Behind the Billionaire's Guarded Heart

by Leah Ashton

She’d missed him.

  ‘What are you doing here, Hugh?’ she asked again, wariness in her tone.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said, capturing her gaze, ‘to apologise for my behaviour.’

  April took a deep breath, attempting to process what he was saying.

  Over the PA system, a call was made for all business class passengers to board.

  ‘Is that you?’ Hugh asked. ‘Because I’ll get on that plane if I need to. I can’t let you leave like this.’

  April shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I can only afford economy seats on my new income. I’ve got a few minutes.’

  ‘New income?’ he prompted.

  ‘Yes,’ she said dismissively. ‘I’m Chief Executive Officer of the Molyneux Foundation. It’s about time I took it seriously, I figure. Fortunately the board agreed.’ She paused. These details didn’t matter right now. ‘Hugh, what exactly are you apologising for?’

  ‘For overreacting,’ he said. ‘You may not have told me your name from the start, but now I know you were always the real April with me. I guess—’

  His gaze broke away from hers and drifted towards the pale, glossy floor.

  ‘I was upset, of course. I trusted you, and that was a big deal for me. When you told me your real name I felt like that trust was shattered. As if you’d been laughing at me the whole time—as if it had been a game.’

  ‘None of this was ever a game for me,’ she said quietly.

  Hugh was looking at her again now, searching her face. His lips curved upwards. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was the one with the rules—not you.’

  He was holding his phone in one hand, and he absently traced its edges with his thumb as he spoke.

  ‘I think maybe,’ he said, ‘I was looking for a reason to justify my lifelong stance on relationships. I’ve always hated the idea of being trapped within one, of being controlled by one. My mother’s hoarding began after my father left her, and I watched her search for love over and over. But she chose the wrong men and they left. That’s when she started keeping everything—surrounding herself with things while she was unable to keep the one thing she desperately wanted. Love.’

  He swallowed.

  ‘I didn’t want to be like her...to feel like her. All that pain...all that disappointment. It was all clutter to me, making life more difficult and more complicated. Without love I was in control of my life. And if I walked away from you then I’d be back in control. I would’ve been right all along.’

  Around them people were beginning to line up for the gate, responding to a call that April hadn’t heard, with her focus entirely on the man before her.

  ‘But of course,’ Hugh said, ‘it turns out I was wrong.’

  Finally April smiled. Until now she hadn’t dared to believe where this was heading.

  ‘This week I haven’t been in control. I’ve been a right mess, actually. Life hasn’t gone back to normal—or if it has it isn’t a “normal” that’s enough for me any more. Not even close. Not without you.’

  April closed her eyes.

  ‘April, I want to share my life with you.’

  Her eyes popped open and for a minute they stood in silence. Around them the terminal bustled. A small child dragging a bright yellow suitcase bumped into Hugh as he hurried past, sending Hugh a furtive glance in apology.

  Very late, April realised they were surrounded by a jostling crowd of people.

  ‘Are you okay Hugh?’ she asked, suddenly concerned. ‘With all these people?’

  ‘Seriously...?’ he said. ‘I can deal with any crowd when I’m with you.’

  But April saw the way he gritted his teeth as the passengers swarmed around them.

  ‘Nice try, Hugh,’ she said, grabbing his hand. ‘Very romantic. But we’re in the way, anyway.’

  She tugged him several metres away, so they stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the runway. The plane that would take April home to Perth sat waiting patiently.

  ‘April?’ he said.

  She readjusted her handbag on her shoulder, trying to work out what to say. Joy was bubbling up inside her now, and she was desperate to launch herself into Hugh’s arms. But instead she dropped his hand.

  ‘April?’ he prompted again, raw emotion in his eyes.

  ‘I want to share my life with you, too, Hugh,’ she said. A beat passed. ‘I think.’

  ‘You think?’

  April nodded. ‘In fact,’ she said, ‘I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you. But the thing is how can I be sure? We were together little more than a week.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said, with no hesitation.

  He loves me, April realised—and that realisation almost derailed her resolve.

  He meant it too. It was obvious in the way he was looking at her—as if right now nobody else in the world existed.

  It was an intoxicating sensation.

  ‘I’m not,’ she said firmly. ‘And I want so badly to believe that you are, but I won’t allow myself to. Not yet.’

  She registered, absently, the final call for her flight.

  ‘I was with one man for fifteen years, Hugh. I loved him and I thought he loved me. But I was wrong. Love is...complicated for me right now. I really don’t know what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t trust my judgement. I think I need time to work that out—to be just April for a while, and make sure that I’m not leaping from one relationship to another simply because being in a relationship is what I’m familiar with.’

  To Hugh’s credit, he seemed to take no offence at that.

  ‘So you just need time?’ he said. His gaze was determined.

  Ah, April realised. He was confident—not offended.

  She smiled.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She searched her brain for a time frame—for a number that felt right to her. ‘Six months.’

  He nodded immediately, and April would have loved him a little more just for that—if she’d been allowing love to enter the equation, of course.

  ‘Okay. I can work with that. Gives me enough time to sort out the house and work out any logistical issues.’

  April’s eyes widened. ‘Logistical issues?’

  He grinned. ‘So I’m ready to move, should you decide you still want me. You know I like to be prepared.’

  ‘You do,’ she said, and she was smiling now.

  ‘Are there any rules and regulations?’ he asked, teasing her, but he was serious too.

  God, there was so much of Hugh in that moment—his rigidity and sense of fun intersecting.

  ‘Of course,’ April said. ‘Loads. I’ll work them out and email them to you.’

  She knew he’d like that.

  ‘A question,’ he said, as they both heard April’s name being called over the PA and both flatly ignored it. ‘Are there rules about kissing?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ April said, ‘but they don’t start until I get on that plane.’

  And just like that he was kissing her. Her arms were tight behind his neck...his arms were an iron band around her body. It was a kiss that told of their week apart, of mistakes and regrets and hope and...

  Hugh broke their mouths apart to trail tiny kisses along her jaw to her ear.

  ‘I know I love you, April,’ he said, his words hot and husky and heartfelt.

  I love you too, April thought. But she wasn’t even close to ready to say the words.

  Instead she kissed him again.

  Then, when she heard her name being called one last time, she said goodbye.

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  APRIL’S BARE TOES mingled with the coarse beach sand, and she felt the January sun hot against her skin.

  Before her stood her sister Mila and h
er partner, Seb. Mila’s husband, Seb, actually—as of about thirty seconds ago. Her sister wore a bright red dress and the most beautiful smile as she stared up at the man April knew Mila had loved for most of her life.

  The sun just touched the edge of the blue horizon as the small group watched the celebrant say a final few words. The beach was otherwise deserted—the small, isolated cove surrounded by towering limestone cliffs, and with oversized granite rocks interrupting the white-tipped waves.

  It was a tiny wedding: just Mila and Seb; Seb’s parents; Irene Molyneux; Ivy and her husband, Angus; and their son, Nate.

  And April and Hugh.

  Hugh wrapped his arm around April and kissed her temple. She could feel his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

  The ceremony over, the group headed for picnic blankets laden with hors d’oeuvres and bottles of champagne. Candlelit lanterns dotted the space, waiting for dusk and the opportunity to flicker in the dark.

  April hung back and looked up at Hugh as the sun continued to descend beyond them.

  The last beach wedding she’d attended had been her own—to Evan. It had been in Bali, with hundreds of guests—so very different from the wedding they were attending today.

  But still today had triggered memories.

  Not of Evan, but of how she’d felt that day. Her joy and anticipation at marrying Evan. And her love for him.

  She had loved her ex-husband. On that day on that beach in Nusa Dua she had thought it impossible to love anybody more.

  But she’d been wrong.

  And on that night in London a year ago, at Heathrow Airport, she’d found it impossible to trust her judgement when it came to love. After months of berating herself for not realising that her husband hadn’t loved her, love had seemed to her like a complex, complicated and impossible concept. A concept she hadn’t yet been equipped to handle.

  And she’d been right. She had needed those six months. To heal after the end of her marriage. To establish herself in her new role at the Molyneux Foundation. And to live independently of both any man and of her fortune.

  She’d also needed the time to work through what she’d learnt while she’d lived in London about her life of excessive privilege and her ignorance of the reality of the world—despite all the charity events her socialite self had attended.

  Really, it had taken those six months to love herself again. To be proud of what she’d achieved and continued to achieve at the Molyneux Foundation. To let go of the shame of her years of excess.

  And to forgive herself for loving a man for fifteen years when he hadn’t loved her the same way.

  Because she’d realised that love existed even if it wasn’t returned. Her love for Evan had been valid, regardless of his feelings. And that love would remain important and special—a love she couldn’t regret.

  She’d also realised that love grown over a week could be even more powerful than love cultivated over half a lifetime. And that she could trust in that love. That she could believe in it and that it could be real and true.

  Her rules and regulations for Hugh regarding those six months had been simple: there was to be no contact.

  None at all.

  It had been hard, and it had felt impossible, but it had been necessary.

  Her week-old love for Hugh had been just as strong—stronger, actually—after all that time, when she’d woken on the morning of her six-month deadline to an email from Hugh.

  He was in Perth, and he would be having all-day breakfast at a café on Cottesloe Beach at lunchtime that day. He would love her to join him. If not he would continue his Australian holiday alone, and wish her well.

  And so she’d taken herself and her love for Hugh to breakfast.

  And his love had been waiting for her. No pressure, no expectations.

  ‘I love you,’ April said now, on this beach, as the setting sun painted the sky in reds and purples.

  ‘I love you too,’ Hugh said, and kissed her again.

  When they broke apart his gaze darted to the rapidly setting sun.

  ‘You’d better hurry with that photo,’ he pointed out. ‘The light is about to go.’

  April grinned. Hugh might not participate in any of her photos, but she now had his full support and understanding of the business of social media.

  Today she wore black South Sea pearl drop earrings, and a generous donation from the company that made them was awaiting after a suitably glamorous photo.

  She fished her phone out of her clutch and handed it to Hugh. A sea-breeze made the silk of her dress cling to her belly and her legs, and she fiddled with the fabric as she planned her pose. She needed to be careful—

  But then Hugh was standing beside her again, holding the phone aloft to take a selfie of them both.

  ‘Hugh...?’ she asked, confused.

  He grinned. ‘I figure a close-up might be easier. That wind doesn’t seem to realise you’ve got a bump to hide.’

  Only for a few more weeks. And at the moment her followers were more likely to think her a bit plumper than usual, not pregnant, but even so...

  ‘But with you?’

  Another smile. ‘It’s about time I become more than the “mysterious new boyfriend” people are talking about, don’t you think?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide, April. Not since I’ve met you.’

  And so, as the sun made the ocean glitter and the breeze cooled their summer-warm skin, Hugh took the photo. A photo of the two of them on a beach—and of the earrings, of course—but mostly of their love. For each other and for the baby they’d created together.

  It was a love that April knew was more real than any love she’d ever experienced. A love for the man she loved more than she’d thought possible, and a love for her that had taught her she would always be enough—and more—for the man she loved.

  Later, after the sun had set and they were sitting together on the beach in the candlelight, April posted the photo to her followers.

  There’s someone I’d like you to meet... #love #romance #happilyeverafter

  * * * * *

  If you really enjoyed this story, check out

  THE BILLIONAIRE FROM HER PAST

  by Leah Ashton. Available now!

  If you’re looking forward to another romance

  featuring a billionaire hero then you’ll love

  THEIR BABY SURPRISE by Katrina Cudmore.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  A MARRIAGE WORTH SAVING

  by Therese Beharrie

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  A Marriage Worth Saving

  by Therese Beharrie

  PROLOGUE

  JORDAN THOMAS COULDN’T take his eyes off his event planner.

  Well, he supposed he couldn’t exactly call her ‘his’ when his father had been the one to hire her. But since he had inherited his mother’s half of the vineyard—which he would have gladly traded to have her back—he figured his father’s decision went for the both of them.

  ‘Are you going to keep staring at her, or are you going to introduce yourself?’

  His father, Gregory, barely glanced at him as he said the words. The serious tone Greg had used would have alarmed anyone who didn’t know him—would have made him seem almost angry—but at twenty-seven years old Jordan knew the nuances of his father’s voice. Greg was baiting him.

  ‘I’m still thinking about it. I’m not sure I want to bother her an hour before the event,’ Jordan answered.

  When his father didn’t reply, he sighed.

  ‘Maybe you should call her over so that I can introduce myself, Dad.’

  His father nodded his approval. ‘Mila! Would you come over here for a second?’

  The minute she started walking towards them, Jordan’s heart raced. She was absolutely beautiful, he thought as he took in the perfectly designed features of her face. A small nose led to luscious lips, pink as a cherry blossom and which curved into a smile when she saw his father. The smile kicked his heart up another notch even though her brown eyes watched him carefully, surrounded by the fullest, darkest eyelashes he had ever seen.

  He wondered idly if they were like that with help from cosmetic enhancements, but something told him that everything about her was natural. She made him think of the fields where his grapes grew in the vineyard—of the vibrancy of their colours and the feeling of home he always felt looking at it.