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

by Natalie Anderson

  Suddenly he couldn’t stay a second longer. He couldn’t find Leo to say goodbye. He’d send him a text tomorrow. He asked his driver to just drive. He didn’t want to go to his empty penthouse, didn’t want to stay at the party, didn’t want to take up any of the offers he’d had.

  Instead, he took the back seat and closed his eyes, partially soothed by the low hum of the powerful engine and the constant movement. That sensation of escape was essential. But what he was struggling with was stuck inside him. There was no escape from that.

  He’d been wrong. Seeing Rose had made him reassess the fallout of those actions of so long ago. Leo was bold and in control. Grace happily doing her thing in Melbourne. Rose was clearly confident and in control of her life. Apparently the only person still bogged down in all that horror was him—stuck in resentment and isolation and self-loathing. Stuck so he couldn’t get out to where he wanted—and needed—to be.

  Merle Jordan didn’t like good-looking or popular guys. She didn’t trust anyone’s motivations. Ash didn’t blame her. She’d judged him, and that long-burning rebelliousness in Ash had meant he’d encouraged her to. He’d made it so easy for her—playing up to that image. He’d been everything she’d been wary of. But then, with that perfect eyesight of hers, she’d seen through him. She’d seen more in him than he’d wanted to believe was there. She’d seen right from the start that he was hiding.

  Of course he was hiding—he’d been hiding, faking, for years. Just as his father had. No matter that the lies were different, he was still living a lie. Still using a facade to hide behind. He’d hated who he was beneath it. And now he hated that he couldn’t be the guy she needed. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her, but he had. Badly. He’d hurt himself too. The cavernous hopelessness had become a physical pain. She deserved so much better than what he’d offered. Than what he was. Or what he’d thought he was. Because maybe he’d taken it all too far?

  For so long he’d thought he was just like his father. For so long he’d tried not to be but felt that hopelessness deep inside. That there was something within him that he couldn’t escape. That he was someone who’d hurt the people he loved the most. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Because he hadn’t hurt Rose the way he’d thought. Or maybe he had, but she’d long forgiven and forgotten and moved on to better things. Because people failed and people made mistakes but they tried again. Ash wasn’t used to failure in a business sense. He didn’t have much experience of trying again. But couldn’t he? Couldn’t he be better?

  Because the person he’d hurt recently? She was the one who mattered most. Her words—the ones he’d tried not to listen to—rang in his ears like town hall bells pealing through the county.

  Don’t let him win.

  Was that what he was doing? Wasn’t she right? Wouldn’t having a committed, happy, honest relationship be the ultimate act of rebellion against his father’s memory? Even when facing the worst, Merle had hope and strength. She wanted more for him. But also for herself. Because she could admit how she felt. She had courage. He wanted to be better for her—brave like her. And he didn’t give a damn about his bloody father any more.

  He didn’t want Merle to be alone, and the last thing he wanted was for her to find someone else. In time, she would. She was too beautiful, too loveable not to. Suddenly his old arrogance soared inside. No one else—no one—could give her what he could give her. He wanted her to have everything she’d missed out on. Not material wealth or luxury. It was simpler than that. Scarier. But how did he create a bond that would only strengthen them? How did he reach out to her? How did he do any of this? For all of his supposed intelligence, he was absolutely clueless.

  It felt as if that empty ache inside was filling with his own blood.

  I want your first I love you.

  That plea had devastated him. But she didn’t realise she’d already had some of his firsts. Things he’d never told anyone. Things he’d never done before. Spending that time with her. Laughing like that with her. Playing in a way that was more than superficial, in a way that formed serious foundations.

  But she didn’t know, because he’d not told her. Because he’d been a coward. It turned out he was better than Merle Jordan—the hide-away queen herself—at avoidance. He finally accepted that he’d run away not to ‘protect her’ from him. He’d been protecting himself. Because he didn’t want that pain of loss. Because he didn’t want to be rejected. Because he didn’t want to be a disappointment. So he’d got in first. Everything that terrified him, he’d done to her. He was a jerk.

  And now he felt terrible for it. The biggest mistake of his life had left him balancing on the narrowest ledge of a cliff. He didn’t have long to stop himself falling. Merle Jordan was like a sprite. She’d lit his life for only a short time, but he’d not appreciated her true value. So he’d left her. He’d lost her. He couldn’t lose her for ever. He couldn’t let her disappear, never to be found again. So how did he reach out? How did he try to make this better? How did he fix what he’d broken?

  With the truth.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MERLE WAS SICK of being stuck in a mega-mansion all by herself riding the roller coaster of heartbreak and hope. She’d spent the week storming through the boxes in silence, determined to still do a good job. But determined to do a fast job. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could escape, and the sooner she could recover. Because the hope side of the equation was slipping.

  A couple of days after Ash’s abrupt departure a load of groceries had been delivered. A mass of fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and fish and, yes, even more instant noodles. She hated that he’d been that thoughtful when he’d refused to care. Was it only pity? With a sprinkle of guilt perhaps. Either way, it was a scattering of emotional crumbs she really didn’t want from him. Because she wanted everything. Instead, Ash Castle had left her with only ash—the remnants of her pride, of her memories of that last week, with her burned heart.

  She’d worked through the whole week, then the weekend. She had that week off with Ash to make up for anyway. She’d focused on cataloguing one item after another, not letting her gaze wander to the pool outside, not letting her mind wander to wisps of conversation, to the echo of laugher and sweet sighs. And she was never, ever, thinking of that last kiss—where she’d tried to pour her soul into him. To show him what she felt in the hope he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. But he had.

  She’d half-hoped to find something of his mother’s, knowing it would mean so much to him. But there was nothing. There wouldn’t be even that littlest of happy endings.

  She needed a break now. She needed to restore some balance to herself. She’d avoided the places they’d been together. Most especially the pool. But it was a stunningly hot day and she refused to deny herself the simple pleasure of a dip. She refused to let the heartache stop her. She was brave. She could handle it, couldn’t she?

  Ash couldn’t remember feeling anxiety like this. His hands felt damp, his pulse raced, skipping unpredictably. The helicopter couldn’t fly fast enough. Yet, as it descended towards the grassy helipad at the far end of the tennis court, he suddenly wanted time to slow. He wanted a chance to think through his plan once more. But there wasn’t time. Nor was there any real plan.

  There was no way she could’ve failed to hear his arrival. Unless, of course, she’d already left the property. His heart pounded even more irregularly. He walked towards the house and the helicopter lifted away behind him. As its noise faded he heard another—a splash. He moved more quickly to be sure, but there she was. In the pool. His nymph, swimming as if she hadn’t a care in the world. But as he walked nearer he saw her eyes, and the expression in them smote his heart. She was pale and her fine features drawn, but she’d never looked more beautiful. She held her head high as she climbed the ladder and reached for a towel, hiding from him.

  ‘You’re still here.’ His voice sou
nded croaky. The paper bag he carried felt both too small and too heavy.

  ‘I told you I’d stay.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left,’ he said. ‘Most people would’ve already.’

  ‘I had a job to do.’

  Was the only reason she’d stayed because she was contractually obligated? Because she needed the money? Or was it because she’d made the commitment and Merle saw her commitments through—even to people who’d hurt her? That was what she’d done for her family, wasn’t it? She’d done what was right.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she suddenly asked. ‘You were never coming back.’

  ‘I needed to see you. I have something I wanted to give to you.’

  She stiffened. ‘You don’t need to give me anything just because you feel guilty about...whatever.’

  ‘Merle—’

  ‘You didn’t need to come back here and try to make... I don’t need this from you.’

  ‘Please, Merle.’ He held it out to her.

  It wasn’t even wrapped properly. She pulled the small volume out of the brown paper bag and when she read the cover her eyes widened and her colour leeched, leaving her looking ghostly.

  It wasn’t some pretty edition like she ought to have. It was a mass-produced paperback that cost only a few dollars. He’d wanted to gift her something meaningful. That she would treasure not because of its financial value, but for the thought behind it. He wanted—hoped—she would understand. ‘I found it at the airport on the way,’ he muttered apologetically. ‘I thought about a rare edition, hoped for a hardback even, but there wasn’t time.’

  He’d been desperate to get to her once he’d realised what a damned fool he’d been.

  A touch of pink stole into her cheeks, combatting her pallor. ‘This is better,’ she said. ‘Ordinary things can be loved too.’

  ‘But I bent the spine when I wrote in it,’ he added, even more apologetically.

  ‘You wrote in it?’ Her gaze flashed back to him.

  A tiny bubble of hope formed in that cavernous ache in his chest when he saw the intensity in her expression. He hid his tense fists in his trouser pockets and resisted the burning urge to drag her against him. He’d never felt such uncertainty. But if he knew Merle at all, he knew she would appreciate this.

  Now there was a rosy depth to her cheeks. Now her beautiful brown eyes were gazing right into his and he couldn’t look away from them. He couldn’t help but hope that he was really seeing what he so badly wanted in those eyes.

  ‘The ink is archival quality, apparently,’ he mumbled helplessly. ‘So it’ll last. It won’t fade. Even if you put it in the sun.’

  But she didn’t open the cover to read what he’d written. She didn’t even look down at it. Her gaze was fixed on him and suddenly he felt too exposed. Too raw.

  ‘Ash Castle,’ she murmured softly and stepped closer, ‘are you blushing?’

  More than that—his hands were shaking and he felt hot and cold all over. He really didn’t like the vulnerability. ‘Just read it,’ he said. ‘Tell me you love it.’

  Tell me you love me.

  He wanted to hear that again. He was desperate to record it and keep it so he could replay it over and over. His pulse hammered. But she still didn’t look at the book. She held it out to him.

  ‘You read it to me,’ she said quietly.

  He stared at her. He saw wariness still in those beautiful eyes, but he saw hope too. The shy desire for so much more. His throat was unbearably tight. He didn’t need to take the book that she held in visibly trembling fingers. And it was her trembling that tore him apart. Her trembling that showed how much this mattered to her. It mattered to him too. So impossibly much.

  ‘“For my beautiful Merle.”’ He paused to cough away the huskiness, but it didn’t work. He didn’t think he could get to the end of it. But he had to try. ‘“Because precious things matter. Because you’re my treasure. Because I want you to have all my firsts that truly matter and everything else I have to give. Because I love you and I will for ever and for always. Ash.”’

  Merle couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe past the massive lump of emotion weighing her down. ‘That’s why you came back?’ she whispered.

  ‘For you. Yes.’ A storm of emotion swirled in his eyes. A world of promise. ‘Because it’s awful without you. Because I’ve been such an idiot. But mostly because I’m in love with you and I can’t stand to be apart from you any longer.’

  He’d just said it again. The words she’d wanted so much. The ones that meant the world.

  She clutched the book to her chest. It was so simple, so perfect, and what it symbolised was so precious. He’d listened. He’d understood. And he cared.

  ‘Merle...’ His voice dropped.

  Goose pimples feathered across her skin at the ache evident in his voice. Her eyes stung. He meant it. He stood so rigidly, as if he couldn’t trust himself even to breathe.

  He was waiting. For her.

  She began to shake so badly she had to wrap her arms around her waist and tightly grip the towel and the book all together in a damp mess. All the emotion was leaking out as if her body were a sieve. And as it did, it exposed a hard knot of agony deep in her chest. The knot that had formed when he’d rejected her, when he’d walked out and left her alone. And now it was impossible to move.

  ‘Merle?’ That old smile bubbled up into his eyes—a hint of his tease. ‘One last chance?’

  Taking a step seemed impossible, but that knot loosened and she moved. He met her halfway and his arms were around her and his heat and strength warmed where she’d been so cold.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled against her hair. ‘I’ve been such a fool. I thought I was broken. I thought I wasn’t worthy. But I want to try. I want to be better for you.’

  That tight, hard knot unravelled. Tears spilled as he pressed her so close that she felt his racing heart as it pounded against her breast. The tremors in his muscles matched hers and that disbelieving desperation made her cling to him.

  And he held her. ‘You were right. So right. I’ve been hiding. I went to see Leo. And I saw Rose.’

  She stilled, listening intently, her heart clogging her throat.

  ‘She was fine, Merle. So’s Leo. Seeing them both made me realise that I might’ve been wrong about the fallout from what had happened back then. And if I’d been wrong about that, then I was likely wrong about other things too. Most importantly, I’ve never felt this way about anyone other than you. And I can love and I can commit and I want everything. With you,’ he added, his hands roving, pressing her closer. ‘I missed you.’

  Her eyes closed and she melted, tucking her face into the warmth of his neck, breathing in his scent, his nearness. Finally believing this was real.

  ‘I don’t want anything else. Not anyone, anything,’ he growled. ‘I just want you. With me. All the time. Okay?’

  Someone wanted her. Not just someone. Ash.

  She wasn’t some distraction from this house, not some project to assuage old guilt. She wasn’t some mere affair either. She was his treasure. As he was hers.

  ‘Sweetheart?’ He slid his hands in her hair and tilted her head.

  Merle lifted her chin and he met her halfway. The kiss was more than scorching, it was acute—almost agonising—perfection and it melted the remnants of that knot inside and allowed the most precious of all of her feelings to flow freely towards him.

  ‘I love you, Ash.’

  His breath shuddered. This time he didn’t ignore her. This time he answered with touch, with heat and infinite care. It was as if his sole purpose was to give her pleasure, to show her how passionately he felt about her. How much he’d missed her. How much he needed her. How much he loved her.

  He loved her and loved her and loved her.

  She felt it in every kiss, every touc
h. She responded—unable to restrain anything, and she didn’t want to. She caressed him and the ache and emptiness that had been a constant these last few days dissolved. She needed to share and show her feelings for him. She shuddered as he peeled away her swimsuit. He stroked her tenderly, his hands shaking as badly as hers were. They stumbled together until he took some semblance of control and tumbled her down onto one of the sun-loungers.

  ‘It’s too sunny out here,’ he said.

  She smiled tremulously. ‘Then we’ll be quick.’

  He half laughed and, to her eternal relief, obliged. She just needed him with her.

  His groan of pure joy when he pushed home was magical to her ears but she could only moan in return and lift her mouth to kiss him once more. They moved together, slick and desperate, and it was so joyous she cried again.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered, kissed, vowed as he held her closer, pushing faster and fiercer.

  Her head arched back as the sensations overwhelmed her—he was really here, loving her hot and hard, making her world shatter. And holding her still. Holding her through it all.

  Eventually, she snuggled against his chest, loving the firm weight of his arm around her, holding her to him. She rested her chin on his ribs to steal a glance at his face. He looked back at her, so much more relaxed, so handsome. That old arrogance tinged his smile but there was an unguarded openness that was new.

  ‘You were right,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve been avoiding real intimacy for years. But you got to me, Merle, and I couldn’t handle it. I still...’ He gazed at her so intently. ‘I don’t want to let you down.’

  ‘Ash, I love you.’

  The kiss was the sweetest, the hottest of her life and she didn’t want it ever to end. He seemed to sense it, his arms tightening around her.

  ‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ he promised. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to work here while you’re finishing the archiving,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll have to go to Sydney occasionally for meetings. Will you come with me?’