All We Have

by Len Webster

  He kept his eyes on the way the sun’s rays hit and illuminated the peonies. They were beautiful. Every month, he visited his mother. When his brother lived and worked in Sydney, Rob had stayed longer than the usual few minutes. He’d sit on the grass, rain or shine, and update his mother on Julian’s career as a consultant before he even spoke of his rowing achievements. Exhaling, Rob bent his knees and brushed the dirt off the plaque. He remembered the words she had spoken after the first time she’d handed him an oar.

  “You do what makes you feel like you’ll be a proud man someday, okay? You be a good man when you grow up.”

  “I hope I’m a good man, Mum. I hope I’m your definition of one,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about Julian. He’s back home and has the girl. You’d love her.”

  The vibrating of his phone in his jeans pocket had Rob standing to retrieve it. When he looked at the screen, he saw the new message from his brother.

  The child: We need the Hulk to come help us! It’s an EMERGENCY!

  His brows furrowed at his text. Several different worst-case scenarios invaded his thoughts. His heart beat uncomfortably against his chest as he began to move his fingers to reply.

  Rob: Are you okay? Is Dad okay? Christ, is Stevie okay?

  Stevie.

  The blonde, smart-mouthed woman he’d thought he’d fallen in love with. The one woman Rob thought he could build a future with. But he’d been wrong. Though he cared deeply for her, he knew he couldn’t love her the way his brother did. She had fallen in love with Julian long before Rob had met her. And after seeing them together, Rob knew he had no chance at Stevie Appleton’s heart.

  The child: You saw us all this morning for breakfast. Nothing has happened in the space of a couple of hours. But we do need you. We need your help building Ally’s new bed before she gets here.

  Allison.

  The nerves inside him had exploded where his heart had normally called home. Allison O’Connor’s name alone still made his chest tighten. Rob had known she would move to Melbourne. But he’d hoped she wouldn’t. He had hoped she’d stay in Sydney. A state away from him and his need for her. He’d used her living in New South Wales as an excuse not to go after her. But Rob wouldn’t have to worry. He had already done the damage. He had made it clear he’d never want her, telling her over the phone that what he felt was a mistake. That the kiss and talks between them had no meaning. It had been an asshole move, but it had been the right move.

  Rob: That doesn’t warrant an emergency text!

  The child: It does when you accidentally trick Blondie into a battle of the sexes. I think I’ve pissed her off, and she’s determined to show me she can build a flat pack from the Swedes.

  He sighed. In all honesty, his brother was an idiot. But he was also one of the greatest guys Rob had ever known, no matter how annoying he was.

  Rob: All right, I’ll be over in an hour. You’re buying beers at PJ’s. Don’t let Stevie anywhere near the tools.

  The child: Aye-aye, Captain.

  Rob lowered his phone and gazed down at his mother’s grave. “I gotta run, Mum. I love you and I’ll get you that gold medal,” he promised as he always did at the end of every visit.

  The buzzing of his phone had Rob unlocking it to find another message from Julian.

  The child: I did a salute after I sent that message. Could you also bring some gauze and pain relief cream or something?

  The child: Also, could you SNEAK them into the apartment? Can’t let Stephanie know that I sliced my hand opening the flat packs.

  Rob: So how are you hiding your wound from her?

  The child: I’ve been sitting on the toilet for a REALLY long time playing Sudoku and wrapping toilet paper around it.

  “Miss O’Connor, the pilot says the plane is now ready to disembark. He’ll have the company jet’s navigation looked at before they return to Sydney. He apologises for the delay and the inconvenience,” Ally’s bodyguard, Serge Nikolic, said.

  Ally set the copy of the Sydney Morning Herald on the leather seat beside her and brushed her wavy ash-blonde hair over her shoulder. “That’s okay, Serge.”

  She glanced up to see his black aviator glasses resting on his short, almost buzz-cut brown hair. Serge’s piercing blue eyes focused on the entertainment section of the newspaper. “What are they saying about you now?”

  With a heavy sigh, Ally picked up the paper and read the first sentence. “Heiress to the multi-million dollar O’Connor fortune sighted stumbling out of club with a new man last night.”

  Her bodyguard’s hands clenched into tight fists. “When will they ever stop?”

  “They won’t,” she stated. “Hopefully moving to Melbourne will stop the articles.”

  “Miss O’Connor, I’m worried.”

  Ally folded the newspaper and set it on her lap. “Serge, you’re always worried. I’d be nervous if you weren’t. Let me guess. You’re worried about my safety?”

  Serge had been working for her for almost two years. Her father hadn’t wanted the expense and had deemed it wasteful. It was a first. So Ally had ignored him and paid for her bodyguard out the money she made from her appearances. The money her father hadn’t ever noticed that she’d put away. She wouldn’t venture out into the Cross without protection. Kings Cross was infamous as Sydney’s red-light district. Filled with clubs, pubs, bars, and strip clubs, it housed many of Sydney’s organised crime groups and anyone famous had walked its paths, Ally included.

  Serge unbuttoned his suit jacket and then bent down in front of her. Ally smiled at him, but it hadn’t lasted long when she noticed the concerned expression on his face. “I worry about your health,” he said.

  Oh.

  “Serge—”

  He shook his head. “The moment you step off this plane, you’re cut off.”

  Ally reached over and clutched his hand. Serge hadn’t just been her bodyguard; he’d also been her friend, her confidant, and like a father to her. “I have money.”

  “But not like before.” His other hand covered hers. “Your last trip to New York … Those expenses almost emptied your account. And then you pay me. Miss O’Connor, I don’t want your money. You already pay me far more than you need to. I’d rather you kept it in case …”

  “In case I run out of pills?” she teased, raising her brow at her overly concerned bodyguard.

  “You’re not well,” he reminded.

  Ally gave him a tight smile. “I’m fine. I have enough to last a while. I wasn’t completely reckless with my money. And well, I’d rather see a specialist in New York than here. I can’t risk the world knowing.”

  “You need to at least tell your brother,” Serge urged.

  She shook her head. “I can take care of myself, Serge. I might be completely cut off, but I made this deal. And I’m an O’Connor. I don’t back down.”

  “You’re going to get yourself killed without me there to monitor you. Please, let me stay here in Melbourne with you.”

  Ally pulled her hand free from Serge’s and unbuckled her seat belt. “Serge, please. I’ll be all right. It’s nothing serious. You heard the specialist. I’ll be okay. Now, come on. Stevie and Julian are expecting us.”

  “Will you, at least, tell your roommates? I need someone there to make sure you keep an eye on your blood pressure,” Serge explained and then stood up.

  Ally slipped the newspaper into her bag and then rose. “If I promise to call you every morning and every night and update you on my levels, will you relax?”

  Serge picked up her bag and held it as he took a step back for her to stand in the aisle. “I’ll worry less.”

  “You don’t have to worry at all,” she stated and then stepped next to him. She looped her arm around his and peeked up at the frown on his face.

  “I don’t want to get a call that you’re in the hospital and need to go on dialysis. Or worse …”

  The guilt settled in her chest. He’d worried about her for a long time. Ally knew what worse m
eant. Worse was organ failure. Worse was dying. But she never dwelled too much on it. The more she thought about it, the more she’d think of all the things she hadn’t done in her life. But she didn’t have to worry about worse. Not when her specialist in New York had said she could stay healthy without the need for dialysis.

  And over a year and a half after her initial diagnosis, she’d remained healthy. Life continued. No one suspected. Her detox cover-up had worked its charm.

  “Serge,” she said softly.

  “Yes, Miss O’Connor.”

  “I’m going to call you every day. My kidneys aren’t going to stop me from living life my way. Let’s get off this plane and say goodbye to my old life.”

  As she took a step towards the plane’s exit, Serge pulled her back and turned her. Then his hands held onto her arms. “Allison …”

  She stilled. Serge never used her first name unless it was important. He’d always kept their relationship as formal and as professional as possible. “Yes, Serge.”

  “You take care of yourself, piccola. I don’t want your father to win. I don’t want you to do what you’re used to for the rest of your life,” he said with a layer of urgency in his voice.

  Ally smiled. “Piccola?”

  Serge nodded. “It’s Italian for ‘little one.’”

  “You’re Serbian.”

  “I am. But piccola sounds better than mališa. My grandmother was half-Italian. She used to call me piccolo because my brothers were bigger than I was. But when I grew up, I became bigger than them. You will, too, Allison.”

  Her smile deepened as her heart swelled. Then she nodded. She would get through this deal. She wouldn’t let her father win.

  Not this time.

  “Wait here, Serge. I need to talk to my brother alone. We’ll get everything out of the car in a minute,” Ally instructed as she fished her brother’s apartment keys from her purse. She let herself in and headed straight to his office.

  The apartment was bare now that Clara had moved out and taken all her things with her. Liam’s bachelor pad was like a showroom, no longer having any of Clara’s possessions to make it more homely. Once she reached his office door, Ally just walked in without knocking.

  Liam hadn’t bothered to glance up from the documents he was reading. “Ally, I’m busy,” he said abruptly.

  “Have you seen this?” she asked as she threw the newspaper she’d taken off their private jet on the desk.

  It had been enough to spark her brother’s interest. Liam picked up the paper and began to read. “I see,” he noted. “Another one?”

  Ally’s shoulders sagged. “I wasn’t even at the Cross last night. I was at home packing. God, they’re such bullshit stirrers. I can’t—You’re not even listening to me.”

  Liam had set the newspaper down and then picked up his previous reading material. He glanced up at her, raising his brow. “We all know they talk shit, Ally. Multimillion-dollar fortune? Obviously, they haven’t done their research or paid close attention. You’re inheriting at least a hundred million.”

  At least a hundred million …

  The amount of money she’d be inheriting when their father passed made her sick. Her trust funds alone were in the tens of millions. She shouldn’t have access to that much money. It was ridiculous to comprehend.

  “I don’t want it,” she whispered. Then she squinted at her brother. “I don’t want any of it!”

  Liam set the documents down and sighed. “Too bad. You’re getting it. That was the deal I made with Dad. You get to inherit it all, not me. Did you think I liked the title of heir to my name? That lifestyle … Why do you think I left?”

  “And I got stuck with it!” She raised her voice.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he would push that lifestyle on you.” Liam rose from his seat and began to pick up his folders. All he had done since Clara had left was work. He wasn’t the brother he had been.

  “Could you not work for just a little while? That’s all you’ve done since Clara left,” Ally pointed out.

  Liam tensed. “Can’t.” He shook his head. “I’m flying to Berlin today. Got another European investment I need to look into.”

  Ally groaned at her brother’s excuse. “You’re going to have to realise soon enough that you can’t just fly away from the fact that your fiancée left you. You have to move on. She’s married, Liam.”

  The devastation was still clear in his hazel eyes as they met hers. “There’s nothing left for me now. Clara was it. You know how I felt about her. I love her. I’ll be back in time to oversee the restaurant’s renovations.”

  “When do you leave?” she asked.

  “Few hours. Just booked a flight before you barged in here, almost breaking down my door,” he teased but the humour in his voice fell flat.

  “I just got here and you’re leaving.”

  The realisation had his eyes widening. “You made a deal with Dad?”

  Ally nodded.

  “What are the terms?”

  With a deep breath, she told him just what she had agreed to. “I’m completely cut off. I have no access to anything O’Connor-related the moment I stepped foot off that plane. For six months, I have to prove I can live on my own and financially support myself.”

  Liam nodded. “And if you don’t?”

  Ally glanced down at her hands. “I do what I’ve been doing for the rest of my life. But with more events and deals.”

  “And you agreed to that?” he asked, unbelievably.

  “He refused all my other deals. This was the only one he’d accept.”

  Liam dropped the folders and then rounded the desk. “Ally, you realise what happens if you fail?”

  She turned her head slightly to avert his less-than-pleased gaze. “I’m a socialite for the rest of my life.”

  Her brother’s hands were on her shoulders. “I don’t want this for you, Ally. You shouldn’t have struck a deal with him.”

  “I know,” she said once her focus returned to him. “But hey, I guess I’ll let you pack. Serge’s outside waiting for me. I had better get my things into Stevie’s apartment. You’ll stop by before your flight to Berlin?”

  Liam pulled her into a tight hug. “I will. When I get back, I’ll find you a job. I’ll make sure you don’t break this deal.”

  Ally nodded into his shoulder. “Just don’t go doing something stupid in Berlin, okay? You can’t keep taking off. Clara wouldn’t be happy with you if she knew.”

  “I know,” he whispered.

  “And who are you?” Julian Moors had asked Serge once he’d opened the door. He scrunched up his nose and then looked over his shoulder. “Blondie, did you invite a scary looking man to our apartment?”

  Ally rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Julian, step away from the door,” Stevie Appleton instructed. Her fiancé did as he was told.

  Fiancé.

  Well, not-fiancé, as they had put it. Stevie and Julian had been engaged for a week. Julian’s proposal was more of a promise. And from what Stevie had told Ally, she was happy. A couple of months ago, Stevie had left Melbourne for London when Julian found out that she had miscarried four years ago. It was heartbreaking to see Julian so distraught, but Ally knew Stevie was much worse off. She feared her friend wouldn’t return and that she’d never see her again. But Stevie did return, and almost a month ago, Julian had quit his job in Sydney and moved to Melbourne to be with her.

  “Ally, you’re here! You should have called to tell us your flight was coming in. We would have picked you up,” Stevie said.

  Stevie was beautiful. She had this classic beauty about her with her long, straight blonde hair, creamy skin, bright blue eyes, and defining cheekbones. Her mother was Collette Agustin, the French supermodel. Ally was envious of just how beautiful her roommate was.

  She shook her head. “Took the company plane.”

  “Still. We would have picked you up.” Stevie swung her focus to the six-foot-four man ne
xt to her. “And this is Serge?”

  “Yes, Miss Appleton,” Serge answered formally. No smile or nod. It was less than friendly. Serge was all professional. It took him almost a year to call her Allison.

  Thanks, Serge. Way to frighten my roommates.

  Julian leant in close and whispered, “See, he’s scary, isn’t he?” to his fiancée.

  Stevie slapped his shoulder. “He’s her bodyguard. You want him to be skipping and offering hugs?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a hug,” he pointed out and shrugged.

  “Later. I’m still mad that you thought hiding your cut on your hand was better than telling me about it,” Stevie said as she pushed Julian away from the door. “Come in, Ally. Julian will help grab your stuff from downstairs.”

  Ally glanced down to see Julian’s left hand bandaged and frowned at it. Then she peeked up to see the humour in his light blue eyes. “How’d you do that?”

  “Battled a fierce force known as IKEA,” he answered as he stepped into the hallway. “Come on, Serg. Let’s get Ally moved into this madhouse.”

  Serge’s brows knitted, making it obvious that he did not like the nickname Julian had given him. “Relax, Serge. You ran a background check. You saw that Julian’s harmless. Annoying but harmless,” Ally teased.

  Julian’s eyes widened. “You ran a background check on me?”

  “I agreed to it,” Stevie said, joining in on the lie.

  “Why?”

  “So I wouldn’t have to. You seriously didn’t think Ally could live with a criminal, did you? We had to make sure.”

  “Let’s go, Mr Moors. Miss O’Connor’s belongings are downstairs,” Serge said, interrupting them. “Miss O’Connor, would you like me to take your bag off you?”