Reunited with the Rebel Billionaire

by Catherine Mann

  Gervais didn’t know the half of it.

  “Just be careful, brother. Your marriage doesn’t appear steady enough to weather this kind of pressure.”

  “What did Erika tell you?” In that moment, Henri regretted asking Erika and Adelaide for advice.

  “No one has to. I know you.” Turning the screen of his phone off, Gervais folded his arms over his chest.

  “All marriages go through rough patches.”

  “Hmm.” Gervais rubbed his chin in that wise big-brother way while saying absolutely nothing in the way of big-brother help.

  “Don’t pull that enigmatic bull with me.”

  Gervais gave a quick shrug of the shoulders. “You don’t act the same around each other. You don’t touch each other.”

  “You’re in that newly-in-love stage, seeing hearts and stars.” Henri tried not to snarl the words, but damn. Gervais’s view of his marriage hit too close to home.

  “You saw hearts and stars?” Honest surprise laced Gervais’s voice as he unfurled his arms, leaning forward.

  Henri jutted his chin in answer to that question. But the truth? He had seen stars. God, he’d been so in love with her then. What had happened? Or better yet, how had they gotten to this point?

  “We’re brothers, so I’m just going to say this and if it makes you mad, then I’m sorry. But here it is. We’ve seen with other couples in sports how infertility can put strains on even a rock-solid marriage,” Gervais said softly. Sometimes he could be so matter-of-fact, peeling back the layers most people danced around.

  Infertility clearly wasn’t an issue with his brother, whose fiancée was already expecting twins after one weekend encounter. And Henri couldn’t deny that stung. “I’m happy for you and Erika, but honestly, brother, do you think you’re the one to talk to me about the strains of infertility on a marriage?”

  “Point taken. Life isn’t fair.”

  Bitter reality pulsed in Henri’s veins as he shook his head. “Don’t I know it?”

  “Have the two of you talked about adoption?” Gervais didn’t even turn when the chandelier finally took a hit, sending the glass medallions clanking together without breaking. He stayed focused on their conversation while Dempsey, the head coach, stood to call the group to order before the next pass broke the fixture.

  “It’s about more than not having kids. During a round of tests after another miscarriage, she found a lump in her breast.” He’d carried the weight of those secrets long enough. And clearly, he hadn’t been doing a good job of it, given how much Gervais had guessed.

  “Damn. Didn’t her mother and grandmother—” Gervais’s voice had fallen an octave lower than normal.

  Henri finished the sentence for him, nerves alight and fraying. “Die of cancer? Yes. She got tested for the gene and she’s a carrier.”

  “I’m so damn sorry.”

  All the pressure and secrecy from the last few months came pouring out. Once uncorked, Henri found he couldn’t contain the reality of his situation anymore. Fiona wouldn’t be there in Arizona. Very soon, she wouldn’t be part of his life at all. And that thought...it was too damn impossible to come to terms with. “We didn’t just go to Europe for a vacation six months ago. Fiona had a double mastectomy and a hysterectomy while we were over there.”

  “God, Henri, I am so sorry. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “She didn’t want to.”

  Gervais gripped his shoulder and squeezed. “You didn’t have to bear that burden alone. I would have been there with you.”

  “We didn’t want to run the slightest risk of the press getting wind of this. Our privacy was—is—important.” Still, it meant something to have his brother’s support. He knew all of them would be there for him—and for Fiona, too, if she ever allowed anyone to get that close to her.

  “Your call. Your decision. But I’m here if you need me, and there’s nothing wrong with needing someone. You both lost your mothers young. That’s difficult as hell.” One thing about Gervais that no one could question was his fierce loyalty to his family. They were his tribe.

  But that didn’t negate the truth. A truth that still made Henri angry as hell. “Her mother died. Mine ran off because she was mad at Dad for not keeping his pants zipped.”

  “Death is tragic. Betrayal hurts like hell, too, like how our mom bailed on us even though her issue was with Dad’s cheating. I can see how that would make it tough for you to trust. I’ve wrestled with that, too, in the past.”

  “Fiona isn’t my mother.” Not by a long shot.

  “But she’s leaving you.” He paused, tapping the screen even though the image had faded to black. “Or maybe you’ve pushed her away?”

  “That’s crap,” he quickly snapped. Too quickly? “I’m working my ass off to win her back.”

  “If you say so.” Gervais looked away, reclining his seat.

  “I thought you were here to help me,” he couldn’t help grousing.

  Scrolling through his contact list on his smartphone, Gervais stopped at Erika’s entry. He waved the phone at Henri. “For this mission, I’m calling in ground support from a certain extremely efficient princess I know and adore.”

  And just like that, Gervais asked Erika to deliver Fiona flowers from Henri.

  Maybe he did need some more help winning back his wife after all.

  * * *

  The pain from her biopsy had nothing on the pain in her heart. The ache that was caused by a chapter of her life ending—the end of love.

  She’d taken a taxi to the appointment because she didn’t want to risk having the Reynaud chauffeur telling anyone else she’d been to the doctor.

  Lying on the table during the procedure, she’d wished she had someone’s hand to hold—Henri’s hand. Not that they would have allowed anyone in with her anyway. Possibly having him in the lobby waiting could have brought comfort...but she’d made her decision and had to stick to it.

  Now Fiona had sought sanctuary in the library, amid the books and art collection. She sat in an oversize Victorian chair, curled up in a throw blanket that featured famous first lines of novels in the design. She hoped the collective power of literature and art alone would seep into her veins and make her feel whole.

  Settling into the chair, she had nearly become comfortable.

  Until a knock at the front door sounded. Mustering energy and some bravado, Fiona made her way to the door, brown hair piled high on her head in a messy bun.

  There were a lot of things Fiona was prepared for today. Company was not one of them. Her soul ached to be alone and to mourn her wounds and losses.

  When she opened the door, Fiona’s face fell. Erika was in front of her, armed with a card, a bouquet of lilies and baby’s breath, and a decorative box of Belgian chocolate.

  “Erika, what a surprise.” Fiona forced a smile.

  The Nordic princess braced her grip on the flowers and candy. “May I come in? Oh, and these are from your husband.” She thrust the treats into Fiona’s arms. “I won’t be long. I have to catch the plane with the other wives.”

  “Of course, right this way,” Fiona mumbled, urging her inside. She appreciated the gesture but somehow she knew full well this hadn’t been Henri’s idea. And it also meant their problems were becoming more public.

  And she felt like a wretched ingrate. Forcing a smile, she thrust her face into the flowers and inhaled. “They smell lovely. Thank you.”

  Fiona set the crystal vase of lilies on the entryway table beside an antique clock. “Let’s have a seat and you can help me eat the chocolates. How does that sound?”

  Laughing softly, Erika patted her stomach. “The babies definitely need a taste of those chocolates. And they send their thanks to Aunt Fiona.”

  “Then let’s dig in.” Fiona led the way back down the hall
to the library, taking comfort in the smell of old books and vintage art. This room was a place where everything was still in order—where things didn’t have the pesky habit of uprooting and shaking her world.

  Fiona tugged the red satin ribbon on the box of Belgian truffles. “Erika, you’re glowing.”

  “Thank you. Double the babies, double the glow, I guess.” She plucked a raspberry-filled truffle from the box with obvious relish. “Mostly, I just want to sleep double the time and eat double the food. Not very promising for a romantic honeymoon.”

  Erika’s self-deprecation fell flat on Fiona.

  “I’m sure Gervais understands.” Fiona sat in a wing-back chair, cross-legged, the chocolates in her lap.

  “He does. He has been incredibly patient.” Erika looked around the library, absently rubbing her stomach as she chewed her candy. The motion played on the tendrils of Fiona’s heartstrings. As if she could hear the pain in Fiona’s heart, Erika looked up suddenly. A pale blush colored her cheeks. “I am sorry. I do not mean to babble on about myself.”

  “You don’t have to hold back your joy.” Fiona chewed her bottom lip, studying Erika’s face. “Someone told you, didn’t they, about Henri’s and my fertility troubles?”

  “I do not mean to pry.” Erika dropped into a wing-back on the other side of the fireplace.

  “You aren’t. It’s...well, I’m working on finding my comfort zone in discussing this with others in the family. It’s painful, but that doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate your happiness. I love children and want to enjoy them.” Fiona popped a creamy truffle into her mouth, but the high-quality chocolate tasted like dust. She set the box carefully on the end table beside her chair, leaving it open for her future sister-in-law.

  “Want to?” Erika tilted her head, trying to understand what she was saying.

  “I do. It’s been a difficult road.”

  “Would you like someone to listen? We are family.” Erika laid a strong hand of support on Fiona’s forearm.

  “We may not be family much longer.”

  Erika frowned and leaned forward to give Fiona’s hand a quick squeeze. The grace of royalty filled her expression. She spoke deliberately, a commanding reassurance filling her words. “I am so sorry to hear that. The offer to listen does not expire.”

  “Thank you.” She reached to clasp her hand. “I hope you and Gervais are finding time to be together in spite of the busy season. That’s important. Time slips by so quickly.”

  “I appreciate the advice.” Erika inclined her head but—thank goodness—didn’t call her hypocritical.

  “And I appreciate that you didn’t throw it back in my face, considering I have no children and am on the brink of divorce.”

  “You care about my future, Gervais’s, the babies’. I can see that and appreciate it.”

  “I do. Henri and I rushed to the altar so quickly we didn’t have much time to get to know each other.”

  “It is not too late to change that.” Erika got up and straightened the books on the shelf, peering over her shoulder.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You are still here. So there is still hope, still time. Regrets are so very sad.”

  Regret. It was so damn hard to live with that hanging over her head.

  Fertility was only half of the issue. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get the other half off her chest once and for all. The last thing she wanted was to live with regret, without ever giving her situation the dignity of a thorough examination. She’d already confided in Erika this much. Might as well see the situation all the way through.

  “How are the wedding plans going?”

  “Well, very well. We have a wonderful wedding coordinator.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Just enjoy the day.” She rubbed the swell of her stomach. “These two babies are growing so fast I may have to choose a new wedding gown.”

  “You will be a lovely bride.”

  Erika pointed to the couch at the end of the library. Taking a seat, she patted the space next to her, staring directly at Fiona. With kind eyes and a steady voice, Erika pressed on.

  “You have something else on your mind. I can see that in your eyes. Since English is not my first language I tend to read eyes and emotions more clearly these days. Please speak freely.”

  “It’s not my business, really.” Fiona sat next to Erika, avoiding direct eye contact. Instead, her gaze fell on a Victorian-era depiction of the Greek goddess Artemis. Far easier to focus on art than the reality of her situation.

  “Does it have to do with your difficulties with Henri?”

  “I’m not even sure how to say this.” A rush of dizziness pushed at Fiona’s vision. Speaking this aloud would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

  “Simply say it.” Grasping her hand, Erika held on tightly, giving her reassurance and encouragement. Fiona couldn’t meet her gaze.

  But the words did tumble out of her mouth. “Henri and I got married quickly because we thought I was pregnant. I may have been and had an early miscarriage—or maybe Henri already told you this?”

  Erika stayed diplomatically silent, just listening, which encouraged Fiona to pour her heart out.

  God, how she needed to. “Since I had the one positive pregnancy test, I assumed...well...my point is, we rushed to the altar and didn’t take the time to get to know each other. We have paid a deep price for that.”

  “I did not know the details. I am so sorry.”

  “Even if you go through with the marriage as scheduled, take time to be a couple. Your children are important, but having parents with a solid marriage will reassure them.”

  “Are you suggesting Gervais and I should not get married?”

  “That’s a personal decision. I’m simply sharing my experience and wanting to make sure you are certain. That’s all. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “Not at all. I insisted you tell me your thoughts and they are valid. My family pushes for marriage. You are the first to present the other side of the argument.” She patted Fiona’s wrist. “But please be assured. I have thought this through. I am in love with Gervais. I want to be his wife for the rest of my life.”

  “Then I am so very happy for you.” And so very heartbroken for herself.

  It was going to be a long weekend before the biopsy results came back, and either way she wasn’t sure how she intended to handle things.

  Eight

  Fiona’s whole body ached, even though only her left breast had been biopsied. While she’d put on a good show for her unexpected company the day before, she couldn’t deny her relief at being able to suffer in bed away from prying eyes today. In the privacy of her bed, she felt the full force of the biopsy wash over her.

  Erika had left with the other wives the night before, and Fiona had been alone. Over the course of the night, the pain had grown significantly worse. She’d hardly slept, finally dozing off at dawn.

  Lying on her side, she kept the pressure off her chest. Although she was grateful to lick her wounds in private, her heart was heavy from needing to lie to everyone she loved. When Erika had stopped by, a small side of Fiona wanted to share the news of the biopsy with her. This burden was hard to shoulder alone, but Fiona knew there really wasn’t an option. No doubt she’d distracted Erika enough from her impending wedding and giving birth to twins without saddling her with this, too.

  Blinking back tears, Fiona wondered how long it would take for the pain medicine to kick in. Desperate for relief, she needed a distraction. Immediately. Glancing at the clock, she realized the Arizona game had already started. Had she really slept in that late, dozing off and on through naps?

  Clicking on the remote, Fiona channel surfed until she arrived at the Hurricanes game.

&n
bsp; Sitting up against the headboard in a sea of pillows, she situated the oversize nightshirt. One of Henri’s shirts, actually, that still carried the scent of him. She’d allowed herself this small indulgence as she watched the game. Her fingers, seemingly of their own accord, fled to the loose cotton bra and bandage combination that shielded the places where she’d been pierced by the needle. Checking. Since she’d come home, the biopsy was a constant source of anxiety.

  A long rumble sounded from the deepest point in her belly and she realized she hadn’t really eaten anything. Easing carefully out of the bed, her bare feet hit the soft Persian rug, then the cooler wooden floorboards. She walked gingerly downstairs and riffled through the freezer—a woman deserved ice cream on a day like this. The best medicine a girl with an ailing body and a broken heart could get. She opted for a pint-size container of plain vanilla then plopped some of the chocolates Henri had given her on top. Taking a heaping spoonful, Fiona swallowed with bliss and made her way back upstairs to her bedroom to rest.

  The flat screen mounted on the wall still echoed with the game. The daisies he’d given her earlier brightened the TV-lit room. Fiona had left the lilies he’d sent yesterday downstairs in the library in an attempt to spread out the reminders of what she was about to lose.

  A heaviness pressed on her chest. This particular pain had nothing to do with the biopsy needles. It had everything to do with the large part of her that wished she’d gone to Arizona.

  How she wished to be there cheering with the other wives, or even just waiting for him in the hotel room. To celebrate after the game. Her mind wandered back to the way her body had somehow, after all this time, synced to his two nights ago. Fiona wanted to have sex with him again, to pretend that none of this pain and suffering was real.

  Scooping another large bite of ice cream into her mouth, Fiona turned her attention back to the game. Just in time to see the camera pan to the sell-out crowd, pausing on an older couple in matching football jerseys. The fans seated around them waved signs that read Happy Sixtieth Anniversary! and the smiling couple turned to one another to share a tender kiss on national television before the announcers moved on to comment about Arizona’s offensive drive.