Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series)

by Sorell Oates

  Susan felt a wave of sadness wash over her. It had always been Rupert she had hoped would be her first. That he wasn't was heart wrenching. What she feared most, even as she was covered by his perfectly proportioned manly frame, was that she wanted him to be her last. A thought she couldn't afford. He may have had a rough youth, which explained the behavior then, but was he in fact a changed man?

  Thoughts were clouded by the sex – or was it making love? Her concentration returned to the physical. Moving as a well-oiled machine, it was as if their bodies were carved to fit perfectly. His magical fingers and pumping hard-on took her over the brink. It wasn't long till her hands were scratching and clawing at the door for support as the orgasm ran through her entire body. The strength of her reaction to his actions had the same effect for Rupert. Forever gentle, he drove himself in her once more as he climaxed.

  Whether it was seconds or minutes, neither were unable to move. It was as if the sex had glued them to one another. Rupert’s hands looped around her waist, keeping her tucked into his naked pubis.

  It was the far off shouts and whoops of joy of drunken folk on a Saturday night that returned them to Earth. Finding words became problematic. Embarrassed, Rupert had no choice but hurling the used condom in the gutter before doing up his trousers. Standing protectively behind Susan, he used his body as a curtain as she rapidly redressed to make herself presentable for the general public. Satisfied with her efforts, Susan closed her eyes knowing she'd have to face Rupert. His thumb was over her mouth, palm on her cheek signaling it was best if she didn't speak. Content she was no longer going to open her lips to whip out a catty comment, he took her hand to lead her to the pub.

  CHAPTER 17

  “It's closed now. They'll have left,” said Susan, stopping on the pavement.

  With their hands linked, her sudden halt caused Rupert to stop.

  “Surely they'd have texted to let you know where they were going onto or they'll tell you if you call. I'll make sure you get there safely,” he reasoned.

  “Thanks, but no, Rupert. You forget, I'm a New Yorker. I can manage myself in this town no matter the time of day.”

  “I wasn't saying you couldn't. Perhaps it was for my peace of mind. I wouldn't feel comfortable with you alone at night by yourself no matter how confident you are navigating the streets or how expert you are with pepper spray.”

  “Everything's about your peace of mind. Even our alleged date. Are you incapable of ever thinking of my feelings?” she said bitterly.

  “Actually, I am. I guess, I assume automatically you want to be with friends that can provide you support and comfort. I take it on as my role to deliver your wants to you, which means me taking you to your friends.”

  “Perhaps they aren't the friends I want support and comfort from.”

  “Are you implying I should be the person present for you to lean on? After all, was it not you saying me being out of your life is beneficial because it lets you move forward? I'm trying to consider your feelings. Given what you told me, I thought the most effective and efficient way was for me to depart hastily, leaving you in someone else's capable, caring hands.”

  Susan said nothing. The lights on Broadway were alive and bright. Home was not far away. Home was an ocean away. Home was holding her hand.

  “Dylan—”

  “Oh God. How idiotic of me?” said Rupert sarcastically. “Here I was imagining you wanted to be with me in favor of your cast-mates. The reason you don't want me to take you to join your friends, is because you want to be with Dylan. Are you two dating?”

  “No. We're not. He's a friend. If you'll let me finish—”

  “Not sure that I want to hear what you're going to say Susie.”

  “Tough, because I'm going to say it anyway. You can listen, or run away and forget your chivalry, or behave like a child and put your hands in your ears.”

  Rupert made as if he would shove his fingers in his ears to block the noise of the quietly spoken Susan. With the traffic and sounds of Saturday night, it wouldn't be hard to do. As he raised his arms, he caught her eye and smiled, then dropped them. His teeth were perfect, his full lips inviting, his smile so adorable she was close to crying.

  “Dylan doesn't know about Lucas and Leith. I never said a word. He asked how our evening went, I said you were taken ill and blamed it on the alcohol. I didn't breathe a word of anything you confided in me, nor would I. Maybe it has been fifteen years, but I'd like to think you knew me better than that. Maybe I was a love-struck fool, but the time we spent together I was myself with you. I felt secure and safe with you. I didn't have to pretend with you. I don't believe I ever gave off a vibe of being the school gossip.”

  Shoulders hunched and head bowed, it was as if the pavement had transformed into something fascinating to Rupert. To Susan it remained a concrete sidewalk, made ugly by the scuffing of shoes from immense pedestrian traffic and people littering the street.

  “No. You weren't the school gossip. People do change from fifteen to thirty, Susie. Even you must accept that. Just like I've changed between eighteen and thirty-three, though you're determined to blind yourself to that possibility.”

  “It's moot now anyway Rupert, if we aren't seeing each other again.”

  Silence was accompanying them. When Susan saw her apartment, the relief was evident on her face, as it was Rupert's. The painfulness socially and emotionally from the walk between the theater to the flat was unbearable for varying reasons.

  “This is goodbye, then,” Rupert said. “For the record, you are the best friend anyone could have. I hope Dylan knows how lucky he is in that respect.”

  “You mightn't like it Rupert, but he does. He did then and he does now. You did seem to hit the bottle hard when you got in that night. When he asked about why our dinner was cut short, the half truth seemed easier to disclose. I didn't want to risk offending him by denying discussing it with him.”

  “Why say anything? Why not tell him to mind his own business? If you couldn't do that for fear of upsetting his finer sensibilities, why not say the evening went fine but it was a non-event?”

  “Because I wasn't going to lie directly to an old and close friend. That's not the type of person I am.”

  “Fair enough then. I'm not going to stand here and call you a liar for the sake of pride. I'm sorry. I felt incredibly vulnerable that night. I still feel sensitive about it. I've never spoken to anyone about it. Quite out of character for me. As is having sex in public. It's not my style and it shouldn't be yours. You should...not let men treat you like that. You're worth more than an outdoor shag.”

  “Rupert,” said Susan trying to keep her temper, “As you rightly pointed out, people change. I know my self-worth now. I knew it back then, which is why when someone was ready to play on the assumption that I had none, I didn't take it well. It did make me question myself, but I fought back. Look at what I do now.”

  “I know that. You live on Broadway, close to the Minskoff Theater. No doubt you'll be in there after this run taking up a contract in the Lion King.”

  His attempt to be light forced Susan to maintain a cool exterior. She made an enormous effort to restrain herself from shouting at him that the minute her contract expired she'd be returning to London to pick up employment there.

  “The 1600 building is impressive and ideally located, but truth be told I've got one of the cheapest, tiniest flats in it.”

  “Marvelous location for you, though.”

  Susan yawned.

  “I'm sorry. Am I boring you?” Rupert asked, outraged by her lack of manners.

  “A little. You used to have so much life about you. We stand here talking shallowly about a new block of flats. The only reference you make to what happened earlier implies I'm a slut with no self-esteem.”

  “On the contrary, I was specifying you aren't a slut.”

  “You want to talk of new architecture on Broadway and not discuss what happened at the theater.”

  “We're in p
ublic, Susie, as content as I am with American culture, it's not the place to talk about it.”

  “Ahh it's okay to have sex in public, but it's not okay to talk about sex in public,” she said in a snarky tone.

  “You're right, of course. You know what they say Susie.”

  “What's that, then?”

  “I told you I'd love you and hurt you, but you never understood. You told me you loved me, could help me but baby I'm no good,” he sang, pitch perfect.

  The song was from her musical. The lines were cementing her feet to the ground, preventing her chasing after him. How did he know that song, when the musical had not even debuted in New York yet? And why, with such a golden tenor voice, did he never pursue musical theater himself when he was so talented?

  CHAPTER 18

  Susie wasn't lying when she said she had one of (if not the) cheapest flats in the building. It was, however, cozy. Earning a comfortable living, the furniture was homey and stylish without exuding any sense of wealth. Her mock brass iron framed double bed was as sufficient as she needed it to be. The stripped, polished colonial oak floor boards, sunny yellow walls and grass colored rug bought the colors of the countryside into her modern New York flat. The bed covers had large floral prints making them look snuggable. The combination of old-fashioned wooden, curvy bedside tables, painted black and sanded for an aged appearance; the humble, but elegant, small chandelier hanging low from the ceiling; and the glass decorative objects on the dark wood chest of drawers gave a feminine antiquated feel to the bedroom.

  Arching her back by tucking the top of her head to the mattress in a yogic position, she was in a state of confusion with her current affairs. A thorough and demanding workout would have perhaps assisted in improving her frame of mind, but the incentive to do so fled after last night. She smiled, consoling herself that she had a reasonable workout with Rupert anyway.

  Her phone had missed texts from Dylan. Guilty she hadn't responded; Susan felt doubly bad resenting the fact they were from Dylan and not Rupert.

  Get your priorities straight, Thompson, she internally asserted. A firm talking to would give her the rally she needed to get herself into gear. Call Dylan; forget Rupert.

  Her heart was already on the defensive, ready to debate with her head.

  Forget Rupert? Are you mad? Rupert's all I've ever wanted. I can't just forget him. I haven't forgotten him in fifteen years, why should today be any different?

  The darkness of the angry, betrayed youth took over. You wanted Rupert to play games with. You want him because now it's your turn. To make him the fool. To play with his heart. To make him feel like an idiot investing in someone he thought loved him. That's the reason to remember Rupert. If you can't make that plan work, drop it and get over it. You wanted to know what it was like to have sex with him. Now you know. It's crunch time. There's a week of rehearsals left. Get in the game and make him fall for Susan-Marie Thompson or get out before you get burnt.

  Starting to sit straight in bed, her original intention of engaging with Rupert rekindled the fury she had for the British billionaire. Removing herself from bed, Susie headed to the bathroom. The stark contrast from her bedroom to the modern bathroom, which came with the new build, were welcome.

  Her brain mulled over the thoughts her heart and angry youth had presented.

  I didn't think having sex was Rupert was what you'd spent fifteen years of dreaming of. I thought it was making love you dreamed of. Whatever happened last night cannot lessen the connection you felt. It doesn't automatically categorize it as sexual only. Making love with him was the dream. Revenge is the reality.

  Hopping out of the shower, she wrapped a huge fresh towel around herself and another to dry her hair. Taking her cell phone, she went to the living room. The view of Broadway was pleasant, but Susan was inspired by the countryside of England and its quaint cottages. Her interior was imitating the feel of a cottage, not the hustle and bustle of New York City.

  Flopping in one of the rich maroon chairs from the three-piece living room set, she dialed Dylan's number. Wondering if he'd take the call, she was relieved to hear his real voice answer, not his voicemail.

  “Hey Susan-Marie.” He sounded fed up. She didn't blame him.

  “How'd you get on last night?” she asked tentatively.

  “I waited for you. I thought you'd come back. Your friends left. They invited me along, but I thought you'd come back, call or at least text.”

  “I'm so sorry, Dylan. Conversation with Rupert got heavy; he took me home and I have to say, I was exhausted from rehearsals and having to deal with him,” and his demanding erection, she thought, “that I got straight into bed and was asleep before I knew it. Had I not been, of course I would've called. Sorry I've not been the best of friends recently.”

  “Don't mention it. It happens to all of us.”

  “Well it shouldn't happen to you,” she said ashamedly. “You would never do that to a friend.”

  “Don't be hard on yourself Susan-Marie. I'm not perfect. Far from it. I told you he'd come back for you.”

  “You did, but not in the way you thought.”

  “In what way?”

  “In the way of avoiding each other for the duration of the run.”

  “Is it that hard? New York has close to, if not more than, nine million people living in it.”

  “Dylan, we share a gym. We both live on Broadway. There's an increased likelihood we'll cross paths over the next six months.”

  “I guess. It instinctively feels as though organizing a gym schedule was an excuse to see you,” he said frankly.

  “Not the way we left things.”

  “Are you leaving him be now?”

  “I don't have much choice. I can't force him to see me.”

  “No, but you can arrange for the two of you to accidentally see each other,” he mused cryptically.

  “In the gym?”

  “If you're doing separate slots, find a reason to be in the gym when you know he will be.”

  “That is definitely doable.”

  “Failing that, there's always Imogen.”

  God I forgot about Imogen, thought Susan. I need to catch up with her to make sure she's alright after Wednesday night. I cannot believe I haven’t called her or been in touch to thank her for coming straight over to sort Rupert out when he was in a state. I definitely need to catch up with her. For the right reasons. For the reason that she's a good person. For the reason that she's a fiercely devoted sister. For the reason that she's a ferociously loyal friend. For the reason that she's a loving human being.

  “No, not Imogen.”

  “She's the chink in his armor, Susan-Marie. Don't forget that. Get her on your side and you'll get to him a lot faster.”

  “No Dylan,” she said sternly. “Not Imogen. She doesn't deserve to be dragged into this. She's an innocent.”

  “Maybe, but I don't remember her stopping you from overdosing. What I remember is her at the after-show party lavishing praise on big brother.”

  “What I remember is her defending me when other kids decided taunting and bullying me was fair game.”

  “She stood by Rupert through that whole incident. What kind of person, that is supposed to be such an innocent and defends you from bullies, doesn't castigate her brother for his appalling behavior?”

  “I'm not sure she knew about the rumors.”

  “Look Susan-Marie, everyone did. Nikki made sure of it.”

  “Put it this way then. I'm not sure she believed them. I think she was blind to her brother's flaws. Love can do that to you.”

  “Convenient excuse.”

  “I disagree and I’m starting to think this ridiculous plan of mine, involving you in it, is impossible. It's something a fifteen-year-old girl would concoct, not a thirty-year-old woman.”

  “Perhaps, but I think that fifteen-year-girl never got to fight back. You're in a position to now. If you can mend that fifteen-year-old girl that's screaming out for justice, it m
ight be the catalyst for you to grow up and leave the hurt behind.”

  “That psychology sounds as if you've read it off the internet.”

  “Perhaps I have. Would I ever agree to assist you in a mad plan if in the long term it would do you more harm than good?”

  “You went to those lengths for my sake? To see if serving a dish of cold revenge would benefit me?”