Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1)

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘I’m sorry for making a mess and making your job worse than it already was,’ he said gruffly.

  She didn’t care about the mess. She cared about him. But he was avoiding looking at her again.

  ‘Were you searching for something in particular?’ she asked.

  He stood stiffly in the centre of that heap. Merle saw some of the paperwork was damaged. Water must’ve somehow gotten into those boxes.

  ‘I thought, maybe, in all the boxes, there might’ve been something worth keeping. You know, didn’t he want to keep my old swimming trophies?’ The bitterest smile barely curved his lips as he shrugged sarcastically. ‘I guess not. It’s all just his stuff. He expunged every last thing of us both. There’s nothing of her. None of her diaries. The garden journals.’

  He’d wanted something of his mother’s to treasure. And he’d not found it. His desolation swept over her.

  ‘I guess he only kept her games because they were in good condition and valuable,’ he said. ‘Not because he wanted any real reminder of her. They’re an investment. Like everything he held on to.’

  Had he once considered Ash an investment too? The heir groomed to take over the company? The one he was proud to have follow in his footsteps? Whom he’d wanted to corrupt? And the man had shipped his wife to a whole other country. Out of sight and out of mind for her final years. Merle hated him.

  ‘Why do you think he kept that one photo?’ she asked.

  ‘For show. He probably put it face down when he was here. Or,’ he added acidly, ‘maybe he used it as a reminder to his new lovers that he’d already had a wife and child and didn’t plan on making that same mistake again.’

  ‘Ash—’

  ‘It’s true. Apparently he vowed he’d never marry again after Mum died. But it wasn’t because he was heartbroken. He just didn’t want the expense of a divorce. He collected girlfriends—a new model every couple of years in the decade before he died. There would’ve been more, of course, those ones on the side he had in secret. So he could still look like the loyal, grieving widower.’ Still not meeting her gaze, he kicked at the pile at his feet. ‘I can’t believe you have to go through all of this.’

  ‘It’s my job to go through everything. It’s not personal for me the way it is for you. It’s not painful.’

  His jaw clamped.

  ‘Why don’t you come inside and have breakfast?’ she suggested.

  ‘Food isn’t going to make this better, Merle. I’m not a hangry two-year-old.’

  Ash couldn’t stand to see the disbelief he knew ought to instantly flash on Merle’s face. He couldn’t even manage a joke. The irritation scratching down his spinal cord like nails on a chalkboard was impossible to ignore. And his irascibility, his impatience, was all amplified because he was so irritated and he knew he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t care at all. He’d thought he hadn’t for so long.

  He was supposed to have come here briefly to see what had been done to it and to sever all ties. An acidic, isolated homage to all that had been and all that he couldn’t change. He should’ve been able to handle that. Then he’d discovered she was staying here. Merle. His own house nymph—all temptation and temporary effervescence. He should’ve been able to handle her too. Except she’d put possibilities into his head. And he’d stayed. He’d taken what he shouldn’t. He’d done so many things that he never allowed himself to do.

  Now he couldn’t even hold eye contact with her.

  He stared down at the piles he’d rummaged through in a furious frenzy this morning. They were now scattered in a haphazard mess at his feet. Any remnant ‘piles’ had tumbled into a shambolic heap. He didn’t know why he’d thought he’d actually find anything that mattered.

  ‘No wonder you like to wear the gloves and the hazmat suit,’ he growled.

  ‘The boxes shouldn’t have been put straight onto the floor,’ she said. ‘I’ll fix that. Dry out these items and prevent more damage.’

  Her tone was soft and gentle. As if he was the object being treated with kid gloves. That irritated him even more. He didn’t deserve gentleness. He didn’t want her or anyone touching this rubbish. It really all ought to be put on a bonfire. But he didn’t mention it. He couldn’t seem to manage a joke. ‘I’ll put it back in the boxes for now.’

  ‘Do you want some help?’

  He certainly couldn’t look into her eyes now. He knew he’d see sympathy and concern. And other things.

  ‘No.’ He didn’t want anything from her.

  ‘Ash—’

  ‘You should go and have breakfast,’ he dismissed her abruptly. ‘I’ll be along in a bit.’

  There was the barest hesitation before she left.

  Ash drew in a sharp breath because now he knew. Last night something ordinarily impossible had briefly become imaginable—like a wisp of a magical fog that promised growth. But that wisp had evaporated in this morning’s light. All that remained here now was a musty, mildewy pile of meaningless stuff. There was nothing worth keeping. Especially not now the rot had set in.

  He needed to leave.

  He’d thought this trip would be simple enough. That he wouldn’t care. Instead, he’d discovered he still loved the place. Even with the changes there was something that would always move him here. And, in showing it to Merle, he’d remembered moments beyond those last painful ones when he’d faced his mother’s disappointment. Ironically, the hurt that came with those other memories was almost worse.

  He’d tried to bury himself in Merle to avoid it all again. Only he’d woken this morning with the realisation that she was the problem too. Not just part of it but as much of a cause as any old memory. She’d shown him the world through her eyes, with an appreciation that was somehow contagious. She’d shown him more than this place: she’d shown him herself. And what had he done? He’d told her everything. Because she was real and right here. And she’d been gentle and accepting and she’d wrapped him in that wispy mirage of something impossible. He’d believed in it. In what she’d said. The importance of small things. So he’d come to check this morning. But it hadn’t taken long for reality to return. There was no point in unsealing old boxes. Not when the contents were half-rotten and couldn’t be fixed. Not when there was so little of any value left.

  And when the wisps of promise were blown away, the truth remained. That hesitation he’d felt when she’d first come to him? He should have rejected her offer that night. Because the gorgeous Merle was asking for something in her bottomless eyes that he could never, ever give her. She deserved so much more. Even if he tried, he knew that in the end he couldn’t deliver. It wasn’t in his DNA to be there for someone, or to promise not to let them down. He could never guarantee that he wouldn’t disappoint her. He couldn’t bear to do that.

  So he needed to leave here. He needed to leave her. And he needed to leave now.

  Merle didn’t know what had changed in Ash’s thinking, or why. All she knew was that he was restless and angry. The usual amusement—even sarcastic joking—had been snuffed from his eyes. Her tension built the longer he stayed away.

  Anxiety made her want to hide. To slip back to the shadows and stay safe. But she fought it. She wouldn’t retreat into those old habits.

  He didn’t join her for breakfast, so she ate alone. She went for a quick swim, splashing a little extra-loudly, but he didn’t appear. He didn’t invite her for a ride on the boat or challenge her to a game. Two hours passed excruciatingly slowly. In the end, she decided to catalogue some effects in the study because she didn’t know what else to do. The loss of time pressed like a sharp blade against the sensitive, thin skin of her neck—the sense of danger, of desperation tightened. Tomorrow would be Sunday—a full week since their bargain. Which meant he was due to leave. So this was their last day together. Shouldn’t it be good—couldn’t they forget that ticking clock for just a little longer?

 
Despite the warmth of the sun beating onto the deck, she felt chilled to the bone. Seconds staggered by slower than a sloth crossing a stretch of forest floor. Something was wrong. He’d gone from being open—being vulnerable—to being both physically and emotionally remote. It devastated her. Because last night they’d made love. She’d known the difference. There’d been an unspoken but deep empathy—that caring, that tenderness in their touch. She’d embraced him, showing her understanding, wanting him to know she understood, that she was here for him. Accepted him as he was. It hadn’t just been fun, hadn’t just been pleasurable. He’d held her and she’d held him back. Hadn’t that meant something?

  Was it his departure that was bothering him now? Was he too wondering whether this situation—this time between them—could be extended? Maybe he might even consider coming back for another visit while she was still working here?

  No. It wasn’t important enough for him to even think about. He was working through the agony of his history here.

  ‘Merle?’

  That bubble of hope rose from her belly into the tightness in her chest—pushing for breathing space.

  ‘I’m in the study,’ she called.

  But she followed the direction of his voice and stepped out through one of the glass doors, onto the deck by the pool. The second she saw him that bubble got stuck—instant ice stopping its upward float. Ash was dressed, actually dressed, in dark denim jeans and a creaseless grey tee that hugged his hewn body. But it was the shoes that gripped her attention. They were not casual trainers or poolside sandals, but boots. Shoes for a journey.

  ‘Are you going somewhere?’ She hoped he’d deny what was so obvious.

  ‘I need to get back to Sydney.’

  That bubble inside her burst. ‘To do what?’

  He didn’t reply. He was regarding her so seriously, but she could read the thoughts in his eyes. There was nothing urgent for him to go back to.

  ‘I have meetings to prepare for,’ he muttered.

  ‘You can’t do that here?’

  She didn’t know why she maintained the fiction with him. Why she didn’t just challenge him outright to speak the truth.

  In answer he simply shook his head.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked.

  ‘The environment is too distracting.’ A wisp of a smile.

  But Merle couldn’t smile. That he was leaving was bad enough. That this was over was devastating. But that he was ending it earlier than she’d expected? Right when the balance had tipped and it had become raw, but so good? Right when they were on the brink of something so much more? He was stealing away all possibility. Denying them any kind of chance—this was like someone tipping over the board and scattering the pieces before the game was won.

  It hurt.

  Because it meant he didn’t care. His time with her had been good, but not good enough. Distracting but not anything important enough or meaningful enough to stick around or change plans for. Except he had changed plans. Hadn’t he shortened it? Her gaze narrowed as she tried to understand why he was ending this sooner. If she was just a distraction, if this wasn’t that meaningful, why, then, did he have to escape here—and her—earlier? That bubble reformed and floated up again.

  ‘You’ve had enough time here?’ she asked.

  He didn’t move.

  ‘Enough of me?’ she asked. ‘You don’t want one more night?’

  He swallowed but still didn’t answer.

  ‘Are you running away, Ash?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘It was always coming to an end, Merle. That was the agreement.’

  ‘Agreement?’ As if this really was some sort of bloodless business arrangement? As if emotions hadn’t tangled between them? ‘Why now, though? You’ve ended the game early. Reneged. Why?’

  ‘You’re that determined to have your last night with me?’

  She paused, then stepped forward, which took all her courage. ‘Why does it have to be the last night at all?’ she asked bravely. ‘You could come back here while I’m still working.’

  He didn’t give an inch. ‘I told you I’m never coming back.’

  ‘Aren’t you allowed to change your mind?’ she asked. ‘You told me I could change my mind any time. Why are the rules different for you?’

  His expression hardened. ‘You know I don’t go past one night. Our fling was only longer because of... circumstance. I thought you understood that.’

  It wasn’t because of circumstance. He’d chosen. And so had she. ‘You don’t think things have changed?’

  He didn’t waver. ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t think this matters more than some brief fling?’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I don’t matter more?’

  ‘Merle—’

  ‘Don’t lie,’ she interrupted. ‘Don’t offer a platitude. Be honest. Why are you leaving early?’

  ‘Because I can’t stand to stay here a second longer.’

  The buzzing sound in her ears was getting louder. It wasn’t an internal hum of frustration, it was a real noise. Her blindsided brain finally recognised it was a helicopter. Noisily, brutally drowning out the beautiful birdsong and the once calm environment. He wasn’t just leaving. This was an extraction. There was no other word for it. A precision operation to retrieve him from this hell zone as quickly as possible and return him to the soulless world in which he lived. Saving him from having to face things he’d once loved. Things that hurt.

  But she was the one hurt. So very hurt. ‘You’re leaving right now?’

  ‘It’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘Right thing for who?’

  Because he didn’t want to face her reaction for too long? Suddenly she was angry. Too bad for him. She’d never complained before—never stopped her mum and asked her to stay. Never stood up to her grandmother. Never asked her grandfather for help. She’d never fought for something that she’d really wanted. She’d never told them how their actions had really made her feel.

  Not. This. Time.

  Not when it was Ash himself who’d pulled this strength from her. Who’d shown her. She couldn’t stop the hurt and anger from bubbling out of her now.

  ‘You thought you could get away that easily?’ She stepped towards him. ‘You thought I’d say nothing—just smile and wave because I’m meek and useless at standing up for what I want?’

  She had been. She wasn’t doing that any more.

  He didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. He looked as angry as she felt. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘More,’ she said bluntly. ‘And I think you do too. But you’re afraid. You got spooked yesterday. Because you talked to me and now you’re worried...’

  He stilled. The helicopter had landed, the pilot cutting the engine so there was a fading whine.

  ‘What am I worried about?’ he asked harshly.

  ‘You want to stay like this for ever, don’t you?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Angry. Denying yourself or anyone else in your life anything more.’

  ‘I’m not—’

  ‘You’re so angry. Because you’re hurt. And scared. You think you’re running away because you don’t want to deal with my emotions, but it’s your own emotions you’re really running away from.’

  She’d gone too far. But it felt good—exhilarating even. She couldn’t silently let him leave.

  ‘What emotions do you think they are?’

  ‘That you love it here. That you’ve had a better time with me than you expected. That maybe...’ It seemed brazen to even think it and she couldn’t quite voice it. ‘You swim endless lengths to nowhere to avoid what’s right here in front of you.’

  ‘You’re right in front of me, Merle.’

  Her heart pounded in her throat. ‘Exactly.’

  He stared at her. ‘You’ve been the perfect distraction.’

&nbs
p; And that was all she’d been? No.

  ‘I told you right from the start that I could never be anything to anyone,’ he argued. ‘Certainly not to someone like you, Merle.’

  ‘Someone like me?’

  ‘Someone who deserves more—’

  ‘We all deserve more,’ she snapped. ‘Everyone deserves to love and be loved. People only seem to become less deserving when they’ve had that love lacking in their life too long. When they think they don’t deserve it. Then they start to act in ways that ensure they don’t get it.’

  That was him. Cutting things short.

  ‘We want different things, Merle. You know there’s no point drawing this out.’

  ‘Different things?’ She took another step nearer to him. ‘You never want to find love? Never have a family?’

  She didn’t know why she asked. He’d already said he’d never marry and, given his scrupulous attention to avoiding an accidental pregnancy, she knew he didn’t want to be his father with secret children everywhere. But worst case for Ash wasn’t just an accidental pregnancy but any pregnancy at all. He’d never want children. But Merle did. To build her own family and ensure they had everything she’d missed out on.

  ‘If I stay now, you’ll only be more hurt,’ he said brutally. ‘You don’t have to stay to finish the job.’

  The breath was sucked from her. ‘Of course I do,’ she said heatedly. ‘I need this job.’

  ‘I’ll pay—’

  ‘I don’t want your money!’ she yelled at him, furious that he’d reduced this to a transactional debate.

  He didn’t look repentant. In fact, anger mottled his skin. ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘There’s no other meaning to it. What exactly would you be paying me for?’

  He clenched his teeth. ‘Merle—’

  ‘Ask me for more, Ash.’ She’d lost it and now her most desperate wish poured out. ‘Ask me for all my firsts.’

  An endless second of silence followed. He looked shell-shocked. And as he shook his head, he barely breathed. ‘I never should have—’

  ‘Don’t even start with that. Don’t pretend it meant more to me than it did to you.’ She sizzled with sudden certainty. ‘You want more too but it terrifies you,’ she said. ‘That’s why you’re running away. But too bad, Ash. Because here it is and you have to listen anyway. I want more. I want you. I want everything from you. With you.’ She clutched the back of the nearest deckchair to stop herself from shaking. ‘I want your first I love you.’ Her deepest wish broke free. Because she was damned certain he’d never said that to anyone. ‘That should be mine.’ She drew a fierce breath. ‘And you want to know why? Because I love you, Ash. I’ve totally fallen for you.’