She sighed, wondering which emotional barrage to prepare herself for. “Hello?”
“Ellie.”
“Yeah?” she said, keeping herself detached.
“I, uh, just wanted to ask you if you wanted to get together for dinner. So we could talk.”
Picturing the last meal she’d shared with her father, she shook her head. “I don’t think so, Dad,” she told him.
“Please, dear. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’ve treated you. I want the opportunity to apologize to you in person.”
“Apologize?”
“Yes. I was wrong. All along. I know I’ve probably blown every opportunity we’ve had to build a relationship, but I would like to try.”
“What about Gabe?”
“I don’t know. He quit that day. I haven’t heard from him.”
“He quit?” Gabe’s job was everything to him. And he’d quit because of her.
“Yes, he walked out shortly after we spoke last.”
Ellie paused. “Do you mean what you said? About wanting to start over?”
“Yes. Every word.”
“Dad,” she tested the word, gingerly. “If you’re being honest with me, and you want us to try again, then we have a lot of work to do. And this is our last chance. If it doesn’t work, that’s it.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you for dinner tomorrow night.” She hung up the phone, cautiously optimistic about her upcoming meeting with her father, and she felt part of the burden and misery lift from her. She had to make things right with Gabe. Whether that meant being with him or cutting ties, it had to be done. If her father could swallow his pride and contact her, she could no doubt do the same.
As Ellie stood, with a newfound vigor and resolve, the crumbs from her first cinnamon bun fell from her sweatshirt to the floor. She was on her way to her room when there was a knock—no, a pounding—on the door. Oh God, what now? She sighed. When it rains, it fucking pours. She went to the door, part of her hoping to see Gabe, but she was left confused and—truthfully—a little scared when she saw Alana on the other side. She stepped back, unsure whether or not she wanted to answer.
“Ellie,” she called. “I know you’re in there, ignoring me. And that’s fine. It’s your right. But please let me in. I’d like to talk to you.”
Ellie opened the door and faced Alana. She straightened her shoulders, at least trying to make herself feel confident next to the gorgeous, poised woman in front of her. “You sure you don’t want to hurt me?” she asked, recalling Alana’s words during their last conversation. “Like I hurt him.”
Alana shook her head. Her eyes looked sad. Alana looked unguarded. “That’s all big talk. I just want to be real here with you.” She flashed a sad, tight-lipped smile. “Plus, I don’t want to hurt a person so dear to my best friend.”
Ellie moved out of the way, and gestured for Alana to enter her apartment. Alana came in and looked around. If she noticed, or minded, the clutter that Ellie had allowed to accumulate in the past few days, she gave no indication.
“How is he?”
“He doesn’t look great.” Alana looked her up and down. “And neither do you.”
“About as good as I feel.”
“I thought he’d made a mistake—in seeing you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, I thought you were after his—all of our money. Or that you were using him to get back at your dad.”
“That’s what I told him, when I saw how much his career had already suffered because of me.”
“Is it true? You had ulterior motives for being with him,”
“No. I said it out of anger, and I know I hurt him. It’s one of my biggest regrets in my life.” Ellie felt her eyes fill up when she remembered how Gabe had looked at her when he gave her back her ring, for a second time.
Alana must have seen it, and she looked away before taking a seat on the easy chair, kitty-corner to Ellie’s on the couch. Ellie paused the show on the TV.
“You love him.”
“Yes. But it doesn’t matter now.”
“You know, I’m new to having relationships with women. For so long, it was just me and the guys. I’ve since gained a few female friends, but I’ve never felt threatened by them.”
“I threatened you?”
“Just a little,” she smirked, holding her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “But don’t tell anyone. It could seriously destroy my reputation as a hard-ass ballbuster.”
“Not likely,” Ellie said. “What was it about me that threatened you?”
“I don’t know. Gabe and I were always so close. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m secretly in love with him or anything, but I think I was kind of jealous that you managed to whirl into his life and become the center of his world. And I think that was why I pushed back so hard. All the guys have found love with incredible women, and I just didn’t think Gabe was going to be one of them.” Alana trailed off as she averted her eyes, and Ellie would have sworn that there was a tear hanging off an exquisitely long eyelash.
“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning closer.
And in an instant, Alana snapped out of her thoughts, reverting back to the hard-ass ballbuster. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said with a laugh that Ellie knew was forced, and she knew she was seeing a side of Alana that not everyone did. She wondered if Gabe had. “I’m here to talk to you. What happened?”
“I don’t know, really. I walked up the hallway at the office and saw Gabe and Ian fighting.” She told Alana the series of events that had led to her storming out of her father’s office. She sighed, reliving the hurt and anger she’d felt. “It was so selfish—the whole relationship. I knew that the blowback would be harder on Gabe than on me. He loves his job, wanted to be partner at my dad’s firm. I took the fall, and I ended it. I cut the tie as easily as I could. For him.”
“Why haven’t you called him?”
“I don’t know. Fear, maybe? A hefty dose of shame?”
“Why don’t you swing by Di Terrestres tomorrow night? Before eight?”
“Why?”
“You’re a smart woman, you can figure it out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GABE FOUND HIMSELF behind the piano. The curtain was still closed, but he could hear the patrons on the other side. The usual hum of activity reminded him of the many people who were about to hear him play in public for the first time. He wished he’d had another drink to fortify himself. He was a courageous guy, but the thought of laying himself bare on his keyboard scared him more than any of his more adventurous endeavors. How did he allow Alana to talk him into this?
“You nervous?”
Gabe turned his head and saw Alana joining him on the stage. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s stupid, but I really am.”
“Want some liquid courage?” She joined him on the bench, passing him a glass of whiskey.
He accepted it gratefully and took a drink. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You’re going to be great, you know.”
“I just want it to be over.”
“Should we put out a tip jar? Seeing as how you’re out of a job and all that.”
He laughed. “I think I’ll be okay.”
Gabe put his arm around Alana. “I’m glad we aren’t fighting anymore.”
“Me, too.”
“And things have returned to the way things should be—the two of us doomed to our bachelor-and-spinster-hoods.”
Alana shrugged and moved away from him. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“I’m going to try not to think about it.” He stroked his fingers over the ivory keys. “At least until this is done.”
Alana gave his shoulder a quick squeeze as the house lights went down, indicating a stage show, and the hum of the crowd outsi
de the curtain quieted. He could somehow feel their eyes and attention through the heavy cloth.
Soon Gabe found himself alone on the stage. He placed his hands on the keyboard of his piano and, focusing only on the white-and-black keys, zoned out the entire room and started.
He didn’t know how long he’d been playing; he’d planned for only a twenty-minute set but by the way the sweat rolled down his neck and his fingers ached, he knew it had probably been much longer. When he stopped, the crowd erupted into cheers. He took a bow, left the stage and made his way to his regular table.
Crossing the floor, he shook hands, gave hugs, but when he saw Ellie, sitting alone in the same booth where they’d first discussed their annulment, he stopped in his tracks.
“Ellie, what are you doing here?”
“Our court date is tomorrow. I want to cancel it.”
“What?”
“Let’s stay married.”
“Ellie, what is this? I don’t have time—”
“Listen to me. I can’t bear not being with you. Yes, we might have done all of this out of order. Getting married first, then getting to know each other. You showed me the comfort and safety of a real relationship. I showed you how to be impulsive. We balanced each other. But that doesn’t change the fact that I fell in love with you somewhere along the way. And you fell in love with me. You can’t tell me that you no longer feel that way about me. I love you.”
“Ellie, I—”
“Tell me you love me, goddammit!” She demanded.
Gabe knew there was no use fighting her. He was madly in love with the stubborn, funny, sexy, beautiful woman in front of him. “I love you. I think I fell in love with you the day I bumped into you at that casino. I fell in love with you when I saw our wedding certificate. I fell in love with you when we kissed in the elevator in your father’s building, when I made love to you on top of that piano. Since the minute I laid eyes on you, I haven’t not been in love with you.” He shook his head and breathed out a frustrated breath. “How did we get here?”
“I don’t know. Do you think we can start over?”
“You want to stay married.”
She nodded. “But I want all of the relationship trappings. I want dates, romance.”
“You got it.”
“I want you.”
“You got me.”
“I’m sorry I ran from you. I’m sorry I let my father’s opinion run my life. I should have confronted him earlier. Told him what I wanted.”
“I can’t let you take the fall for that. I was just as reluctant to talk to him about it. I realized that life isn’t what I wanted anymore.”
“There’s nothing in our way now, is there?”
“No, there isn’t. We were fools for letting anything get in our way before.” He grinned. “Come here.”
When she did, he wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her, knowing that he would never let Ellie—his wife—go again.
* * *
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The Debt
by Jackie Ashenden
CHAPTER ONE
Ellie
I WIPED MY palms surreptitiously down my black trousers and adjusted my black suit jacket, briefly touching my head to make sure the chauffeur’s cap was in place. Mentally, I went over the address the chauffeur company had given me: The Gustave Eiffel Suite of the Shangri-La, Paris.
Yep. I was in the right place.
I took a deep breath.
Okay, here went nothing.
It had taken me a month of careful planning to get to this point—including relocating from Australia to England—but now I was here I wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers.
I had two days to convince one of the UK’s most difficult billionaires to give my father more time before withdrawing the venture capital his firm had invested in our family’s company. It was capital we desperately needed in order to stay solvent. And it was not going to be easy.
Ash Evans, billionaire property developer, investor and slave driver, was as famous for his ruthlessness as he was for his temper, not to mention his unapologetic pride in the fact that he came from a poor background.
He was also notorious for never forgiving a debt.
Still, I liked a challenge and, apart from anything else, this was for Dad’s sake and for Australis, our super car company, and that was more important than any qualms I had about confronting some s
elf-important rich guy.
Not that I had qualms. I was a Little, and Littles were tough. We could get through anything. The key was to put your head down, not make a fuss, and keep going.
Keeping my fuss-making to a minimum, I gave my jacket another tweak then raised my hand and knocked sharply on the suite door.
There was no response.
There was also no one around, which was unusual.
I’d been driving for the rich and famous for a couple of years now—a second job to supplement my position as a designer at Australis because I liked driving—and I knew they tended to be always surrounded by people. Assistants, bodyguards and all kinds of hangers-on.
Apparently not Mr Evans.
But then, given what I knew about him from the research I’d done, that wasn’t completely unexpected.
He was a self-made man who’d grown up in one of London’s most notorious council estates and who’d risen to the top through a combination of ruthlessness, hard-headed business sense and a fight-to-the-death attitude that people whispered had come from his days as a street fighter.
A scary dude by all accounts.
Took a lot to scare me, though—I had four brothers after all—and I was prepared to do what I had to do in order to keep the company solvent. Dad was counting on me since he didn’t want my brothers to know the true state of the company finances, and I was very conscious of the fact that I didn’t want to let him down.
Mine was a ropey plan, but it was the best I could come up with: sign myself on with the chauffeur company that Mr Evans used and hope that I would be assigned to him. It had taken a month for that to happen, but a combination of luck and the fact that he was enough of a prick that no one wanted to drive for him had worked in my favour and I’d been given the assignment of driving him in Paris for two days.
It was a sneaky move, but I’d run out of options, not to mention patience. I’d tried all the usual ways to get a meeting with him to talk about the investment face-to-face, but apparently that was impossible and all I’d managed to score were a couple of interviews with some minor flunkey who hadn’t given a shit about either me or my dad.
Forbidden Sins Page 16
