Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series)

by Sorell Oates

  That she was comparing him to Rupert in the love-stakes was a comfort to Dylan.

  “I'm not asking you to beg. I'm giving myself to you.”

  Her face was puzzled.

  “As a friend. I’m here as a friend.” Forcing out the word “friend” was akin to a cat spitting out a hairball.

  “Let's go for a drink. No pressure. Nothing you don't want to talk about. Let's chat. Enjoy mingling with the cast. See where the night takes us. Can you do that?”

  “Of course. I feel better having seen you.”

  With a few glasses of wine under her belt, the stress of the week reduced dramatically. The tsunami of emotion she'd been caught in with regard to the Locke-Smythe family became distant and irrelevant to her. Why was she prioritizing Rupert's pain over her own? He wasn't doing the same, that was for sure. He'd called to ask if they were at peace to ease his own conscience. When she hung up, he hadn't even bothered calling back.

  “Heard anything from Rupert?” asked Dylan over the sounds of the thumping music.

  She knew when Dylan appeared at the dressing room that he'd inevitably ask. But in a secure frame of mind she was compliant to discuss the subject.

  “Somewhere quieter,” she mouthed.

  Heaving their way through the throng, it was close to twenty minutes before a tiny booth far away from the DJ mixing desk was vacated. Susie slid right in.

  “He never called.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” said Dylan, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the table.

  “I called him.”

  “Has he taken the bait?”

  If she was being strictly honest, she hadn't laid any bait for him to take.

  “No. I rang to ask how he was. He said he was hung over. Then he asked if we were at peace.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I thought we were.”

  “Clever girl. Have you been reading Sun Tzu?”

  “Sun Who?”

  “Sun Tzu. He wrote 'The Art of War'. He was a general, strategist and tactician in the Chinese military. The book is over two thousand years old and considered one of the most influential military books in history.”

  “Dylan. This is Susan-Marie Thompson you're talking to. When I'm not reading musical scores, I’m normally escaping into a romance novel or diving into a little chick lit. Ancient books on Asian warfare hold no interest to me.”

  “Then you must be a natural.”

  “How'd you figure that,” she raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Sun Tzu said 'All warfare is based on deception'. Rupert may not have made the first move, but you've lulled him into a false sense of security. When he comes, and he will, because guys like Rupert always want what they can't have. When he comes you’ll be back in charge.”

  “I wouldn't be so certain. He's not made much of an effort. I'm not sure my appeal is that high.”

  “Give him time. Women are a game to him, don't forget. It's just that he's using old moves on someone he thinks he knows. The isn't Brighton College prefect and head of drama Susan-Marie Thompson, this is the man-eating, black widow, musical theater Broadway diva Susan-Marie Thompson. His schoolboy tactics won't work twice.”

  “No they won't.”

  Immersed in the company culture of the cast, Susan was able to relax, enjoy and get to know her new family. Dylan stayed in the background, but his presence was reassuring. He wasn't neglected, because the younger cast members were fully aware of the power he had within the industry. They flocked to lavish attention on him, keen to make a lasting impression.

  Seeing him surrounded by a string of beauties was comforting to Susan. She wanted her friend to be happy. He was caring and thoughtful and deserved the love of a good woman. As long as they weren't all after him for his influence in theater, he'd be enjoying himself big time. He was dapper in his uniform of black. His shirt was tucked into his trousers. The belt buckle was bold, brass and unique, but not as unusual as the satin pirate shirt which was without buttons, laced up from the upper chest and had flowing sleeves. She couldn't pretend he wasn't attractive.

  Hearing the last call for drinks at the pub they were at, Susan took the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air, certain the cast would be keen to carry on the party at a nightclub.

  Oh to be young again, she thought stepping out.

  Inhaling deeply, she noticed a man leaning by a street lamp who was watching her. She could see from the light he had brown boots on, rinse-denim jeans, a white t-shirt, an open brown-leather bomber jacket, and navy beanie almost falling from the back of his head. From the breast pocket of his jacket he waved a white handkerchief.

  “I come in peace,” said Rupert.

  “I'm surprised you've come at all.”

  “I haven't but I might do later if you fancy a—”

  “Please don't say 'booty call,' Rupert, because if you do I am going to have to slap you silly.”

  “Note to self, lewd insinuations won't win favor with Susie.”

  “What are you doing here Rupert?”

  “Right now admiring the view.”

  He nodded at her. The skinny jeans and high heels made her legs look far longer and more slim than they were. The blouse wasn't anything special. She couldn't believe she was chuffed he was admiring her figure.

  “What are you really doing here?”

  “I want to go back to my gym,” he drawled.

  “I haven't been at all this week,” she said.

  “Me neither. Do you want days or nights?”

  So much for Dylan's theory that Rupert would be desperate to get her back. The only thing he was desperate for was to ensure his stomach remained as a six-pack.

  “You said you didn't want times dictated when I wanted to discuss this. Maybe I feel like that now,” she shrugged.

  “Don't be objectionable, Susie. You said it would be easier to have separate shifts to avoid each other. It was sensible. Now I'm trying to make life easy for us.”

  “Mornings.”

  “You want mornings?”

  “Obviously. I won't be able to do evenings when the show starts. It's only six months, Rupert. I'm sure you'll manage.”

  “When does the show start?”

  “What do you care?” snarled a male voice.

  Rupert was looking over her. Swiveling her neck, she caught Dylan from the corner of her vision.

  “Why do you care what I care?” Rupert toyed with Dylan.

  He had absolutely no clue how much Dylan hates him, thought Susie. I hope this doesn't get ugly.

  “Because I care about Susan-Marie. You don't.”

  “Dylan, why is it we never catch up on your sporadic visits here?”

  “Go home, Rupert, and down another bottle of scotch.”

  Rupert stepped back as if the words had the physical impact of a resounding slap. He looked at Susie in disbelief. Would she have revealed his private confessions the other night and the knock-on after effects to Dylan? Would she share his private thoughts with someone else?

  Susie felt sick. That blow was below the belt and Dylan knew it. Avoiding Rupert's talk of the past, she'd glossed onto the drinking of the scotch to explain his sudden illness that interfered with the date. Dylan had pressed her until she'd cracked. The alcohol was better than revealing private family matters, so deeply personal. While she appreciated him being protective towards her, Dylan could be excessive. The way he'd taunted Rupert so easily with the alcohol, she knew he'd have done far worse if he knew of the twins and the accident.

  “Rupert, it's not what you think.”

  “It doesn't matter what I think Susie.”

  “Yes it does. Can you wait a second? Let me catch up.”

  His long legs were striding down the street. Tottering in her high heels, she decided to remove them to run and catch him.

  “Why are you going after him?” shouted Dylan as she disappeared into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Rupert, please!
”

  Flat footed it was easier to run, but the grimy pavement and dangers to her bare feet were making it problematic to catch him.

  Stopping, he saw her picking her way through the strewn rubbish by the pale light of the street lamps. Returning, he charged as if he were a bull, only to grab her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He did it with ease. Susan knew he wouldn't drop her, even as she beat his back with her tiny fists. They made no impact on the leather of his jacket. Her attempts were amusing to Rupert, but he was also aware a cry for help at this hour could have him on the receiving end of many a knight in white armor who might misread the situation.

  “Rupert, put me down.”

  “Susie. Shush.”

  “It's Saturday night. I will not have you hushing me.”

  He planted her on her feet. She realized it was the front entrance to the theater.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  He pointed at the posters.

  “There I was thinking you'd paid a private investigator to track me down.”

  “Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid. I just remember Imogen telling me the name of the show.”

  Taking in the poster, he was able to appreciate how beautiful Susie photographed. The leading man was handsome. The outfits were dated.

  “Rekindling Love. It sounds corny,” he said critically but not unfriendly.

  “It's so cheesy you would put it on your macaroni,” she admitted honestly.

  “What's it about?”

  “It's a bold statement in a way. Love over politics. Certainly choosing love over freedom or finding freedom by choosing love. Childhood sweethearts in the second world war. The guy joins the army, then ducks out after horrors he's seen to track her down to make sure she's safe and sound. Protecting her becomes more important to him than protecting his country.”

  “He finds her,” guessed Rupert.

  “He does.”

  “They fall in love,” he concluded.

  “Of course. There are a few bumps and jolts along the way.”

  “Is it as wonderful as they claim?”

  “We've been open for a year in the West End of London. They're opening ticket sales for another two years, so it's made an impact.”

  “Rekindling love. Do you think it's possible?” asked Rupert, unable to take his eyes from the poster.

  “What?”

  “To rekindle romance?”

  “Absolutely. As long as there was romance there to begin with,” said Susie unhesitatingly.

  “What's romance anyway? It's not love,” he sneered.

  “No, but it is associated with love. Certainly with being in love.”

  “It's about mystery and energy and enthusiasm.”

  “Don't you think those qualities can be rekindled in a loving relationship?”

  “The question is, are those qualities important in a relationship?” he asked cynically.

  “You tell me.”

  “I don't know. I don't think I know much about anything these days. Certainly not love.”

  “Why did you come tonight, Rupert? Was it for the gym?”

  “I came to tell you if we're at peace, then we need to let each other go.”

  “I wasn't aware we were holding onto each other.”

  “No? Not even when you told me to dump those other women?”

  “I never said that. I wasn't freeing you for myself. Don't flatter yourself, Rupert. I wanted to make sure they didn't end up hurt. Staying with you, doing things for you, believing in your words, all under false pretense,” emphasized Susan.

  “Like you did?”

  “Like I did.”

  “Even though as soon as I did as you asked, as soon as I cut them out of my life, the marvelous Susan-Marie Thompson agreed to a date.”

  “I thought it was dinner, not a date. And I thought it was about finding peace?”

  “Why did we need to find peace Susie?” he turned the question back to her.

  “To let each other go.”

  “Exactly. If you needed to find peace to let us go, common sense dictates you must had to have been holding on in order for the need to let go to arise.”

  Susie couldn't argue with his logic, mainly because it was true.

  “Are you going to be okay with this?” he was genuinely worried.

  “I'm not fifteen. I wasn't that bothered back then. It's easy to bounce back from life's trials and tribulations when you're younger. You're more robust. Me more than most given my size, as you felt the need to publicly inform me in front of Nikki,” she joked feebly. “Having you out of my life will only benefit for me. It'll pave a way forward. So yes, Rupert Locke-Smythe, I'm definitely going to be okay about this,” she insisted.

  “Susie, don't get angry with me, as if I've continued to wrong. You left school before the semester finished. I haven't been in your life for years.”

  “Oh Rupert, you couldn't be any further from the truth.”

  “Susie. I studied at Harvard, you studied in Central London. I go home to work in the UK, you're on stage in the USA. The minute I came over here five years ago, you decide to take up permanent residency in London's West End.”

  “Didn't you ever wonder why?” she growled.

  The anger was palpable.

  “Are you that blind, Rupert, that you don’t know why that chain of events happened? I love you. I couldn't lose you from my heart. I couldn't drop you and forget about you. I wasn't consciously holding on, but I didn't know how to lose the emotional grip you had on me. Did you think an ocean would somehow stop my heart beating for you? Did you think because you didn't love me, that I'd stop loving you?”

  He kissed her hard on the mouth. Crushing her lips, she was aware of his brute strength. Pushing her against the doors of the theater, the locked chain rattled. His hands went under her top. Though she was pummeling his chest, he persisted. The warmth of his hands had her slowing her beating, balled fists. They opened and her hands went to his chest. She could feel the solid definition.

  She badly wanted to hate him. But here they were. Together in the moonlight on Broadway at last. His tongue went into her mouth as his hands sought her bra strap.

  “Rupert we're too exposed.”

  His blue eyes were so dark she could barely see them. Hands under her armpits, he lifted her. Immediately her legs wrapped around his waist. Effortlessly, he carried her to the rear of the theater. The stage door was tucked in a side street. The nook of the entrance allowed them privacy to hide themselves from the outer brick walls.

  Wasting no time, he placed Susie down. Her hands went to the belt buckle of his jeans. Without warning, his hands slipped into the waistband of her jeans. Swiftly moving to the front he undid the button and unzipped the fly. Kissing her deeply, he groaned as his fingers were free to roam inside her cotton briefs. That she was wet to his touch had his erection forcing itself against his boxers. To finally hear the belt unbuckle open and feel her hands fumble to undo his jeans had him close to climax there and then. The coolness of her hand wrapping around his thick shaft slowed the mood for him. As she worked it, he wasn't prepared to wait any longer. He'd been waiting fifteen years.

  Spinning her to the bolted stage doors, Susan pressed her hands against them for support. Lustily, he shoved her jeans past her knees, in order for her to part her stance to allow him access. Wanton and willing, she bent a little and spread her legs.

  Hand on the base of his cock, he guided it between her plump, slippery lips. She moaned at the sensation. The moment had arrived when she was going to have her way with Rupert Locke-Smythe. Leaving his shaft in the crevice, he continued to let his hard-on slide back and forth, so the round helmet made contact with her clit. The sensation of the lubrication and smooth round erogenous zones mutually connecting was unbelievably sensual. Susan sensed a shiver in her own thighs as a jolt of electricity emitted from her nub. Subtly removing a condom from his wallet, he tore open the packet with his teeth.

  Pulling back one
final time, he sheathed himself. With his next slide Rupert directed his erection into her slit. Tight, he stretched it causing them to gasp in unison. His girth stretched her, eliciting foreign sensations from unfamiliar nerve endings. There was nothing rough and ready about the passion. Though public and impulsive, he was consumed by affection and something deeper as he rhythmically slid in and out of her, his hands on her hips to support the longing he had to connect as one with her. Pace increasing gradually, he slid a hand over the soft curve of her stomach, heading for her bud. Having reached the delicate nub his fingers lightly circled it. Her body shivered at his touch. The touch she'd dreamed of since she was a virginal teen.