The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO)

by Hunter, Talia

  “I work all the time.”

  “So do I.”

  “I fly wherever I need to at a moment’s notice. My company has projects in several different countries.”

  She stared at him in confusion. “Is that it?”

  He took a sip of his drink and held it in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed. “I fly all over the world, while you’ve spent most of your life in Sydney and don’t even have a passport. The reason I know that is because I had you checked out. It’s something I have to do with anyone I get close to. Just one example of how different our lives are.”

  “Checked out? What do you mean?”

  “I have a private investigator on my payroll. He looks into the people I come in contact with, to make sure they’re who they say they are.”

  What the hell? In spite of the fact she had nothing to hide, her mind still raced over everything he might have found out, hunting for anything she might be ashamed of. “That’s a crappy thing to do.”

  “It’s a smart thing for a guy like me to do. You’d be amazed at what some people will do for money, and I have a lot of money. It can be a big temptation.”

  She drew in a long breath, fighting not to raise her voice. It felt like he’d punched her in the gut. “You think I slept with you for your money?”

  “No. But plenty of women would.”

  Wow. This was a side of him she’d never seen. She’d known he was a little paranoid, but now he’d taken it to a whole new level. If this was what being rich was like, he could keep it. “I feel sorry for you, Damien. Really.”

  He gave a surprised laugh. “You feel sorry for me?”

  “If you offered me every cent you had – all your precious millions – to spy on my friends, I wouldn’t do it. But you can’t even see how wrong it is.”

  He regarded her for a moment, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his dark eyes. “You’re not like anyone I know, Geena. Nobody talks to me like you do.”

  She sat back. What did he want from her? Even now, as hurt and confused as she was, all she wanted was for him to kiss her and tell her that he had feelings for her. For him to invite her back to his place, so she’d get to wake up in his arms.

  “But you don’t want to see me anymore?” she pressed.

  He reached out and covered her hand with his. His touch burned. Only a little while ago she’d craved it, and now it seemed like a consolation prize. She could have his body, but not his heart. Never his heart.

  He sighed, his eyes playing over her face. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. “We’re not right for each other, Geena. I’m sorry.”

  It was Justin all over again, only it was a million times worse, because up until now Damien had made her feel so good about herself. He’d told her she was beautiful, and smart, and made her feel special. But she wasn’t good enough.

  Geena closed her eyes a moment, fighting to control the pain that washed through her. There was no way she’d cry in front of him. Not going to happen.

  “Besides, I have my date with Alexa Worthington tomorrow,” he said. “I’m not comfortable dating you and pretending to go out with someone else in front of the press. You don’t deserve that, and neither does she.”

  You said that date was just for the cameras. Now it’s a reason to dump me? Not only was Geena not the right woman for him, but he was going on a date with someone who could be.

  With a sudden burst of anger, Geena pulled her hand from his. “Are you going to give her the ‘Not looking for a relationship’ speech you gave me?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” The waiter had their meals. He put Geena’s down, then Damien’s, and although they smelled delicious, Geena’s stomach clenched. “May I get you anything else? More wine, perhaps?”

  Yeah, more wine. Geena grabbed her glass and took a big gulp as Damien shook his head and sent the waiter away. She felt like she had after her would-be mugger had tried to jump her from behind. Only this time she’d been socked with a reminder that she wasn’t the kind of woman that men stuck with.

  “Geena, I’m glad you won my auction. These last few days have been incredible. You’re a very sexy woman, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of our time together.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Yeah, the sex has been great,” she said sarcastically. “Thanks. A real blast.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  So it wasn’t enough that he’d rejected her. Now he was going to scold her too? She couldn’t sit here and eat, and pretend she wasn’t devastated.

  She stood up. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Geena—”

  “Goodbye Damien.”

  “Wait.” He stood up too, seemingly oblivious of the stares from the other diners. “I’ll drive you back to the store.”

  “Just leave me alone. I was fine before you came along, and I’ll be perfectly fine again after you’re gone.”

  She grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the restaurant, her sight blurring. Was he following? She walked as fast as she could, hoping he wouldn’t come after her. No tears, dammit. She refused to cry. And if she couldn’t stop herself, then she damn well wouldn’t let him see.

  When she was far enough away, she risked a glance behind but couldn’t see him. Good. She just wanted to get back to her store, to curl up in her little bed, but there were no cabs around. Cars whizzed past, their tires kicking up water from the street. She’d left the block of shops and businesses where the restaurant was, and all she could see in front of her were houses. There had probably been a cab rank back there somewhere. Most likely she’d walked right past it without noticing. No way was she going back.

  It was a dark night, but even in her high heels her store was only a twenty minute walk, and after the recent rain the air was crisp and fresh. She took deep breaths, pulling the cleansing air into her lungs and pushing her despair away. The walk would do her good. By the time she got back to her store, she’d have forced Damien from her heart and mind. Yeah, right. Well, it was worth a try.

  As Geena got closer to her store, the terrace houses were elbow-to-elbow, narrow and tall, sometimes three or four stories high. They loomed overhead, their dark windows hiding secret eyes. The streetlights made pools of light that glittered off the puddles in the gutter. She found herself hurrying between them, trying to avoid any patches of darkness.

  Up ahead was the fenced-off empty site where Kingston Boarding House used to be. This part of the Cross wasn’t one she usually came to. There were a couple of half-way houses around here, filled with guys readjusting to society after time in rehab or jail. No matter what time of the day or night, hard-looking men loitered outside those places, smoking endless cigarettes and glaring at anyone walking past.

  In spite of her nervousness, Geena slowed when she got to the site of the boarding house. She peered through the wire fence which stopped anyone from going onto the tangled patch of weeds. It was too dark to see more than a vague hint of the piles of old brick that were all that was left.

  She shivered, thinking about the woman who had died here. Another woman who’d loved Damien, and he’d loved her back.

  No, she wouldn’t think about that.

  As she turned away, from the corner of her eye she saw a shadow move. On the other side of the road, a dark, narrow alley gave access behind the terrace houses. Someone was there, in the alley.

  Geena hurried on, wishing there were more people around. Cars were going past though. Not too many, but enough to make her feel a little less alone. And the main night-life area was only five minutes away, so she’d see plenty of people soon enough. The balls of her feet were starting to hurt and with every step the pavement seemed harder, but she quickened her pace.

  Damn you, Damien. He was so worried about her safety, yet he was the reason she was striding so quickly along this dark, creepy street that her feet were sure to ache afterwards. Up ahead she could see the Playhouse — a dingy, tasteless bar that right now looked like sanctuary. On a Thursd
ay night, it would be mostly full. And it marked the start of the well-lit strip of shops, cafés, bars, and clubs that felt like home.

  Geena heard footsteps behind her. Someone approaching fast.

  She swung around, her heart leaping painfully. Two men were headed for her. One she recognized at once — the guy with the scar who’d tried to steal her handbag. The other was skinny, wearing an oversized, dirty hoodie that hung off him like a sail.

  As Scarface reached her, his expression changed. “Fuck, I know this bitch,” he growled. “She’s crazy.”

  “Yeah, I’m crazy.” She meant to shout it at the top of her lungs, but her voice was shaking and weak. “So stay the fuck away.”

  They stopped at least, looking at her warily, like two dogs waiting for the signal to attack. Soon enough, they’d be on her. Two against one. Even with her self-defense training she had no chance, and they knew it.

  “Hand over the bag, bitch.” Scarface held his hand out for it, gesturing with his fingers.

  “And yer jewelry,” added the skinny one. “Hurry up.”

  Geena’s mouth tightened. They couldn’t have her ring, not when she’d already had to sell her precious necklace. It wasn’t even worth anything, except it was one of the few things she’d taken with her when she’d left home. Why should she give it to them?

  “You can have my bag.” Her breath was coming fast and shallow. How much cash did she have on her? She couldn’t think. And what did it really matter? It was only money.

  She unslung her handbag and dropped it, then took several steps backwards. If she ran, would they let her go? If only she wasn’t wearing high heels, she’d be more confident about getting away.

  Scarface bent and picked up her bag, but the skinny one darted towards her, hand outstretched to grab her.

  Every instinct screamed for her to jump back, but at the last minute she moved forward instead, to do the thing he’d least expect. He was lunging to grab her arm, but his hand collided with it. At the same time she brought one leg up. Her knee connected with his groin and he doubled forward, the breath huffing out of him.

  Direct hit.

  He clutched his groin with both hands, head down, cursing.

  Scarface came forward, her bag dangling from one hand. “Crazy bitch,” he spat. Then he grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “Come on. I got her bag.”

  Geena took several steps back, but before she could turn to run, a car screeched to a stop and a man jumped out. Damien. He rushed at her attackers and swung at Scarface. The man tried to fight back, but after two more punches he crumpled to the pavement. The skinny one cowered back, still hunched over, and lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender.

  Damien wrenched her handbag away from Scarface and strode over to her. “Are you okay?”

  She was shaking, the adrenalin still coursing through her, making her stammer. “Y-yes.”

  The two men scrambled up and bolted. Damien spun around to watch them go, then turned back to her. His face was hard. “What the fuck were you thinking, walking down here by yourself?”

  She straightened. Her breath was still coming in heaving gasps, but sudden, hot anger flooded through her, wiping out what was left of her fear. No, it wasn’t just anger. It was rage, furious rage that made her clench her fists to try to contain it. “What was I thinking? I was thinking about getting as far away from you as possible.” Her voice rose, no longer trembling, but strong and shrill. “How dare you yell at me? After the way you treated me, you’ve got no right. Now leave me alone.”

  She snatched her bag from his grip, turned and strode away. She didn’t hear the slam of his car door, or the roar of his engine, so he must have stood and watched her go until she was out of earshot. But she didn’t turn to see.

  18

  Cursing, Damien parked his car properly and left it outside the rubble of the Kingston Boarding House, in the darkest, worst part of King’s Cross. It would no doubt be vandalized or stolen, but what choice did he have? He wouldn’t let Geena out of his sight until she was safely in her store.

  Except she wouldn’t be safe, would she? She’d never be safe, not in King’s Cross. He glanced behind him, towards the remains of the Kingston Boarding House.

  Why had Geena come this way, alone at night? Was she trying to get herself killed?

  When he’d seen those men attacking her, he’d been in such a hurry to get to her that he’d almost mounted the curb. If there had been a hundred armed men surrounding her, he would still have jumped in without a second thought.

  Fuck. Now that he was calming down, he could think more clearly. And the worst thing? He couldn’t hide from the truth any more. He’d left his talk with her too late. Telling her he couldn’t keep seeing her had been a desperate move from a man who didn’t want to admit to himself how deeply he already cared for her.

  He watched her walk briskly towards the lighted storefronts, and followed. He stayed far enough behind to give her some space, but close enough that if she turned she’d see him. She didn’t turn. In fact, she strode all the way to her store without so much as glancing around. She probably knew he was following, but was still angry. That was okay. He’d been so furiously afraid for her, he’d spoken more harshly than he’d meant to. But he hadn’t been able to help it. Not when his chest felt like iron bands were squeezing it and his hands itched to tear those men into small pieces.

  Ahead of him, Geena reached her store and went inside. He hesistated. If only he could just go back to his car and take off. If only he could leave her behind and not have to worry about her. But it was too late for that.

  He followed her into the store. She was sagged against the counter and Billy had his arm around her. Good. She needed all the comfort she could get, and he was in no state to give it to her, not while he was so conflicted. Not while he couldn’t work out whether he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, or to shout at her until she promised she’d never do anything so dangerous again.

  Billy looked up as he approached, and his eyes widened. “She’s been attacked,” he said. “Two guys—”

  “I know. Why don’t you get her upstairs and give her a drink? I’ll watch the store.”

  Geena rounded on him. “I’m not a child. I don’t need to be put to bed. Or to be ordered around.”

  “You’re in shock. You should sit down.”

  “Stop telling me what to do.” She shrugged off Billy’s arm. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay now.”

  “Geena—”

  She cut him off with a glare, then turned and stormed upstairs.

  Shit. Damien looked at Billy who shrugged. He could feel the muscles jumping in his neck. If only he could rewind the last week, and not feel the way he did. Too fucking late for regrets.

  He took the stairs two at a time, following Geena up to her office and small bed.

  At the top of the stairs she whirled around to confront him, and he thought she was going to fly at him with her fists. He stepped towards her and caught her, bringing her into his chest. Held her there until she stopped fighting. Until she sagged against him, clinging to him.

  “Damn you, Damien.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  “It’s too late for that. I thought I could walk away, but I can’t. I need to know you’re okay.”

  “I’m not. How can you expect me to be?” She pulled away so she could look up at him.

  “Geena, I can’t protect you, not if you’re working in the Cross. Can’t you see how impossible that is for me?”

  “I don’t need protecting.”

  “You’re always coming in and out of here alone, at night, when there are rapists and murderers walking the streets. Don’t you get it?” He clenched his fists, wanting to take her by the arms and shake her until she understood.

  “There are worse places than—”

  “How many stabbings have there been? How many deaths?”

  “It’s a lot bett
er than it used to be. There hasn’t been any trouble here for ages.”

  “Except for ten minutes ago?”

  “I mean, there’s been no serious trouble. A couple of guys doesn’t count. That could have happened anywhere.”

  He shook his head, his insides tightening. How could he keep her safe when she refused to see the truth? “You won’t even admit you put yourself in danger.”

  “You put me in danger. I never walk down that street normally, but there were no taxis outside the restaurant.”

  Fuck. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. He already had one death heavy on his conscience. If only he’d insisted on driving her home. Fighting to stay calm, he took a deep breath.

  “When I saw those men going after you, I realized I couldn’t just forget you, Geena. I need to keep you safe, but I can’t do it here.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I want you to move out of King’s Cross.” The solution had only just come to him, but saying it out loud was a relief. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier?

  “Move?” She took a step backwards. “What about my store?”

  “You could relocate into a better area. I’ll pay your moving costs and help you get set up.”

  “But another area would have different zoning laws, and I’d have to work through a lot of red tape.” She folded her arms, her face set. “Besides, I don’t want to relocate. King’s Cross is no more dangerous than other suburbs in the inner city, and I like it here. I’ve been working hard to build up regular clients.”

  “Are those clients worth dying for?”

  “You’re being melodramatic.” She shook her head. “I could just as easily get mugged outside your fancy apartment building in The Rocks.”

  Why did she have to be so damn stubborn? He let out his breath in an impatient rush. “That’s not true, and you know it. I’ll buy you a building to move into, and have my team get any permits you need.”

  “It is true. And I’ve worked too hard on this place to walk away. You know I’ve given everything to keep it afloat.”