Their Soul Mate [The Hot Millionaires #5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  “What can I do for you?” she asked briskly.

  “No need to be so uptight, babe. I was just calling to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Since when did you care?”

  “I’ve always cared,” he said, dropping his voice several octaves. “You know that.”

  “You seem to think that I give a damn.” She wondered why she was prolonging the conversation. It gave the impression that she cared. “If this isn’t a business call then I have to go.”

  “Have you thought about my proposition?”

  “There’s nothing to think about.”

  “Justine, I need you.”

  “You need me or the company does?”

  “Both. I’ll admit that things don’t run so smoothly round here without you, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

  “Oh really?” Justine could hear the sarcasm in her own voice.

  “The Mansell showing. I’m worried about it.”

  Justine expelled a long breath. She absolutely didn’t need this crap. “It’s all under control.”

  “But Mansell isn’t. He’s in London now, prowling round the offices like a caged tiger and demanding to see you. You need to come back.”

  Justine had spoken to Mansell just that morning. He was up in London but seemed fine with her not being there. “Oh yeah, and live where? I’ve given up my flat.”

  “You’ve what!”

  Now Justine got it. He’d never really thought she wouldn’t go back and presumably imagined she was just playing hard to get. She’d be less than human if she didn’t feel a tiny little thrill of satisfaction at his stunned reaction.

  “That’s it, I’ve left London.”

  “What about us?”

  “Grow up, Jason. You dumped me, remember?”

  “Yes, but I—”

  “If you need input regarding the Mansell thing, get Sasha to call me but don’t bother me yourself again.”

  “Don’t give me orders, babe, you’re not the type. You still work for me, and I’ll call you any time I damned well like.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Once again she hung up on him. She’d let him have the final word but knew she’d said enough out-of-character things to rattle him. Well, perhaps now he’d finally believe they were through. And they were through—she definitely didn’t want to go back to him—so why the hell had tears sprung to her eyes? She must be feeling lonely and sorry for herself, which was pretty pathetic.

  Justine poured herself a second glass of wine, annoyed with herself for being such a wimp. The silence was no longer quite so soothing, and she switched the kitchen television on, just for company. Then she ran upstairs and grabbed her latest pile of papers. She would look at them down here in the familiar, old-fashioned kitchen, a room that she found surprisingly comfortable. The builders hadn’t touched it yet, and Justine had a feeling that even after they’d worked their magic on it, she’d probably prefer it the way it was now.

  “Where are you, Mary Elizabeth?” she asked aloud, getting down to the final bundle of papers that she hadn’t properly looked through yet.

  Mary Elizabeth hadn’t been at her mother’s funeral, Justine knew at least that much. The solicitors who handled Julia Everton’s estate had told Zac they had no idea where their client’s daughter was and, since she wasn’t mentioned in the will, had no reason to look for her. But Justine was sure Julia knew her whereabouts. Why hadn’t she told her solicitor to let her know when she died, and why hadn’t she remembered her daughter in her will? Justine tapped her pen against her teeth.

  “Come on, Julia, talk to me. What was going through your head?”

  The question that kept going round in Justine’s head concerned that letter Julia had written to Zac less than a year before her death. She was definite that Mary Elizabeth was still alive. How did she know if she didn’t have any contact with her?

  There must be clues here somewhere. Julia didn’t appear to have thrown anything away—ever. Justine had found letters dating back forty years. She longed to delve into them, but now wasn’t the time. First, she needed to find Mary Elizabeth.

  Greenham Common was in the West Country, but all the clinics Mary Elizabeth had been in since then, and all her arrests, had been in the southeast. People tended to remain in the areas that made them comfortable, so at least Justine had potentially narrowed the search down to one huge swathe of the country. She shrugged. Much good that would do her. Unless she could be more specific, it was needle and haystack time. She could hardly contact every rehab clinic, halfway house or support group in the area. There had to be something obvious that she was missing. Zac hadn’t even looked at these papers, so she couldn’t ask for his help. Besides, that’s why he’d employed her. He wanted to know—sort of—but didn’t want to do the detective work.

  “Think, Justine, think!”

  She pushed aside the pile of papers with a frustrated sigh. She hadn’t found anything in them to help her. A third glass of wine merely slowed her thought process and Justine found her mind wandering.

  To Zac and Cody, of course.

  It seemed to do that all the time, no matter how hard she tried to focus it in other directions. She wondered what they were doing at that precise moment, and with whom. Jealousy surged through her.

  “Get a grip,” she said aloud. “It’s just a bit of fun they want with you. Nothing more. They’re bound to have women come on to them everywhere they go. Don’t think about it.”

  Justine forced her mind back to the problem of Zac’s missing mother and sat bolt upright as a thought that should have been obvious long before now suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. Julia had loved her daughter enough to keep paying for rehab. Money was the key. If Julia knew Mary Elizabeth was still alive, it must be because she was paying for her continued care somewhere. Justine hadn’t even looked at Julia’s financial records. She hadn’t thought they were anything to do with her, but there were bank statements somewhere in the office upstairs.

  Full of renewed energy, Justine took the stairs two at a time and bounded into her office. She found the bank statements buried under a pile of old photographs. They fell to the floor and she stooped to pick them up. One picture that slid away from the rest fell faceup against the baseboard. Justine’s fingers stilled as she picked it up and found herself looking at a female image of Zac.

  A young woman, obviously Mary Elizabeth, dark eyes bright and inquisitive, stared at the camera, a secretive smile playing about her lips as though she and the cameraman had just shared a private joke. Probably no more than sixteen years old at the time the shot was taken, she was strikingly beautiful and had her entire life ahead of her. Justine felt incredibly sad when she thought that less than a year later that life had deteriorated into a haze of drugs and misguided beliefs that would ruin the rest of her days.

  She put the picture aside, somewhere safe. She wasn’t sure if Zac had ever seen a picture of his mother, or if he’d ever want to, but if he did, he’d be hard-pressed to find a better likeness. It was definitely one to run past Cody. She forgot all about the bank statements and continued to rifle through the pictures, trying to identify the subjects.

  By the time she got to the end of them, it was past midnight and she was beat. The workers would arrive at seven the following morning, so she needed to get some sleep. The bank statements would have to wait.

  She finally got to them the following morning and soon discovered that up until the time of Julia’s death a regular payment was made to a private trust establishment in Southampton.

  “Yes!” Justine punched the air in triumph. “Got you.”

  Holmwood Residential Care Home. Justine got on the Internet and did a search. It was a permanent-care facility for the mentally ill. Justine gasped. Mary Elizabeth was mentally unstable? How would Zac deal with that one? Presumably it was the result of drug abuse and not genetic. Either way, Justine was getting ahead of herself. The first thing she needed to do was find out if Mary Elizabet
h was still there. The payments would have stopped upon Julia’s death, so would they still have kept her there? And if Julia cared enough to pay for all these years, why not make provision for the continuance of those payments in her will? Justine shook her head. It made no sense to her.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone and dialled the number on the screen in front of her. A woman with a pleasant voice answered on the second ring. Without identifying herself, Justine asked if a Mary Elizabeth Everton was a resident at Holmwood.

  “Mary Elizabeth? Oh yes, she’s been here for some time. Are you a relative?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. No one ever comes to see her.”

  “What’s her problem exactly?”

  The woman’s friendly voice became guarded. “You can hardly expect me to tell you that.”

  “No, of course not, I’m sorry. Can you tell me this much. The lady I’m looking for was born in Surrey on…” Justine reeled off Zac’s mother’s date of birth. “Are we talking about the same lady?”

  “Yes,” the woman said after a prolonged pause, during which time Justine could hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. “Yes, that’s our Mary Elizabeth’s birthday. Can you tell me why you’re asking?”

  “Not at the moment, no, but I’ll be in touch again. Thanks for your help.”

  Justine replaced the phone, feeling a great sense of achievement. She’d found Zac’s mother after just two days of trying. Whether Zac would thank her for that was another matter entirely.

  * * * *

  “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” Zac said three days after their arrival in New York.

  Cody grinned at him. “Never seen you so motivated before,” he said as they left a full day’s meeting with their investors.

  “Can’t be doing with all that bullshit. At least now everyone’s in no doubt where they stand.” Zac strode for the revolving door to the office building and stepped onto the crowded sidewalk. “We could have sorted all this without coming over, but I’m glad we did come. Kicking ass in person is always more effective, and they won’t try to get one over on us again in a hurry.”

  “So can we go home now?” Cody asked.

  Zac shot him a look. “We are home. This is New York.”

  “You know what I mean. Back to your grandmother’s abode.”

  Zac chuckled. “Something over there you need to do?”

  “I’d say there’s someone we both need to do.”

  “Been thinking about her a lot, have you?” Zac asked.

  “Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

  “I expected her to call every five minutes with problems,” Zac admitted, “but she hasn’t phoned once. She puts everything in e-mails.”

  “That’s what you told her to do.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t—”

  “You thought she’d be like every other female you meet and wouldn’t waste an opportunity to get up close and personal.”

  “I don’t know what I thought, and that’s the truth.” Zac shook his head. “She’s got me second-guessing myself half the time.”

  They caught a cab back to their hotel, booked seats online for a flight back the following day, and finally relaxed.

  “Are you gonna tell her we’re on the way back?” Cody asked.

  Zac thought about it. “No, let’s give her a surprise.”

  “She might think we’re trying to catch her out.”

  “Come on, Cody, she works for us.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “I usually am,” Zac said, flashing a grin.

  “We have some shopping to do before we leave.” Cody also grinned. “I have a few ideas about that.”

  “I’ll just bet you do.” Zac threw back his head, surprised at the level of anxiety he felt to get back to Justine, unsure why he was so worried about leaving her alone. “Okay, what do you see her dressed in?”

  * * * *

  Justine spent the next morning trying to learn more about Holmwood. Only people with serious, long-term mental illness were admitted there, according to the online literature. Some were committed by the medical experts. Others went voluntarily. She wondered which category Mary Elizabeth fell into. She was tempted to ring Cody and tell him what she’d found out, but in the end, decided against it. They’d now been away five days. It could wait a couple more until they got back.

  “Justine.” Larry stuck his head round her door. “Got a minute? We’ve got a problem with the panelling in the downstairs lounge. It’s worm-eaten and wasn’t picked up at survey. What do you want us to do?”

  “I’ll come down.”

  She could see immediately what Larry meant. How had that been missed?

  “It’ll have to be replaced,” she said. “Zac doesn’t want any corners cut. But get me an estimate first. He’ll be back in a couple of days and can approve it himself.”

  A couple of days! Justine wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Neither of them had bothered to call her and had probably forgotten all about her.

  Get over yourself. What the hell else did you expect?

  Moodily, Justine crashed about in the kitchen and made herself a sandwich she didn’t really want. Well, at least fretting over her two hunky employers had done what her non-existent willpower had never achieved and killed her appetite. She was about to return to her office, wondering what to do with herself now she’d found Zac’s mother. Would that be the end of her employment here? It would cost Zac big time if it was. She’d given up her flat because he’d offered her several months’ work, but now that she came to think about it, they hadn’t discussed what she’d be doing for him other than finding his mother and supervising the renovations here.

  “Someone at the door asking for you, love,” Larry said, passing the open kitchen door.

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Another supplier, she supposed, wiping her hands down her jeans and heading for the door. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Jason there, looking devastating in a light gray suit over a black T-shirt.

  “Hey,” he said, grinning at her and thrusting a bunch of roses into her hands. “What’s going on here?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, you wouldn’t come to me so—”

  “Jason, we have nothing to say to one another.”

  She threw the flowers on a builder’s trestle table and glared at him, wishing her heart would stop hammering against her ribcage. Nerves, not desire, she told herself, knowing it was true. Zac and Cody had done her one huge favour and given her the confidence to be who she really was without feeling the need to apologize for it.

  Jason merely laughed, overwhelmingly confident. “Sure we have.”

  She turned toward the kitchen, aware that he wouldn’t go until he’d had his say. “Okay,” she said, leaning her butt against the table, arms crossed over her breasts. “Say what you came to say and get out. I’m busy.”

  Jason glanced round the scruffy room and sneered. “Is this the best you can do?” he asked. “Looks like something out of a Hammer horror movie.”

  “But I like it, so what does that say about me?”

  Jason narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s happened to you, babe?”

  Justine snorted. “You forfeited the right to ask when you dumped me.”

  “Look, I was out of order, okay?” He spread his hands. “What do you want me to say? I made a mistake, and I’m man enough to admit it. I can’t cut it without you, and you deserve better than this.” He glanced round the room, his derisive expression more eloquent than a thousand words. “Come back to town and we’ll start again. You can camp out at my place.”

  Justine quirked a brow. He’d pretended not to hear all her hints about moving in with him when they’d been a couple. Now that the offer had been made—after a fashion—it no longer held appeal. He admitted to making a mistake but hadn’t once said anything about loving her, which told Justine all she needed to know a
bout his true feelings.

  “You just don’t get it, do you, Jason?” Justine glowered at him. “I don’t want to come back. I’m getting to like the country.”

  “Then I’m just gonna have to remind you what you’re missing.” He laughed. “Come here.”

  Before she could stop him he pulled her into his arms, crushing her body against his as he kissed her. Just for a split second she allowed him to, simply because she was too surprised to put up a fight.

  “What the fuck’s going on here?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Zac, you’re back.”

  Justine hastily pushed the oaf who was manhandling her aside, looking flustered to have been caught out. All the pleasure Zac had anticipated in seeing her again evaporated. This must be the jerk, and she didn’t look the least bit unhappy to see him again.

  Zac wanted to punch something—or someone. He’d allowed himself to believe that she just might be different. He should have known better. She was just like all the others—fickle and untrustworthy.

  “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

  “Yeah, you should.” The jerk gave Zac an insolent once-over. “We were having a private conversation here.”

  “Go!” Justine said tersely.

  “Think about what we said. Ring me and I’ll come and get you any time. Oh, and don’t forget, ring Mansell, smooth his ruffled feathers, and make sure the reception goes off without a hitch. It’s important.”

  “I know how to do my job.”

  “You certainly used to,” Jason said. Zac’s anger intensified when Jason winked at her, as though she hadn’t been referring to the office. “I’ll see you there, if not before, and we’ll talk some more.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah there is, and we both know it.”

  He sauntered from the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Cody seemed as dumbstruck as Zac himself felt. Justine stared after the retreating jerk and seemed to have lost her tongue altogether.

  “You obviously haven’t been lonely,” Cody said caustically.

  Justine blushed. “It isn’t how it looks.”