My Wounded Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 5)

by Serenity Woods

  Her eyebrows rise, and then she nods and gets up from the chair. I lead her away from the others, around the corner of the office block, so we have a little privacy, and we walk slowly along the path, looking out across the fields.

  Poppy doesn’t ask me what’s up or demand to know why I’ve whisked her away; she lifts her face to the sun and inhales the fresh spring air, just enjoying being there. I’m so in love with this girl.

  “So we’re off tomorrow,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and looks up at me. “Yes. I’m both disappointed and looking forward to going home.”

  “Me too. I hope you’ve had a good time here.”

  She smiles. “Of course. It’s been amazing.”

  I can’t help it—I pull her toward me, cup her face, and lower my lips to hers. She tastes sweet, of summer, which is just around the corner, and her hair is soft, curling around my fingers. I tilt my head to the side, slanting my lips across hers, and she opens her mouth eagerly, her tongue sliding against mine. Ohhh… she fires me up in just a few seconds, and I’m tempted to grab her hand, drag her to the car, drive her back to the lighthouse, and make love to her again, even though we only did it a few hours ago.

  But I move back and lower my hands, determined to see this through. “I want to talk to you about what happens when we get back,” I say.

  She sucks her bottom lip, and immediately her eyes become wary.

  “Don’t look like that,” I tell her softly.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she whispers. “I did tell you I wasn’t interested in a relationship.”

  “I know.”

  “I said I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.”

  I swallow hard. “I know. But doesn’t how I feel come into it?”

  She looks away, across the fields, where the spring flowers are waving in the breeze. “Marc…”

  “I love you.” There. I’ve said it.

  Her gaze snaps back to mine, and her eyebrows rise. “What?”

  “I love you,” I repeat, with more conviction.

  “You can’t,” she states. “We’ve been together one week.”

  “I don’t recall seeing an instruction manual. Is there a set amount of time you have to have dated, then?”

  “We’re not dating.”

  “No, we’re just having sex. There’s no emotion there at all.”

  Her expression softens. “Of course there’s emotion.”

  I move closer to her and brush my lips to hers. “Are you really telling me you don’t have any feelings for me at all?”

  She reaches up into the kiss, I move back a fraction, and she lowers back down, a tad resentful. “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “What if you are pregnant? Have you thought about it? About how we’re going to deal with it?” I can see immediately from her face that she hasn’t. She might have thought about having a baby, but she’s carefully blanked out any thought of the father from her mind.

  “I hope you are pregnant,” I tell her. “But that’s not what this is about. I want to be with you. And that’s why I want to ask you…” I take a deep breath. “Poppy, will you—”

  My phone rings.

  My mouth stumbles on the words. “Dammit.” I yank the phone out, about to cancel the call. Then I frown as I see the number of the rehab unit where my mother’s staying. I blow out a long breath.

  Poppy glances at the phone in my hand. “You should take that.”

  “I can call back.”

  “Take it,” she says. “Then we’ll finish the conversation.”

  I meet her gaze for a moment. She knows what I was about to say. She’s going to take the time to formulate a reply. I curse the phone, but I do need to answer, so without another word I turn and walk away and put the phone to my ear.

  “Yes?” I snap.

  “Marc?”

  I force myself to concentrate. “Yes.”

  “It’s Wendy Orpington, the manager of the Crossroads Rehabilitation Unit.”

  “Hello, Wendy.”

  “Good morning. Marc, where are you?”

  It’s a strange question, and I frown. “In Hawke’s Bay.”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “What? No. Why?”

  “I have something to tell you, and I’d prefer it if you were sitting down.”

  There’s nowhere to sit, and now I’m worried. Has Mom had another relapse? “What is it?”

  “Marc, I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I have to tell you that your mother died last night.”

  I stare across the fields, although I’m not seeing anything. “What?”

  “I’m very sorry. She suffered a heart attack during the night.”

  I go completely cold, and for a moment I think I’m going to faint. “Jesus.”

  Poppy appears beside me, her hand on my back. “Marc? What is it?”

  I can’t think straight and just look at her blankly. “What happened?” I ask Wendy.

  “We went into her room this morning when she didn’t show for breakfast. She’d passed away a few hours before, in her sleep, from what we can tell. She’d shown no signs of heart disease, and she was doing well in her recovery. She didn’t suffer, we don’t think. We will hold an enquiry, but I’m afraid it was just one of those things. I am so very sorry.”

  I can’t make sense of the words. Mom’s dead? My heart races, and my head spins.

  Turning, I bend and vomit suddenly onto the flowerbed. It comes out of nowhere, and I’m powerless to stop it.

  Poppy gently takes the phone from my hand, and I half hear her talking in the background as I struggle to regain my composure, my hands on my knees.

  “Hello?” Poppy says. “I’m Marc’s friend, Poppy King. May I ask what’s happened? Oh Jesus, I see. When? Right. Oh, how awful. Yes, of course, I understand. No, I’m sure you did everything you could. He’s okay, just in shock. Look, I’m going to give you my mobile number, can you ring me if you need anything? Yes, Hawke’s Bay. I’ll get us on the next plane to Hamilton. Can you give me the address?”

  She continues talking, and I feel a flood of thankfulness that she’s with me, taking over, because at this moment I don’t think I can put two words together. I take deep, shaky breaths. Get a grip, Fitz. Pull yourself together. But it’s impossible. I can’t believe it. My mother died. She was alone, without her family, without her partner. I think she loved Luke, but she never got over the death of my father, and she never really recovered from her alcoholism. It’s plagued her all her life. What a vicious disease. And now she’s gone. I hope she wasn’t in too much pain. Oh God, I can’t bear to think about it. Both my parents are gone now. I’m completely alone, except for Izzy. Oh Jesus, Izzy. I’m going to have to ring her on her honeymoon. My heart aches at the thought of having to tell her. She’ll want to come home. They’re due back in two days anyway, so she might as well hang on. She’s going to take it hard.

  My thoughts are jumbled, like a kite in the sky, being tossed by the wind. I straighten as Poppy hangs up the call, and she comes over to me.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she says, touching my face.

  I wipe my mouth, conscious of having vomited. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s shock. It’s okay. Come on, we need to get you sitting down.”

  “I should have finished the call; did you apologize to Wendy for me?”

  “She’s fine, she understands. Everything will be okay.”

  “It won’t.” My throat tightens. “Mom’s gone.”

  Poppy’s eyes glimmer with tears. “I know.”

  “I can’t believe it. She died.”

  “Wendy said it was in her sleep. She didn’t even know about it.”

  Is that a consolation? Just drifting away one night, not even being aware you’re going?

  “What I mean is, at least she wasn’t in pain,” Poppy corrects.

  I nod. “She’d been in pain for so much of her life. I should have been there. At the end. Nobody should di
e alone.”

  “We all die alone,” Poppy says. “It’s those who share their lives with someone who are the lucky ones.”

  I meet her eyes. I’d been about to propose to her, but I can’t do it now. I can’t think of anything except the gaping hole that’s suddenly opened up in my life.

  “Come on,” she whispers. “Let’s get back to the lighthouse and pack, and I’ll call for the plane to pick us up and take us to Hamilton.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Poppy

  After telling Ashton and the others, who are all as shocked at the suddenness of the announcement as Marc and I are, we say our goodbyes, and I drive us back to the lighthouse. I’ve already rung the pilot of our plane to come and collect us, and we have about two hours before we’re due to take off.

  Marc is silent beside me, looking out of the window, white-faced. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. He’d already lost his father, and now his mother; he’s an orphan at thirty-two. It shouldn’t happen that way. Your parents should live into their seventies or eighties, and get to play with their grandchildren. This is all wrong.

  We arrive at the lighthouse, and I ask him whether he wants to stay in the car while I pack, but he shakes his head and comes inside with me. We move around quietly, packing up our stuff. I don’t speak, and neither does he.

  He goes upstairs while I finish putting the groceries into a box, and I hear him unzipping his case and putting away his clothes. I stop for a minute and look out of the window, tears pricking my eyes. Not for Jocelyn, not really, as I’d never met her, but for him and Izzy, and also for myself, that the week had to end like this.

  At the Ark, he told me he loves me, that he wants to be with me, and then he said, And that’s why I want to ask you… Poppy, will you—

  Maybe he was just going to ask me to continue seeing him. But something tells me he was going to propose.

  Holy moly.

  What would I have said if he had? I think I knew deep down that this was a risk if I agreed to us sleeping together. Not a risk that he’d propose, but that he’d want to continue with a relationship. Of course I did. I like him, a lot, and even though I turned him down back in July, the thought of sleeping with him was too tempting to refuse.

  But now this has happened, complicating things a hundredfold. He’s not going to be in any state of mind to think about his future for a while. And that’s fair enough. All I can do is be there for him and try to help.

  My eyes sting as I think of how shocked he was when he heard. It must have been so hard for him and Izzy over the years to deal with Jocelyn without giving up their own lives and dreams to look after her. Oh God, Izzy. Marc’s going to have to ring her in Fiji. That’s going to be a difficult call.

  I jerk myself out of my musings and finish off packing, then go up the stairs to the bedroom. He’s not in there, although all his stuff’s packed. I finish putting my clothes in my case quickly, and throw in the bathroom bag, take a final glance around, then go up the stairs to the viewing platform.

  He’s standing by the window, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I can tell from his breathing that he’s struggling not to cry, although I can see his face is wet. He lifts a hand and brushes over it, and gives a shaky sigh. I don’t know whether he would rather I leave him for a while, but it’s not in my nature to do that. I know I can’t make him feel better, but I want to bring him comfort.

  So I walk up behind him, slide my arms around his waist, and hug him.

  He puts a hand over mine and leans his forehead on the window. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Tears run down my face and I tighten my arms. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  “Can you… give me five minutes…”

  I kiss between his shoulder blades. “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

  “Don’t worry about it. Come down when you’re ready.”

  I release him and go out, closing the door behind me.

  I take the bags out to the car and pack it up, then sit outside on the step in the sunshine. He doesn’t want to lose control in front of me. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s such a private person. So self-contained and solitary. I bet he misses Jack right now. A man needs his dog at times like this.

  I take out my phone and study it. Everyone at the Ark will want to know. I’ll call Noah in a minute—he’ll pass the message on to everyone. First, though, I dial my father’s number in and call him.

  He answers within a few rings. “Charlie King.”

  “Dad?” I swallow hard as, immediately, my eyes fill with tears. “It’s me.”

  “Poppy? Hello, sweetheart. How’s it going in Hawke’s Bay?”

  I’d rung to tell him I was going down there to check out the new Ark. He knew I was going with Marc, but he didn’t query it. I’m not sure whether he was being tactful or clueless. Either is a possibility.

  “It’s fine,” I say. “Or it was. We’ve just heard that Marc’s mom has died.”

  “Oh no. Jocelyn, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  I tell him about the heart attack, and what Wendy told me. “She passed away in her sleep, apparently.”

  “You’d be surprised how often that happens.” As always, Dad’s a doctor first. It gives him a practicality I’ve always loved. “It’s good that she wasn’t in pain, anyway.”

  “That’s what I said, but it’s come as such a shock to Marc. I mean, she was in rehab for her alcoholism, but obviously he never expected this.”

  “How is he?”

  “As you’d expect. We’ve literally only just heard. He asked me to leave him alone for a few minutes.” I want to explain why that makes me sad, but I can’t.

  “Some people grieve best with others,” Dad says. “Some grieve best alone, especially men. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure he’s very glad to have you there.”

  “I don’t know,” I squeak. “I think I might have screwed things up a bit.”

  “Aw, I doubt it. We Kings tend to think we’re disastrous at love, but it usually works out.”

  I wipe my eyes. He knows we’re here together. I should have guessed.

  “You want me to call Noah?” Dad asks. “Tell him about Jocelyn?”

  “Oh, would you? He’ll tell everyone else. But can you make sure they don’t call Hal and Izzy? Marc will want to do that.”

  “Yes, of course. Are you coming home now?”

  “No, I’ll go with Marc to Hamilton, for a bit at least. I’m not sure what he’s going to want to do, or if he’ll want my help.” I’m floundering; I’m not Marc’s wife, and I’m not even his girlfriend. I have no social standing. He’s not going to want to try to explain our relationship to everyone while he’s grieving. But then again I am his friend, aren’t I? I’d help if it was anyone else at the Ark.

  “Look,” Dad says, “kia kaha, sweetheart. Stay strong. Marc will need you now, whether he knows it or not. Be there for him, and when it’s all done, you’ll be able to talk about where you go from here. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You know where I am if you need anything. And expect a call from Noah; he’s bound to ring once he hears.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dad.”

  “See you soon.” He hangs up.

  I wipe my face and get to my feet as I hear Marc’s footsteps on the stairs. He comes outside and stops before me. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs. His eyes are red, but he looks composed.

  “It’s okay. I just spoke to Dad, and he’s going to ring Noah. I asked Noah to make sure nobody calls Izzy and Hal, though. I thought you’d want to do that. Unless you want Noah to, or me?”

  “No, I’ll do it now, I think. We have a bit of time before we have to go to the airport, don’t we?”

  “Yes. Would you like a glass of whisky?”

  “Oh man, I’d love one.”

  I rub his arm. “I’ll pour you one while you make the call.”

&
nbsp; I leave him to it, watching out of the window as I retrieve the bottle of whisky from the box and pour some into a glass. He dials and walks away, toward where the sea breaks on the rocks, sending a couple of seagulls into the air. He starts talking, so I know Izzy has answered, and I watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then runs his hand through his hair and tips his face up to the sun. I cover my mouth with a hand, full of emotion, wishing I could make it better for them. Poor Izzy, on her honeymoon and receiving such terrible news. I know she didn’t get on with her mother, and didn’t see her very often. But that’s not going to make it any easier. It might even make it harder, because she’s bound to feel guilt at not seeing her more.

  I wait for him to finish the call, then go out and hand him the glass. He drinks half of it in one go, and we both look out over the ocean, to where the sky is slowly darkening, turning the sea orange.

  “It’s a stupid question,” I say, “but how is she?”

  “Shocked. Angry.”

  “At you?”

  “No, at Mom. For dying without us.” He gives me a crooked smile. “I spoke to Hal briefly. He’s going to try to convince her to stay another night until their flight’s due. There’s no point her rushing back. We can wait and have the funeral in a couple of weeks.”

  “Will you have it in Hamilton?”

  “I don’t know. To be honest, she didn’t have any friends, apart from Rebecca, her neighbor.”

  “What about her partner, Luke, wasn’t it? Do you think he’ll want to go?”

  “I don’t know,” Marc says. “I suppose I should ring him and tell him—I doubt he knows.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  “Yes, it’s on my phone. I’d better do that now.”

  “I’ll get you a refill,” I tell him, take his glass, and go back inside. By the time I’ve poured the next glass, he’s finished the call.

  “Short and sweet,” he says when I go back out, taking the glass from me. “He didn’t say much. He wants to go to the funeral.”

  “He’ll be feeling guilty, no doubt,” I say.

  Marc shrugs. “It wasn’t his fault. I don’t blame him for leaving. She could be difficult.” He stops and scuffs at a stone with his shoe. “I shouldn’t say that. Not now.”