The Billionaire Bundle

by Michele De Winton

  “Cycle?”

  “Your period. When did you last have one?”

  “I don’t know,” Michaela said, growing more worried. This couldn’t be… Swallowing hard, she bit her lip. “I’ve been pretty irregular lately. But I don’t see what—”

  “Could you be pregnant?”

  The words that should have come out of Michaela’s mouth remained stuck, hard pellets of hope and fear and wonder in her throat. Could she be pregnant? The answer was one she didn’t really want to contemplate. But Dylan’s face in their Vanuatu hideaway flashed into her mind. They’d been caught up in the moment at first, but…

  “No, I’ve always used protection.”

  “Always?”

  “Pretty much,” she said.

  “Given that wasn’t an emphatic ‘yes,’ I think it would be simplest if we ruled out pregnancy first before we start doing any more complicated tests for a tropical parasite. Do you think you could pop along the hall and get a sample? Then we’ll do a test. I imagine you know what I mean.” The doctor opened a drawer and held out a small cup along with a thin package, its transparent strip revealing a slender plastic stick with a pink tip. Michaela paled.

  “I, um, do you really think? Perhaps I could do it at home.”

  “I think you should take a test now. If you’ve been feeling this way for a while and you are pregnant, we’ll want to check how far along you are.”

  “I can’t be pregnant.”

  “Then all we’ll get is a negative result. Nothing to worry about.”

  Michaela bit a nail. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe if she closed her eyes…

  When she opened them, the doctor gave her a concerned smile. “It’s best to find out one way or the other.”

  “I just…I really have to get back to work.” Flustered, she looked down at her wrist before remembering she hadn’t worn a watch. Idiot.

  The doctor sighed. “If I give you a test to take home, do you promise to take it?”

  Michaela nodded.

  “Okay. If you’re sure you have to go now.”

  “I do.”

  Michaela took the test and stuffed the package and its intimidating pink-tipped contents into her bag quickly before the woman changed her mind.

  “Here, you better take a couple in case one isn’t clear.”

  Michaela nodded, lost for words. After she’d accepted the tests, she left the doctor’s surgery at a near run.

  Pregnant?

  She couldn’t be. Not when she had only just started this job and her supervisors were so happy with her progress. Not when she hardly knew anyone in this town.

  And definitely not without Dylan, a tiny voice in her head said.

  What were the chances of that moment of overwhelming desire leading to a baby? Practically nonexistent. Infinitesimal.

  Impossible.

  They’d used a condom when it counted.

  “I’m not pregnant,” she reassured herself. “It’s just my land legs taking longer to come back. I was at sea for a long time. I’ll be fine soon.”

  Once decided, Michaela relegated the very possibility of a baby firmly to the bottom of her bag along with the pregnancy tests. They had used protection, after all.

  They had, they had, they had. She repeated the mantra over and over under her breath on her walk back to the office.

  By the time she got there, she believed it.

  That afternoon she’d planned to tidy up the old files on her computer desktop. Each folder had around a hundred files in it, and Michaela was immersed for hours, working out what each file related to and undoing the complicated muddle of other people’s thoughts to make a proper system. Then she clicked on a file marked “dance team,” and without warning the words Dylan Johns jumped out at her. Her heart picked up its tempo. Putting her hands on her desk, Michaela pushed herself away from the computer and stood up. She walked away from the name on her screen and tried to calm the thud of her blood.

  You were going to read something about him sooner or later. You probably have the personnel files of every dancer who ever worked for Adventurer Cruises on your computer.

  That didn’t mean she had to look at them.

  Moving through the simple act of making a cup of peppermint tea, Michaela took long breaths in and out. Breathe in, breathe out, you’re in control, you’re in charge.

  But back at her desk, Dylan’s name stood out as if it were typed in bold, italicized, and underlined. Just for a moment, Michaela let the name bring back a wash of memory…

  Dylan looking down at her as they stood together bathed in a tropical sunset. Dylan bursting out of the water, a giant clamshell in his hand and a brilliant smile on his face. Dylan’s sated green eyes looking down at her as they lay under the gossamer white drapes of their Vanuatu resort bed.

  Enough. She moved the file into the appropriate folder, determined to block any more thoughts of Dylan from her mind. Every time his face flickered into her brain, she replaced it with the image of a bowl of ice-cream. She was in control, she was in charge, she was going to have to stop by the store on the way home for a tub of cookies and cream.

  The day ended with no more mishaps, and Michaela walked back to her hotel happy with what she had achieved. It was only as she drifted off to sleep that the rest of the day’s activities began to play across her mind.

  The dream she fell into was real. Entirely real. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pregnancy test and handed it to Dylan. The thin line showed a positive result, and Dylan’s green eyes sparkled as he took it from her. But she realized his eyes weren’t sparkling with joy, they were sparkling with malice. She watched, helpless, as Dylan snapped the test stick in half and snarled at her with an angry wolf’s face. Centimeters from her nose, his long teeth glinted, and he opened his mouth—but instead of devouring her, he whispered, “You’re dreaming.”

  Michaela woke in a sweat a full hour before her alarm was due to go off. As her heart rate calmed, the only emotion she allowed herself was relief that it hadn’t been real. Crazy, she hardly ever had dreams like that.

  Maybe it’s because you’re pregnant, a small voice said.

  “No.” The word came out louder than she intended.

  Maybe it’s because you miss Dylan?

  She sighed. It wouldn’t do her any good to yearn for Dylan. He was a lone wolf. He’d practically said so himself.

  A wolf. He might have run off at the last, but he wasn’t vicious. She shook her head, determined not to think about Dylan or the possibility that she might be pregnant. Scared of falling back into the nightmare, Michaela got up and scanned through the apartment notices in the daily paper the hotel staff had pushed under her door. It was time she got on with her life and moved out of this hotel. The company had paid for her first week, but the hotel fees were now starting to eat into her pocketbook.

  She circled a few possible apartments and decided she’d go and have a look over her lunch break. “Onward and upward,” she said as she walked out the door to the office.

  At work, however, she found her fingers moving the mouse pointer to hover over the file containing Dylan’s details. I’ll just have a quick look to put it to rest so I don’t have any more of those nightmares.

  “Contact care of McCray’s Finance,” she read out loud. Odd.

  Clicking through the city listings, she found that McCray’s was on a road parallel to the street she was in now.

  At lunchtime, telling herself she was going to check out an apartment that was just a few blocks away, Michaela walked to McCray’s Finance. It was housed in an impressive building, the clean lines of glass reflecting the clear blue Sydney sky. People walked quickly in and out, all dressed in suits and talking on cell phones or sipping at take-out coffee, the picture of busy corporate life. In the foyer, she could see a beautiful artwork, the reds of the Australian outback contrasting against green. Emerald green.

  “Oh, excuse me.” One of the workers crashed into her as she took a st
ep back to get the large painting in perspective. She turned and looked up into oceans of green. Holy hell. The man could have been Dylan’s twin—the same eyes, the same dark hair—but this man wore a sharp suit, carried a briefcase, and had a harried look about him that wasn’t Dylan’s.

  “Michaela?”

  But it was his voice. Her blood froze, her whole being frozen to the spot in shock.

  “Oh my God, it is you,” he said. “What are you doing here? I mean, sorry, how are you? I’m so sorry again for leaving like I did.”

  A flicker of the old Dylan flourished in the man’s eyes, but Michaela couldn’t believe it was him. Conscious she was staring, she pulled herself together. “Dylan? I thought you said it was a little family business?” She gestured at the building. She’d pictured a mom-and-pop shop, eight, maybe ten people maximum. Not that he’d elucidated.

  What an ass. He’d clearly kept her in the dark on purpose. She didn’t know this man at all.

  He looked down. “I don’t think I ever said it was little. This is the family business.”

  “This? This is all yours? But your last name… Johns?”

  Dylan looked at the woman he’d been forced to abandon long before he was ready. His heart swelled. Oh, she was a beautiful sight for his sore eyes. But his delight was short-lived. She was angry, her mouth downturned and her forehead furrowed.

  Fair enough. His guilt at leaving her without explanation still kept him up some nights.

  He realized his pause was making her ever angrier. “My mother is the McCray. My father named the company after her when he started it years ago.”

  When he’d decided not to return to the ship, Dylan had been in a state of shock. He had thought disappearing and letting Michaela get on with her life was the right thing to do—the only thing he could do, considering the circumstances. But in the dark morning hours, sitting beside his mother’s bedside, his mind had wandered through the alternatives. He’d been forced to leave the ship, there was no question of that, but leaving Michaela?

  In the end, he’d settled on a truth that made the most sense to him. They’d agreed on three months. She wanted to focus on her career. He could never give her the family, the husband she wanted and deserved. Work took up too much of his time and energy.

  It would only have gotten harder for her—harder for both of them—the longer they drew it out. A clean break was the best option.

  Now, the result of that option was staring at him, and the wound he saw in Michaela’s expression was anything but clean. Oh, what a mistake he’d made. She had been in his thoughts often enough, but he’d hoped she hadn’t felt his disappearance as keenly as he’d felt the pain of walking away from her.

  She pasted on a smile that made his chest ache. “The girls on the dance team all joked that you were a stockbroker after you didn’t seem to care about losing the rest of your pay, but I never thought…”

  “I’m not a stockbroker, but they weren’t that far off. My family firm runs a funds management service. Well, we run several, actually.” He looked at her, checking that she wasn’t about to break down.

  “So you are loaded.” Michaela drew herself up to her full height.

  He managed not to smile. She was some woman—strong and brave even in the worst circumstances.

  He searched for something more neutral to talk about. “And you? On a break?”

  “I got promoted to head office,” she said.

  Head office. That meant she was in Sydney. Full-time. Great that she’d got the step up she wanted. Great she was off the boat. Maybe they could—could what? All his calculations crumbled around him. Michaela was here in Sydney. Available? Dylan’s head hummed with the possibilities. “Great. Probably a perfect fit for you…”

  His cell buzzed.

  Work interrupting again. Maybe this was good. Give her time to digest who he really was. That he lived and worked close by. “Look, I have to go, but please let me explain.” He wanted nothing more than to tell her everything right here, right now, but this turn of events was overwhelming. For him, if not for her. He had to be able to tell her why he’d left, but only when they had time to talk properly. And when his cell wasn’t buzzing insistently.

  Checking the diary on his phone, he saw a free spot. “We’ll have dinner tonight. I’ll send a car for you. No—” He stopped her as she opened her mouth to speak. “Please don’t refuse. We should talk. You’ll be picked up at six.”

  And with that he ran off into the towering building, guilt and a flicker of hope coursing through him.

  Chapter Twelve

  She walked back to her office in a daze. Dylan was here in Sydney, and he wanted to see her. The glimmer of hope flared, but she pushed it aside to concentrate on what had just happened. He wanted to see her. Was that what he’d said, that he wanted to see her? Or did he just want to end their affair properly?

  Had she been mistaken, or had he actually looked guilty?

  Angry and confused, she tried to make sense of the little he’d told her, but it was impossible. She didn’t know enough to make sense of it.

  The towering office blocks transformed themselves into a dense forest, and Michaela became disoriented. She found it difficult to distinguish between the grays of the buildings and those of the road, and it wasn’t until some stranger grabbed her arm that she realized she had almost walked out in front of the busy oncoming traffic.

  Snap out of it.

  When she finally reached her office, she went straight to the toilets to splash water on her face.

  The surprise both of seeing Dylan in his real world and of his effect on her scattered Michaela’s concentration as effectively as an elephant sitting in the corner of the office. She pushed through a few phone calls and managed a paragraph on the report she was supposed to be writing, but mostly she stared out the window, looking at the city she now called home. The city that Dylan apparently called home, too.

  Just before six o’clock, she nipped back to the bathroom, this time to check her hair. She smoothed it into a neat ponytail and dabbed on a slick of lip gloss. Her tan hadn’t yet faded—she’d topped it up over the weekend, strolling along the coastline walk at Bondi Beach—but as she looked at herself she shook her head.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t go to dinner.

  Get real. She wanted to see him, needed to hear how Dylan would explain why he’d ended their affair so abruptly. No, she would go to dinner, but that would be all. After confronting him about his callous abandonment, she could finally get Dylan Johns completely out of her mind, out of her life, and out of her heart. He’d been sneaking in to torment her thoughts more than she liked to admit. The wolf dream was a sign she hadn’t moved on. Tonight, she’d find out what she needed to know, and then she’d wash her hands of Dylan Johns for good.

  She put a hand to her belly. No. There was nothing to worry about there. No reason for Dylan to be tied to her life anymore.

  With a sigh, she gave her hair a final pat and went downstairs to meet the driver.

  She’d expected a cab or perhaps a modest sedan, so when the sleek new Jaguar pulled up alongside the curb, she paid it no attention.

  “Ms. Western?” The driver was in a suit as sharp as Dylan’s, and Michaela had to shake her head to believe what she was seeing. “Mr. Johns asked me to collect you. He said he’d spoken to you and you’d be expecting me. Is there something wrong?”

  With a start, Michaela realized she was staring, and she gave the driver a tight smile. As she slid into the black leather interior, she realized why Dylan had been so keen to pay for all their excursions off the cruise ship. She’d thought he was just trying to be gentlemanly, especially as she knew she was making more money than he was, but it seemed his small dancer’s salary was irrelevant to his day-to-day life.

  The car was impeccable and still had that indefinable but immediately recognizable new car smell. Touching the cool leather hand rest, Michaela pictured Dylan sitting in this car, driving this car, even accompa
nying other women in this car. She shivered and banished the thought. She looked down at her pale blue silk shirt and the simple black pencil skirt she’d bought in her first few days in Sydney. They were smart enough for the office—indeed, they fit in well with the business uniform of most of Sydney’s female workforce—but in this car they were entirely too reserved, lacking the glamour the Jaguar promised.

  The car whisked her through the Sydney city streets, making good time despite the heavy traffic. The late summer evening was cooling when the driver pulled up outside an exclusive restaurant overlooking the harbor, and Michaela wished she’d brought her jacket.

  Dylan was waiting for her, his hair whipped by the wind, apparently impervious to the cold. She scolded her heart to stop its happy skipping so she could concentrate on the anger she needed to get through the evening unscathed.

  A gust of wind whipped through her thin blouse, bringing goose pimples to her skin as she stepped out of the car. “You came.” Dylan tried to take her elbow, but she shrugged him off, not prepared to test her resistance to his touch just yet. Be calm, be calm, be calm.

  “Of course I came. I figured I might as well get a nice dinner out of you.” She tried to keep her face serious, her eyes hard even while her heart was cracking. The pain of his abandonment felt as fresh now as it had been at first.

  He straightened, his jaw locking. “A nice dinner you shall have. I should’ve called you, even if I couldn’t face you at the time. I made the wrong decision, Michaela. I’m sorry. Come in, we have a table with a wonderful view.”

  Michaela followed him into the restaurant and congratulated herself on being strong. Let him think she was just after some payback. After all, he was loaded. Thinking about him as nothing more than an arrogant, rich man might keep him out of her heart until she could move on.