The Billionaire's Saving Grace: A contemporary romance

by Fiona Miers

“So what’s your point, Emmy?”

  She shivered at his use of her nickname. She loved how he called her something that no one else did, but pushed forward.

  “Well, we need to fix that. If you want to help these women, you need to get involved more. That’s how I fill the hole inside of me. I know it’s nothing compared to what you and your mother went through, but I can’t fix the injustice done to my parents, the guilt I feel at making heaps of money to pay off two houses. We need it, I know, however, it doesn’t sit right. And each day I help another person at Eleanor’s House, it makes me feel better.”

  “You seriously think the answer to my fears is getting more hand’s on at Eleanor’s House? After years of therapy, boxing and staying away from any woman who looked remotely nice, this is your solution?”

  She laughed at his summary, stepping close to him again.

  “Yes, and if it’s not, we can try something else.”

  He grinned, grabbing her as she got closer and hauling her into his pelvis. “Taking you to bed will fix almost anything, I’m sure.”

  She twirled her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Come with me to Eleanor’s House tomorrow?”

  He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

  That was enough for her. She pressed into him harder, letting her tongue find his and her eyes close.

  The time for speaking was done. She let him lead her to bed, where they undressed each other slowly, carefully. They kissed like their next breath might be their last, moaning and gasping as they shared their flavors and needs. She took her time exploring his body, licking his skin and savoring each groan she pulled from him.

  Nate then turned his attentions on her, loving her body so thoroughly, tears leaked from her eyes as she climaxed.

  She’d never felt so loved, appreciated, needed, than the moment he slid into her and gasped, his eyes on hers, and his body as close to hers as he could possibly be.

  This time, she didn’t even ask if she could stay. She just turned over, pulled his arms around her tightly and fell into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Nate took a long, shuddering breath, and then another. He really didn’t want to do this.

  Stop being a pussy.

  He nodded once to himself and tugged on his cufflinks at either wrist. He reached out his hand to the silver knob and pulled the door open. He’d designed that door, chosen that handle.

  He moved inside and reached for the arrogance he knew was there to be had. The same confidence that had got him through a tough college degree, even harder job placements, and then building his own company from one room to a building full of people.

  The new carpet looked good, and there was a surveyor looking at the walls for renovation. Great.

  He stepped up and knocked on the door with the supervisor, Cindy Drummel’s name in white letters across the wooden door.

  “Hello, Cindy, I’m here to speak to some people about job prospects?”

  The blonde woman turned towards him, squinting over her glasses as she stared up at him for a moment.

  “Oh. Oh! Mr. Johnson, I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you properly. We’ve been flat chat here today.”

  He smiled as the woman bustled around her desk that was overflowing with paperwork and shook his hand firmly. She reminded him of a mother hen, larger than life, warm and spoke far too much.

  “Not a problem. Is Emily here?”

  She should be. She left my warm bed on this freezing cold morning to volunteer.

  “Yes, she arrived a few hours ago. Let’s go see her.”

  He nodded and forced a smile to his lips as they moved into the heart of the center. His eyes focused on the architecture of the building. The skylight he’d had installed to keep the living areas bright. The architrave around the doors for a little bit of beauty and the heavy-duty carpets for the heavy foot traffic.

  He’d thought about every single detail when he’d designed it over ten years ago and to see it all still looking so good made him feel quite proud.

  “Nate!” Emily greeted him with a huge, sunny smile as she walked up to him.

  His heart kicked out at him as love and familiarity washed over him in warm waves.

  Damn. Not yet. Don’t be in love with her already.

  She didn’t reach out and touch him, but his hands itched to grab her and kiss her. Last night had been amazing. Each kiss, each touch, every move from her eager body had made him want to come. The intensity was all-consuming.

  “You came. I’m so glad.”

  “Yes, I decided you were right and I also spoke to Martine about it an hour ago.” Which his executive assistant hadn’t been too pleased with since it was a Sunday morning, but as always, she’d answered his call. “She recommended that we could hire some of the women who want some part-time work to help with reception, running errands, et cetera.”

  Which to him had sounded like a great idea. If he was serious about really helping the women at the shelter, then he may as well combine more of his business with the charity and vice versa.

  “Oh, that’s such a good idea. We can talk to some of them straight away. There’s a group therapy session going on in one of the meeting rooms. Shall we go in there now?”

  “That’s fantastic, Mr. Johnson. Thank you.” Cindy said next to him and Nate forced himself to nod and smile.

  A sweat broke out on his forehead and he wiped it away, the heat in his cheeks making him rush over to a nearby table and pour himself a glass of water.

  His hands were shaking and he reached for the safety pin in his pocket. His heart instantly calmed as he connected with the metal.

  “You okay, Nate?” Emily asked as she stepped up next to him, her hand going to the crook of his elbow to offer some sort of support. He’d never known a woman who read him so well, and she seemed to actually care if he wasn’t happy.

  His heart was beating like a bongo drum in his chest. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  He straightened his spine and gulped down the water before saying, “Yeah, of course. Right behind you.”

  She gave him one last worried look and headed off to the meeting room.

  He had broached multi-million dollar deals when he’d been only twenty-eight years old, what on earth was he afraid of?

  He shook himself and took another deep breath. Nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely nothing. These women weren’t his mother and even if they were, what was wrong with that? She’d done her very best as his mother and had loved him. The best and only way she could.

  The women in that room were the whole reason he’d raised all that money, donated so much time, and energy. Why wouldn’t he want to see where the funds went?

  Emily was waiting for him outside the room, her eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

  “You know you don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.”

  He shook himself hard. “No, you were right. This is why I set up Eleanor’s House in the beginning. For these women.”

  And he had been avoiding the fruits of his labors as though they were poison apples. Why? When he’d succeeded with these women where he had failed with his mother.

  She gazed up at him with that look she got sometimes which meant she admired him, loved him maybe. Shiny, soft eyes and that gentle smile.

  And all he could do was smile back because the thumping of his heart was so loud he could barely hear himself think.

  They went through the door together and took a seat on the edge of the room, a small circle of women talking quietly in the center.

  When he sat down, they all stopped speaking and practically cowered at his presence, shrinking into their chairs and curling their shoulders as they leaned towards each other for comfort.

  Shit.

  He hated this feeling. Like he was some big, violent male who might hurt them. He’d never do that. Never.

  Maybe Emmy’s right about me.

  The woman, who he assumed was the counsellor, stood up and addressed him.r />
  “I’m sorry, but this session is only for the women who seek refuge here. They aren’t very comfortable with men around.”

  Yeah, and tall, alpha men like me are probably the worst sort.

  He turned to Emily with a resigned sigh and she gave him a hesitant smile back. He’d just realized another reason he chose strong, bitchy, confident women. They never made him feel powerful or strong, big or clumsy. He didn’t need to control himself with them because they didn’t see him for who he actually was.

  Here. With broken, big-hearted women, he felt who he was. What he was.

  “Let’s go, Emmy.”

  She stood up and addressed the group.

  “I’m not sure if any of you were here for our ten-year anniversary last week, but this is Nathan Johnson, owner and founder of Eleanor’s House.”

  The women’s eyes grew as big as planets and their mouths gaped open.

  He slid back in his chair and let his shoulders relax. Okay, so maybe he’d assumed wrongly. Or maybe Emily saw him for more than what he looked like on the outside?

  Emily continued speaking, gesturing to him. “I know this isn’t strictly protocol, Jeanie, but Nathan simply wanted to come and see what good was being done at the center that he has single-handedly supported for all of us.”

  Wow. Okay.

  The woman flushed a rose pink and indicated to the circle. “Well, then please join us. I, myself, need to thank you for the opportunity this center afforded me, Mr. Johnson.”

  Emily grabbed his hand and dragged him onto a chair in the inner circle so that he faced the six women, all of them now with relaxed body language and soft smiles on their faces.

  Holy shit.

  He stared at them for a moment, unable to process the difference in the women now that they knew what he was, or who he was.

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  The counsellor continued. “Oh, but I do. All the women know my story. I was abused for years by my husband and was running away from him through the city one night when I literally fell over the mat on the front doorstep of Eleanor’s House. This center saved me, and now I get to use my skills as a healer to help other people get through their darkest hours.”

  Nathan wiped at his brow and shrugged out of his jacket. There was no air in this room, he needed to install better ventilation.

  He nodded his thanks to the counsellor and she gestured to the women in the group.

  “Who would like to share next?”

  A small red-headed woman with a nasty bruise on one side of her face timidly held up her hand.

  “Yes, Macey, please share whatever you would like to tell us.”

  “I’m ready to talk about this night.” She gestured to her face and everyone nodded.

  Nathan swallowed hard, tugging at his cufflinks again as his shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. He glanced around at the women with cardigans and warm jumpers. What was wrong with them? Wasn’t everyone in the room boiling?

  “I came home from doing a double shift and he was drunk, as usual. He was always drunk. I walked into the kitchen to get something to eat and he began banging on the kitchen cupboards to scare me and make me jump.” She glanced around the circle while wrapping her slim arms around herself. “He liked doing that. I don’t know why. But anyway, I ignored him and tried to open the fridge, but he wanted a password. I didn’t know it but guessed a few times to humor him. On the third guess, he hit me.”

  Nate began to tremble—the woman’s fear that night a palpable thing to him. His mother would scoop him up, no matter where he was, and lock him in his bedroom when she heard his father pull into the driveway. Certain nights he’d drink with his mates from work and somehow Nate’s mum would always know.

  The banging front door would signal he was home and Nate would hide under his bed, or in the cupboard. As he got older he found some earphones to play music with, but it never completely blocked out the noise of her screams and his father’s violence.

  So scared. So helpless.

  Nausea rolled in his stomach as the young woman relived the blows, the fear, the panic. The monumental moment when he finally stopped so she could crawl away to safety.

  He’d often wondered what his mother had actually gone through on those nights. He'd seen the bruises and blood the next day and had to ignore what it really meant. She’d never talked about it and he’d never really thought about it.

  But sitting here with these women meant he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  His mother had been weak, terrified and alone.

  I’m going to be sick.

  Nate jumped up and rushed to the corner of the room, hot stomach acid rushing out of him as he shivered and fought the need to curl up into a ball.

  He wiped at his mouth and stuck his hand in his pocket, reaching for the safety pin that was always there for him.

  As he turned and got to his feet he saw that the women were all standing also, a mixture of horror and pity on their sad faces. Emily rushed forward but he held up his hands, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

  “No.”

  He’d reached his limit today. He couldn’t handle any more. Certainly not from her.

  He forced his legs to move and he made it to his chair, just. He nodded once at the counsellor and grabbed his jacket. He held tight to his dignity and staggered out of Eleanor’s House.

  When his feet found the sidewalk he took off running and didn’t stop until he’d reached his apartment block, where he climbed, suit and all, into his large bed. He didn’t get out for almost a day.

  Chapter Twelve.

  “Thanks, Martine. If he comes in today, could you let him know I’ve called again?”

  “Yeah, sure, sweetie. See you on Friday?”

  “Yes, of course. See you then.”

  It had been two days since Nate’s meltdown at Eleanor’s House and Emily couldn’t even find him. He wasn’t answering emails, phone calls or even house calls. He hadn’t turned up to work if Martine was to be believed, and Emily was literally worried sick.

  She’d pushed him, and look what had happened.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she hadn’t eaten properly in days and her stomach still didn’t feel right.

  An email pinged in her inbox and she opened it, holding her breath as Johnson Property Development came up on her screen.

  Emily, Nathan has come into work today but he has told me to block all of your calls and to find a way out of your contract so that we can hire someone else to work here.

  I obviously have not got permission to reveal this, but I know him well, and he is not his normal self at all. What happened?

  Emily didn’t even think twice, she just set her fingers to the keys and tried to explain to the woman who was closest to Nathan what had happened.

  Thank you so much for emailing me, Martine. I understand what you’re saying and I won’t tell him.

  I have been worried sick that he may have been ill or worse.

  We had a chat the other night and I suggested that he might be happier with his life if he saw the wonderful things he did with his money and Eleanor’s House. So he came to the center on the weekend and sat in on a counselling group.

  He only stayed for about ten minutes, vomited and left. I think he had some sort of panic attack.

  She stopped, re-read the email and then sent it on.

  A moment later another popped up.

  Oh crap, you have no idea what you’ve done. He’s never dealt with his mother’s abuse, or her death, and if this has popped the lid on that, then he needs some serious help.

  Will keep you in the loop.

  Martine.

  Now she was the one that was going to be sick.

  Emily rushed to the bathroom and stuck her head over a toilet, her belly rolling in pain as she heaved up her breakfast, tears leaking from her eyes.

  Oh, yuck.

  She spat into the toilet and flushed, walking out to wash her hands and her
face and examine the mess in the mirror.

  What had she done?

  Would he ever forgive her for trying to help? Her intentions had been right, but would that be enough to get him to forgive her?

  She stared into the mirror and a wave of nausea rolled over her again.

  I don’t think it’s going to be enough.

  ****

  Emily let Nate have his silence for two very long days. She owed him space and time, but what he didn’t realize was, she was giving him her sanity as well.

  She’d worked until midnight both nights so she didn’t have to go home and deal with the silence her big, empty house afforded. Once her refuge, now it mocked her. She’d wanted money and a home that she could support herself. She’d got exactly what she wanted, stability and comfort, and how cold it was without the man she wanted in her bed beside her.

  On Friday she dressed carefully, wearing the suit he’d bought her, doing her hair and makeup with much more care than she usually would.

  She’d barely stepped in the door and opened her computer when she saw three emails from Martine waiting for her in her inbox.

  Dear Ms. Sanders,

  Please find enclosed your letter of contract cancellation.

  I am sorry to inform you that we no longer require your services but wish you all the best in the future.

  Kind Regards

  The team at Johnson Property Development.

  Hot tears tingled at the back of her nose and she sniffed rapidly to dispel them. She wasn’t letting him do this.

  The second email was a bit different.

  Em,

  You need to fix this. He’s acting like a bear with a sore paw and I know I’m not the cure!

  But the third one made her cry out with glee and snatch up her bag.

  Okay, I’ve scheduled a false meeting at ten so he doesn’t leave the office. Get your ass over here now!

  She glanced at the clock on her laptop. It was 9:10 a.m.

  She made her excuses to her boss and ran out the door. It was only a short walk to Nate’s office and she needed the time to clear her head.

  She slowed her pace and took long breaths of cool, winter air. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to get Martine on her side, but she would, quite literally, be eternally grateful for her help.