Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series)

by Sorell Oates

“Hi,” she said slowly.

  “You looked surprised to see me.”

  “I am. I'm dazed I think.”

  “You were wonderful,” he said springing out of the chair to kiss her lips.

  Instinctively she turned her head so the kiss would land on her cheek, but she was too slow.

  “Thank you. It's been overwhelming. More so to see you've retired your 'Man In Black' uniform,” she teased.

  He was wearing a black dinner suit, but the pristine white shirt was not his usual style.

  “I thought I'd break with formalities.”

  “Can't argue with that. You look dapper. It gives you some color. You look less vampirical. Not that vampires aren't attractive. Although I think zombies are surpassing them in the popularity stakes. But I'm not sure anyone lusted after a zombie that I'm aware of. Wouldn't that be a weird fetish?”

  Sitting on the chair in front of her dressing room mirror, she grabbed her cleansers to remove the make up. Letting her skin breathe and following a rigid skin care routine was a post show ritual. Chattering away, by the time she'd finished when she spun around, Dylan was naked from the waist up.

  It wasn't as if he wasn’t well built or handsome, but the sight was foreign. She opened her words but no words came out.

  “He'll be here in a minute,” sad Dylan stretching a hand to her.

  “Dylan, I'm so sorry. I didn't have time to tell you. We can't go through with the plan.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “It's not right. The time away with Rupert was what was needed. We cleared the air. Resolved our differences. Learned to understand each other. There's a chance we can move forward. We're at a mutual point in our lives where we can love.”

  “He didn't love you at Brighton College,” he reminded her.

  “That doesn't matter, what matters is that he loves me now,” she didn't want to argue with Rupert's high school confessions and declarations of love.

  “You don't seriously believe that?”

  “Dylan, I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's true. He has changed. He's not the boy he was. Even the boy he was, behaved like that for comprehensible reasons.”

  “He's lying to you, Susan-Marie. Don't put yourself though this.”

  “He isn't lying, Dylan. You have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you, but I don't trust him.”

  “Dylan. I love him. Heart, mind, body and soul. I always have. I think he has too. He was waiting for me. Like I waited for him.”

  “This is crap. I can't believe you've bought into this, after everything you've been through. How long will it be till I find you collapsed by your bed with a bottle of vodka and blister-pack of sleeping pills or paracetamol.”

  “Dylan, don't! Don't spoil tonight. I love you. You've been there for me. Friends want each other to find happiness.”

  “But I am happy,” he shouted.

  “You don't seem it,” she said softy, taking his hand.

  “I'm happy with you.”

  “Not that kind of happy, Dylan. I'm talking about love.”

  “I know love. I love you. Always and forever.”

  “Dylan.”

  His name was barely audible, but he drew her close and kissed her. She tasted wonderful, fit in his hands, but her hands were already struggling at his chest. The door was flung open. As Susie broke free from the kiss, Dylan located the tag and unzipped her dress. In a state of confusion, she revolved to see Rupert. Dylan was topless and her dress was gaping at the side.

  “You're kidding me, right? What, was it a double bluff Susie? Tell him what you're going to do as if you'd had a change of heart, then go ahead and do it anyway?”

  “Don't be ridiculous, Rupert. It's not what it looks like.”

  “You're both half dressed.”

  “There's been a misunderstanding,” she pleaded.

  She could feel Dylan's hurt at her rejection. She didn't want to make it worse by explaining everything publicly. Not when she could see Imogen and Hank in the corridor laden with flowers and chocolates.

  “You win, Susie. You've made a fool of me. And yes, my feelings were real. Sleep tight tonight knowing I won't. Rest easy knowing I will never let another woman near me.”

  “Don't you dare, Rupert Locke-Smythe,” screamed Susan. “Don't you dare use this as an excuse to duck out of our relationship. Do not use this scene as yet another means to keep us apart for another fifteen years.”

  “I don't have to. We were never together in the first place.”

  “You can lie publicly, Rupert, but you know that's not true. You know what happened Saturday night.”

  “The one thing I'm certain of is it didn't mean a thing to you. Why should it mean anything to me?”

  “Dylan tell him,” she begged.

  Dylan locked eyes with Rupert. “Hurts doesn't it? You're thirty-three, she wasn't even sixteen. Go home and think about that tonight while nursing your broken heart.”

  Hank stepped in impulsively, to wrap a hairy, mammoth arm around Rupert to stop him launching a punch at Dylan.

  “Dylan, you tell him the truth. It was a set-up. It went wrong. You didn't know I'd called it off,” wept Susan.

  Hank dragged Rupert away. He fought for a second, then went limp like a doll.

  “Do you honestly want me to tell him that? Check out the state of him, he's not fighting to keep you, Susan-Marie. He doesn't even trust you, let alone want to be with you. Leave him be.”

  CHAPTER 32

  I never thought I'd be here again, thought Susan. She hadn't been sure what to wear but when in doubt, she went for black. Slimming, reliable and perfect for any function – smart or casual. Wanting to add a smidgen of glamor to the occasion she opted for a designer cocktail dress. The stretched, satin material showed off her voluptuous curves. Multiple seams were stitched diagonally on the dress. The straps were cut in the shapes of shards of glass; the right strap was layered like a fan. Her shoes were simple and black, in contrast to her dress. When presenting herself she wanted people to see success, hard-work and that it was okay to have curves.

  Shaking hands with the odd teacher that had yet to retire from her days at school, she briefly read over her speech.

  “Ma'am?” the student paused. “Ma'am?”

  “I'm sorry. Lost in thoughts. Even the professionals get nervous.”

  “There's a gentleman back stage who'd like to see you after the speech. He said he's waiting in your dressing room.”

  “Did he say who he was?”

  “I'm afraid not ma'am. He said you knew him, but he wanted to surprise you.”

  That's exactly what I need, a major dollop of mystery and pressure to help my nerves along, she thought.

  Hearing her name announced, she walked into the auditorium. Nothing had changed. The chairs remained an off-orange color, the carpet navy to hide the grime. The stage was wooden and hollow, so musical instruments and set designs could be stored beneath it. The entire student and parent body of the graduating sixth grade gave her a standing ovation on entrance. Seamlessly speaking without need to refer to her papers, seeing the inspired faces of the future made the trip worth it. The invitation was flattering. Determined to give something back to the school that launched her career, Susan insisted on paying for her own flights and accommodation. She remained backstage as the head master completed the ceremonies and the children and parents filed out.Parents, students and teachers dutifully waited by the wings of the stage leading backstage to Susan's dressing room. Never one to neglect her fans, she presented herself to sign autographs and shake hands. Everyone wanting reassurance, Susan promised she'd be along to the dinner, after retrieving her belonging from the dressing room. The auditorium was empty. Most people would feel frightened, but stage was a second home to Susan wherever it was located. The thoughts of ghosts didn’t spook her. They gave a theater character, she thought.

  “Hi.”

  She'd badly wanted it to be Rupert, but knew it was Dylan. It
took all her acting skills to not appear as crushed as she was.

  “Hey yourself, old friend.”

  “Are we still friends?”

  “We are. I was angry with you that night. I wish you'd spoken up, but in some ways you were right. If I'd meant anything to him he'd have fought for me.”

  “Yeah he would've. Susan-Marie I didn't behave brilliantly on opening night. I should've been honest with Rupert, but I was in such a rage I prioritized my feelings over yours.”

  “Forget it, Dylan. We've all done the same in highly emotive situations.”

  “Doesn't make it right.”

  “No, but it doesn't make it unfathomable either.”

  “Is it weird being back here?” he asked.

  “Yes and no. It holds so many memories, but they weren't all bad.”

  “Rupert never said a word about what happened?”

  “What?”

  Susan was annoyed Dylan was raising the issue.

  “He never said a thing. They went to the gymnasium and Nikki snatched the microphone from the DJ to tell everyone what happened. Rupert didn't. He tried to snatch it from her. A feeble attempt, but an attempt all the same. He didn't want to be part of it. He was like a statue. It was as if he was watching a car crash in slow motion. He was powerless, but hated witnessing it. He left straight after. He wasn't partying and up all night. He certainly wasn't with Nikki. The day you left for America he dumped Nikki. I think he was dating her to save face. Because if he dumped her right away, then what he put you through was unnecessary and cruel. Staying with Nikki eased his conscience in a curious way. He refused to open up as to why he'd dumped her. I mean she was an easy lay for him, but I heard from a family friend that he said she was cold, calculating and heartless. Being around her made his skin crawl. He was desperate for a way out. I think like many teenage lads, if a girl is offering sex to you on a plate, you'll take it – even if it means doing unkind things in the process.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because we were friends. I shouldn't have kept it from you. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to be in love. I just wanted you to be those things with me.”

  Susan looped her arms around his neck and embraced him.

  “I want those things for you. If I had control over my heart I'd share a life with you, but I don't. I love you as a friend, Dylan, and nothing more. I had no idea how strong your feelings were. We keep in touch, but the geographical distance insured we could only ever be transatlantic friends. You know I prefer living in the UK. You've had girlfriends and relationships in the past. You still will. You will find the right one. I hate myself for saying it, but if it sets you free to find someone who can love you in the same way, then great. I'm not in love with you, Dylan. I never will be.”

  Dylan looked at the floor. “Guess I needed to hear it from you face to face.”

  “I'm so, so sorry.”

  “Don't be.” He made for the main door.

  “Where will you go?”

  “Not sure. Away from you for a while.”

  “Don't be like that.”

  “It's best for both of us, Susan-Marie.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she watched him leave. Rather than take the main entrance, she snuck out the fire exit on the opposite side of the auditorium. It opened onto a gentle rolling hill. The turf was shaped into large steps directly outside the auditorium. That way, racing out in a fire emergency, people wouldn't bound out and roll down to the bottom of the hill. The pitter patter of rain was beginning to fall.

  “May I?”

  Spinning she saw Rupert.

  “May I have this dance?”

  “It's going to storm in a minute.”

  “I know, but you won't feel the rain when you dance with me,” promised Rupert.

  “This I know to be true.”

  Placing her head on his shoulder, she began to dance with Rupert in the rain, accompanied by the ghosts of their teenage selves.

  ~ END ~

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  CHALLENGING LOVE

  Book 3 of the British Billionaires’ Series

  Dylan sat listlessly in his office. The autumn was submitting to the onset of winter. Both seasons were miserable. Whether it was the dead leaves falling from the trees to be trod underfoot or the snow stealing the life from the city, the scenario suited Dylan's mood. Since Susan-Marie took up with Rupert Locke-Smythe he felt soulless. His unrequited love was vanquished. His beating heart frozen. Any affection or warmth stagnant and inaccessible.

  Life offered nothing other than misery.

  His office phone rang. Laconically, he pressed answer.

  “Dylan, it's reception.”

  “And?”

  “Transferring a call though from a Ms. Goldscheider.”

  “I'll take it.”

  “Dylan, how's tricks?”

  “Ariella. Tricks are fine.”

  “So I hear. Susan-Marie Thompson has done big things for your agency.”

  “You want to poach her?”

  “No. I was thinking more of a business proposition. I'll be in town in the next month or two. Do you want to have lunch?”

  “I can do that,” Dylan forced himself to feign disinterest.

  “My PA will call to set it up.”

  Hanging up, he couldn't be bothered to be outraged by her rudeness. She was one of the most powerful agents in Hollywood. What on Earth did he have that could benefit her firm? Curious, his mood shifted into a positive space.

  Contemplating Ariella's call, his cell phone rang.

  “Yes,” he answered curtly.

  “It's Conor. I'm back in town.”

  Conor was possibly the only male friend he had. If he could be called a friend. He spent a few months in America and when he did the two competed as comrades, but the older they got, the greater the challenges became.

  “You here long?”

  “Long enough to make life interesting, old friend. You up for it?”

  “I'll pick you up from the airport,” he replied, accepting the challenge.