by Nicola Marsh
‘I went to see Maya and Chas last night. It didn’t go so well.’
‘How so?’
‘She kicked me out.’
Matt’s lips twitched and Riley sent him a frown. As far as he could see, there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.
‘Did she have good reason?’
Riley shrugged, clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his director’s chair.
‘I’m concerned about Chas. He’s my nephew and I want to make sure he wants for nothing.’
Matt’s budding grin broke through. ‘Let me guess. You offered her money?’
‘Of course. What else could I do? I want to help and she basically told me where I could stick it.’
‘How well do you know Maya?’
‘Not very well; guess that’s part of the problem. I need to know more about the woman raising my nephew, to see what kind of mother she is. Ever since she hooked up with Joe, I’ve heard the rumours. Gold digger sinks her claws into rich guy, moves in and gets pregnant to hang on to him. A part of me believed them.’
‘And now?’
An image of Maya’s wan face, the fatigue lines ringing her mouth, the dark circles under her expressive eyes flashed into his mind, closely followed by the fierce way she’d bristled at his offer of money.
He hadn’t made it as Melbourne’s best stockbroker without being able to read people and, though he’d initially thought the worst of Maya, he’d bet his portfolio she’d fallen for his glib brother out of love rather than money.
‘She seems genuine enough. Time will tell.’
Matt snapped his fingers. ‘Now that’s the guy I know. Give the opposition a bit of leeway, reserve judgement, then pull the rug out from under them.’
‘It’s not like that,’ Riley said, though logic told him otherwise.
He didn’t trust easily. But Joe’s death had given him a wake up call. He travelled constantly or was chained to his desk, was most comfortable brokering deals on the Stock Exchange. He’d never had much time for family and though he’d loved Joe, he’d taken the easy option by throwing money at him. Maybe if he’d listened more, had seen that Joe had real problems, his brother would still be here.
The least he could do was be a part of Chas’s life to make up for not being there for his father.
‘Anyway, how about you tell me what you found out about Joe’s will?’
That wiped the smile off Matt’s face in record time. ‘If you’re in a bad mood, what I have to say isn’t going to improve it.’
‘Just give it to me straight,’ Riley said, assuming the worst considering Joe’s lousy money skills.
‘Your brother has nothing. In fact, he has substantial debts outstanding to several major creditors.’ Matt paused and Riley didn’t like the quick look-away. For the stand-up, look-you-straight-in-the-eye type of guy Matt was, it looked like worse was to come.
‘And?’
‘The apartment wasn’t his, he has no real estate holdings and there was no provision for Maya or Chas.’
Riley cursed, pinning Matt with a glare. ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Positive. The only thing Joe owned was the car and that’s in Maya’s name, thank goodness.’
‘Hell.’
Okay, it was worse than he’d thought. A hundred times worse.
He’d always assumed that Joe owned the swank South Bank apartment he’d lived in and had questioned him to make sure. In typical fashion, Joe had laughed off Riley’s concerns at the time then begged another few grand to buy a new cot for Chas or a bauble for Maya. The sad thing was he now knew that the money he’d handed over for his nephew’s sake had never reached the baby.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Matt shuffled a few papers into the folio in front of him before handing it across the desk. ‘It’s all in here.’
‘Thanks,’ Riley said, taking the folder and tossing it into his in-tray, wishing he could burn the thing rather than see the irrefutable proof of his brother’s stupidity and selfishness in black and white. ‘You’ve done a great job—as usual. Why don’t you leave it with me for now, let me take a look at everything and I’ll get back to you?’
‘Sure, no probs.’ Matt drained his coffee, lobbed the cup into the bin and held out his hand. ‘I’m heading back to Sydney this afternoon so if you need me, ring me.’
‘Shall do.’ Riley shook hands with Matt and walked him to the door, the epitome of the cool, level-headed businessman everyone thought he was.
However, as soon as the door closed, Riley kicked the nearest object, which happened to be an old wooden hat stand he hated, and wondered how on earth he would break the news to Maya.
If she let him in the door, that was.
Maya gaped at the surly man wearing baggy overalls and waving a clipboard under her nose.
‘My orders are right here, lady. All the furniture in this joint is to be repossessed. Today.’
She took a steadying breath and braced herself against the door jamb, wondering if this nightmare would ever end.
‘There must be some mistake. My fiancé owns this apartment.’
‘Take it up with him,’ the guy snarled, propping the clipboard up against the skirting boards and looking over her shoulder as if sizing up the place.
‘He’s dead,’ she said, aiming for calm and hating the slight quiver in her voice.
‘Sorry for your loss, lady, but I have my orders. Everything goes. Now.’
When she hesitated, he pushed past her, followed by a slim weasel-like man who darted quick, furtive glances towards her as if she’d clobber him on the way through.
‘This is insane!’ she shouted, torn between wanting to fight for what was rightfully hers and giving them a hand to cart away every last piece of ugly furniture.
This had been Joe’s place and he’d hired a decorator, which showed in every monochromatic line and curve. Stark white and chrome had been the dominant feature of all the furniture, giving the space a cold, sterile feel which she hated.
Not that the stuff had stayed white for long when Chas started cruising the furniture. Maya had done a little internal happy dance every time he’d placed a grubby fingerprint on the frigid environment.
‘I’ll get my lawyer on to you!’ she said, the men ignoring her empty threat as they moved around the lounge room, pointing at various pieces of furniture, sticking numbers on them and ticking off their list.
At that moment Chas let out a bellow from his high chair. ‘Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!’
‘Hang on, sweetie,’ she said, rushing into the kitchen in time to be on the receiving end of a rather accurate throw as her angelic son lobbed a glob of cereal at her forehead.
‘Damn it,’ she said, running a wash-cloth under the tap and dabbing at the mess while Chas sent her a wide toothy grin, echoing, ‘Dam-dam-dam-dam.’
‘Cheeky boy.’
She swung him up in her arms and nuzzled him, blocking out the sounds of furniture being dragged in the other room and not caring when his sticky fingers clamped on to her neck.
So Joe hadn’t owned any of his awful furniture? Big deal. She’d grown up in a house with a saggy old sofa and a few crates for tables, with a bed sporting rusty springs that dug into her back every night for ten years. As long as they had a roof over their heads, she and Chas could make do.
‘Miss Edison?’
Her head snapped up as another man stuck his head around the door, a slick type in an ill-fitting suit who seemed at odds with the other two. ‘Who are you?’
She wasn’t usually so rude but with the Dodgy brothers emptying her house in the next room, her patience was at an all-time low.
‘I’m here on behalf of Drake Sams. They own this apartment and would like it vacated. You have a week to comply.’
If she’d gaped at the burly guy repossessing her furniture, her jaw fairly dropped this time around.
‘It’s all set out here. Have a good day.’
With that, the slime-bal
l scuttled out the door, leaving her with a whimpering baby—Chas always tuned in to her moods—and an eviction notice.
She stared at the piece of paper lying on the bench top, the tiny typed words floating in front of her eyes and not making an ounce of sense.
She should’ve known.
Her life with Joe had been a sham.
His love hadn’t been real, his promise to marry her hadn’t been real, and now it looked as if the very walls which had housed their false life would vanish like the rest of her dreams.
Suddenly her knees shook and she plopped into the nearest chair before Steptoe and Son pulled it out from under her. Chas chose that moment to set up a hearty wail which pierced her heart as well as her eardrums and she cuddled him close, biting on her bottom lip so hard that she drew blood, determined not to blubber.
Of course, Riley chose that moment to stride into her kitchen, looking like a GQ model in his designer pinstripe suit and slightly ruffled hair. The faintest shadow of stubble on his jaw lent the perfect picture a minor flaw and served more to accentuate his appeal than diminish it.
‘What’s going on here?’
He crossed the kitchen in three short strides and squatted down next to her, reaching out as if to touch her before thinking better of it and resting his hand on the back of the chair.
At least Chas instantly quietened, hiding his head in the crook of her neck where he could take regular peeps at his uncle from a safe distance.
‘What does it look like?’ She lifted her head to look him straight in the eye, determined not to let him see her cowering and defeated.
After their confrontation last night, she didn’t need whatever he was here to offer, no matter how desperate her situation. ‘All our stuff is being taken away.’ She clicked her fingers under his nose. ‘Oh, and we’re being evicted for good measure.’
Rather than expressing shock as she’d expected, Riley shook his head. ‘I’d hoped to be the one to break it to you,’ he said, sending a pitying glance at Chas that had her palm itching to slap him.
‘You knew about this?’
‘I just found out and came straight here.’
‘Oh.’
Her anger deflated quickly. No use taking her fury out on Riley. He wasn’t the one who’d built a life of false promises around her only to tear it all down.
‘Is there anything else I should know?’ she asked, needing to hear all of it before marshalling her thoughts into some semblance of a plan.
The tiny furrow between Riley’s brows deepened. ‘Apart from the car, which is yours, Joe didn’t own a thing. He had no money, no portfolio and no real estate holdings.’
‘Figures,’ she said, rueing the day she ever set eyes on Joe Bourke.
Ironically, she’d seen Riley first on that fateful night, drawn to the tall, imposing guy in a tux standing near the band, away from the hullabaloo, watching the rowdy crowd get rowdier. He was impossibly good looking with his dark hair, blue eyes, strong cheekbones and chiselled jaw. However, the thing that had captured her attention was the glass in his hand, containing the same non-alcoholic lemon, lime and bitters drink as hers.
In a crowd of beer-swilling, Scotch-loaded men, he’d stood out like a prize-winning stallion among a bunch of second-string geldings, though she’d quickly banished that imagery from her mind as his gaze had un-erringly locked on hers, setting her heart thumping.
She’d looked away quickly, embarrassed to be caught staring, only to find her attention drawn back to him, her cheeks flushing as he’d inclined his head slightly to acknowledge her, a smile playing about his mouth.
And then Joe had appeared, shattering the strangely intimate moment, saying something to Riley before turning to look in her direction.
The rest had been history.
Joe had dazzled her with sexy smiles, fancy words and smooth compliments, stoking her ego, feeding her every bit of affection she’d ever craved and she’d fallen. Hard.
The loaded moment with Riley had faded into oblivion under the onslaught of Joe’s seduction and she fell in love for the first time.
For the last time, thanks to the bitter experience. The only guy she would ever truly love in this lifetime was Chas. As if sensing her emotion, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and rubbed it over his face, murmuring to himself contentedly.
‘I love you too, sweetie,’ she said, kissing his soft, plump cheek before returning her focus to Riley.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Darned if I know,’ she muttered, wishing she could bury her face in Chas’s chubby arms and block out the world till it became a better place to live in.
Riley hesitated, as if searching for the right words and after the way she’d told him to stick his offer of financial support the night before, she wasn’t surprised.
‘Thankfully, I didn’t wear a jumper today. At the risk of being told where to put my offer, I’d like to say that I’m willing to help out in whatever capacity you want,’he said, his wry smile having the strangest effect on her stomach.
It flip-flopped, though that probably had more to do with the fact she hadn’t had any breakfast yet in all the confusion. It certainly wasn’t a bizarre reaction to the power punch packed by his smile.
She could’ve apologised for her outburst last night but she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. His idea that he could only offer financial support appalled her—still did. However, she had no idea how long she could live off her measly wage and continue to pay her mum’s bills at the home so she swallowed her pride and aimed for polite.
‘I should be right for now, but thanks. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.’
Yeah, like when pigs are allowed to run in the Melbourne Cup.
He nodded, satisfied with her answer, and straightened. ‘Good. How long do you have till you move out?’
‘A week.’
His frown deepened and she jumped in, pre-empting an offer for housing or worse, to stay with him. ‘But hey, at least I won’t have to pay removal costs.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I’ll find a place,’ she said, getting up and swinging Chas on to her right hip, determined not to have this conversation.
She had a load of things to do, including finding a place to live, and wasn’t in the mood to face another interrogation, no matter how kind his intentions.
‘Uh-huh.’
The dubious look he sent her clearly spoke volumes about his opinion of her house-hunting abilities.
‘Look, thanks for dropping by to let me know what’s going on. I appreciate it but right now I have to get ready for work.’
‘You’re going to work today?’
He appeared shocked, obviously finding the thought of her returning to work the day after his brother’s funeral appalling. However, before she could jump down his throat, he followed up with, ‘I’m sorry about all this.’
He spoke quietly and, though the words had been an afterthought, she didn’t doubt his sincerity.
‘Thanks,’ she said, reaching out and giving his hand a quick squeeze, surprised when he turned his hand over and gripped hers, his warmth infusing her with a powerful strength that had her wanting to hold on for ever and never let go.
She looked down at their intertwined hands and all but yanked her hand out of his, shocked at how right it felt, scared that a man she hardly knew suddenly held more than the faintest attraction for her. And he was Joe’s brother!
She was sick. Deranged. Every bit as bad as that woman at the funeral had labelled her and she had to get away from him, fast.
‘I really have to rush,’ she mumbled, feeling heat surge into her cheeks, knowing she must look like a blushing freak but helpless to do anything about it.
‘Ring me if you need me, okay?’
‘Yeah.’
She avoided his eyes, turning her back to gain precious seconds to reassemble her wits, silently praying he’d be gone by the time she turned around.
Howe
ver, as she heard his footsteps recede, it wasn’t relief that flooded her body but a strange feeling of loss.
CHAPTER FOUR
FINDING A NEW place to live proved to be the least stressful activity Maya faced all week. Compared with the confrontation with Joe the night he died, his death, the funeral, having almost everything she owned repossessed, being kicked out on the street and Riley’s dogooder ways, moving into the tiny brick terrace house in Flemington was child’s play.
Speaking of which, Chas chose this week to cut a new tooth too, ensuring two sleepless nights, constant grizzles and a low grade fever which had her reaching for the thermometer constantly.
One heck of a week.
But thankfully, as it drew to a close, she actually looked forward to the weekend. She should be grieving, pining for the love of her life, but her emotional estrangement from Joe had happened so long ago. The strange feeling of relief which had permeated her grief at the funeral had continued. She didn’t miss him. Sad but true.
Shaking her head to clear the gloomy memories, she led Material Girl, her favourite thoroughbred, towards the stalls. The faint sound of a child’s cry carried on the brisk morning breeze and she turned her head towards the main house where a nanny looked after Chas along with the Gould children, hoping her darling boy was behaving himself.
In reality, pretty much a single mum from the time of Chas’s birth, she hadn’t believed her luck when Brett Gould, her boss, had offered a place for Chas alongside his own kids up at the big house. There had been no question of her giving up work: she loved her job too much and Brett said she was the best strapper he had, he’d ever had.
Besides, Material Girl wouldn’t run in a straight line unless Maya was around. Seeing as the mare was Brett’s number one hope for the Melbourne Cup this year, Maya’d had little choice. He’d offered her a rise, child-care and a huge tip if the horse won the Cup. How could she have refused?
Working had ensured some freedom from Joe and, thankfully, she’d saved enough to place a bond on the place she’d just rented. Her mind refused to contemplate what would’ve happened if she’d solely depended on Joe; right now, she’d be out on the street.
Or forced to accept Riley’s charity— something she definitely didn’t want to do. The less time she spent in that guy’s presence, the better.