The breath caught in my throat.
No. It...couldn’t be true. I didn’t know much about the circumstances around Dad’s death because Mum had always been so vague, but... Xander had had nothing to do with it.
‘He invested money in some kind of scheme.’ My voice had got hoarse. ‘And it failed and he lost it all.’
‘Yes,’ Xander said. ‘It was Dad’s scheme and it was supposed to fail. He made sure it would. And when all the money that had been invested was safely in his bank accounts, he hid it so no one would find it. That was the game, Poppy. Only, like I told you, it wasn’t a game. Dad used my methods to con real people out of their money and hide it.’ His features were like granite. ‘And one of those people was your father.’
Everything froze solid inside me.
‘You were never to blame for his death, Poppy. I was the reason your father lost his money. It was all my idea.’
I opened my mouth to tell him that he’d been young, a kid, and how could he have thought it was his fault, but he went straight on, not waiting for me to speak.
‘I don’t know why Dad targeted your father,’ Xander said, ‘but I have some idea. I think he was after Lily. I think he wanted her and he was hoping she’d divorce your father or that she’d leave him once he’d lost all his money. Dad had done things like that in the past so I’m sure that was it. But that massive spreadsheet you mentioned? The one that I keep looking at? It’s old financial records. I’m trying to find your father’s money. I want to find it and give it back. I know it’s not much; I know it can’t ever replace him. But I have to do something.’ Pain glittered in his eyes, bright and raw. ‘He died because of me.’
At the sight of that pain, the shock that had been holding me still broke and I moved, unable to stand it any more, closing the distance between us. But unexpectedly he took a step back. ‘No, Poppy.’
I ignored him, keeping going until I was standing directly in front of him. Then I reached up to touch his face, only for his fingers to close around my wrists, holding me.
I ignored that too. Yes, this was a shock, but I wasn’t angry at him for what he’d done. How could I be? ‘If I can’t blame myself for Dad’s death, then you can’t blame yourself for it either.’
The darkness in his eyes sucked in all light, all heat. ‘If I hadn’t played that game with my father. If I hadn’t wanted his fucking respect so goddamn much then—’
‘If I hadn’t told Dad how much I wanted a pony,’ I interrupted, my voice hard. ‘If I hadn’t told him I’d never forgive him if he didn’t get me one... So many “what-if”s, Xander.’ I held his gaze with mine, the pain in his eyes making me feel it in my own soul. ‘It wasn’t my fault; that’s what you told me. Which means you can’t take responsibility for it either. It was his choice, remember?’
He looked down at me but I had the feeling he wasn’t really seeing me. ‘I should have told you earlier. Ten years, Poppy. That’s how long I’ve known. I found out and that’s when I decided to help Ajax take Dad down.’
Anger and grief inside me wound like barbed wire around my heart. But not at him. Perhaps I should have been angry at him for keeping it from me, yet I wasn’t.
I was angry with Augustus, for the way he’d used his son. For the way he’d kept him isolated so that he was all Xander had. He and the games he’d played with a lonely boy who’d only wanted his respect.
And I felt grief at the pain I saw in Xander’s face. For the burden of guilt he’d been carrying all this time. Guilt I understood so well since it was the same burden I’d been carrying myself.
I tried to pull my hands away but he held me too tightly. ‘Xander, please don’t—’
‘I didn’t want to tell you.’ A raw note coloured his voice. ‘I should have, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt you more than you’d been hurt already.’
The barbed wire pulled tight around my heart, my throat closing. ‘It wouldn’t have changed anything,’ I forced out, desperate to say something, to help him. ‘I hated you back then and it would only have made me hate you just a bit more. And now... Now, it doesn’t matter.’ I knew it, felt it. It didn’t matter. Because it didn’t change anything. Not one single thing.
‘Of course it fucking matters.’ Xander’s fingers tightened around my wrists. ‘Aren’t you appalled by what you’ve done with a man like me? That you let me touch you. Let me punish you. You told me about your dream house, for fuck’s sake! Something that was precious and private to you.’
I didn’t flinch. I simply stared back. ‘No, I’m not appalled. I gave those things to you because I wanted to, Xander. Because I trust you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I don’t deserve your trust.’
‘Why? Because you played a game with your father once? Because you somehow magically weren’t able to read his mind to know he was going to use a game to hurt real people?’ I was shaking a little, desperate for him to understand. ‘And it doesn’t matter that you didn’t tell me. It changes nothing.’
‘Of course it changes something. It changes everything!’
‘No, it doesn’t!’ I yanked my wrists from his grip and took his face between my palms, holding onto him. ‘My father is dead and nothing is going to bring him back. The whys don’t matter and neither does all the “who’s responsible?” bullshit. Dad is still dead either way.’ I tightened my grip on him, pulling his head down so that his face was inches from mine. ‘Knowing what you did doesn’t change a thing for me, Xander. Not one single thing. The pleasure you gave me, the way you made me feel, so special and cared for and wanted, like I was worth something for once. All those feelings are still there and they’re the things that matter.’
My heart was pushing against my chest, the feeling inside it desperate to get out and I couldn’t hold it back any more. ‘I love you, Xander King. I love you. And nothing you can say, nothing you can do will ever change that.’
He stared at me, his dark gaze impenetrable.
But I knew what was going to happen. I could already feel it. He was going, pulling away from me like the tide going out, dragging at my soul, leaving my heart high and dry.
Automatically I tightened my grip, but I was no match for his physical strength as he pulled himself from my hands.
‘Xander—’ his name broke from me before I could stop myself ‘—please don’t.’
But he took a step away, the pain gone from his face, taking with it the warmth that had been there earlier in the evening, leaving me with nothing but granite and ice.
A door closing in my face.
‘You should go,’ he said tonelessly.
I swallowed, my throat aching and sore. ‘I don’t want to. I want to stay with you.’
‘You should go home.’ It was as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘It’s late.’
‘But...’
‘Poppy.’ He was using his master voice. The one that was full of authority, full of command. ‘I’m not going to ask you again.’
There were tears in my eyes and a couple of weeks ago I would have died rather than let him see how badly it hurt.
But I didn’t now. I let them fall. Let him see the pain. ‘This isn’t about Dad, is it?’ I said, staring at him. ‘This is about us.’
Something flickered in his eyes, gone before I could tell what it was. ‘No,’ he said harshly. ‘It’s got nothing to do with us.’
‘Liar.’ I let the anger I felt bleed into my voice. ‘You’re all about honesty, but you can’t even be honest with yourself.’
His expression was a mask. ‘Whatever it is you want from me, I can’t give it to you.’
‘Oh, no? But you have been giving it to me. You’ve been giving it to me all bloody week.’
‘Go home.’
I ignored him. ‘I didn’t think you’d stoop to using my father as an excuse to push me away, but you are.’
‘Poppy—’
‘You know, deep down you know, that you’re not responsible and you never were. But you’re afraid. You’re afraid, just like me. Afraid that you’re not good enough, that you’re not worthy—’
‘Poppy.’ My name, heavy as lead, cut across me, silencing me. And his gaze was relentless as it held mine. ‘If it’s love you want in return from me, I’m sorry. I can’t give it to you.’
Typical Xander. Cutting to the heart of the matter as always. And cutting me in two in the process.
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t what I wanted or even what I was asking for, but it was too late. He knew that, of course—that was exactly what I wanted.
Well, screw him. He’d always been about honesty and so I would give him honesty. The same honesty he didn’t want to give me.
I lifted my chin. ‘And what if it is? You think I don’t deserve it?’
‘That’s not what I meant—’
‘It’s a choice, Xander. So don’t give me this bullshit about how you can’t give it to me. Tell it like it is. You don’t want to give it to me.’
His expression hardened even more, becoming granite. ‘I’m not discussing this further. This conversation is at an end.’
‘But you—’
‘Seven, Poppy,’ he said quietly. ‘Seven.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Xander
I WENT INTO work early the next morning and closed my office door. Going over to my desk, I sat down and tried to get my day started by pulling up my list of things to do.
But I couldn’t concentrate.
Turning away from the computer, I got up, moving over to the window and looking out at the boats in the harbour.
Restlessness churned inside me and soon I was pacing from one side of the window to the other, not knowing what I was doing but unable to stand still all the same.
I didn’t understand—what was the matter with me?
I’d made a decision last night and, yes, saying that word to Poppy had been difficult, but she hadn’t been listening to me.
All those things she wanted, all those things she said, they were lies. Excuses. Yes, I’d been lonely. Yes, I’d wanted my father’s respect. But it wasn’t anyone else who’d figured out how to hide that money. It was me. Sure, I hadn’t known what my father was going to do, but that didn’t absolve me from blame. I still had to pay for what I’d done somehow.
She’d left after I’d said her safe word, simply walked out without another word, and it had felt like she’d taken a piece of my soul with her.
A piece that was still missing, making my chest hurt, my entire fucking being ache.
But it had to be this way and I wasn’t sure why she couldn’t see that. I couldn’t give her what she wanted. I could take care of her, but love was a bridge too far.
She’d asked me last night whether she deserved love and that was the thing that had broken me. Because that was the reason I was sending her away. She did deserve it. She deserved so much better.
Especially when I didn’t have better to give.
You don’t want to give it to me...
I turned and paced back to the end of the window again, my breathing getting faster, the pain in my chest deeper.
How could I give it to her? How could I look after her the way she needed to be looked after? The way she deserved?
How could I have her look at me the way she’d looked at me the night before, telling me it didn’t matter, that nothing had changed? Telling me that she loved me?
I couldn’t have it. I couldn’t bear it.
I’d been responsible for her father’s death, I’d torn her life apart—and the lives of countless other people—and, no matter what she said, there was no forgiving that.
I didn’t deserve her love. Not one single part of it.
Eventually I made myself go back to my desk and I forced myself to work, but I kept listening out for something and it didn’t hit me until nine a.m. had come and gone that I’d been listening for Poppy’s arrival.
Normally she came in with a coffee for us both and a kiss for me, but there was no sign of her this morning.
I didn’t blame her. If she wasn’t in now, it probably meant she wouldn’t be coming in at all.
You said you would be there for her and you weren’t.
My gut lurched and I felt cold—the same feeling I’d had when I’d recognised Seven’s fur in the tread of Dad’s car tyre.
Yet another reason why I could never have a woman like Poppy.
She needed me to be there for her and I wasn’t. I couldn’t.
Christ, I couldn’t even look after one stray dog. How could I look after one beautiful, passionate woman?
Later that morning I went back to that goddamn spreadsheet, looking for those transactions that my father had hidden, combing through them, desperate.
It was even more vital to me now that I found that money, that I gave it back to her so at least she’d have something. Some funds to start her own practice or get her to London the way she wanted.
Some real financial independence so she could blossom the way she’d always meant to.
I was still combing through them when Ajax strode into the room—no knock, as usual.
‘It’s seven o’clock at night, dick,’ he said, coming to a stop beside my desk and looking down at what I was doing. ‘Why the hell are you still here? Shouldn’t you be at home with Poppy?’
Pain lodged inside me at the sound of her name.
I ignored it.
‘I have work to do,’ I said shortly, not bothering to look up. ‘And why would I be at home with Poppy?’
‘Because you’ve been sleeping together the whole week and seemed very happy about it.’
Fuck, how had he found out? Not that it mattered.
I stared at the figures on my spreadsheet, trying to stop the numbers from blurring in front of my eyes. ‘Go away.’
There was a long silence.
I looked up, only to find Ajax still there, staring at me. ‘Didn’t I tell you to go the fuck away?’
‘You’ve been a prick, haven’t you?’
I scowled. ‘Ajax—’
‘God help me, if you’ve hurt Poppy I will fucking kill you.’ Suddenly he looked very much like the giant wolf people often compared him to. ‘She wasn’t here this morning and she didn’t turn up to a meeting we had scheduled—texted me something about a headache. But it wasn’t a headache, was it?’
I said nothing, my chest aching, the guilt biting deep.
He cursed, his light blue eyes icy. ‘Tell me what happened. And that’s an order, brother.’
Bossy bastard. I wanted to tell him he could go fuck himself, but he was still my older brother. ‘I had to let her go,’ I said eventually.
‘You dumb shit. Why the fuck would you do that?’
Anger flared and I gripped onto it, held it tight to drown out the pain. ‘Because I was responsible for her father’s death.’
‘How? He killed himself, Xander. It wasn’t murder.’
‘Remember those financial games I used to play?’ I snapped. ‘Remember how you told me they were real? Well, I’ve been tracking down all the victims of those games and last year I discovered that Poppy’s dad was one of them.’
Ajax—unsurprisingly—wasn’t impressed. ‘Okay, so that’s shitty, but so what? You’re giving her up simply because you feel responsible for the way her father died? Why the fuck would you do that?’
‘Because she deserves better, Ajax. She deserves better than me.’
He stared at me. ‘You love her, don’t you?’
The question hit me like a bolt of lightning, stealing every bit of air from my lungs and every thought from my head.
Of course you love her. You’ve been in love with her since you saw her in
the pool.
Ajax snorted and when I didn’t say anything he answered for me. ‘You stupid bastard. Only idiots in love are so goddamn self-sacrificing. Christ.’
‘But I—’
‘Look, I care about the well-being of my potential new architect and, believe it or not, I give a shit about you, so how about you stop being such a dumb asshole and go tell her how you feel?’
My heart twisted, the anger slipping from my grip. I tried to hold onto it. ‘It’s not that simple, prick,’ I growled.
‘Of course it’s that simple.’ Ajax straightened. ‘We all did bad things, Xan, but that was years ago, remember that. Things are different now. The past is over, and we have to move on.’ He gave me a pointed look. ‘So what I want is for you to stop sulking, go get that girl of yours and keep her here in Sydney so she can design me a fucking apartment building. Oh, yeah, and make her happy. A happy architect makes for an awesome designer and keeps them turning up to meetings.’
I gritted my teeth, ready to tell him what he could do with his orders, but he was already turning around and heading towards the door to my office.
‘Don’t let him win, Xan.’ Ajax pulled open the door and turned, his icy gaze meeting mine. ‘You let her go, then he wins.’
I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. About her. About me. About both of us, but as he went out of the door I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said.
It stayed in my head as I stared at my fucking spreadsheet, going around and around.
You let her go, then he wins.
Dad had never wanted me to have anyone. He’d kept me alone, kept me isolated, and I’d so desperately wanted someone. After Seven had died I’d turned inward, turned to the numbers and lost myself inside them. Told myself I didn’t need anyone. Told myself that money and numbers were all I required.
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