The CEO (The Millionaire Malones Book 2)

by Victoria Purman

  What if she was holding on to a grudge against Callum for something that even Lulu had forgiven him for? It was possible that Lulu had put all that heartbreak behind her now that she’d found love again with Michael. She had never liked things to be messy or complicated and maybe this was her way of shutting off the pain of their break-up. Getting in the middle of other people’s stories was always messy.

  Ava got up off the sofa and padded in bare feet to her kitchen, where she put the kettle on to make herself a cup of peppermint tea. She needed something to distract her from thoughts of Lulu and Callum and the Malones. Of bad marriages and love gone wrong and love she could never have.

  While her tea steeped, she found a sketch pad on her kitchen table and opened it to a fresh page. She thought back to Callum’s house and his multiple balconies and his empty gardens and began to sketch and plan.

  Ava loved her job and she was proud of it, in an upside down rebellious way. Unlike some of the people she did landscaping jobs for, she actually worked for a living. She wasn’t a professional wife or a trust fund kid who dabbled in environmental or charity projects in his or her spare time. She got down and dirty in the dirt. She lugged plants and shovels and a nail gun and bags of fertiliser and created little idylls and oases in this teaming city of nearly five million people. By the time she’d worked her magic, her gardens were far better therapy for her clients than consulting a shrink, she’d always thought. Give a stressed-out executive a place to breathe and relax and they could save a fortune on medical bills and expensive yoga retreats.

  She’d studied landscape architecture at university, but her love for landscaping was nurtured in her parents’ vegetable garden. She had always loved the little miracles of gardening: the tomatoes and cucumbers that were a summer staple, and the metres of vine that produced pumpkins and beans and zucchinis. She’d loved digging the dirt over and discovering earth worms, a vindication of the health of the soil she’d planted out. She’d never lost that love for the earth. She’d been lucky enough to turn her passion into a career, and for a decade after university she’d worked for a major commercial landscaping firm and had learnt more than she had ever thought possible.

  She took all the experience she’d garnered and turned it into her own business a couple of years ago. She wanted to be her own boss. She needed to do jobs of the heart rather than big commercial designs. And, most importantly, she needed to get her hands dirty again. She didn’t have a garden of her own in her Bondi flat. While she would have loved a place with more than a few potted herbs on her kitchen windowsill, it was all she could afford right now. A single person in Sydney’s real estate market was lucky to have a windowsill.

  ‘One day,’ she said quietly as she sipped her tea. ‘One day.’

  In her dreams.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ Callum closed the door of his office, high above Sydney on the forty-eighth floor of a gleaming office tower, as Chris and Cooper strode in, completely ignoring the expansive views across the Harbour. Without a word, they took up positions on one of a pair of leather sofas, which faced each other across a mahogany coffee table. Sitting at each end, they shared the same expression: unsmiling and sombre.

  Callum took a moment to reflect on how they’d got to this point in their lives. Neither of his brothers had felt the tug of duty or responsibility. It was always assumed that Chris, as the oldest, would move effortlessly into the company, but he’d left the country after a falling out with their father, and for a decade had travelled the world, photographing international trouble spots, before coming home a year ago and staying here—once he’d fallen in love with Ellie. As for Cooper, he lived in California now, when he wasn’t roaming the world’s beaches as a surfing legend. What started off as an obsession on Sydney’s Maroubra beach two decades ago had become an international career, with championships, titles, endorsements and fame.

  And there was Callum. He’d always been the serious son, the studious one. As soon as he finished his university studies, he’d joined the family firm and learnt all about the business from his father. He’d never left Sydney and, for his sins, was now Chief Executive of Malone Enterprises, in charge of its multi-billion dollar investments and its thousands of employees. Even though he’d officially been running the business for a few years, ever since his father had semi-retired, he felt the burden of it now more than he ever had when their father was alive.

  Callum reached for a file full of papers from his desk and strode across the room, making himself comfortable on the sofa opposite his brothers. He laid the papers out on the coffee table and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He glanced up from the document he’d spent hours studying before his brothers had arrived. ‘If you feel like a beer, there’s some in the bar fridge.’

  Chris shook his head. ‘Not for me. I’m staying dry in case Ellie goes into labour. Speaking of which, can we get this done? She had a bad night and some pains this morning, and man …’ he checked his watch. ‘This could all be happening sooner than we thought.’

  Callum observed his brother. He looked shit-scared and that was something for a man who’d been shot at by the Taliban while on assignment in Afghanistan.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Cooper said with a fisted punch to his brother’s shoulder. ‘Ice chips. That’s what you need to do. Feed her ice chips. And don’t forget the back rubs.’

  Callum sat back against the soft leather and draped an arm on the back of the sofa. ‘What the hell would you know, Coop?’

  Cooper scowled and bit back hurriedly. ‘More than you fucking well do.’

  Callum noted the clench in Cooper’s jaw, the tightness in his fingers as he fisted them on his thighs. This wasn’t like Cooper. He knew his brothers’ personalities like the back of his hand. Chris had always been the one to fly off the handle, to make impetuous decisions with his life and limbs, until he’d settled down. Cooper had always been more relaxed. He normally had a surfer’s patience, borne of years of waiting for the perfect wave, but it all seemed to have deserted him today.

  Nothing was right with the Malone brothers, it seemed.

  ‘Whoa, what’s your problem?’ Chris demanded.

  ‘Me? I don’t have a problem.’ Cooper raked a hand through his longish hair, pushed it back behind his ears. ‘Look, I don’t have much time, so I’d appreciate it if we could get this sorted so I can get on a plane and go home.’

  Chris’s shoulders stiffened and he turned an icy gaze on Cooper. Interesting time to decide to be the big brother, Callum thought wryly. ‘Home? Since when is California your home, mate?’

  ‘Oh, shut the fuck up.’

  ‘You that busy on the other side of the goddamn world that you can’t stay for a couple of weeks to meet my first child?’

  Callum held up a hand. ‘You two. Enough. If you stop with the bullshit we can do this, so you,’ Callum pointed at Chris, ‘can go be with your wife. And you,’ he pointed at Cooper, ‘can fuck off back to the States. All right?’

  They heard the tone in his voice and sat back, silent, each with their arms stubbornly crossed.

  Callum turned his attention back to the document on the coffee table. He flipped over the first page. ‘The Meadows. He left it to us. We have to decide what to do with it.’

  Chris shifted uncomfortably. ‘He left it to all three of us?’

  ‘That’s what it says,’ Callum said.

  A solemn silence descended on them all, as if they’d all realised once again that William Malone was gone. The man they all wished had been a better father was dead, and maybe their sullen silences were an indication they were halfway to realising that whatever had happened, he was the only father they had, in the end.

  ‘The company is more complicated and will take much more time to sort out, but I thought we should talk now about his home while Cooper’s still in town.’

  ‘I sure as hell don’t want it.’ Chris stood abruptly and his brothers watched a
s he strode to the big windows of Callum’s office.

  ‘Me neither. It’s not my style,’ Cooper said.

  ‘The wrong continent for you, right?’ Chris’s voice echoed from across the office.

  Cooper looked at Callum and said nothing.

  ‘So,’ Callum nodded. ‘Are we going to vote on it? Who wants to sell?’

  The three men thought it over for a moment. Callum didn’t want the place, either. The only happy memories he had of The Meadows were of their mother, and she’d been gone so long they were as indistinct as a ship in the distant ocean. He certainly didn’t want to live in it. He had his Coogee place. Out of nowhere, an image of Ava flashed through his head. He shook it away.

  Cooper raised a hand. ‘I vote yes.’

  From the window, Chris agreed. ‘That’s a yes from me.’

  ‘Okay,’ Callum said. ‘I guess that means all in favour.’

  *

  The sun was setting behind the Harbour Bridge when Callum drove out of the city and home to the beach, to his place of peace and solitude. He needed the refuge after the difficult conversation with his brothers. They’d all been close as kids, but he didn’t feel that anymore, even with his twin. Their all-too-easy decision today to sell The Meadows was something more than offloading an unnecessary piece of real estate. It felt like shattering their family.

  He manoeuvred his car down the winding street to his house. Parked out front was a small green car and when he slowed, he saw a square magnetic sign attached to the door: Ava Good Weekend Garden Design. It was olive green with a spindly tree on one side of the words, with Ava’s name at the bottom. And she was sitting in the car.

  Fuck it. He’d forgotten he’d arranged to meet her. She wanted to talk over preliminary plans for the design. He pulled up, stopped in line with her door and opened his window. Ava did the same, a businesslike smile on her face.

  ‘Damn it. Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘I’ll park. Meet me at the front door.’

  She nodded and Callum opened his garage door, parked inside it with a skid on the concrete floor, and bolted up the stairs. When he opened the front door, Ava was already waiting. She had a fabric satchel slung over one shoulder and was wearing what he assumed were her work clothes. A polo shirt had a logo above her left breast, and it hung loosely over a pair of baggy khaki shorts. A glance down her long legs and he realised she was wearing only her socks. Big, thick, scruffy red socks. A pair of muddy elastic-sided work boots were placed neatly to the side of the door.

  ‘If this is a bad time for you, we can reschedule. I know you’re a busy man and I’m not so busy, although still quite busy, so I could always—’

  He held up a hand. ‘You took off your boots.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied with a tone that was all snarkiness, that didn’t have to say, what do you think I am? A heathen? for him to get the message.

  ‘Come in.’ He guided her inside with a hand to the small of her back, then closed the door.

  ‘You’ve been working today?’ Callum asked as they took the stairs and emerged into the main living area.

  ‘Up on the northern beaches,’ Ava replied.

  He watched her tentatively negotiating the floor in her socks, looking down as if she expected to slip any second. And then he imagined her sliding across the floor, singing about old time rock ‘n’ roll into a candlestick. In a baggy white shirt and her underwear.

  He shouldn’t have let his mind go there.

  ‘Right,’ he muttered, not quite remembering what she’d said.

  ‘I’m doing a small garden for a paving company’s display site. It won’t take long, but we had to bring in fresh soil and … yeah, like I’m sure you want to hear about my day.’

  Callum walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. ‘Believe me, I do.’ He poured two glasses and handed one to Ava. She slipped her satchel off her shoulder and carefully put it on the floor by one of the legs of the dining table.

  ‘Who’s “we”?’ he asked.

  Ava thought for a moment. ‘Oh. “We” is me and Andy.’

  He waited for some more explanation from her about exactly who Andy was but she gave away nothing else. He probably didn’t deserve one but he wanted to know anyway. He took a good gulp of wine.

  She watched him do it. Waited. ‘Had a rough day at the office?’

  He sighed. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘What happened?’ Distract me, Ava Gibson, he pleaded, all in his head. Tell me something that will take me out of my head and out of what’s happening to my family.

  ‘My rough day involved tonnes of top soil that went to the wrong address. The residents of 114 Bennelong Street got a rude shock this morning when they woke to find their driveway blocked with a huge pile of dirt.’

  ‘That’s bad,’ Callum chuckled. He rounded the long kitchen island bench and leaned back on it. He loosened his tie, pulled it from his collar and dropped it on the surface behind him. With a deft, single-handed move, he undid the top button of his shirt.

  He put his glass down. ‘I need to get out of this suit. You can get started if you want. Look around. Take some measurements. I’ll be right back.’

  *

  Ava put her glass on the island bench, figuring the best way to deal with Callum would be with a clear head. She searched around in her satchel for a notebook and her tape measure and then went out to the balcony. The cool breeze, straight off the ocean, was wonderful and cool on her hot cheeks.

  She pulled her hair out of its loose ponytail and re-tied it up high. Considering her job, a short pixie cut would have been be far more practical, but she could never bring herself to cut her hair quite that short. All that fussing and washing every day would have been way too much work. Long hair could be scooped up for work and washed every few days; even once a week if she didn’t have to look particularly normal. And there were a lot of weeks in the year when she didn’t have to look particularly normal.

  These days, she had work and she had sleep, and that was about it. The weekends were for meeting clients and scoping out new work, and occasionally a late breakfast with some friends she kept in touch with from university, visits to her parents or coffee with Lulu, but that was about it. She’d given herself over, heart, body and soul, to her new business and it consumed almost every waking moment.

  And when she was asleep, she dreamt about Callum.

  If it wasn’t so pathetic she could laugh about it.

  Ava sketched out the basic shape of the top balcony, a long rectangle with a north-easterly aspect, and noted if there was a tap and drainage. This area needed some seating and a table, and perhaps a woman in a flowing, multi-coloured kaftan with a glass of champagne in her hand and a sensual smile aimed in the general direction of the handsome and unattainable Callum Malone.

  Again with the pathetic.

  Ava took copious notes about pots and plants she knew would look striking in the space. When she was satisfied, she stepped back inside to find Callum walking towards her, wearing a pair of loose grey shorts and a light grey T-shirt. The pale colour set off his deliciously tanned skin and his light brown hair.

  She cleared her voice before speaking, just in case it came out as a squeak. ‘I need to get down to the other levels.’

  ‘Come with me.’ Ava followed him down another set of stairs to what seemed to be another living area, but this one had direct access to the empty pool. They stood at its edge, staring at the dead leaves and the dust.

  ‘I can’t believe you have a pool and you haven’t filled it.’

  ‘I’ve been too busy.’

  ‘Wow. If I had a pool, I’d be in it every day.’

  ‘You like to swim?’ He looked her up and down as if he was checking out if there was evidence of any sporting ability.

  She lifted a hand. ‘Let me clarify. I’d be in it every day with a gin and tonic. My sporting days are over.’

/>   He grinned and she didn’t want to like it.

  ‘I like to swim,’ Callum said, ‘but I do it out there, in the ocean.’

  Ava could see the evidence of that in the strength of arms and shoulders, had felt it the day of his father’s funeral when she’d impulsively hugged him and he’d hugged her back. The memory of that embrace had her feeling quivery and nervous. It had felt so good to be held by him. So damn good.

  ‘We’ll fill it anyway. Think of it as a rather expensive water feature.’

  That made Callum laugh and she loved the sound of it. Deep and real.

  ‘And what about the level below?’ They walked around the pool and leaned over the glass balustrade, taking in the empty spaces. ‘We should grass that area. It would make the perfect little play space for children.’

  ‘Would it?’

  Ava steeled herself. ‘You planning on having any children?’

  Callum looked out to the ocean for a long while, before turning to face her. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Right. Is that a “maybe one day” kind of response or a “get your nose out of my business” thing? Because it’s not about me being nosy, no matter what you might think. It’s about creating usable spaces for this property that will add value if you want to sell one day. A huge home like this is really appealing to people with children—rich people with children—but they’ll be put off if there’s no space for the children to play with their nannies.’

  He got the dig, judging by the quirk at the corner of his mouth. ‘Do the grass.’

  ‘Okay.’ Ava got busy making more notes, many more than were strictly necessary. ‘And what about that little section down there at the very bottom?’

  ‘That’s a walkway to the beach. People around here moor their boats off the jetties so it’s good access.’

  ‘Do you have a boat?’

  ‘Not anymore. I used to sail when I was at school. Hated it. I’d rather be on a surfboard.’

  ‘Just like Cooper,’ Ava said.