Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress

by Robyn Grady

  ‘Suzanne looked very pregnant today.’

  ‘She hasn’t got long to go.’

  ‘She seemed happy. Rodney too.’

  ‘Most couples do in the beginning.’ She cringed. ‘That wasn’t nice.’

  ‘It’ll take time to get used to seeing your dad with someone else. Don’t feel bad.’

  ‘Suzanne’s so friendly and sincere. She doesn’t deserve snarky comments like that.’

  ‘She’s just the kind of woman Rodney needs in his later years.’

  She blinked over at him. ‘What kind of woman is that?’

  She could make out his expression. Foot in mouth. ‘That wasn’t meant to be a slur against your mother.’

  She tried to smile. ‘That’s all right. What kind of woman did you mean? Attractive? Thoughtful? A woman who’ll be content to stay home and look after the baby while he plays nine holes?’

  He scratched his temple. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Suzanne is lovely—’ she made that clear again ‘—but not everyone wants to stay home and look after babies. Nothing against those who do, coz I hear it’s the hardest job in the world as well as the most rewarding.’ She thought of her mother and herself. ‘But some of us want to explore our options and keep them open alongside marriage and motherhood. It’s not a crime.’

  Or not in most countries.

  ‘I’m not suggesting women shouldn’t have careers. But you must admit it’s logical that if a couple choose to have a family, given that women are the main care givers, they need to put things on hold. That’s what the paid maternity leave ruckus is about, isn’t it?’

  Celeste pulled on her seat-belt sash.

  Ruckus?

  She turned more towards him. ‘Why does a woman have to be the one to step down?’

  He seemed amused. ‘Not step down. Delay.’

  ‘Because the family might suffer if she’s not home to mash the spuds?’

  She remembered how pleased Gerard had been that Chris’s new bride was a ten in the kitchen, and how her own father had subtly criticised her mother’s cooking. Celeste had thought her mother’s failed attempts at sponge cake were good fun. They got covered in flour and she was always allowed to lick the spoon. And if ever Anita burned the roast, it simply meant more dessert. Who could complain?

  ‘Celeste, you know I can cook.’

  ‘Very well. But you’re avoiding the question.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘You are after an argument.’

  She almost laughed. ‘Because I want to discuss equality of the sexes.’

  His face hardened. ‘It’s not about equality. It’s simply the way the world works.’

  Her chest burned with indignation. ‘Your world or mine?’

  He clenched his jaw—a warning to drop it—but she couldn’t let it rest there.

  ‘These days there are men who stay at home to look after the baby while a mother works.’

  While she high-fived that initiative if it suited the couple concerned, Celeste didn’t feel that was her answer. She dearly wanted to nurse and care for her own baby when it was time. She simply didn’t want to relinquish her individual power as a consequence. Wasn’t that fair enough?

  She turned the tables. ‘Would you be prepared to delay your goals and be dependent on another person?’

  ‘I was dependent enough on others the first sixteen years of my life.’

  As she thought of the sad little boy he once must have been her heart dropped. However. ‘I wasn’t responsible for your past. Right now I’m concerned with the future.’

  ‘I’ve pretty much accomplished my goals.’

  ‘Like being boss of a company like PLM?’

  He turned at her tone. ‘You knew how I felt about PLM from the start. I can’t change my story now.’

  ‘And I can’t change mine.’

  Her mother had sacrificed everything and someone called Benton Scott—the man who had become her lover—had ended up with the prize. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that twist of fate. It wasn’t Ben’s fault, but, truth was, it still stuck in her craw.

  His expression softened. ‘You’re much better off with your florist concern. It’ll be huge, and you know I’ll help anyway I can.’

  Another brick went up. Why did he think he could decide what was best for her? ‘I don’t want your help.’

  She didn’t want anyone’s help—not her father’s any more, and not Ben’s. She wanted to do it her way, just as Ben had done for himself, and would continue to do.

  His mouth hooked up at one side but she saw the muscle jump in his jaw. ‘You could make a guy think his help isn’t good enough.’

  Her chin pulled in. ‘That’s not it.’

  He kept his gaze on the road as if she might read too much from his eyes.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I’m the penniless orphan with no pedigree who clawed his way up from the gutter.’

  What? ‘Why would you say something like that?’

  ‘Because your father wasn’t good enough for your mother.’

  She blinked several times. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘If he had been, she wouldn’t have tried to make him into something he wasn’t. Hell, maybe the guy was sincerely happy fixing mowers. Maybe she should’ve let him be the man he wanted to be and—’

  Stunned, she waited. ‘And what?’

  He changed gears. ‘And nothing.’

  She said it for him. ‘And their marriage would’ve been more of a success? Rodney didn’t have to take my grandfather’s money, you know.’

  Ben coughed out a humourless laugh. ‘Didn’t he? I can feel the pressure on him now and it happened twenty years ago. You said it yourself. Your mother usually won the toss and your father grew to resent it.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘So a woman should hide her intelligence? Never aspire to achieve?’

  But somewhere deep inside a young girl whispered, I just want Mummy and Daddy to love each other again.

  Which meant what? Mummy had to sell her soul to keep the peace?

  Ben scrubbed his jaw and spoke more calmly. ‘You should never need to worry like your mother did. While we’re together, you’ll always have the best. I don’t want you to be concerned over money matters.’

  While they were together? And how long would that be?

  She felt torn for another reason. ‘That sounds sweet on the surface, but it equates to being kept in the dark. Would you take me seriously if I suggested that to you?’

  He looked at her as if she might be coming down with something.

  Darn it, she wanted answers. But were there any?

  She couldn’t run from it any longer. She’d fallen in love with the very man who had exploded into her life three months earlier and had unwittingly taken what had amounted to her right to see her mother’s memory, and last wish, honoured. Ben sympathised over how the deal had worked out. But could he ever appreciate how she felt—not only about that specific issue, but also the broader issues?

  She’d wanted to put the past behind her, but maybe she shouldn’t because she was loath to repeat her mother’s mistakes and Ben’s attitude set off alarms. Clearly he thought a woman’s—or at least a mother’s—place was primarily in the home, and a man should be allowed ‘to do what a man needed to do’. She, on the other hand, advocated individuality and equality between the sexes in all things. He had trouble seeing her point; she had to wonder, given his childhood of wishing for a textbook family, if he was even capable.

  ‘You know what’s wrong with this discussion?’ she finally asked. ‘That you should want to come off sounding like such an expert on a subject you otherwise avoid like the plague.’ Marriage.

  ‘I’m entitled to my opinion.’

  ‘Based on what? You cling to these idealised notions of how a family should work.’ The man as head of the house, the woman happily keeping her place in the bedroom and kitchen. ‘You want to preach about
the way a couple should be content and stick together as a family, yet you don’t have the guts to go for it yourself.’

  He edged over a patronising look. ‘Celeste, we only met three months ago.’

  ‘Are you telling me that in the future you’d consider long term? That you’d no longer view us as a romp, or me as someone you won’t commit to beyond the bedroom?’

  His face hardened and hands tightened on the wheel.

  Her chest ached. She crossed her arms and looked out the window. ‘I didn’t think so.’ So full of wisdom, but not prepared to put his own heart on the line.

  Must be high time she withdrew her own heart as well.

  He swerved into a park outside her apartment building. She opened her door at the same time his door unlatched.

  His leg was already out the door. ‘I’m coming up.’

  She spun on him. ‘No, Ben, you’re not. This ends now. Maybe happy families isn’t a matter of waving a magic wand or wishing on a star. I know that as well as you do. But one day I hope to find the man I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. Though I would’ve liked it to be you, for so many reasons it’s obviously not. Aside from sexual attraction, we started off miles apart and I can’t ever see that rift closing.’

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled away as her throat clogged with emotion. She bit her lip, then lifted her chin. ‘I don’t want to do this any more. Don’t call. You have the company, you have my heart, but I’ll get over it. I’ll get over you—if you have the decency to stay away.’

  She needed to get on with her life—find her place—and this was only delaying it.

  She shut the car door behind her—made it all the way up to her apartment. Then reality hit, pain overwhelmed her and stinging tears began to flow.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  COULD things get any worse?

  Gerard’s voice on the phone this morning had suggested the family matter was urgent. But after the disastrous end to his outing with Celeste, Ben felt more like donning his track shoes and running out his frustrations till he dropped than attending a Bartley-Scott family meeting.

  He wasn’t good at collaborating with others on family politics. Hadn’t Celeste slammed home that point so well before she’d strode away yesterday? But today Ben felt stuck. After the way his father had welcomed him into his fold, Ben didn’t want to refuse Gerard’s invitation to his home—although Ben sensed he alone was the reason for the gathering.

  As Ben walked into the Bartley-Scott kitchen his misgivings seemed to be confirmed when two pair of eyes out of a dozen glared up at his arrival. Ben’s irritation, as well as another emotion he wouldn’t name, spiked into the red. Hell, you’d think he’d killed someone.

  Gerard indicated a chair. ‘Take a seat, Ben. You’re the last to arrive.’

  Ben shucked back his shoulders. ‘I prefer to stand, thank you.’

  Since his earliest memories, he’d dreamed of finding his family, being accepted. But the cold facts of reality weren’t that shiny or clear, and, like nothing else could, it made him want to run.

  Maybe Celeste was right. All his life he’d relied on no one but himself. Maybe he would always come up short when it came to taking that final leap—being able to commit totally. Trust wasn’t easy to come by.

  Zack, Paul’s young son, scooted up and tugged Ben’s trouser leg. ‘Where’s C’leste? She was at the wedding.’

  Ben ignored the emotional kick in his gut. ‘She couldn’t come today.’

  Gerard patted Zack’s shoulder. ‘Can you go out the back to play for a few minutes? Grandpa needs to talk to the adults.’

  ‘Will Ben be here when I get back?’ Zack spoke under his breath, ‘Daddy doesn’t like him so much.’

  Paul shot up from his chair. ‘Zack!’

  Ben suppressed a groan. Nothing could be worth this. He’d felt like the whipping boy for the first half of his life; what the hell was he doing here feeling uncomfortable when he could go back to feeling…

  Nothing.

  Gerard ruffled his grandson’s hair. ‘Run along. Daddy’ll go fetch you when we’re done.’

  After the back screen door closed, Gerard moved to stand at the head of the table. His seven children—eight including Ben—waited for his next words. Rhyll sat by a window, head down, busy darning a sock.

  Gerard called her over. ‘Rhyll, put down that needle and thread and come stand beside me.’

  Reluctantly she set down her work and joined her husband.

  Gerard leant forward, his two palms on the table. ‘It’s sometimes difficult to know how to handle family situations. They come along a lot—disagreements, discipline issues, agreeing on whose turn it is to take out the garbage.’

  Ben crossed his arms. He hoped that wasn’t a subtle reference.

  Gerard continued. ‘No one’s missed the vibes generated toward Ben. Most are welcoming, but some…’ His face twisted and he pulled up tall. ‘Well, some are disappointing if, perhaps, understandable. I’d initially thought I should let the waters calm by themselves, but Ben deserves more than that. And so…’ He turned to his wife.

  Before he could speak, Rhyll’s face coloured and she stepped back. ‘I don’t think there’s a need to talk in front of the—’

  Gerard held up a hand. ‘There’s a big need.’ He took both her hands in his. ‘Yes, I was married before, but I assure you that I didn’t see Ben’s mother again after that final night when Ben was obviously conceived. I have never been unfaithful to you. Never will. You are my wife and will be till the day I die. My family is the most important thing in the world to me. I know this uncertainty is partly my fault. I should remind you of my feelings more often.’

  While Ben blinked at Gerard’s unadorned honesty, Rhyll seemed to hold her breath, then her shoulders came down and she smiled.

  Gerard pressed a loving kiss to her cheek and turned to Paul, who sat up straighter. ‘You are my firstborn. The baby boy I held in my arms and was so proud of. Still am. But I’ve been given a gift most men could never hope for. Another firstborn, and I won’t turn my back on him for anything, just as you will never turn your back on Zack. Paul, I spoke to you constantly about Ben when I first found out, about how successful he was, how he’d built himself up from nothing. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncertain of your place in my heart. You could never be replaced, but just as you hope that Zack will one day have a brother or sister, you need to understand that we, as a family, have been blessed in the same wonderful way.’ His next words addressed the whole room. ‘Life’s never long enough. Let’s all spend it making up for lost time, starting now.’

  Everyone’s eyes fell to Paul. Paul’s jaw flexed, then his gaze drifted towards the screen door, to the backyard where his son played. His young wife touched his hand. He nodded, pushed out his chair and walked over to Ben. Nodding, he stuck out his hand.

  His throat aching, Ben exhaled and accepted his younger brother’s olive branch.

  Paul grinned. ‘Guess the last couple of weeks make up for all the spats we missed out on growing up. A little late but—’ Paul brought Ben close for a brotherly hug ‘—sorry for being an idiot. Welcome to the family.’

  Her face contrite, Rhyll came forward. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, Ben? I baked some banana bread this morning. It’s always been the kids’ favourite.’

  Melissa, Dana and Belinda, Ben’s three half-sisters, chirped up to agree. Paul’s wife, Chris and Marie moved over towards Ben too, while Michael and Terrance, Ben’s youngest siblings, swiped some banana bread off the table.

  Gerard waved a beckoning hand. ‘Ben, when you’re ready, will you join me on the back porch?’

  Ben’s mind was spinning. He’d witnessed foster dads address their families, however—other than that one time when he’d briefly felt included—he’d hovered on the outside. He’d never felt connected.

  Or loved.

  Until now.

  He and Gerard moved out onto the back porch and sat on the back steps s
ide by side, watching Zack ride his bike minus trainer wheels.

  Ben spoke first. ‘Thank you.’ Simple words, but heartfelt.

  Gerard smiled. ‘I hope you’ll come by often. With seven…sorry, eight children, the fun never ends, even when they’re all grown up. But you’ll know about that one day yourself.’

  Ben watched Zack and his bike weave around.

  Would he know one day? Three months ago becoming a father had been the farthermost thing from his mind. Celeste’s pregnancy alarm the other week had been an eye-opener. But he’d still baulked at seeing himself in what he’d perceived as a scary role. Marriage. Kids.

  Ben frowned. He needed to know. ‘What was my mother like?’

  Gerard inhaled deeply. ‘She was a good woman, who felt strongly about her independence and opinions. Not a thing wrong with that. I admired her courage.’ He shrugged. ‘We just weren’t meant to be.’

  Ben read between the lines.

  ‘You didn’t see eye to eye.’ Like Celeste and himself at times.

  ‘Ben, your mother and I thought we were in love. We made a mistake. But even Rhyll and I—in fact, in any marriage a husband and wife aren’t going to agree on everything. It’s simply not possible. It’s how you deal with those issues that will help make a family solid and endure.’

  Ben had witnessed that sound advice in action first-hand today. Being a good father wasn’t easy. It was a responsibility to be handled with great care and deep consideration. It meant bridging disagreements as well as admitting to your own mistakes. Admitting to your feelings. Having the guts to say I love you to the people—the person—who mattered most…

  And doing it before it was too late.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CELESTE glanced up from her Star Arrangements counter and felt her heart leap from her chest. Her pen clattered to the floor as she tried to catch her stolen breath.

  ‘Ben…what are you doing here?’

  He sauntered up, his gaze dark and penetrating as if he’d walked a thousand miles and nothing could shake his resolve. ‘I need to speak with you.’

  She came out from behind the counter. ‘I told you two days ago…’ Her stomach muscles gripped but she said it anyway. ‘I need you to stay away.’