, as she should have done what now felt a million hours ago.
    She’d already ordered a taxi on her phone by the time Seb joined her on the footpath a few minutes later.
    He talked a bit, tried to get Mila to respond, but she just couldn’t pay attention. Instead, with a frustration so intense it made her want to scream, she focused on doing everything in her power not to cry.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    O N M ONDAY , S EBASTIAN pushed open the door to Mila’s shop with one shoulder, a takeaway coffee tray in his hand. Sheri was at the counter, looking every inch the university arts student that Seb knew her to be, complete with vintage eyeliner and purple Bettie Page-style hair.
    She smiled as he approached her, and more broadly when he placed her coffee in front of her.
    â€˜Awesome,’ she said. ‘Thanks. Mila’s out the back.’
    Mila was carefully sliding a tray of pottery into the large kiln that hunkered against the side wall. She glanced at him, but for such a brief second that he had no chance to register if she was glad to see him or otherwise.
    He suspected otherwise.
    Her tone—if there was such a thing in text messages—had been terse over the weekend. She hadn’t answered his calls.
    â€˜Mila—’ he began, but she held up a hand.
    â€˜Give me a sec,’ she said.
    He waited as she swung the heavy door shut and then pushed a series of buttons on an electronic screen. The kiln beeped happily in response.
    â€˜Yes?’ she asked, once she was done.
    But she still didn’t really look at him, instead walking over to the sink to wash her hands.
    â€˜I’m not happy with how things ended on Friday.’
    Mila