The Millionaire
Page 10
With her head on his chest, her palm flat on his belly, she signed and relaxed. And realised that not once during sex had she thought about covering up, about hiding, about how much of her skin was showing and what he would think. It gave her a kind of peace.
Chris didn’t say a word. He simply held her, nudged a thigh closer to her and she moved one of her legs across him. When he kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair, she wondered what it would be like to fall asleep like this and wake up in this same position every day for the rest of her life.
“This is a beautiful house.”
“It’s not bad,” he replied.
“A little smaller than where you grew up, where your brother challenged you to that bike race.” Ellie felt the chuckle in his chest and she traced a finger up his abs, over his pecs and his neck and into his hair, his beautiful golden hair.
“I’ve barely been in the country the past ten years, but it’s nice to come home to something vaguely familiar when I’m back. To my mouldy toothbrush and some daggy old T-shirts.”
When I’m back.
“Do you come home a lot?”
He stopped stroking her hair. “No, not a lot. The house is empty most of the time. Cooper stays here, too, when he’s in town, which is almost never.”
Ellie moved out of Chris’s embrace and shifted on top of him, crossing her hands on his chest and resting her chin on them. She liked the way he spread his legs apart so she could nestle against him, the warmth and softness of his belly and his cock, which, hang on a minute, wasn’t quite so soft anymore.
“We don’t have long, do we?”
He shook his head. “It’s what I do, Ellie. It’s what I love to do. Although it’s getting harder and harder.”
She pressed her hips to him suggestively. “I damn well hope so.”
“That to. I meant there are some things about Sydney that I’ll miss.”
“You mean me?”
He chuckled. “Always with the questions. Yes.”
“I understand your job. Probably more than any woman you’ve ever met. What’s it like, coming home?”
He looked into her eyes and played with her hair. “It’s usually a long flight with a couple of crappy movies and a loud talker in the seat next to me, who I want to seriously throttle by the time we land.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” She lowered her voice, because it was a serious question and she wanted a serious answer. “After all you’ve seen and done, how do you settle back into this… this everyday life?”
“It’s a headfuck most of the time, I have to admit. To go from slums and refugee camps one minute to sunny Sydney and my family…”
“So how do you cope with it? How do you get your head out of all that…”
“Tragedy?”
“Yeah. All that sadness.”
“By getting as far away from it as possible for as long as I can.”
“Is that why you were surfing at One Mile Beach?”
“Fuck surfing. I distract myself with sex. Specifically with a woman like you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, hard and urgent and Ellie didn’t forget he hadn’t answered her. While she pushed herself back up to sitting and opened up for him, slid onto his cock, and rocked with him, she filed it away to think about later and then stopped thinking at all.
*
Ellie was woken by the sound of an unfamiliar ringtone in the darkness. As she roused, not entirely sure of where she was, she blinked open her eyes.
“What is it?” she mumbled automatically, sleepily.
The bed moved underneath her, and she saw the shape of Chris’s back in the dim light as he stretched over to grab the phone he’d left on the bedside table. “I got this,” he said. “Malone.” He sat on the edge of the bed, hunched, listening to a muffled voice down the line. “I’ve got my tickets. Can you email that all through to me? Yeah, two weeks.”
Ellie didn’t want to think about what those words meant. She wanted to hold on to him, to savour this night with him, however short it might turn out to be. She moved across the bed and sidled up to him, pressed her lips to his back, tasted salt on his skin. He swapped his phone into his left hand and reached around for her as he turned, his hand on her back, tracing lines with his fingers as he listened. Her head was on his pillow and she could smell him there, his scent on the warm cotton.
“I’ll be in touch. Cheers. You, too.” He was still for a moment. Ellie slipped an arm around his waist, wanting to be wrapped around him, to keep him where he was before he caught another plane and flew into danger and away from her.
Chris put the phone back on the table and turned to her, lowering his body over hers, pressing himself against her. In the dark, he kissed her nose, each cheek and then her lips, as if he was tasting every part of her all over again. As if he was committing the taste of her to memory.
“Where’s the job?”
He sighed and she felt his chest expand against her breasts. For someone like Chris, there would always be another job, another disaster, another war. She knew that. Had known it from the very beginning. Had known there was no point in trying to hold on to someone like Chris Malone, someone who wouldn’t be tethered.
“Bangkok.”
“Oh.” It was all she could say. Ellie knew that if she opened her mouth something inappropriate would burst out. Something wholly inappropriate like, “Don’t go.”
Instead, she said, “It’s your job, right?”
He rested his forehead on hers, closed his eyes. “Yeah. But it’s not for two weeks. I’ll be here for the charity ball.”
Two weeks. She would have two more weeks with him. And deep down, she knew that if that was all a man like Chris Malone could promise, she would take it.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I’ve been dying to see what you look like in a tuxedo.”
Chris laughed and crushed his lips against hers, wrapped his arms around her, and swept her up in a tight embrace.
Fifteen
‡
The ballroom looked nothing like Ellie had imagined it.
It was so much better.
There were sweeps of black fabric suspended from the ceiling, pinned by fairy lights and huge hanging pendants. Each table sparkled with glassware, and tall vases of flowers in the centre exploded with blooms. The crowd was a sea of tuxedos and shimmering ball gowns, and on the stage, a six-piece jazz band was playing something swinging. Behind them, and through the tall glass windows of the ballroom, the Sydney Harbour Bridge lit up the sky.
Ellie knew she’d only played a small part in the event, but the swell of pride she felt was like nothing she’d ever experienced. The ball had been a sellout for weeks, there were some wonderful prizes in the raffle and there was, of course, Chris’s photo. It had pride of place in the reception area and there’d been a crowd around it since people had begun arriving. She’d known it would create a buzz and the sure knowledge her gut instinct was so right gave her a thrill.
But nothing could compete with the thrill of knowing Chris was her date tonight, and that he’d been in her bed every night for the past two weeks. He liked her place better than his, he’d said. Her home felt lived in and comfortable and it smelt good, which had made her laugh. During the day when she was at work, Chris would surf or run or research his next job, and he’d be waiting when she got home.
Some nights it was a takeaway Vietnamese meal from her favourite restaurant with a bottle of chilled white wine. He’d gone through her DVD collection and they’d watched corny old movies and ate popcorn. On one Friday night, he’d picked her up at work and they’d driven over the bridge to Balmoral Beach to swim and then lie on the sand in each other’s arms as the night fell and the faintest of stars lit up the sky above the city. Every night they made love, and every morning she woke with his body touching hers and those sapphire eyes gazing into hers so honestly and intently that sometimes she had to look away so she didn’t burst into hot t
ears.
They didn’t talk about him leaving but there was a sense of urgency in their time together. They were keenly aware that there was an expiry date looming for them. He was jumping on a place to Bangkok and then who knew where after that. Unfortunately, there was never of shortage of work for someone who documented disasters and tragedies.
Ellie had been looking forward to tonight. She’d had to be at the function early, and despite Chris’s adamant protestations that he would help out, she’d rebuffed him. She’d arrived a couple of hours before with her gown in a dress bag, as well as her makeup and shoes, and had checked the final arrangements before heading upstairs to the hotel room she’d booked for the night.
She looked down at her dress and a shimmer of excitement lit her up from the inside. Tonight was so much more than a fundraising ball. For Ellie, it was a coming out, of sorts. Not only would she be on the arm of one of the best photojournalists in the world, but she would do so in a dress that revealed more of her than she’d ever shown before.
She ran her fingers over the ruched bodice of the crimson silk dress, the fabric so soft against her skin she feared it might dissolve as she touched it. It was strapless and daring, and it clung to her breasts and left her décolletage, and her scars, exposed. She’d loved the dress the minute she’d tried it on, its empire line creating a feminine swish as she walked.
Her hair was loose and curled and it sat on her bare shoulders, a sensation she wasn’t used to given her years of covering herself up. She’d highlighted her brown eyes with smoky makeup and coloured her lips a deep red. Ellie wanted to look as wonderful as she was feeling, and when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her hotel room, she barely recognised the woman looking back at her.
“Ellie, love.” Her grandparents made their way through the crowd of people and the sight of them made Ellie weepy. Her grandmother was dressed in a long, pale blue dress, with a matching wrap around her shoulders.
“Nanna, you look stunning.”
Vilma smoothed a hand over her hair, which had been professionally coiffed just for the occasion. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dressed up like this, in a new frock and having my hair done. Thank you for taking me shopping yesterday. I feel like the Queen!”
“And look at you,” Trev said with a low whistle aimed at Ellie.
He pulled her in for a squeeze and Ellie laughed. He was wearing a brown suit that looked slightly too big for him and a tan tie. She’d never seen him so dressed up and she loved him all the more for doing it for her.
“Right back at you, Grandpa. When’s the last time you were a suit?”
He winked at her. “When I married your grandmother.”
“Ellie,” her grandmother came in close. “Really, you look… well, you look wonderful.”
Ellie hugged her again. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing exactly what Vilma meant by her words. Her grandparents had been there after her injury, had supported her, and cared for her every summer for years. Her Nanna had whispered to her every night that she was going to do something wonderful with her life. She’d told Ellie she was so much more than the scars on her chest and that one day, she would know that for herself. Finally, she did know it.
“Speaking of weddings,” Vilma elbowed Ellie in the side and craned her neck to look among the crowd. “Where’s that young man with the camera?”
Ellie held her stomach and laughed. “Oh, Nanna. You’ve been reading too many of those glossy magazines.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t snagged him yet?”
“You are incorrigible,” Ellie chuckled. How could she explain to her grandmother – who’d been married for a lifetime – that that kind of life simply didn’t suit some people? Lone wolves like Chris Malone may settle for a short while, but their calling was always stronger than home, tugged at them more than family, than obligation.
“Why, here he is!” Nanna’s face lit up like the Sydney Harbour fireworks. Ellie tried to find her poise. She took a deep breath, linked her hands together and turned to face him.
Looking that good should be illegal.
Chris in jeans and a T-shirt was spectacular. Naked Chris, wearing nothing but bed hair and a grin was dangerous. But this? Ellie swallowed as she took it all in and tried to calm her thundering heart. His hair was pulled back off his face in a hair band, which revealed his tanned cheeks and his neatly trimmed beard. Ellie wanted to reach out and touch the scar it was concealing. His shirt was so white it almost blinded her and he wore a narrow bow tie at his neck. The black satin lapels shone in the overhead lights and set off the deep navy of his suit.
The inky colour set off his sapphire eyes, which Ellie realised with a hitch in her breath, were gazing down at her. All for her.
Oh, this should not be allowed in a public place.
“Good evening everyone,” he said. “Trev, Vilma. Don’t you two look incredible?” He greeted them with handshakes and kisses before turning his full attention back to Ellie.
His smile faded into something altogether more serious and his eyes trailed down her body. She knew he’d noticed how low cut her dress was, how it clung to her. How it revealed her scars.
He took a step towards her, threaded an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Satin to silk, breast to chest, chin to chin, breath to breath. His eyes roamed her face and finally, teasingly, settled on her lips. His curved in a smile that melted her heart.
“Hello, Ellie Flannery,” he said and then he pressed his lips to hers, slow and soft, so gentle that Ellie shivered. She’d tried so hard not to think about him leaving, but there it was, clutching at her heart. She was going to have to let this incredible man go. In a few days, she would have to wave goodbye. That was why she was determined to make this night special. Spectacular. Dangerous even.
When he released her, Ellie saw the shared look of approval between her grandparents. It was so obvious it could have been seen across the harbour.
When a ringing bell announced that it was time to move inside, Ellie slipped her arm through Chris’s. Letting him go was going to have to start with holding on to him all night. “That’s an incredible tux.”
“Thank you. It’s bespoke.”
She eyed him up and down and loved the tease in her voice. “Jermyn Street, London?”
“Dingy laneway, Bangkok.”
“You like busting my assumptions wide open, don’t you?”
“I can take it off if it offends you,” he leaned down and murmured in her ear.
“I might find it extremely offensive later on tonight when we go upstairs to the room I’ve booked.”
His eyes flared. “When can we get out of here?”
She pinched his upper arm teasingly. “After the auction.”
“Let’s get this over with.”
*
Ellie and Chris and her grandparents took their seats at table number one, totally befitting their status as guests of honour. Ellie managed to swallow a handful of food throughout the night, in between last minute hitches and a frantic search for the auctioneer, who’d gone to the completely wrong venue on the other side of the bridge. By the time he arrived, Ellie was counting down the minutes until the dessert was to arrive and he was to start the proceedings.
She pushed back her chair, smoothed her dress, and reached for her wine glass for a final swallow before she headed to the stage.
Chris reached for her, and held her hand. “Good luck.”
She kissed him again, just because she could, and threw him a smile. “Thank you for everything.”
And Ellie she made her way to the stage.
Sixteen
‡
Ellie looked out over the sea of faces and tuxedoes and ball gowns in the crowd and her head began to spin. She’d been trying to add up the numbers in her head, but had lost track when the tally for auction items hit fifty thousand dollars.
And the piece de resistance was yet to come. The auctioneer swept an arm to Ellie an
d she pulled back a curtain on a display board. Revealed in a spot light was Chris’s photograph of her grandfather and the oohs and aahs of the crowd flowed over her like a wave.
“Our final item, ladies and gentlemen. This is a photo of Trev Kennedy from western New South Wales. He’s here tonight. Where are you, Mr Kennedy?”
Ellie held a hand over her eyes to keep out the glare from the lights and saw her grandfather slowly get to his feet.
“Trev is here tonight to celebrate our Royal Flying Doctor Service. We don’t know where we’d be without them and the work they do every day all over Australia.”
The polite applause of the guests turned into a roaring cheer.
The auctioneer continued. “And when Sydney’s own internationally renowned photographer, Chris Malone, found out his story, he took this portrait as a special gift for the auction tonight. Thank you, Mr. Malone. We do appreciate your support.”
Ellie watched as Chris nodded but remained seated. She knew what that was about. He didn’t want or need the spotlight.
“And now to the auction. Do we have a first bid?”
There was a shout from the back of the room followed by gasps and claps from the crowd. Ellie tried to see past the glare of the lights, but couldn’t make out who it was.
“Did I hear that correctly, ladies and gentlemen? Was that…?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.” The words echoed across the tables and the heads of the guests.
*
Chris knew that voice. Had spent his childhood listening to it.
“Callum?”
Then his brother was standing next to him, a hand on his shoulder, winking.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Chris muttered under his breath.
“A little bird told me this was happening tonight. Evelyn told me if I didn’t come and bid, she’d quit.”
The auctioneer clapped his hands together. “I do believe we have a bid, ladies and gentlemen. Fifty thousand dollars for this exquisite portrait. I don’t know if we’ll do better than that but let’s open up the floor. Fifty. We have fifty thousand dollars.”