Reunited with the Rebel Billionaire

by Catherine Mann

  The things that made them both happy.

  Threading her fingers through his hair, she sifted through to his scalp, down to his neck and over his powerful shoulders. He halted her touch midway down his arm. He gripped her hand to kiss her wrist and then continue down the inside of her forearm, surprising her with how ticklish she was there.

  Their shared laughter felt like a rare gift, the moment so oddly poignant she wasn’t sure if she should cry or jump him. Their eyes met. Held.

  And she had her answer.

  She needed this. Him. Melting into his arms, she kissed him, nipping his lower lip and stroking his tongue with growing urgency. He stripped her naked, removing every barrier between them while she poured all the longing of the last months into that kiss. His hands molded her gently, cruising over her curves and paying homage to every inch of her that wasn’t in pain.

  “I’ve missed you.” He said it so softly she thought it was her own thought for a moment. “I know I’ve said it before, but I mean it.”

  “I know. Me, too,” she admitted, glancing up to meet his eyes. Needing to say the words, too. “I’ve missed you, just being together, so much.”

  That’s why she needed him so much right now.

  He must have understood—of course he understood, since he knew her so damn well—because he shifted her thighs with his knee. He made a place for himself, gripping her hips and steering her where he wanted her. Close to him. So close.

  She was ready for him, but he took his time brushing featherlight caresses up the hot, needy center of her until she had to threaten him with dire sexual payback if he didn’t come inside her.

  She could feel his smile against her mouth when he kissed her and the heat of him nudged inside her. His smile faded when she thrust her hips hard into his, taking all of him and holding him tight. She could feel his heart pound hard and fast against her chest on the right side where he allowed himself to make contact with her.

  Arms looped around his neck, she trusted him with her body. Knew he’d be careful with her and make her feel amazing at the same time.

  And oh, did he deliver.

  With his powerful thrust, he could have delivered heart-stopping pleasure to her all night long. He was tireless in pursuit of her pleasure. And while normally she liked to ensure he was every bit as swept away as her, tonight she simply let the desire build. Allowed the sensations to build however he wanted. Gave herself over to him completely.

  “Henri.” She whispered his name more than once as he took her to one dizzying high after another.

  She clung to him, raining kisses down his impossibly strong torso, savoring the shift of muscle beneath her hands with his every movement.

  When he finally reached that point of no return, she met his gaze again, remembering that he wanted her to see him.

  What she saw sent her crashing into blissful completion as much as any skillful touch. Wave after wave of pleasure shuddered through her, undulating over her body. She felt his release, too, not just inside her, but under her hands as his back bowed and his muscles tensed.

  She held him for a long time afterward, stroking his hair and remembering every moment they’d spent together. But most of all, she thought about what she’d seen in his eyes in that shattering moment before she’d hit her peak.

  Her husband still loved her. Deeply.

  And she was terrified of what that meant for both of them.

  Eleven

  Between her jumbled feelings for Henri and waiting for her biopsy results, the past days getting ready for the fund-raiser had zipped by in a blur of emotion. She’d spent every spare moment attending to different details. Making sure the event would go off without a hitch.

  Making sure she didn’t have time to think about the confusing mess she’d made of her life.

  The lingering aftereffects of her biopsy still caused a dull ache in her chest and throughout her shoulder. The pain didn’t slow her down, though. Her recent diagnosis of the cancer gene filled Fiona with a renewed sense of commitment to the cause. This event wasn’t just in memory of her mother, aunt and grandmother. No, Fiona needed this event to work—to outperform any event she’d ever done—because she needed, down to her bones, to be a part of eradicating this disease that took too much from people and their families.

  So she’d spent hours on the phone, personally reaching out to all her contacts to woo them into sponsoring the event. She found creative ways to pay for a memorable gala without taking an extra penny from the client’s budget. No detail was too small for her to tackle full force.

  She couldn’t deny that another factor contributed to her increased productivity. Henri. Her failing marriage. The reality of life without him.

  The thoughts were too real, too hard for her to deal with. Fiona threw herself into the fund-raiser because it filled her with purpose and direction. Things she desperately needed in her life right now.

  After another day of dogged dedication, Fiona felt suffocated by the walls of her lonely home. It was time to get some fresh air and, she did need to get some paperwork she’d left at the Reynaud compound.

  Not that she was looking for an excuse to run into Henri.

  A quick drive later, she arrived at the sprawling cluster of buildings...the Greek Revival main house, the Italianate home, the carriage house, the boathouse...the dock.

  Her gaze snagged on a figure at the end of the dock. Gramps sat on the bench overlooking the water, and while she knew he was likely fine, she also worried about him wandering off in a fog.

  She set out toward the dock and the water, each step closer filling her lungs with the familiar scents of this place that had once been her home. The lake air had a way of breathing life into her.

  The Friday event would irrevocably change the course of her life. And Henri’s. As much as it pained her, she knew it was time to cut the ties between them. She could not—no, she would not—be the source of pain for him anymore. He deserved more. He deserved children and a wife who wasn’t so sickly. Leaving would shelter his heart from any additional pain if those results—due any time now—turned out for the worst.

  Though Henri had wanted her to stay with him through the rest of the season, she couldn’t put them both through that. Too much pain. Too much exposure to the electric passion that hummed between them. And after the last few days...well, she couldn’t lead either of them on like that.

  After the charity event on Friday, Fiona would create her own timetable for leaving Henri. One that minimized damage to both of them.

  A season of difficult choices was upon her. Henri planned on attending the event on Friday before leaving Saturday for Indianapolis, where he’d play his Sunday game. The running assumption was that she’d join him, take her place in the wives’ section of the stands.

  But maybe...maybe the better call came in the form of a clean break after the event. Leaving him to travel alone.

  Alone?

  Revulsion settled in the pit of her stomach. Alone. Could she really let him be unsupported during a season that could finally be the one he deserved? A season that might allow him to achieve all his professional dreams? As he’d pointed out, it wasn’t just his dreams that were on the line this year, either. So many of the Reynauds were bound up in the Hurricanes’ future. Could she live with herself if she was the cause of their championship run falling apart?

  Before she could explore the ramifications of her idea, she got to Grandpa Leon. He clutched a glass of juice and balanced on his lap a dinner plate that contained specks of spiced sausage and rice.

  His state continued to shock Fiona. Every time she saw him, he looked less and less like himself. The disease seemed to steal more than just his mind. The effects were rendered visible on his skin, his face. Even his smile had shifted, changed.

  Glancing at her, he moti
oned for Fiona to sit next to him. “The boys used to like boating. But I don’t see them use the yacht that often. Or maybe I am forgetting that, too. It just seems everyone is so busy working.”

  Sitting down beside him, she laid a hand on his tissue-paper-thin skin. “You would be right about that.”

  “I used to work, too. A lot.” Grandpa Leon’s sight turned inward. Fiona wondered what he remembered in this moment. If they were real memories or imagined.

  “Yes, sir, you did.”

  “So I guess I’m to blame.” Taking a swig of his juice, he spoke into his crystal glass.

  Fiona shook her head, gathering her hair in her fist and pulling it over her shoulder. Grandpa Leon had stepped up for Henri and his brothers. Set a good example about the value of hard work and family. “They’re adults. We all are. We make our own choices.”

  Flashing her a dentureless smile, he tapped her temple. “I’ve always liked you. When I remember who you are, of course.”

  “And I adore your sense of humor in the face of what has to be... Well, I enjoy your humor.”

  “Thank you, dear.” His gaze returned out toward the yacht. Toward the past and what had been. Swirling around the last few drops of his juice, he let out a small sigh.

  “Could I get you a jacket or a pillow?” she asked just as she saw Henri walking toward them. Her stomach twisted into knots and she wanted to run into his arms, but that would mean giving him answers to questions she wasn’t ready to face yet.

  Gramps extended his juice glass, staring absently ahead. “Just more juice.”

  Springing to her feet, she grabbed the glass from him and made fast tracks for the house, racing past Henri.

  * * *

  So much for a conversation with Fiona. She was dodging him like the plague.

  Though Henri knew Fiona was busy with her fund-raiser, he felt that her disappearing act over these past few days had more to do with what was unresolved between them.

  Henri had caught sight of her from the pool patio, sitting with his grandfather, looking out on the lake. She’d always been so good with Grandpa Leon. Nurturing. Kind. And as the disease claimed more and more of his memory, Fiona never lost her temper, but took it in stride, displaying patience even saints would envy.

  Making his way out to her, Henri felt anticipation quicken his steps. She’d practically run into him, glass in hand. Her face was solemn, and she was quiet as she made her way back to the house.

  Grandpa Leon turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Henri. Recognition washed over his expression.

  Good. These days, Grandpa Leon’s ability to process who was in front of him had waned. To be recognized was a rare blessing.

  Gramps clapped Henri on the back as he sat down. “Nice figure on your girlfriend there, Christophe.”

  Henri’s stomach fell. Watching his grandfather grasp at memories would never become easy. Grandpa Leon thought he was Christophe, his father’s brother.

  The Texas branch of the family was deeply involved in the Reynaud shipping empire and the cruise ship business. They owned an island off Galveston that was a self-sustaining working ranch and an optional stop on many of their cruise itineraries. Guests could ride horseback on the gulf beaches or take part in one of the farm-to-table feasts that made use of the organically grown vegetables. They hadn’t visited their Texas cousins in years due to a family rift. Leon had publicly cut his oldest son, Christophe, out of his will long ago, but Uncle Christophe still retained his title as a vice president of global operations and, along with his oldest son, was very much a part of the family business.

  Grandpa Leon’s greeting was a small slipup. It didn’t mean anything. Henri coughed, stepping closer to his grandfather. He scratched the back of his neck, hoping his grandfather would recognize him now. “Um, thank you.”

  Leon tapped Henri’s ring finger. “You’re married? Married men shouldn’t have a piece on the side. It’s not right.”

  Offering a small smile, he sat down next to his grandfather. “Grandpa, I’m Henri, and Fiona’s my wife.”

  Fog settled on his grandfather. He pursed his lips, weighing the information. Looking down at his feet, he shook his head. “Oh, right. Of course you are, and she is. I just never expected you to go for the kind who’ve, um, had surgical embellishments.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  Grandpa Leon’s eyebrows shot up. Cocking his head to the right, he gestured to his chest and lifted upward a hint.

  Just in time for Fiona to come back with his refilled juice.

  Henri’s voice fell low. “How do you know that?”

  “I have a keen eye for the finer things in life. I just am not so sure why such an already perfect woman would alter anything about herself.”

  Handing the glass to Henri, Fiona leaned in to kiss Grandpa Leon’s cheek. “Grandpa, you’re amazing. Love you.”

  The older man reached up to touch the side of her face. Henri saw how the simplest movements tired his grandfather.

  Dropping his hand away from Fiona, Grandpa Leon peered back and forth between Fiona and Henri. He pursed his dry lips.

  Handing his grandfather the glass of juice, Henri looked at his wife, trying to ferret out what she was thinking.

  Grandpa Leon took a big swig of his juice and popped his lips. Shakily, he rose to his feet, stretching his arms out above him.

  “You two kids have fun. Jeopardy will be on soon and I can’t miss that.” He winked at Henri, shuffling toward the house.

  “Do you need help, Grandpa?” Henri asked earnestly.

  Waving Henri off, Grandpa Leon shook his head. “No. No. You two stay here. Enjoy the sunset.”

  As Leon walked to the house, Fiona made her way to the dock. Sitting on the edge, she let her bare feet dangle over the water, swinging them to unheard music.

  Henri strode over to join her. He was itching to speak to her. To win her back still, even though she’d been avoiding him over the last few days.

  Taking a seat next to her, he remembered all the times they’d sat here when they were first married. They’d talk here for hours. About literature and art and football. Everything.

  Fiona twisted her rope of long dark hair draped over her shoulder. “How strange that your grandfather knew I’d had surgery all this time and never said a word. I might have expected a man to notice if I’d opted for larger, but since I went down a cup size...I’m just surprised.”

  “You and I instituted the code of silence on this. Maybe he sensed that, too.” His grandfather had always been intuitive, if a bit eccentric.

  Leon hadn’t given Henri and his brothers the most traditional upbringing once he’d stepped in to take charge of his four rowdy grandsons, but he understood boys. He’d brought a fifties-era Harley-Davidson to the Texas ranch to give them a lesson in engine rebuilding. The motorcycle had been in crates when he bought the beat-up old thing. By the end of the summer they’d reveled in seeing how fast it would race on the private ranch roads. They’d even collected a lot of bruises along the way.

  Memories of his youth and his grandfather flooded him. Watching as Alzheimer’s consumed Grandpa Leon’s mind tore at Henri. It was as if the lines connecting the flowchart of Grandpa Leon’s memories had been erased.

  “All this time I thought I was the one holding back. But it’s you, too. You’re scared,” Henri said to Fiona.

  “I meet with the doctor tomorrow. I’ll know one way or another. Odds really are that it’s nothing.”

  “I want to be there...” He paused. “But I can see in your eyes I’m not welcome.”

  “It’s not that. I’m just not sure I can...” She shook her head. “Hell, I don’t know. I just need to do this on my own.”

  Silence pooled around them, filling the spaces between them.
It cut deeper than any fight or argument they’d had.

  At least when they were fighting, he felt a connection. That their relationship had a chance because there was an active struggle. This silence felt like a killing blow.

  As the sun sank farther into the lake horizon, he felt the weight of their situation sink onto his shoulders. He was losing her.

  * * *

  Pink balloons covered the entire ceiling of the new wing of the hospital soon to open as an updated children’s oncology floor. Fiona clutched a glass of champagne, taking in the mass of people that flooded the ward.

  Success. Her biggest one yet. Despite the tiny budget and last-minute assignment, the event was packed. In one corner, people bid on silent auction items, which were always a strong source of donations at charity events. A few casino games provided more entertainment and allowed attendees to contribute while having fun.

  But the event was mostly family oriented. Nearby, a troupe of storytellers in elaborate costumes held the attention of a glitzed-out crowd. She watched the emotions play out on the faces of the audience.

  Across the room from her, Henri handed out footballs signed by the entire Hurricanes team. She watched the way the women in the crowd ogled him. A surge of jealousy sank into her veins.

  The event should make her feel fulfilled. At the very least, accomplished. But as she surveyed the pianist and TV star-turned-pop singer Daisy Dani, she felt hollow. She smoothed her crepe skirt, fingers catching on the sequins that outlined a paisley pattern that managed to be elegant and bohemian at the same time. While the deep purple skirt shone with metallic highlights, the dark silk blouse on top was simple and secure. No more shoulder-baring costume mishaps for her.

  Hearing Henri’s laugh from across the room ignited her feet to move. Things had been strange between them over the past few days. A new sort of strain had settled between them. She’d tried texting him earlier, but phones were forbidden during practice.