Billionaire's Pursuit of Love: Destiny Romance

by Jennifer St George

  ‘I didn’t know what I was going to do. I . . .’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I didn’t know I’d see you again. I wasn’t prepared . . .’ She dropped her hands. ‘I was advised . . . I never thought I’d see you again.’

  ‘And how hard did you look?’ Fury fuelled his ice-cold words.

  ‘We can’t do this in front of him.’ Sarah’s pleading voice stole some of the anger from his body. Blake looked over at Daniel. The boy flicked furtive glances in their direction. Blake losing his temper was helping no one. This was his family, not some corporate negotiation.

  Blake dropped his claim on Sarah’s arm. ‘You’re right.’

  He walked over to his son. Sarah shadowed him.

  ‘Daniel, would it be okay if I tagged along with you and your mum?’ Blake dropped down on the couch next to his son. He noticed again the appalling quality of the hotel. How could Sarah bring his son to such a dump? ‘I’ve got the day off work today and I haven’t been sightseeing in such a long time.’

  Daniel looked at his mother for permission.

  ‘Your mum thinks it’s a great idea,’ Blake said. ‘Don’t you, Sarah?’

  ‘Ah . . .’

  He threw her the look he saved for people who crossed him. Guilt nudged his heart at the anxiety that played across her features. Why the hell should he feel guilty? Keeping a son from his father was an unforgivable crime.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice stripped of the brash fight of yesterday.

  ‘Great,’ Blake said. ‘Let’s get going. Where to? I know lots of great places.’

  ‘We’re going to Madame Tussauds first,’ Daniel ventured.

  ‘Excellent. I haven’t been there since I was your age.’

  Perfect. An action-packed day would keep Sarah off guard. He had a plan and just enough time for its execution.

  Blake walked through the maze of surreal wax figures. The jarring colours and bright lights of Madame Tussauds did nothing to sort out his mixed-up mood. His son zigzagged excitedly from one famous immortalised icon to the next. He couldn’t take his eyes from the child, who possessed a patchwork of his own features. The irony of the situation was almost comical. Being surrounded by copies of famous people as he followed himself in miniature. But comical certainly wasn’t at the top of his emotional checklist.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Daniel asked, standing in front of Lady Gaga. ‘Why does she have a telephone on her head?’

  He shot a questioning glance at his mother, who had her arm draped protectively over Daniel’s shoulder. She risked a look in Blake’s direction. The expression she found had her looking quickly back at the famous songstress.

  ‘That’s Lady Gaga,’ Blake said. How could any child not know Lady Gaga? You knew who she was even if you thought she was ridiculous. Daniel hadn’t known any of the movie stars or sports heroes either. ‘She was the top-selling pop star for a while.’

  ‘She looks stupid,’ Daniel said.

  Blake laughed. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  Daniel dashed ahead.

  ‘He doesn’t know who Lady Gaga is?’

  ‘Why is it important to know who she is?’ Sarah asked and moved to follow her son.

  Blake caught her hand. ‘How much else doesn’t he know?’

  ‘He knows what’s important.’

  Sarah joined Daniel, who stared at Beyoncé in a skimpy black outfit.

  Blake watched mother and son. The bond between them was obvious and strong. But he was nothing to his son. Daniel didn’t even know he had a father. Or was there another man filling that role? The desire to break something, destroy something, mangle something fired through his blood. He glimpsed Wolverine in the distance. The way he was feeling now he could take out the action hero, regardless of the long steel claws.

  He shook his head. This wasn’t helping. He needed to calm down. He needed to concentrate. He needed a strategy. He didn’t know his son or anything about his son’s life, and Sarah was the current expert.

  He looked away, his mood coiling tighter. He wasn’t used to consulting others.

  Sarah and Daniel drifted into the cultural and royal section. Daniel read each plaque and peppered his mother with questions.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Daniel asked, pointing.

  Blake moved in next to his son. ‘That’s Usain Bolt. The fastest man on earth. Didn’t you watch the Olympics?’

  ‘No.’ Daniel read the plaque next to the history-making runner. ‘We don’t have a TV.’

  ‘You couldn’t catch the highlights online?’

  ‘No, our computer’s not hooked up to the internet.’

  Blake’s incredulity spread again like ants from a disturbed nest. He was the CEO of one of the world’s leading computer game companies and his own son wasn’t even connected to the internet.

  ‘What about at school?’

  ‘I’m homeschooled. We’re too far from the closest school.’

  ‘Don’t you miss —’

  ‘Blake, why don’t you help us decide where to go next. The Tower or the London Eye?’ Sarah interjected. ‘We only have a few hours left before we need to get back to the hotel and pick up our bags.’

  He eyeballed the woman who’d denied him nine years of paternal happiness.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, as lightly as his charcoal mood allowed. ‘The Tower, definitely. You could come back to my place afterwards if you want to see a great view over London.’

  ‘Thanks for the offer.’ Sarah’s voice was tighter than the lycra worn by one of the featured British runners. ‘But we won’t have time.’

  Blake’s phone buzzed. ‘Excuse me a minute.’ He walked to a quiet spot next to the tennis legend Rafael Nadal. The sharp concentration on the sportsman’s face reminded him to keep his cool.

  ‘Where are you?’ Tom, the Head of Hunt-F Tech’s Special Projects Unit sounded worried.

  ‘Sorry, Tom. I’ve been held up.’

  ‘When will you get here? I need your decision on the processor.’

  ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. Something urgent’s come up.’

  ‘More urgent than Project Everest?’ The man whistled down the line.

  ‘Strip out as much of the intel as you can and send the details to my phone. I’ll make the decision from here,’ Blake said.

  ‘Are you sure everything’s okay?’ Tom asked.

  Blake understood Tom’s concern. Everest was the most important project in Hunt-F Tech’s history. The new game would take Hunt-F Tech from a top British firm to a major global player. Blake slapped a heavy beat on his thigh. The production deadline was incredibly tight and the project top-secret. Sending any aspect of the plan via mobile was a risk.

  ‘Just get it done.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  ‘Can you put me through to Linda?’ Blake walked out of the sports hall and found himself surrounded by world leaders. Barack Obama. Nelson Mandela. David Cameron. All had made tough and complicated decisions in their lives, but he doubted if any of them had ever given the instructions he now outlined to his PA. Linda didn’t ask questions. He knew his directions would be carried out efficiently.

  Blake ended the phone call. He noticed Daniel looking over at him, so he crossed to the boy’s side. Daniel looked down at the phone in his hand.

  ‘That’s a cool phone. Does it have games?’

  ‘It does,’ Blake exclaimed. ‘I can get you any game you like on this thing. What’s your favourite?’ He felt a stupid sense of pride handing over his phone.

  Daniel held the device but didn’t tap through the icons at lightning speed like most kids. Instead, he stared at the screen then turned the phone over and over in his hands. ‘I don’t have a favourite.’

  ‘Like them all?’ Maybe his son was like him.

  ‘Nope, don’t know any,’ he mumbled.

  Blake hoped he masked the shock that hit his face like a slap.

  Sarah took the phone from her son’s hand and passed it to Blake. ‘We’re not really into
computer games . . . all that stuff.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  A look of distress crossed Daniel’s face. Blake’s pulse tripped up a notch. Everything he did seemed to be wrong.

  ‘Daniel, check that out. You can be filmed over there,’ Blake said, pointing to an interactive display.

  ‘Awesome.’ Daniel ran off.

  Blake placed his hand on Sarah’s back and ushered her with gentle force towards Gandhi on the other side of the room. He hoped the image of the man of justice and peace would help him keep his composure. ‘Sorry, I’m finding it a little hard to keep my cool after finding out I have a son who’s nearly ten.’

  ‘Listen, when I get back to Brunei, we’ll work something out,’ Sarah said.

  Blake’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen. ‘I have to take this.’ He hammered the answer button.

  ‘What?’ Blake barked.

  ‘Henry’s here to report in,’ Tom said.

  Damn. He’d forgotten about the meeting with his private investigator.

  ‘Ask him if there’s anything urgent.’ Blake heard a muffled conversation.

  ‘Everest still appears safe. The competition seems to know all about the Penguin game.’

  ‘Good. Everest is all that matters. Thanks.’ He clicked off and found Sarah and Daniel in the superheroes room. Sarah quickly ushered her son towards the exit.

  ‘I think we can take it from here,’ she said, when he joined them.

  ‘So are we going to The Tower or the London Eye?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘You could queue for hours at both,’ Blake said.

  The childish joy slipped from Daniel’s face. All Blake seemed to be doing was delivering disappointment. He was failing fatherhood 101 on his first day.

  Sarah knelt next to her son. ‘We’ll go next time, darling.’

  ‘Just a minute,’ Blake said. This he could fix. Flicking through his contacts, he made a quick call. Blake felt the weight of Daniel’s expectation as heavily as the shareholders’ anticipation of the Hunt-F Tech’s annual financial results. After a few minutes of negotiation, he ended the call. ‘All organised. We have a private tour with a beefeater.’

  ‘What’s a beefeater?’ His son’s eyes glowed.

  ‘They’re the ceremonial guardians of The Tower,’ Blake said, leading them from the exhibition into the weak sunshine.

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Can I speak to you for a minute?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Sure,’ Blake said, pulling his wallet from his pocket. ‘Daniel, do you want to grab three ice-creams from over there?’

  Daniel hesitated, as if taking money and buying ice-cream somehow could be dangerous. ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure.’ He handed Daniel a twenty-pound note.

  Daniel looked at the money, glanced at his mother and ran off with a smile wider than a kid’s on Christmas morning.

  ‘What?’ Blake turned his hard gaze on Sarah.

  ‘This is not really how I do things with Daniel.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Queue-jumping . . . ice-cream.’

  ‘You object to ice-cream?’

  ‘I don’t want him to miss things when we go back home.’

  ‘Mum, Mum!’ Daniel walked back, balancing three enormous rainbow ice-creams. ‘You have to try this, it’s awesome.’

  Blake felt petty sending Sarah a smug look, but he had nothing else at the moment. Sarah had all the power. But that, of course, would change.

  ‘Please,’ Daniel pleaded. ‘I can almost see it from here.’

  Sarah glanced at her watch. ‘Darling, we won’t have time to go to the Eye.’ She sat next to Daniel on the grass in front of the imposing White Tower. The castle keep had been built to subdue and terrify Londoners and it still did a pretty good job of inspiring awe. She lifted her camera and captured another few shots.

  She had to admit they’d had a wonderful time at The Tower. The private tour Blake had organised had been conducted by the chief warder, who’d even shown them sections of the historic castle not open to the general public.

  Turning up her face to the sun, Sarah enjoyed the faint warmth that touched her cheeks. But even though the sky was the colour of a field of freshly flowering bluebells, a chill drifted up from the Thames. The cold fingers of air made the ominous history of The Tower suddenly all too real. The wisps of breeze hinted of ghosts, death and innocent lives lost. She shivered. Everything about the place had the feeling of doom.

  ‘You okay, Mum?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, standing and pulling her son to his feet. ‘It’s getting a little cool, that’s all.’

  She looked over at Blake, who stood nearby thanking the chief warder. She’d get back to their hotel and escape to the safety of Brunei. Then and only then could she work out how to manage the entry of Daniel’s father into their lives.

  A couple of The Tower’s famous ravens landed a few feet away. Although legend had it the ravens protected The Tower and Britain itself, the huge black birds gave her the creeps. ‘We really have to go.’

  The excited expectation disappeared from Daniel’s face. ‘Come on, Mum, we’ll be quick. The Eye only takes half an hour.’

  Sarah placed her arm around his shoulders. ‘We’ve seen so much today. The Tower. The waxworks,’ she said, walking them towards the exit. ‘You heard Blake before, the queue at the Eye will be awful. It’s time to get to the airport.’

  ‘I’ll call a taxi,’ Blake said, joining them.

  Sarah jumped at Blake’s abrupt presence. This place really rattled her nerves. ‘No, it’s okay. We’ll take the Underground.’

  At the exit, Sarah shot a few more images, taking advantage of the afternoon sunlight, brilliant on the medieval stonework of St Thomas’s Tower.

  ‘Would you like me to take that for you?’ Blake asked, reaching for her camera.

  She pulled back a little too discourteously. ‘No. Thanks.’ She placed the cap back on her general-purpose zoom lens. No one touched her camera.

  ‘Sorry. It looks heavy,’ Blake said.

  ‘I’m used to it.’

  ‘Photography’s a hobby?’ Blake asked.

  ‘Don’t call it that,’ Daniel piped up.

  ‘Oh?’ Blake said.

  ‘It’s her passion,’ Daniel said in a tone that mimicked his mother’s voice perfectly. Blake laughed so loud a small flock of ravens flew a short distance away and perched warily.

  ‘Looks like an expensive piece of equipment,’ Blake said.

  ‘One of our donors is a photographer. He sends me his old equipment whenever he updates his own.’

  Blake hailed a cab. ‘Let me take you back to your hotel. This’ll be faster than the Tube.’

  A taxi would be quicker. The sooner they were on their way to the airport, the sooner she could relax and think through this new complication in their lives. The cab pulled up and Blake spoke to the driver. He opened the door and they all piled in.

  ‘So, did you enjoy London?’ Blake asked his son.

  ‘Loved it.’ Daniel’s voice exuded tired exhilaration.

  ‘There’s a lot more to do.’

  ‘I know,’ Daniel sighed. ‘But we’re going home. One of our orangutans is very sick and I look after him.’

  ‘That’s no good,’ Blake said.

  Sarah stared out the window, enjoying the streetscape of historic buildings. But when the taxi turned down another street lined with mansions and glitzy shops, Sarah frowned. Her geography of London wasn’t good, but she was sure they were nowhere near their hotel. The taxi pulled over.

  ‘One Hyde Park,’ the cabby announced.

  Sarah looked up and down the street. Tourists, office workers and fashionistas packed the pavement. The tourists stood out in their sports shoes and sensible clothes, many of them laden with the famous green-and-gold Harrods shopping bags. The building in front of them sported sparkling chrome and glass, not one hundred years of city grime and poorly painted
graffiti.

  ‘This isn’t our hotel,’ she said. She didn’t leave her seat. Disquiet infiltrated her bloodstream.

  ‘This is my place. Come in for a minute. The view’s incredible. Right over Hyde Park,’ Blake said, opening the door and stepping out onto the footpath.

  ‘We need to keep going.’

  ‘I think it’d be best if you came up.’ To a child, his tone sounded like a regular invitation. To Sarah, his voice had a foreboding undercurrent. A tingle of fear edged into her heart.

  ‘Really, Blake, we can’t be late for the airport,’ she said, straining to keep her voice even.

  ‘No, come up.’ Blake pinned her with a look that said lack of cooperation was not an option.

  What harm could come of a quick visit? She was reading too much into it. After all, what could he do? Probably just wanted to show off his fancy apartment. ‘Only for a few minutes.’

  A uniformed man dressed in a top hat and smart red jacket opened the door with a black-leather-gloved hand.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Huntington-Fiennes.’ The doorman nodded and smiled.

  ‘Afternoon, George.’

  They walked through into the ritzy marble lobby. The vast space shimmered with a richness more startling than some of the royal buildings in Brunei. Thousands of leaf-shaped lights glittered above. Two highly polished steel sculptures stood to the left. They walked to the lifts on the lush oyster-coloured carpet. Spring flowers burst from dozens of vases dotted on occasional tables placed about the entrance. The space intimidated as much as it impressed.

  ‘Wow.’ Daniel turned around and around, marvelling at the opulence. ‘This is amazing.’

  And it was, but the lavishness only highlighted once again the gulf that existed between them. Sarah hoped they didn’t run into anyone who’d look her up and down with that what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here stare.

  Blake ushered them to the lifts. He stepped up to a panel on the wall and held still.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Security. The lifts work on iris recognition.’

  Sarah felt like she had a bit part in a sci-fi movie. Blake hit the button for the penthouse. Did this mean she couldn’t work the lifts if she wanted to leave? Sarah slid her damp palms down her jeans. The doors closed. She felt trapped. She’d had the same sense when they’d walked through the room at The Tower in which Anne Boleyn had been kept prisoner before her execution.