by Nicola Marsh
‘Ma-ma,’ Chas cried out softly, wriggling down further in the cot, thrashing from side to side till he got comfortable again.
She held her breath, not wanting to wake him, desperate for a full night’s sleep herself. The funeral had been tougher than she’d imagined and all she wanted to do was have a hot chocolate, fall into bed and pray that she’d sleep. Real rest had eluded her for months now courtesy of the tense, uncomfortable co-existence she’d slipped into with Joe.
Kissing her finger, she gently placed it on Chas’s cheek and tiptoed from the room, heading for the kitchen and the comfort of warm cocoa. However, she barely had time to fill the kettle before there was a soft knock at the door.
No one visited her. Her mum was in a special accommodation home and the people she worked with were just that, work acquaintances. She didn’t socialise, she didn’t have friends, so who was bothering her at eight-thirty on the night of Joe’s funeral?
Almost dead on her feet, she ignored whoever it was and flicked on the kettle, spooning several heaped teaspoons of cocoa into a mug. However, the knock came again, louder this time. Rather than have the unwelcome visitor wake Chas, she padded to the door and opened it a fraction.
‘What are you doing here?’
Her response sounded sharper than she intended and Riley stiffened, a tiny frown appearing between his brows.
‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After today…’ He trailed off and for a guy at the top of his field, one of Australia’s number one stockbrokers, he appeared uncertain.
Guess she had that effect on the Bourke men. Once the initial spark had faded, Joe had been uncertain of everything where she’d been concerned: uncertain if she was the woman for him, uncertain if she was wife material, uncertain if he wanted anything to do with her and her child as he’d insisted on calling Chas.
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, the pain of Joe’s attitude towards Chas stabbing her anew.
Riley pinned her with a glare, the intensity behind the steady blue-eyed stare making her squirm. What was it about this guy that made her feel helpless? She’d been that way ever since he’d bustled into the apartment a few hours after Joe’s death, taking charge of arrangements, snapping orders into his mobile phone, delegating jobs like a king. Introverted in her grief at the time, she’d let him take charge.
He appeared smarter, stronger and bigger than everything around him, capable of handling anything and more. In a way, he intimidated her. He’d intimidated her when they’d first met but then she’d been so ga-ga over Joe that night at the ball she’d barely noticed his serious—though just as cute—older brother.
Cute. What a joke. Nothing about Riley was cute. With his dark hair, piercing blue eyes and tall, athletic frame, striking would be more appropriate. Even sexy, though she couldn’t equate the words sexy and Riley in her mind in the same sentence right now.
‘You sure about that? You don’t sound fine to me.’
He hadn’t budged and, by the determined expression on his face, he wouldn’t till she convinced him she really was okay.
Sighing, she unchained the door and swung it open. ‘I am, but I can see you’re not leaving in a hurry so you may as well come in and have a cuppa with me.’
‘Not the most gracious of invitations but you’re right, I’m not leaving here till I know you’re okay.’
‘What are you doing for the next twenty years then?’ she muttered under her breath.
Thankfully, Riley chose to ignore her sarcastic comment and followed her into the kitchen, his presence dwarfing the tiny chrome and black space.
‘What’ll you have?’
‘Coffee is fine,’he said, grabbing a carton of milk out of the fridge and a clean mug off the sink, looking more at home in the kitchen than Joe ever had.
Stop it! Stop comparing him to Joe.
She blinked, almost surprised at her inner voice chastising her like that. For a girl who’d hardly noticed Riley when they’d first met, she was certainly making up for lost time and making unfavourable comparisons between the brothers to boot!
Joe had been cocky, brash and fun-loving.
Riley was serious, thoughtful and responsible.
Joe had hogged the limelight and adored being the centre of attention.
Riley faded into the background, preferring to take control from the sidelines.
Joe had some hang-up with winning.
By all counts, Riley was a winner; his reputation in the business world spoke for itself.
However, there was one area where the brothers couldn’t compare.
Joe had said he loved her, though she’d discovered that wasn’t true.
Riley obviously tolerated her for the sake of Chas. She’d seen it after Joe’s death and earlier today at the funeral: the curiosity, the censure, the pity.
And she hated it.
He probably thought she was a pathetic basket case but at least he’d been there for her, for Chas, at a time when she’d needed him the most. Which was more than she could say for anyone else in her lifetime, including her mother.
‘How did the wake go?’ she asked, more out of something to fill the growing silence than any burning need to know.
Riley’s lips compressed into a thin line. ‘People stayed as long as the finger food and alcohol kept coming. A few blokes retold some of Joe’s tall tales. That’s about it.’
‘Guess I wasn’t missed then.’ She couldn’t keep the irony from her voice though she couldn’t fathom the answering flicker of something dark and mysterious in his eyes.
‘Joe knew you loved him. He wouldn’t have needed to see you schmoozing with his phoney mates to prove that.’
‘I guess you’re right,’she said, guilt piercing her soul. She could hardly face the truth even in the deepest part of her, too horrified to admit that she hadn’t loved Joe.
She had at the start. At least, she’d thought she did. Maybe it had been infatuation, maybe it had been a plain old-fashioned crush. She’d been so naïve, so clueless when it came to men that she’d fallen for the first classy guy to look her way, wanting to believe his smooth lines, wanting to believe that he loved her. For someone who’d never known real love growing up, it had been a heady experience.
‘Look, this isn’t any of my business but I know you two had problems and I hope you’re not beating yourself up over them. Joe was fun and spontaneous and affectionate but he could also be a selfish brat.’
Maya didn’t question how Riley knew about her relationship troubles with Joe. She didn’t have to. It hung unspoken in the tense, awkward silence between them and she jumped in relief when the kettle whistled.
‘Joe and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues but then I guess that’s part of being a couple,’ she said, pouring boiling water into the mugs, grateful to concentrate on such a mundane task and not have to see the look of judgement on Riley’s face.
Riley was a smart guy and a smart guy would’ve read between the lines and known the argument he’d overheard the night of Joe’s death had only been tip of the iceberg stuff.
A smart guy would’ve twigged that things had been worse. A lot worse.
She’d wanted to explain, to smooth things over with the brother-in-law she never knew but her good intentions had blown up in her face. More to the point, Joe had blown up in her face.
‘Why did you come around that night?’
No use glossing over it. Riley had brought up the subject; she may as well finish it.
He shrugged, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug she handed him and staring into the strong black liquid like a wizard looking for answers in a cauldron.
‘I hadn’t seen Joe in a while. Guess I was worried about him. And you and Chas,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘But you’d never visited before,’she persisted, driven by some strange need to get Riley to talk, perhaps to give her some answers to Joe’s irrational behaviour that night.
‘I know, my fault. Business keeps
me busy. I’m pretty much chained to my desk or travelling.’
He sipped at his coffee and Maya couldn’t decide if he was giving her the brush-off or not.
‘Joe never mentioned you much.’
Until he’d gone out with Riley that night, arrived home two hours later reeking of alcohol and spewing forth a torrent of vile accusations that hadn’t made sense. She hadn’t even known Riley, let alone fancied him.
‘Joe and I weren’t as close as I would’ve liked, probably both our faults.’ Riley glanced away, a sad expression on his face before his gaze returned to hers, melancholic, uncertain. ‘He seemed pretty out of control that night. Was that a one-off?’
She wished. ‘Joe wasn’t happy. His behaviour the last few months was erratic.’
Riley frowned. ‘Erratic?’
‘He didn’t spend much time here.’
Major understatement. That night had been typical: with Chas screaming in the nursery at Joe’s escalating abuse, she’d fired back, taunting Joe, hitting his vulnerable spots, knowing it would enrage him further and he’d do what he always did.
Run.
Not come home for days.
Seek and find comfort wherever he could as long as it wasn’t with her.
‘Joe didn’t seem too stable when we chatted that night and I wondered if his death was purely accidental.’
Maya stiffened, understanding Riley’s need to have answers but resenting his inference and the intrusion into her privacy nonetheless.
‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Joe’s car crash was an accident. Joe was too cocky, too full of himself to end his own life.’
Despite her certainty, she would live with the guilt for the rest of her life—that her words had pushed Joe to get behind the wheel of his car when he clearly could barely walk, let alone drive.
She should’ve stopped him.
But she hadn’t.
And it had killed her fiancé, the man who had told her that same night that he’d never had any intention of marrying her, ever, and the humiliating reasons why.
‘You must’ve had a rough time with Joe…’He trailed off, having the grace to look uncomfortable.
‘And what are you trying to do? Make me relive the tough stuff just for old times’ sake?’
The words slipped out before she could stop them and she could see she’d hit below the belt.
‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to say I understand.’
Pity. Stark, obvious pity shone in his eyes and she hated it. She didn’t need Riley’s pity. She didn’t need anything from him.
‘Thanks, but I’m fine. You’ve helped with the funeral and I appreciate it, but now Chas and I would like to be left alone.’
Hot, angry tears threatened her composure. Tears of shame that she’d given him short shrift when he’d been the one person to stand by her the last few days, tears of guilt that a confrontation with Riley could make her cry when she’d been dry-eyed over Joe’s death.
Riley took a sip of coffee, his steady regard never leaving her. Even in the face of her rudeness, he didn’t flinch or fire back.
‘Fine, but Chas is my nephew and I’d like to play a part in his life.’
His calm words embarrassed her, made her feel like a petulant child. ‘Why now? You’ve never shown any interest before.’
Her barb hit home if the faint pink staining his high cheekbones was any indication. However, he still didn’t falter or lose his cool and she had a silly urge to push him, to punish him for being so calm in the face of her offensiveness.
‘Besides, how do you think you’re going to do that? You said business keeps you busy.’
‘I can offer you financial support,’ he said, draining his coffee and rinsing the mug while she glared at his back, irrationally noting the perfect fit of his designer business shirt stretched across his shoulders.
Money. He was offering money.
She should’ve known.
The Bourkes had been born with a silver spoon in their well-fed mouths, had never known a day’s hunger or the desperate, clawing empty feeling of knowing there was no money to buy food for the next week. The yearning for an ice cream cone or the craving for new shoes so that you could be like the other kids.
Uh-uh, guys like Joe and Riley had no idea what it was like to be poor.
Chas needed love and affection and the presence of a stable male influence in his young life—three things she would’ve killed for when growing up.
Instead, Riley was offering money. Cold, hard cash to go along with his cold, hard heart. Just like his brother.
‘You didn’t answer my earlier question. Why the sudden interest in Chas now?’
She kept her voice steady with effort. She couldn’t let him see how rattled she was by his offer of money, how cheap it made her feel.
‘I want to do everything I can for my nephew. He had Joe in the past but Joe’s not here any more.’
Riley glanced away as if he was hiding something but she was too drained to fathom his motives. ‘Besides, if I’m not around a lot, you can use the money to buy him things, keep him occupied, raise him the way Joe would’ve wanted.’
Her eyes narrowed as exhaustion battled with anger, fatigue with confusion. ‘Which way is that? Like a Bourke, you mean?’
Rich, pampered, spoiled? Joe had hardly looked at Chas since his birth and, as for Riley marching in here like some do-gooder bestowing benevolence on a charity case, she had news for him.
‘Well, yes,’he said, thrusting his hands in his pockets as if reaching for a cheque book there and then.
Suddenly, a sinister thought flashed through her head. What if Riley’s newfound interest in Chas was because he wanted to take her precious son away? He had the money, the connections and the power. Perhaps this whole thing tonight was about buying her off, trying to see how she’d react?
Maybe it was her suspicions, the soul-destroying fatigue of the day, the drama of the last week or the simmering guilt about Joe’s death but whatever pushed her buttons, she drew back her shoulders and tilted her head up.
‘You know what you can do with your financial support?’
He didn’t move—more of that annoying pity in his eyes, the final flame to her kindling temper.
‘See this?’ She tugged on the hem of his soft, expensive cashmere jumper. ‘You can take your offer and stuff it up there.’
For a moment, she saw something that didn’t look like pity on his face. Maya turned away before she did something even more out of character—like shove him out the door.
‘Look, I’ve made a mess of this—’
‘Just go,’ she said, stalking from the kitchen, trying to look as dignified as a fluffy pink robe and matching slippers with Princess embroidered in silver spangles would allow.
‘Maya, I—’
‘Go!’
She stormed into her bedroom, several seconds passing before the soft click of the front door and the ensuing silence signalled Riley’s welcome departure. Sighing, she closed her eyes and sank on to the bed.
She’d had enough of Bourke men to last her a lifetime.
CHAPTER THREE
RILEY STRODE DOWN the long corridor to his office, grunting responses to anyone brave enough to greet him. He refused to make eye contact with his staff, knowing the first unfortunate person to do so would cop an unnecessary barrage.
To say he was in a bad mood was like saying Melbourne was the sports capital of Australia—the understatement of the year.
‘Good, you’re here,’ he said, sending a brief nod at Matt Byrne as he stomped into his office, dropping his briefcase next to his desk and flinging his coat on the back of his leather chair.
‘Good morning to you too,’ Matt said, sliding the papers he’d been reading into a folder and taking a sip from a take-out coffee cup. ‘There’s an espresso for you. Though by the look on your face, maybe I should’ve dumped a ton of sugar into it. You look like you could use a bit of sweetening up.’
&nb
sp; Riley ignored him, took a huge comforting swallow of lukewarm coffee and grimaced.
‘That bad, huh?’
‘Not the coffee; that’s fine. It’s my disposition that’s the problem.’
‘Disposition? A big word for this time of the morning.’ Matt smiled, his customary wry grin indicating he had all the patience in the world to hear what one of his biggest clients had to say.
Riley genuinely liked Matt, appreciated his wisdom, and he’d used him as a sounding board on several occasions—though he often wondered if the lawyer would be as generous with his time if he wasn’t on such a huge retainer. Probably not, but Riley didn’t need to think about that right now. He was in a bad enough mood as it was, no use fuelling it.
‘Don’t push your luck, Byrne.’
Matt’s smile broadened but Riley saw the flicker of concern in the other man’s eyes. ‘I’ve never seen you like this. Focused on business, yeah. Cool in a crisis, yeah. Level-headed, driven, serious, yeah. Sour face, uh-uh. So what’s up?’
I botched up with Maya. Big time.
Even now, twelve hours later, he cringed, wondering how he’d made such a mess of things. Stopping by the apartment had been a spur of the moment impulse and he’d driven around the block three times before deciding a quick pop-in to check on her and Chas wouldn’t be inappropriate.
And he’d been damned glad he had when she’d opened the door, huge green eyes standing out in her pale face, eyes ringed by dark circles of fatigue, her lush mouth drooping at the corners. She’d looked so helpless, so exhausted, a woman on the edge.
Not that he’d helped. He’d blundered around, firing questions at her, not articulating half of what he wanted and alienating her in the process. Before he’d really put his foot in it and she’d told him to stick his support up his jumper, booting him out the door faster than he could say, Hear me out.
‘Earth to Riley? I said what’s up?’
Riley shook his head and stuck a finger between his shirt collar and neck, loosening his tie knot and resisting the urge to rip it off completely.
