The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption

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The Ruthless Billionaire’s Redemption Page 10

by Sandra Marton


  ‘Well, so what?’ Danielle said tersely. ‘Lee’s legs are fixed. You did all those things to them. What’s the—’

  Danielle stumbled to a halt as the implication of Bonet’s words became clear. But she didn’t want to believe it. Her eyes pleaded with him to tell her she was wrong. Instead, he nodded his head.

  ‘Oui, Mademoiselle Nichols, I am afraid that is correct. Your friend’s ankle and knee may no longer stand up under such stress.’

  Val frowned as she looked at the doctor. ‘I’m not into mind reading,’ she said impatiently. ‘Would somebody please tell me what’s going on here?’

  Danielle drew a ragged breath. ‘Lee…’ Her voice broke. ‘Lee’s not going to race any more. That’s right, isn’t it, Doctor?’

  Bonet sighed. ‘I am not God. But I am afraid that may be so.’

  ‘That’s crazy.’ Valerie snorted. ‘It’s crazy, I tell you. All he’s done is break an ankle and tear a something-or-other. People do worse all the time.’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘I am sorry, mademoiselle.’

  Valerie stared at him. ‘You don’t understand,’ she whispered after a moment. ‘He’s on the top. He’s the best.’

  Danielle put her hand on the other woman’s arm. ‘Never mind that now. We have to see to it he gets well. He needs—he needs…’

  Val drew herself together. ‘Yes. A month in the country and somebody to hold his hand. I told you, I heard it all.’ She turned towards the lift and stabbed the call button with her finger. ‘All right,’ she said briskly, ‘I’ll see to it. I’ll contact his manager and tell him he has to rent a cottage and hire a nurse.’

  Danielle stared at her. Surely Val had misunderstood.

  ‘He needs someone to help him, Val. Someone who cares. You said that you cared, you said—’

  ‘And he’ll have someone. Dr Bonet will help us hire a good nurse, won’t you, Doctor?’

  ‘Dammit, Val.’ Danielle’s voice rose. ‘He needs more than that. You can’t turn your back on him now.’

  ‘Just don’t get so wound up, Danni. I can’t babysit him. I can’t even stand the sight of blood—you know that.’ Val clenched her jaw. ‘Where is that damned lift?’ she muttered, stabbing at the button again. ‘And I have my job to consider. Barney—Mr Wexler—said he might consider me for a walk-on part. It’s not much, but…’ The door to the lift hissed open and she stepped quickly inside. ‘We’re leaving for Monaco in two days, Danni. You’d better come back to Ste Agathe tonight and get your things packed.’

  Danielle slumped back against the wall as the lift door closed. ‘She won’t help him,’ she said in disbelief. ‘My God, I knew she was self-centred, but…’

  The doctor smiled reassuringly. ‘Please, do not worry, mademoiselle. I have a friend who operates a very pleasant sanatorium in the mountains. Monsieur Bradford will have a private room and all the therapy his legs demand.’

  ‘Lee? In a sanatorium?’ She laughed sharply. ‘How are you going to get him there, Doctor? By tying him down and stuffing him into a cage?’

  Dr Bonet shuffled his feet. ‘He is angry and upset now. But in a day or so, when he is in a more reasonable frame of mind…’

  She drew in her breath, then let it out slowly. ‘He doesn’t need nursing care, does he? Professional care, I mean.’

  ‘He will need someone to see to it he exercises and eats properly, someone to try and improve his frame of mind…’ The surgeon’s eyes swept her face. ‘Ah, mademoiselle,’ he said softly, ‘I see what is in your heart. But it would not be wise. Your friend will be a very difficult patient.’

  ‘You just said he wouldn’t need professional care.’ Danielle lifted her chin resolutely. ‘I’m more than capable of changing a dressing or running a tub.’

  ‘Mademoiselle Nichols, why would you undertake such a responsibility?’

  Why? Yes—that was a good question. But she didn’t want to try and answer it. Not yet.

  Her eyes met Bonet’s. ‘It just—it just seems the right thing to do.’

  ‘My dear young woman, Monsieur Bradford’s greatest problem will not be a medical one, it will be a psychological one. He must come to terms with himself, and I suspect the cost of that will be high. Do you understand?’

  ‘I know it isn’t going to be easy for him. But—’

  ‘It would not be easy for you, either. It would take great strength on your part, Mademoiselle Nichols. I cannot emphasise how difficult a task this would be. Promise me you will think twice before committing yourself to such a scheme.’

  * * *

  She did think about it—and the more she thought, the more she knew she wanted to do it. All she had to do was convince Lee to agree with her.

  She wasn’t foolish enough to talk of nursing him back to health. Instead, she told him she had a proposition to make, one that would benefit the both of them. She wanted to go home, she said, her summer wasn’t working out very well.

  ‘Val and I haven’t been getting along. We don’t have much in common.’

  That, at least, was the truth. Lee looked at her, and for an instant the anger left his eyes.

  ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘I suppose you don’t.’ His face closed again, shadowed and cold. ‘What about your obligation to Wexler?’

  ‘Mr Wexler’s found a translator to replace the one who quit. He can do his job and mine with one hand tied behind his back, now that they’re leaving Ste Agathe for Monaco.’

  ‘Well, what’s any of this got to do with me?’

  Now came the hard part. ‘I thought we might help each other out,’ she said briskly. ‘I need a job.’

  ‘I thought you said you wanted to go home.’

  ‘That’s right. I do. But my plane ticket’s one of those discount things. It’s not good until the end of summer. So I thought—I thought you and I…’ Her courage almost failed her at the sudden glowering look in Lee’s eyes. ‘I thought we’d help each other out. You need someone to give you a hand the next few weeks and I need a job. Do you see what I’m getting at?’

  ‘No,’ he said bluntly, although she was sure he was lying. He knew, all right, he was just trying to force her to spell it out.

  ‘What I’m suggesting is that we combine forces. I don’t need a salary, just room and board. And you…’

  ‘…need a nurse. Did you and the sawbones work this out together?’

  ‘I’d be there to help out if you needed me,’ Danielle said, ignoring the challenge in his words. ‘I could drive you around, do your shopping—that kind of thing.’

  ‘Forget it. I’ll give you the money for another ticket.’

  ‘I’m not looking for a handout, Lee. If I want charity, I can get it elsewhere.’

  His teeth flashed in a cold parody of a smile. ‘I see,’ he said softly, ‘so you’re not a beggar.’

  ‘No, I’m not. That’s why I’m suggesting this arrangement. Maybe we can help each other.’

  ‘Maybe you have a thing for cripples.’

  His words made her wince, but she kept her composure. ‘I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe you just get off on being used.’

  She knew he was hurting, that it was the reason for his cruelty. But something in his caustic remark touched a raw nerve.

  ‘Maybe you just like being a bastard,’ she said before she could stop herself. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’

  For a second, a spark of light glowed in Lee’s eyes. ‘Don’t apologise,’ he said. ‘I deserved that.’ The glint faded as quickly as it had appeared, and he turned his face to the wall. ‘All right,’ he said. There was a terrible weariness in his voice. ‘Have it your way. What the hell—Bonet won’t cut me loose until he’s satisfied I’m going to get what he refers to as “proper care”, and that seems to come down to a sanatorium staffed by the Little Sisters of Mercy or you. Given that, what choice do I have?’

  Danielle felt her heart slam aga
inst her ribs. ‘I’ll take care of everything,’ she said, trying to sound calm. ‘I’ll find someplace quiet—it’s lovely in the mountains near Grasse, they say, and…’

  Lee turned towards her again, his eyes as emotionless as a shark’s. ‘Spare me the details. Just make it someplace the newshounds can’t find. I’m not about to let anybody see me like this.’ He clamped his teeth together, then reached to the bedside table, yanked open the top drawer, and pulled out a chequebook and pen. ‘Here,’ he said, scribbling his name furiously, ‘spend whatever you need. Arrange for a car, a house, a staff—whatever it takes to get me out of this place.’

  Danielle’s hand brushed his as she took the cheques. His skin was cool and dry, as if he had aged in the past weeks.

  ‘You won’t regret this, Lee, I promise.’

  The coldness of his stare silenced her. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ he said, and then he turned his back to her.

  * * *

  Valerie was incredulous when Danielle told her what she was going to do. ‘What kind of nonsense is this, Danni? I told you, we’ll get Lee a place to stay and a nurse, and—’

  ‘It’s all settled, Val. I’m not changing my mind.’

  Her cousin gaped at her, bewildered. ‘You can’t do this to me.’

  ‘I’m not “doing” anything to you. Lee needs someone to look after him.’

  ‘And what about me?’ Val’s voice rose stridently. ‘Barney doesn’t like his new translator very much. He keeps asking when you’ll be back. And—and he keeps reminding me that I fudged my credentials when he hired me.’

  Danielle smiled sympathetically. ‘I wish I could help you.’

  ‘You can. Just come to your senses.’ Val smiled. ‘After all, you’re my cousin. My favourite…’

  The old litany fell on Danielle’s ears like a chord played on an out of tune piano. ‘It won’t work this time,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Val.’

  The look of wide-eyed innocence slipped from Valerie’s face. ‘You’re as transparent as glass,’ she said coldly. ‘You’ve got a schoolgirl crush on Lee, that’s what this is all about.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ Danielle said quickly.

  The pretty face grew hard as stone. ‘Lee always did know how to make the most of his groupies—although I suppose that’s the wrong word to use now. You won’t have much competition, now that he’s a cripple.’

  Danielle caught her breath. ‘How can you call him that?’

  ‘You’d never have a chance if he were still a whole man. You and I both know that.’

  Danielle stared at her cousin. She’d had glimpses of the woman behind the pretty mask before, but she had never seen her as clearly as she did at this moment.

  ‘Think what you like, Val,’ she said softly. ‘I really don’t give a damn.’

  Val’s mouth dropped open. She looks like a fish, Danielle thought unkindly. I’ve really shocked her.

  The realisation brought a surprisingly fierce rush of pleasure.

  * * *

  The next days were a blur. The nurses taught her to change the dressing on Lee’s knee and to organise his medications. Dr Bonet recommended an estate agent who listened to Danielle in silence, then beamed and pulled a photograph from a stack on his desk.

  ‘La parfaite maisonnette,’ he said happily.

  It was hard to tell anything from the snapshot. The ‘perfect cottage’ was a dark smudge set within a darker blur.

  ‘Regardez,’ the agent said. ‘Des oliviers.’

  Olive trees. Well, that would be nice. Actually, all that mattered was that the cottage met the requirements she’d drawn up: there was, the agent assured her, a bedroom and toilet for Lee on the ground floor as well as similar accommodations for her on the upper level, there were wide French doors that would accommodate Lee’s wheelchair, and it was far enough from any city to ensure his privacy.

  She sighed the lease agreement on the spot and hurried back to the hospital with the blurred photo in her pocket.

  Lee refused even to look at it, just as he had refused to be drawn into any of the planning.

  ‘Do as you like,’ he said each time she sought his opinion. ‘I don’t care, one way or the other.’

  But Danielle sensed that wasn’t entirely true. She had the feeling he was weighing each action she took, waiting for her plans to collapse in ruins.

  He was silent as a male orderly helped him into the car the day he was discharged from the hospital, and he remained silent as Danielle pulled away from the kerb. His back was rigid as he sat beside her, his legs—one in a cast, the other fitted out with a metal brace—stretched beneath the dashboard.

  ‘Well,’ she said brightly, ‘here we go. I hope there won’t be much traffic on the autoroute.’

  Lee didn’t answer.

  ‘I have a map there, on the dash. The estate agent marked the route for us—I thought you might—’

  ‘I’m sure you’re capable of finding the way.’

  It was the last thing he said for the next hour and a half. By then, her hands were sweating with tension.

  She hadn’t really expected to feel as if they were setting out on a holiday. But she’d let herself hope Lee might loosen up a little as they left the hospital and then the city behind them. The rolling countryside was beautiful, dotted with small farms and vineyards. The air was clean and fresh, and the sun was sweet on the land.

  But Lee didn’t react to any of it. He sat staring out of the windscreen in unblinking silence, never once looking at her or acknowledging her presence.

  They left the autoroute finally and followed a twisting secondary road until she found the turn-off the agent had marked on the map. Now they were on a route so narrow it was little more than a track. Danielle slowed the car, but it bounced heavily on the rutted surface. She winced as, from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Lee’s legs jounce against the dashboard.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, gripping the wheel more tightly.

  The road smoothed for a bit, then grew rutted again. The car dipped into a shallow depression, then jogged up the other side. Lee gave a soft grunt of pain.

  ‘Sorry,’ Danielle said again. ‘I’m trying not to—’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Is your leg bothering you? I can stop for a while, if—’

  ‘I said it was all right.’

  ‘If it hurts, why don’t you take a pill for the pain? There’s a flask of water in the glove compartment, and—’

  Lee glared at her. ‘Maybe Valerie likes having you play Mother Hen. But I find it distasteful.’

  She swallowed. ‘I was just trying to—’

  ‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he said coldly. ‘Don’t give me medical advice and I won’t tell you how to drive this damned car. How does that sound?’

  Danielle nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I only meant—’

  He slammed his fist against the dashboard. ‘And for God’s sake, stop apologising. Just get us to this godforsaken nursing home you’ve rented. Where the hell is it, anyway? If we go much further, we’ll be in Italy.’

  Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Lee was spoiling for a quarrel, but she wasn’t going to oblige. What chance would she have of helping him if things started off badly?

  ‘We should be there soon,’ she said. The calmness in her voice pleased her. ‘The agent said to look for a cottage, on a hilltop. He said it was very old, four or five hundred years actually, and that there’s a red tile roof and—’

  Lee shifted in his seat. ‘Is that it?’

  Danielle followed his pointing finger. At first, she saw nothing but olive trees. Then, through a break in their heavily leafed branches, she glimpsed stone walls and red tile.

  ‘Maybe.’ She crossed her fingers mentally as she turned on to the road that led into the olive grove. ‘Let’s take a closer look.’

  They had arrived. She knew it even before they pulled up before the house. The agent had described everything perfectly
: the trees, the old house itself, the overgrown garden off to the side, even the stately row of cypresses that stood beyond to shelter the cottage from the hot wind that began life across the distant Mediterranean.

  Danielle shut off the engine and silence settled around the car. There was a feeling of great tranquillity here. In some way she couldn’t fathom, she felt as if she had come home.

  Lee’s voice shattered the peaceful moment. ‘Well? Is this our little paradise or isn’t it?’

  She drew a deep breath, then gave him a false smile. ‘It is, if the key fits,’ she said, fumbling at her seat belt.

  It did, as she was certain it would. The door swung open to a cool, shadowy interior relieved by whitewashed walls and beamed ceilings. She stood still for a moment, and then a smile curved across her lips and she hurried back to the car.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she said, lifting Lee’s wheelchair from the boot. ‘There’s a huge fireplace, and a slate staircase, and—’

  Lee grasped his right leg and swung it out of the car door. ‘And steps leading in. Or didn’t you notice?’

  ‘Yes, but only two. Inside—’

  ‘There’d better be a bedroom and a lavatory on the first floor.’

  ‘Here,’ she said, reaching towards him. ‘Let me help you.’

  He brushed her hand away. ‘Don’t touch me,’ he said, his voice sharp. ‘I can manage by myself. All you have to do is get that damned chair close to the car and hold it steady.’ He grunted as he lifted his other leg free, then hoisted himself into the chair. ‘Now call someone to get me up the steps.’

  Danielle ran her tongue across her lips. ‘I can do it,’ she said. ‘The nurses showed me how.’

  Lee glared at her, his eyes dark with impatience. ‘Get someone, I said. The housekeeper or—’

  ‘There—there isn’t anyone. There’s just me.’

  He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I told you to hire a staff. A housekeeper. A cook. A man to move me. Why didn’t you?’

 

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