The Tycoon's Outrageous Proposal

by Miranda Lee

  ‘Hello, Byron,’ Sarah said with a slight edge in her voice. ‘I hear you’ve been a bad boy.’

  Cleo winced whilst Byron held his breath.

  ‘I think, my darling wife,’ Scott said as he came around and took Sarah’s elbow, ‘that Byron would like a private word with Cleo. So how about we both leave them alone for a while? We’ll just be downstairs, Cleo. Having coffee,’ he added with sarcasm. And before Sarah could protest, Scott ushered her out, shutting the door behind them.

  ‘Tactful man, your boss,’ Byron said as they stood there, staring at each other.

  * * *

  Cleo just stood there and drank Byron in. How handsome he was in that gorgeous dark blue suit. But then, he’d look gorgeous in anything. It surprised her, however, that his handsome face bore evidence of sleepless nights and real emotional distress. There were dark rings under his beautiful blue eyes and, if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d lost weight, his cheeks just a little hollow underneath his cheekbones.

  It saddened her that she’d made him suffer. She wasn’t cruel. She was, however, a survivor. And as a survivor she had to make him understand why she’d been so hurt by what he’d done. He might not have planned it, but there had to have been a point when he could have stopped. Yet he hadn’t. He’d gone right ahead, careless of the possible consequences and how she might feel about having a baby with him. Forgiving him was all very well, but it was only a starting point. If they had any chance of making it together as a couple, he had to know what she expected of him as her life partner: that he would never try to dominate her, control her, or manipulate her. She wanted to be an equal partner and refused to settle for anything less. But to be fair to him, he also had to know everything about her. Every single thing.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Cleo,’ he said before she could formulate where to begin.

  She hoped her smile was a comfort to him. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I forgive you.’

  Hope lit his eyes. ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t wrong. You were. Very wrong.’

  ‘I know,’ he said sincerely. ‘If only I could go back in time...’

  ‘That’s the trouble with time. You can’t go back. But I’m sorry too. I probably overreacted and I want to explain why.’

  ‘I don’t think you overreacted,’ he muttered. ‘I—’

  ‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ she interrupted. ‘Will you just sit down and listen to me?’

  Startled, he sat down in a nearby chair. Cleo moved around to sit in Scott’s chair.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘I’m going to tell you the story of a young girl who lost her parents in a car accident when she was just a teenager and went to live with her elderly grandparents who both died before she was nineteen, leaving her with no one to guide her, or to stop her from making the biggest mistake in her life.’

  Cleo swallowed, then went on, not looking at Byron, keeping her eyes turned away and her voice as calm as she could make it. But it was hard to tell him everything, to leave nothing out. Not a single thing. She knew none of it was really her fault—circumstances had made her the perfect victim—but she still felt humiliated by what she had put up with during her marriage. By the time she got to the part where Martin died, silent tears were running down her cheeks. When Byron went to stand up she stopped him.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she choked out. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’

  He sank back down in his chair, his eyes kind and compassionate.

  ‘After Martin died I vowed that I would never give a man that much control over my life ever again, that I would be truly independent. Which meant giving up my dream of having children, of being truly loved. Aside from my total lack of fashion sense, this was the main reason why I didn’t really care how I looked. As long as I was neat and clean, I thought that was enough. But then you came along, and...and...’

  Cleo broke off, unable to continue, her head shaking from side to side as she reached forward and grabbed a handful of tissues.

  * * *

  Byron’s heart sank as he watched her weep. He ached to go to her. To hug her. Comfort her. But he sensed that was not the right course of action to achieve his goal. She needed a few moments to gather herself first.

  Meanwhile, all Byron could do was work out what he should do. He had listened to Cleo’s story with a mixture of sadness and admiration. How hard must it have been for her with no one to go to during the first years of her marriage; no one to tell her that the bastard she was married to was nothing more than a bully and a coward. Byron thought he’d got what he deserved. But Cleo didn’t think so, or she wouldn’t have stayed and cared for him. She was better than him, it was clear. Way more compassionate and forgiving. But she was also damaged.

  Byron had once thought he didn’t want to marry a woman who carried a lot of emotional baggage. Not now, however. Life without Cleo as his wife simply wasn’t worth considering. If he couldn’t have her then he didn’t want anyone else. Besides, if he were brutally honest, he was damaged too. His parents’ divorce had damaged him. His mother being unfaithful had damaged him. So had the realisation that his father was human and not some godlike figure on a pedestal.

  Life damaged everyone in some way, Byron accepted. It was how you handled that damage that was the important thing.

  ‘Can I speak now?’ he said at last, his voice as calm as he could make it.

  Cleo wiped her nose with a sigh. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘I understand why you reacted the way you did to my not using a condom. I don’t think it was an overreaction at all. It was very wrong of me to do that. I just want you to know that it definitely wasn’t planned. It was an impulse, something that happened in the heat of the moment. Of course, there was a point when I knew I was risking you getting pregnant, but I selfishly thought how much I wanted to have a child with you. But I can see now how much you would have hated feeling that I’d deliberately tricked you, just to get what I wanted. I can see that I only thought of myself, and not about what you wanted, how you felt. I love you, my darling Cleo, and I desperately want to marry you. Please say yes. And please don’t say that you don’t love me, because I know you do.’

  Her head shot up, her dark eyes widening. ‘How do you know I meant it?’

  ‘You said you forgave me.’

  When Cleo felt her heart begin to melt she gritted her teeth, steadfastly refusing to surrender herself to his wishes that easily.

  ‘Maybe I do love you,’ she admitted. ‘Then again, maybe I don’t. What if it’s just lust? Or simply an infatuation? For pity’s sake, Byron, I’ve only known you two weeks!’

  ‘That was long enough for me. Two days was long enough for me. But I can see how the time factor bothers you, so what I propose is this...’

  Cleo rolled her eyes.

  ‘Now, now, none of that. I’m not going to propose marriage again. Not yet. All I’m asking is for you to give me three months to prove to you that we genuinely love each other and will be happy together. Obviously, I need some time to show you that I am nothing like your first husband. I’m not interested at all in controlling you, my darling. I love that you have your own career, and I love how independent you are. I love your strength of character and your integrity. I especially love that you’re not jumping at the chance to marry me. Trust me when I say I love that about you most of all. So, what do you say, Cleo? Would three months do it?’

  ‘Three months,’ she repeated slowly, somewhat stunned by all his compliments.

  ‘I think that’s long enough, don’t you?’ he prodded.

  ‘I... I guess so...’

  He smiled. ‘Good. That’s settled, then.’ He stood up abruptly and strode around behind Scott’s desk, pulling Cleo up into his arms and hugging her tightly. She didn’t object, which he took as a good sign. So he kissed her.

  She didn’t object to that, either.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Friday night. Three months and one day later.

 
‘TONIGHT...TONIGHT...!’ CLEO sang as she put the finishing touches on her appearance.

  Mungo howled at her feet, which made Cleo laugh.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ she told him as she stroked the dog’s head. ‘Singing is not my forte.’

  Fashion, however, was beginning to be something she excelled at, much to Cleo’s surprise. She could hardly believe how good she’d become at choosing clothes that suited her, giving her the confidence to be seen with Byron, who was always elegantly dressed and far too handsome for words. Tonight’s outfit was a purple woollen sheath with a matching thigh-length coat, teamed with seriously sexy black patent high heels. Her legs were housed in sleek stockings, whilst underneath she was wearing a black satin half-cup bra and a thong. Her hair was up, but softly, not severely. Her make-up was perfect and her perfume was a subtle but truly seductive scent with whispers of vanilla and musk.

  Byron was taking her to some swanky restaurant in the city down near the quay where she just knew he was going to propose properly. And she was going to say yes without hesitation, the last three months having shown her that he was indeed the husband of her dreams. Not only considerate but truly kind, yet strong and sexy at the same time. The only place he tried to dominate her these days was sometimes in the bedroom, but she didn’t mind that. She also gave as good as she got, at times surprising him with her own imaginative demands.

  Frankly, she couldn’t wait for Byron to ask her to marry him again.

  The doorbell rang and her heart leapt. He was here, the man she adored, the man who was going to be her husband and the father of her children. They’d talked about children, Byron saying he wanted at least one, preferably two. Cleo had agreed with him that two was a good number.

  Cleo hurried to answer the door, opening it with a ready smile on her face.

  ‘Wow,’ Byron said as he looked her up and down.

  ‘And wow to you too,’ she replied.

  He was wearing black tonight, which was not a colour he usually wore. Black suit and an open-necked black shirt. Thankfully, no tie, or he might have looked like a gangster from a Hollywood movie. Not that he could, not with those beautiful blue eyes and blond hair.

  ‘Very Quentin Tarantino,’ she said, smiling.

  Both of them loved their movies, and they talked about them endlessly, especially now that Byron had gone into partnership with Blake Randall. Cleo had been wary of meeting Blake at first—his reputation for being difficult had preceded him—but she had found him quite charming, once you got past the brooding façade he liked to project. He’d invited them both to visit him at his new Hollywood home, once he actually bought one, an invitation which they eagerly accepted.

  Life as Byron’s wife was going to be exciting, Cleo thought.

  ‘Are you ready to go? Will the dog be all right, left on his own?’

  Cleo frowned. ‘How did you know he’d be on his own?’

  Byron just shrugged. ‘It’s Friday night. Harvey usually takes Doreen out on a Friday night.’

  ‘Not always. But he did tonight. Anyway, Mungo doesn’t mind being left alone, as long as I leave the TV on and plenty of food and water. I took him out for a walk earlier so he’ll be fine till Doreen gets home.’

  Byron grinned. ‘Are you assuming you’re going to be later home than Doreen?’

  ‘I was hoping not to be home at all!’

  ‘You saucy minx! I suppose you think I’m going to propose tonight as well.’

  Cleo experienced a moment’s panic until she accepted he was only teasing her.

  ‘If you don’t, I think I’ll be home earlier than Doreen.’

  Byron laughed. ‘Lock up, then. We have a big night ahead of us.’

  Cleo was chatting happily away in the car when she realised they’d bypassed the inner city and were heading for the Eastern suburbs. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Just taking you somewhere private and romantic so that I can propose. Then we’ll go eat and celebrate.’

  ‘What if I say no?’ she teased.

  ‘You won’t,’ came his confident reply.

  ‘Have you bought that ring I liked?’ She’d pointed one out in a shop window one Sunday afternoon when they’d been strolling through the city.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It was too cheap. You deserved something better.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, her heart singing.

  ‘Here we are.’

  Cleo stared when they pulled into the driveway of a huge harbourside mansion. The large iron gates in the high security wall were locked but swung slowly open after Byron pressed a remote.

  ‘This is Dad’s place.’

  ‘I thought he sold it.’

  ‘He has. But the settlement’s not until tomorrow. He gave me permission to come here tonight. There’s a glorious view from the back terrace. Just the place to ask the woman I adore to marry me.’

  ‘Oh, stop, please. If you keep saying things like that I’m going to cry.’

  ‘Absolutely not. It’ll ruin your make-up, and the photos.’

  ‘Photos?’

  ‘Selfies, then. With the Opera House and the bridge in the background.’

  Cleo gaped as Byron drove through the gates and up to the wide front steps. The two-storeyed house wasn’t as big as a palace, but it was palatial, with marble columns on the portico and an aristocratic front garden. All trimmed hedges and gravel pathways, and cleverly placed shade trees under which sat carved stone benches.

  ‘Is your father selling the place fully furnished?’ she asked on the way through the main living area, stunned at the furniture. And the decor. And everything. This house was every woman’s dream come true.

  ‘What? Oh, yes. Yes, he is.’

  ‘Whoever bought it must be very rich.’

  ‘He is.’ Byron led her out onto the back terrace where the view was, indeed, glorious. So was the pool, plus a very cute pool house, beyond which the lawns sloped gently down to the water’s edge.

  ‘At last,’ Byron said with a deep sigh, startling Cleo when he actually sank down on one knee in front of her. The small velvet box he drew out of his pocket was black. Byron flipped it open and Cleo’s eyes glistened with happy tears. Not because the diamond ring was big and beautiful and expensive, but because of what it meant.

  ‘Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife, darling Cleo?’ he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

  ‘Yes, of course I will,’ she replied, wiping away her tears.

  He stood up and took the ring from the box, slipping it onto her finger, the one that was now empty, Cleo having taken off her other wedding ring weeks ago. The ring fitted perfectly, the way they fitted perfectly.

  ‘So, you like this house?’ he asked as she stood there, wiggling her hand so that the solitaire diamond sparkled and flashed.

  Cleo smiled. ‘It’s a magnificent house.’

  ‘It’s ours,’ he said. ‘Yours and mine. I’m the one who bought it. Dad wanted to give it to me but I’ve never been fond of nepotism, or in getting something I haven’t earned.’

  ‘But it must have cost you a fortune!’ Cleo protested, her head whirling.

  ‘It did. But it’s a good investment. Even if we lose everything else we’ll still have this to fall back on. And each other.’

  ‘Oh, Byron. You are so good to me.’

  He grinned. ‘You deserve the very best. And I can afford to give it to you.’

  She slapped him playfully on the arm. ‘You are an arrogant beast. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.’

  They kissed. Then they kissed again. Cleo was away in another world when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  She spun around, startled to see Lloyd Maddox and his very beautiful new wife standing there with wide smiles on their faces.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, folks,’ Lloyd said, his voice tinged with a slight American accent. ‘But the people squashed into the pool house are getting antsy. Do you think they could come out and st
art the party now?’

  Cleo stared at him, then up at Byron. ‘You organised a surprise engagement party?’

  ‘I did. Okay, everyone!’ he called out. ‘You can come out now.’

  They spilled out loudly, offering congratulations and hugs with considerable volume. Everyone she and Byron cared about was there. Doreen and Harvey. Scott and Sarah. Grace and her husband. Rosalind and Lara. There was Blake Randall and his latest girlfriend, plus people she didn’t recognise but who obviously knew Byron well. Everyone snapped photos of the happy couple on their phones, Cleo soon feeling a little faint from lack of food.

  As if on cue, from out of the house materialised smartly dressed waiters who smoothly served drinks and finger food, which were both delicious and satisfying. Cleo suspected that Gloria was somewhere behind the scenes, organising everything.

  ‘I still can’t believe Byron bought this house for me,’ Cleo said to Sarah when the two women got a chance to speak alone.

  ‘So I heard. It’s a fantastic place. Scott and I are still house-hunting, as you know. We were thinking of the Northern beaches but now that you’ll be living here, I think we might buy somewhere close.’

  They’d become good friends, all four of them, despite Byron not investing in McAllister Mines. Though he’d offered Scott a cash loan if he ever needed it.

  ‘Oh, I’d love that,’ Cleo said.

  ‘How soon do you think you’ll get married?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Pretty soon, I think. Byron’s been patient enough.’

  ‘Please make it very soon if you want me to be your matron of honour. I’m having twins.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes! I’ve known for a while but didn’t want to say anything until my sixteen-week ultrasound when I knew everything was fine.’

  ‘Goodness. What are they? Are they identical?’

  ‘No. Not identical. A boy and a girl.’

  ‘Wow. A complete family in one strike.’