Sexy Billionaires

by Carol Marinelli

  So much for a dignified exit!

  Of all the times to misplace the blessed things, this wasn’t the one Tabitha would have chosen. Looking up, she saw the irritated set of his chin, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. She could almost hear the pained sigh as he threw open the car door and stepped out.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She tossed her head defiantly. ‘You go on to the hospital.’

  ‘I would if you’d just get inside.’

  ‘I’ve lost my keys.’

  The roll of his eyes was too much for her already strained nerves. ‘Well, if you hadn’t rushed me…’ she argued.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ His face was white in the street-light, his lips set in a thin line as he strode over. ‘I just wasn’t banking on my father suffering a cardiac arrest and then having to police my fiancée from rushing off with the family silver. Next time I’ll be more patient.’

  His biting sarcasm actually helped! Enough anyway to dry up her tears and return the fire to her eyes.

  ‘There’s a small window round the back. If I break it I can get my hand in and undo the laundry door lock.’

  Without a word he turned on his heel, walking smartly along the side of the house, not even bothering to part the rather overgrown fauna that she’d never quite got around to trimming.

  ‘I can manage,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Sure, and were you planning to smash the glass with your bare hand?’

  She hadn’t thought of that! ‘I’m sure there’s a towel or something in my case…’

  He didn’t even deign to give a response. Pulling off his jacket, he wrapped it around his arm and punched the glass out in one quick motion. Slipping his hand through, he promptly undid the lock.

  ‘Not the safest property, is it?’ he said dryly as she tiptoed her way through the glass. ‘You should see about getting someone in to put some security screens up.’

  ‘Save it, Zavier. My safety’s not your concern; you’ve made that abundantly clear.’

  As she stepped into the laundry she lost her footing for a second in the darkness. His hand shot out to save her in a reflex action, steadying her from falling, perhaps, but sending her body into absolute overdrive.

  The world stopped for a moment; his skin seemed to sear her flesh. Tabitha half expected to look down and see blisters forming around the strong grip of his fingers. Dragging her eyes up, she held his gaze. His contumelious words, the inscrutable features, couldn’t mask the pain in his eyes or the passion that burnt there: a lexicon of the love she would now never know.

  ‘I have to go.’

  ‘I know.’ With a sob she pulled the ruby off her finger. ‘Here, you’d better take this.’

  ‘Keep it.’

  ‘I don’t want it. You said it had to stay in the family…’ She stood stricken as he took the ring, her words tailing off as he tossed it out of the broken window.

  ‘What the hell do you think I’d need it for now?’

  Stunned and reeling, she stood in the darkness of her laundry, listening to his footsteps echoing down the path, the slam of the car door, the deep purr of the engine as he pulled off into the darkness. And finally when there was nothing left of him to hear, when the draught from the open door had taken away every last trace of his powerful cologne, when the skin on her arm had stopped tingling from his touch, Tabitha flicked on the light. The shattered glass littering the floor, the jagged remains of what had once been her window, were so achingly akin to the remnants of her own life she might just as well be looking into a mirror.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SIX months. That was all she had wanted.

  Six months to show him how good and wonderful love could be, if only you’d let it.

  Wandering home from work in her smart little boxy suit, she thought no one could have guessed the agony in each step, the burden of lugging around a broken heart.

  Milk.

  The most basic of daily chores took a huge mental effort these days.

  Even the local milk bar was agony. Everything seemed to remind her of Zavier, from the mineral water to the daily papers headlining the amazing progress of Jeremy Chambers. How he had been wheeled into Emergency barely conscious, with an unrecordable blood pressure and a grim diagnosis. His appalling chances of survival were the only reason the surgeons had agreed to operate.

  After all, you can’t kill a dead man.

  Amy Dellier even managed to flash a smile from the pages of the glossies, strategically placed at the checkout. It was as if in the short time she had known him Zavier had permeated every facet of her life, taken over every last one of her senses.

  Arriving home, she was reminded of him sitting in the driveway as she scrabbled for her keys, and such was her longing she half expected to look up and see him sitting there in the car. As she opened her front door for a moment she was almost sure she could smell him.

  Flicking listlessly through her mail, she felt her heart skip a beat as his flashy writing jumped out at her. Her hands shaking, she ripped open the envelope. She ignored the cheque that fell out as she hastily opened the letter inside. It didn’t take long to read it—after all, it was only three little words.

  As agreed

  Zavier.

  Just not the three little words she needed to hear.

  Sure, Tabitha thought about putting on make-up, combing her hair and dressing up for the occasion. But she knew there wasn’t any point. Why dress up for your own funeral?

  Lining up at the bank, she watched the teller’s eyebrows shoot up a fraction as she gave her withdrawal slip and without a word handed over her driver’s licence to verify her signature.

  ‘We normally require some notice when it’s such a large withdrawal. We don’t always have enough cash on the premises.’

  Tabitha wasn’t in the mood for games, or lectures. ‘Can I have my money now? Yes or no?’

  ‘It might take a few moments. Will you be happy to wait?’

  She let out a low laugh. ‘I’ll wait, but I can’t guarantee to be happy.’

  A storm was breaking as she reached the high-rise office of Chambers Financiers. There must have been something in her stance, or perhaps it was the determination in her eyes, but even Zavier’s receptionist let her past without much argument.

  So what if she didn’t have an appointment?

  Zavier didn’t stand as she entered, he didn’t even look particularly surprised to see her—just gestured to the chair at his desk, watching as she sat down in a skirt that was too short and a jacket that was too big.

  His office was huge. Her entire home could have been dropped in the middle and still left room for a courtyard. But then this was Chambers territory she was stepping into—why would she expect less?

  ‘What can I do for you?’ She felt like one of his clients for all the tenderness in his greeting. Even Zavier seemed to flinch at his own formality. ‘I’m sorry, how have you been?’

  ‘Fine,’ she lied. ‘Work’s been busy.’

  A hint of a frown marred his smooth face. ‘Just finished a matinée?’

  Tabitha shook her head. ‘I’ve got a job in the box office. It looks a bit more respectable on an application form.’

  Still the frown remained.

  ‘What?’ she ventured, blushing under his scrutiny.

  ‘You just look…different, that’s all.’

  ‘Shackled’ was the first word that sprang to his mind, but of course he didn’t say it. Her red hair was pulled back, that gorgeous body draped in sombre navy, even the jade of her eyes seemed to have dimmed—but what Tabitha wore, what Tabitha did, for that matter, was her business and hers alone. Still, it was only polite to ask how she was doing…

  ‘How come you’re not dancing? If you’re having any trouble getting a part because of taking a break, I could have a word—make a few noises.’

  ‘You mean you’ll take care of it?’

  Zavier shifted uncomfortably in
his seat. ‘Something like that. Look, I don’t want what happened between us to ruin your career.’

  Tabitha let out a low laugh. ‘It was hardly a career, as you so delicately pointed out on more than a few occasions. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I’m hoping to start my own dance school some time next year; the office work will help.’

  ‘How?’ He gave a derisive laugh. ‘It’s a box office, Tabitha, hardly rocket science.’

  ‘And you’re still a pompous know-it-all.’ That stopped him in his tracks long enough for Tabitha to open her bag and catch her breath. ‘This came in the post.’ She pushed the cheque towards him, remembering with a strange surge of power him doing the same.

  Like her, he didn’t even deign to give it a glance. ‘That’s right. It’s what’s due to you. There should have been a covering letter enclosed. You didn’t break the contract, I did, so you’re still entitled to the money.’

  ‘I don’t want it.’

  He waved a dismissive hand and turned back to his computer. ‘Up to you.’

  Trembling, she stood up and, opening her bag, took out a wad of money and placed it in front of him.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘What does it look like? You’re the financial whizz; I thought at least you’d recognise money when you see it.’

  ‘But what’s it for?’

  ‘The first payment you gave to me—it’s all there.’ She turned to go but he called her back.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, Tabitha. How can you afford it?’

  ‘My grandmother paid me back, remember?’

  ‘But what about your dance school?’

  ‘It will happen,’ she said assuredly. ‘Perhaps not as quickly as I’d like, but it will definitely happen.’ Her hand was on the door and she wrenched it open.

  ‘Why didn’t you just write a cheque?’

  For a second she stiffened, then slowly she turned. Her wary eyes had a strange dignity about them. ‘So you could humiliate me further by not cashing it?’

  She stared at him for the longest time, trying to somehow entrench his features on her memory, to capture the indigo of his eyes, the beauty of his face, scanning them, filing them, storing them. Saving them up for the dreams she was destined to live on.

  ‘Why the acrimony, Tabitha? We both knew what we were getting into.’

  ‘Maybe you did, Zavier,’ she said softly. ‘It seems I was naive enough for both of us.’

  And then it was over. All she had to do was close the door and he was out of her life for good. The worst part of it was that he didn’t even call her back.

  She hadn’t really expected him to.

  ‘Tabitha?’ Aiden met her as he came out of the lift. He was dripping wet, his hair for once out of place. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Tying up a few loose ends.’ She forced a smile, forced a normal voice. ‘I read that your dad’s off the ventilator; that’s good news.’

  ‘Better than that—they moved him out of ICU today. The cardiac surgeons are still shaking their heads in disbelief that Dad actually survived the surgery.’ Taking her elbow, he steered her nearer the wall, away from the traffic of people in the corridor. ‘Dad knew all along about me, Tabitha; about me being gay, I mean.’

  ‘He knew?’ Even in her emotionally drained state, Tabitha still felt a surge of interest and shock.

  ‘Yep. When the nurses were prepping him for Theatre he called me in; I guess he thought it was going to be a deathbed talk. All that stuff about wanting me to grow up—well, he actually meant to stop living a lie, to face the truth.’

  ‘And did your mum know?’

  ‘Yep.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘Apparently she knew all along; she just didn’t want to upset my father in case he couldn’t cope with it. She’s fine with it. At least now it’s all out in the open, and apparently it’s even quite fashionable these days to have a gay son. It gives her something new to talk about at the tennis club. I’m officially out of the closet now. We should have a party to celebrate.’

  When she didn’t respond he looked at her sadly.

  ‘Poor Tab. I feel so guilty.’

  ‘Why…?’

  ‘Because for everyone else things have worked out. My father’s got a few years left in him, my secret’s happily out of the closet and no one seems to mind, but as for you, darling Tabitha—well, you’re the one who got hurt. You do love Zavier, don’t you?’

  The tears came then, fast and furious, big sobs that racked at her body. And Aiden stood there, his arm around her shoulder, offering her a handkerchief as she fought for control.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s me that should be sorry—sorry for all that I’ve put you through. It was me that started the whole thing.’ He gave her a long hug. ‘Oh, Tab, I did try to warn you. I told you he’d only…’

  ‘Crush me in the palm of his hand.’ She finished the sentence for him. ‘It’s a pretty accurate description of how I’m feeling.’

  ‘You’ll get over him,’ Aiden assured her. ‘You always do…’

  ‘Not this time.’ She blew her nose noisily.

  ‘I did try to talk to him, to tell him what a wonderful woman you are, but he just wasn’t interested. Maybe I could have another go…’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘He’s not interested in excuses. He still insists it was all about money.’

  ‘Which is so bloody like him,’ Aiden replied. ‘You were doomed, darling, the day you cashed the cheque. My dear brother believes the rest of us should be as infallible and as honest as he is.’

  ‘I can see where he’s coming from,’ Tabitha said defensively. ‘You can hardly blame him for being suspicious of love, given the examples he’s been set. I don’t exactly come out of this as a paragon of virtue.’ She blew her nose again. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s over now.’

  ‘We’re still friends? I’ve been terrified to come over in case you throw a saucepan at me or something.’

  She gave a strangled laugh, but it changed midway and she cried instead. ‘Of course we’re still friends; it’s just different, that’s all. I can’t see you for a while, Aiden. I can’t look at you and not think about him. Do you understand?’

  He nodded sadly. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I know. Look, I’ve really got to go. I’ll call you in a few weeks, a few months—whatever it takes.’

  ‘Please, Tab, wait. I’ll have a driver take you home. It’s started to storm outside—at least let me do that for you.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d really rather walk.’

  ‘But it’s pouring.’

  ‘Good, then no one will see me crying.’

  He saw her into the lift, stood watching as the numbers carried her down before heading into Zavier’s office.

  I told you so.

  For Aiden there was no pleasure in being proved right.

  None.

  For a little while there he’d actually thought they might make it. His face darkening, he went into the office. Seeing Zavier sitting there, working at his desk for all the world acting as if nothing had happened, only angered him further.

  Maybe he wasn’t acting, Aiden figured.

  Maybe Zavier really didn’t care.

  ‘I just saw Tabitha leaving in tears.’ Aiden flicked on the television on the far side of Zavier’s office, changing the channel from the stock market show Zavier preferred to one of the commercial channels.

  Zavier didn’t bother to look up, frowning at the noise from the television. ‘She just paid me back; it must have hurt.’ He expected a laugh, but when it didn’t come he finally looked up, watching as Aiden shook the rain off his jacket before carefully hanging it up on the hook. ‘Mind you, I’ll never work her out. What did she agree to do it for if she was intending to pay me back?’

  ‘You’re such a bloody fool sometimes.’

  Zavier’s eyes narrowed. Aiden, who never got angry, who was always laughing, always joking, suddenly looked as if he
might actually hit him. ‘What the hell’s your problem?’

  ‘I’m gay!’ Aiden shouted.

  ‘So what’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘I’m gay,’ Aiden repeated. ‘Yet even I managed to work it out.’

  Zavier stared at his brother, utterly perplexed as Aiden waved his hands dramatically in the air.

  ‘What do you think Tabitha did it for? She loves you, you idiot. Though God knows why.’

  ‘It was business,’ Zavier said darkly. ‘She did it for the money.’

  ‘If that’s the case what’s this doing here?’ Aiden gestured to the notes on the desk. ‘And why was she crying in the hall, with unkempt hair and not a scrap of make-up.’

  ‘Her hair’s always unkempt.’

  ‘No, it isn’t—at least not in that way—and Tabitha always wears make-up. Always. I notice these things.’

  ‘Because you’re gay?’ Zavier asked, his voice bewildered.

  Aiden rolled his eyes. ‘Because I’m not blind.’

  ‘So what you’re telling me,’ Zavier said slowly, standing up and walking the long length of his office before finishing his sentence, shaking his head as he did so, ‘is that she loves me? Tabitha really loves me?’

  ‘Finally.’ Aiden rolled his eyes and lowered himself into one of the sumptuous leather lounges, his calm demeanour exacerbating Zavier’s nervous pacing.

  ‘So what should I do?’

  ‘That I can’t help you with. But I think it would be much better if you go to her now.’

  ‘Because she’s upset?’ He was stalling, confused and unsure, wanting so much to believe what he was hearing, yet scared all the same.

  ‘Maybe.’ Aiden shrugged, pouring himself a large Scotch. ‘But, more to the point, my favourite soap starts in five and I want to concentrate.’

  Listlessly she walked up the garden path. Her clothes were drenched, clinging to her body, and her hair dripped in coiled tendrils down her back, but she didn’t care. Sure, she wasn’t so pessimistic as not to realise this torturous melancholy would abate somewhat, given time, but Tabitha also knew that for as long as there was a breath still in her body she would love him.