“Devon ...” She just stood there staring at him like she pitied him, or like he was stupid to believe his father could have done one good thing in his life.
“What happened to your mother was horrible,” he said. “I’d do anything to make it right.”
“You can make it right, in a way. For other people who are suffering.”
“Charles looked into thousands of denied claims. He compensated those who were wrongfully denied.”
“Maybe a few of them.” Jenna’s eyes filled with tears, but her lips tightened. “Devon, these people deserve to be heard. You have the chance to hear them tonight, if you’re willing to take it.”
“Tonight?” he asked, his voice raising. “Was this a trap or something?”
“How could it be a trap? You invited yourself. Tonight just happens to be the monthly meeting of our support group. It’s here in about an hour. You’re welcome to stay or go as you please.”
Devon folded his arms across his chest. He wanted to walk away, tell her what she could do with her accusations and her set-ups. Why was he trying so hard to appease her when she was never going to believe him?
Chapter 15
Jenna
Devon stood stiffly, with his arms crossed. His eyes were narrow, his jaw clenched. He thought she’d set him up. Maybe she had. She’d told the truth, the meeting was always on the third Thursday of the month. It just wasn’t her turn to host. She’d offered when she found out he was coming.
She stared right back, even though guilt jabbed at her chest when she saw the hurt in his eyes. It was hiding somewhere behind the irritation, but it was there. Devon had been so generous to her mother, going way above and beyond what was required. He’d accepted her patronizing trip to the soup kitchen with a commendable attitude, and he’d eagerly listened to all of her suggestions about the charities. She really believed that he wanted to do good in the world. But he was still turning a blind eye to the harm TrueLife was doing. Her mother was getting the help she needed, but so many others weren’t. She couldn’t abandon the people who had supported her and her mother for years. Not if she could do something.
Finally Devon sighed and dropped his arms. “A somewhat-wise man once told me that I had to let people know I was listening. I guess the least I can do is actually listen.”
She exhaled, relief flooding through her. She’d been waiting for years for someone to listen—really listen. Without even thinking she threw her arms around Devon. He pulled her in close and held her there. She breathed in the scent of his cologne, remembering the last time they were this close. She’d craved the taste of his kiss more than once since then, but that was an indulgence she couldn’t allow herself again. Things were too complicated, and besides, Devon probably didn’t want her near him at the moment.
“Sorry.” She stepped back suddenly, wiping the corner of her eye. “Maybe we can disguise you. You can tell them you’re a rep or something.”
“I’m not going to hide,” he said firmly.
“But you know they hate you,” she said quietly. “I mean, they really, really hate you. Like, your picture is taped to their dartboards and they spit on the ground when they hear your name, that kind of thing.”
He gave an exaggerated grimace, scrubbing his five o’clock shadow with his fingers. “So can we do this someplace with bulletproof glass? I could sit in my car with the window cracked.”
“No one’s going to kill you.” She paused. “Of course no one’s going to kill you. Hopefully they’ll feel like me, thrilled that someone is finally acknowledging that they exist.”
“Just in case, do you mind if I finish cooking dinner?”
“Of course.”
“Even if you’re about to lead me to the slaughter, you should know there’s no one I’d rather have my final meal with.”
He gave her that charming smile, but Jenna had a hard time believing he wasn’t kicking himself for coming over. The truth was, she enjoyed spending time with Devon. His warm brown eyes still pulled her in, just like the first time she’d met him, and she couldn’t get too close without wanting a repeat of that kiss in the alley. The memory of it sent tingles clear through her. If the circumstances were different, there was no way she could resist the charms of a man who was not only very attractive, but lit up like a Christmas tree at the thought of helping other people, and really had come into her life and transformed it like some kind of Prince Charming.
She never dreamed she’d have anything in common with a man who’d had everything he ever wanted easily within his reach—almost everything. It was obvious that material things were never a substitution for his father’s presence or acceptance.
Devon turned around, hurriedly adding the chicken to the bubbling sauce and stirring it in. Jenna watched his movements, smooth and sure. He seemed at ease in the kitchen, perhaps ignoring the fact that an angry mob might be staring him in the face in an hour’s time.
Jenna backed out of the kitchen and hurried down the hall to her mom’s room. Anita looked up, placing her book on the nightstand.
“I think dinner’s about ready,” Jenna said. She went over to a window and peeked out. “So do you really like it here? The trailer park was so colorful and this place is so ...”
“Boring?” Anita laughed. “At first I thought so, but I’ve done a little people watching. The couple across the street were separated, but he’s been trying to win her back. You should see the crazy things he’s doing, and I think it’s working.” She pointed to another house. “The man that lives there dresses in a suit and tie and heads to his car at exactly the same time every day. But look at his hedges.”
Jenna looked. They were shaped into strange and imaginative shapes, in sharp contrast to the bland brown house that didn’t stand out in any way.
“You should see him trim them on the weekends. I think deep down inside he’s an artist. Turns out people are people. Sure, some hide their eccentricities better than others, but if you look carefully, everybody’s got something crazy going on. Everybody’s more than they seem, oftentimes in a good way.”
Jenna laughed. “I think maybe you’ve been reading too many books.” She glanced at the book on the nightstand. “Speaking of books, did you get to the ending?”
“I got to the good part, at least. It’s a cozy mystery with some romance on the side. Just my cup of tea. I always was a romantic.” She winked. “Speaking of, what do you think of Devon?”
Jenna sighed. “I’ll admit he’s not what I expected. But this isn’t a book, where a strong-willed heroine falls in love with the soft-hearted billionaire. We can’t just put everything behind us and have a happily ever after.”
“Why not? You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.”
“Well, for starters, after what I just did he probably can’t stand the sight of me.”
Anita shrugged. “Maybe you’re not giving him enough credit. He might be tougher than you think. And it looks like he knows a really good thing when he sees it.”
“Really, Mom? You, of all people—”
“I, of all people, know that life’s too short to let opportunities pass you by. Live while you can. Whether that means giving a sexy billionaire a chance—”
“Mom!”
She pulled herself out of bed and walked toward Jenna. “Whether it means that or something else, I don’t care.” She put her hands on Jenna’s cheeks, her eyes filling with tears. “I saw you miss out on life for too long, all for me. This young man hasn’t just given me a chance to live. He’s given one to you, too. Now, I’m not saying you owe him anything. Just use this second chance. Do what makes you happy.”
Jenna gave her mom a hug, feeling a lump in her throat. “I will. As soon as I figure out what that is.”
Chapter 16
Devon
“That was like eating at a fancy restaurant. William liked Indian food and we used to go once in a while.” Anita’s eyes smiled as she remembered.
Jenna leaned back in her
chair. “I wish I could eat it all over again, but I’m too full. It’s too bad you weren’t able to open your restaurant. This city doesn’t know what it’s missing.”
Devon stood and gathered the empty plates, warm inside out from the compliments as much as the spices. He turned on the faucet and started rinsing dishes. If only he could walk away from the company and open his own restaurant. Would Jenna have a change of heart then? He frowned, scraping harder at a patch of dried sauce. What good did it do to think about that? If he walked away, no one at TrueLife would care about the hungry, or helping people buy their first home or get an education. He’d be giving up the chance to make a difference, and surely Jenna wouldn’t be impressed by that. It seemed that no matter what he did, she would resent him for it. He’d resent himself.
The doorbell rang, and the remaining magic the curry and garam masala had woven dissolved in an instant. It was a spell that had made them forget their differences as they ate good food and laughed together. Food had a way of doing that. It was one reason Devon liked cooking so much.
Jenna hurried out of her chair to answer the door. Glancing up, Devon recognized the woman who walked in. He’d met her at the thrift shop. Curiosity stirred inside of him, but he didn’t have to wait long for answers.
“Devon, you remember Mrs. Bevins,” Jenna said.
He dried his hands on a dish towel and hurried out of the kitchen to shake her hand.
“How could I forget a woman with such discerning taste? I still have the hat you picked out.”
The old woman beamed.
“Mrs. Bevins is here because her grandson has diabetes, and they struggle to get the care they need. Her family has been through a lot.”
Devon frowned, searching for an adequate response. “I’m sorry to hear that. Whatever is going on with your grandson ends tonight, one way or another. I’ll make sure he gets the care he needs.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she threw her arms around him. “I could tell you were a nice young man.”
Devon glanced at Jenna, giving her a cocky smile. Would they all be this easy to please? Jenna didn’t look particularly moved, but at least he’d at least have one person taking his side if the lynch mob came for him.
The doorbell rang again. A young woman walked in carrying a purse with a thin, pale child printed on the front. She was followed by a middle-aged couple with worry lines etched into their faces, and a tall, balding man. Jenna skipped the introductions, encouraging everyone to take a seat instead. Devon wondered how these people would react when they found out who he was. Luckily the seating went in his favor, with Mrs. Bevins on his right and Jenna and Anita on his left. Maybe Jenna wasn’t on his side, exactly, but she hadn’t violently attacked him so far, and she’d had ample opportunities.
“It looks like we’re a few short tonight, but let’s get started,” Jenna said. “You may have noticed we have a guest tonight.”
The way the group studied him all the way down to his Italian leather shoes made him all too aware of who he was and how much he didn’t belong there. But although they looked curious, their eyes held sympathy as well.
“You’re welcome here” the young woman said. “We share everything, frustration, pain. Don’t be afraid to share yours.”
Devon swallowed. He wanted to shrink back in his chair, but he straightened instead, clearing his throat. “Actually, my name is Devon Ward.”
The mood in the room changed, the way a midwestern sky turns an eerie green before a storm hits. The group stiffened, and their eyes grew hard.
“So this is the man responsible for my insurance claim being denied?” The young woman held out her purse, pointing to the little girl on the front. “Your company said her chemotherapy was experimental! Now we owe tens of thousands of dollars that we can’t pay.” She roughly wiped a tear from her eye. “I spend countless hours fighting the denied claim, time I could be spending with my daughter.”
Devon’s chest tightened as he looked at the picture, and the pain on the young mother’s face. He opened his mouth, but before he could respond the tall man cut in.
“I could get a part-time job with the amount of time I spend filling out forms. You deny my claim, I call, they say they didn’t get the form but they’ll take care of it, they send another form. It’s an endless cycle to put off paying up.”
Charles was always telling Devon that dissatisfaction with their company was either the result of an unfortunate mistake, or from people trying to get coverage for ridiculous things. These people didn’t look dishonest. Why would they have a monthly support group if they were? But he didn’t believe TrueLife would put them through the wringer like that, either. Devon leaned forward. “I can assure you—”
“My wife’s doctor did test after test to try to figure out what was wrong with her.” The man across from Devon grabbed his wife’s hand, giving her a loving, pain-filled glance that quickly dissolved when he looked back at Devon. “We were told we owed thousands of dollars because those tests were not medically necessary. We already have a second mortgage out on our house. How are we supposed to pay those bills?”
“Everyone slow down.” Jenna waved her arms, shooting Devon a sympathetic look. “I know you’re eager to be heard, but he can’t listen to everyone at once.”
Devon opened his mouth to speak again, even though he wasn’t sure what to say. He was in over his head. He’d jumped into a business he knew little about, hoping he could get by with minimal involvement. But he was beginning to understand that attending mandatory parties and doing just enough to keep Charles and his mother happy wasn’t going to cut it. And throwing money at charities with Jenna was a lot of fun, but nothing he’d done had prepared him to look this group of grieving, angry people in the face.
“What about you?” His voice was quiet and rough as he looked at Mrs. Bevins. “Why are you here?”
She frowned, and her watery eyes made Devon’s heart ache. “My grandson has diabetes. Out of the blue they denied a claim for his insulin pump. When my daughter called they said they didn’t have the right form from his endocrinologist. By the time all of it was sorted out he’d already ended up in the hospital. Now my daughter has to pay all of those bills.” She sighed. “It’s not the first time they’ve had to jump through hoops.”
Mrs. Bevins smiled, glancing at the others. “Mr. Ward said he was going to take care of everything. Are you going to help all of us?” She looked at Devon hopefully.
The balding man grunted. “Why would he care? He’s healthy, and he has enough money for a team of doctors if he so much as twists his ankle.”
“I recently had the president of TrueLife personally look into several denied claims,” Devon said. “He informed me that there was an issue with one of our employees, and that the situation had been dealt with.” Devon knew how lame it sounded. He knew it wouldn’t cut it. But it was the only explanation he had at the moment.
The young woman made a disgusted sound, like something was stuck in her throat.
“I have no reason to believe TrueLife has responded to claims in a dishonest manner,” Devon continued.
The group all started talking at once again, their voices growing louder by the second. A couple of them stood up, stepping toward Devon. “What about us?” The balding man asked. “We’re still here. We haven’t been dealt with.”
Devon stood, holding his hands out. “I fully intend to look into each and every one of your claims myself. But it won’t be necessary, because I intend to pay every one of your medical bills down to the last cent.”
The group quieted, but their eyes were narrow with distrust.
“Why would you do that? After your company has ignored our pain for years?” the young mother asked.
Devon sighed, knowing nothing he could say would alleviate those years of suffering and stress. “My father always said that TrueLife was created to bring relief to the suffering, and peace of mind to their families.” He felt the words fall flat, like stale bread sti
cking to his tongue. Jenna looked away from him, disappointment on her face. “Now that I’ve taken his place I want to make sure those words continue to ring true,” he said.
Devon undid a button on his shirt, wishing he could untuck it and let some air in. The room felt smaller, more crowded, stuffy. He had to get out. Dropping his head, he went for the door. “I’ll be in touch with each of you,” he said before opening it.
Before it closed behind him, Jenna was there, standing behind him. “That’s it?”
Devon pinched between his brows with his thumb and forefinger. “What do you mean, that’s it? I made their problems go away. Was there something I missed?” He tried to ignore the churning of his gut that told him he already knew the answer.
“You threw money at them,” she said, her voice tight. “Don’t get me wrong, they need the money. You relieved the suffering of those people. But they’re only a few out of who knows how many.”
“I can’t fix everyone’s problems,” Devon said.
“You’re the head of the company. There’s a lot you could do if you decided to be honest with yourself.” She stepped closer, and the sympathy he didn’t want to see anymore had returned to her face. “I know you want to believe that your father created something good, for other people if not for you. But you can do something to honor your family name.”
He grabbed his car keys, letting them bite into his palms. Did she think she was some kind of family therapist now? “Why is it never enough for you?” he snarled.
“Why is it enough for you?” Disappointment filled her face again. It seemed that he was destined to disappoint people for the rest of his life.
“Please just tell me what you want from me,” he said.
She shook her head, and pain flashed through her eyes. “I don’t want anything from you. I’m done.”
The words were like a cleaver to the chest, but he wasn’t going to stand there and let her see him hurt. Devon spun on his heel and walked away.
Battling the Billionaire Page 9