Everything You Need: Everything For You Trilogy Book 1 (18 page)

I gape at his smooth get-out clause. “You provided the alcohol.”

“I’m being responsible. Did those boys you wanted so badly when you were eighteen have to get you drunk first?”

Is it my imagination or is there bitterness in his words?

“I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“Bad ones.”

“I’ve drunk a lot more than this before now.”

His eyebrows arch and reality dawns. “God, you’re punishing me for getting drunk last weekend.”

“If you want to be with me you won’t do anything so dangerous to yourself again.”

“Happily, for both of us, I don’t want to be with you.”

“My second condition is I demand that you’re totally honest with me at all times.”

I pause. “Condition for what?”

“Helping you.”

“Forget it. I don’t need any help.”

“That statement alone breaks the first two conditions because you’re drunk and you’re lying.”

“You’re –”

“Unbelievable?”

“Arrogant and pig-headed. What do you mean first two conditions?”

“There will be more. We’ll discuss them when you’re sober enough to understand the consequences.”

I draw up my knees and clamp them together, twisting both legs to one side of him. “What’s the point? I get it.” I secure the edges of the shirt around myself, crossing them over my body into a double protective layer against his latest cruel rebuff.

He sits there unashamedly gorgeous and drags his fingers through his hair. I avert my eyes.

“There’s every point. Got it?” Jack shoves the dark hair back out of his eyes again in exasperation, and as much as I hate him right now, the familiar action recalls happier times.

“By the time I’m sober, I’ll be long gone.”

“You think?”

“You can’t keep me here.” I cross my arms defensively.

“Can’t I? You’re so drunk I think I could. Have you got anything to say about that, first of all?” He’s no doubt unused to anyone contradicting him.

“You’re asking what I think? That’s a first.” I scrunch into a ball, legs curled beneath me as far away from any contact with Jack as I can possibly get in the confines of the sofa corner we share.

“A smart mouth won’t get you far,” he warns, irritated. He reaches for the whisky bottle and pours himself another measure.

“I thought I was stupid, not smart.”

“You’re not.”

“Well you think I can’t grasp a simple matter like my own past, so I must be stupid.”

“That’s not true.”

“What’s not true? That I haven’t understood the past? Or that I’m stupid?”

“Now you’re tying me in knots. You can be so infuriating, you know that?”

We have a thirty second face-off.

Jack’s brow furrows. He throws his head back and takes a large gulp of whisky, breathing through the searing heat. His expression looks so strangled, his eyebrows so knotted up as he rubs the back of his neck that I laugh. He glares at me to no effect. I’m emotionally exhausted and, much as I hate to admit it, absolutely too drunk to fight.

“Are we quarrelling?” I ask softly.

The tight lines around his lips ease a little. “I think we might be. People don’t generally quarrel with me.” He throws a scowl in my direction at the realisation.

“I don’t suppose they do. I don’t suppose I would if I hadn’t practically been force-fed all that Champagne and whisky.” I mash my lips together to stop myself from laughing out loud and watch him working out if I’m joking or not.

“Seeing as sex is off the agenda, do you want a little more?” He tempts me with a wave of his glass.

I figure I might as well. One more glass can’t hurt any except I’m not entirely sure I can trust my decisions around Jack. He’s a magnetic field that throws my compass off.

“Yes, please. You’re very frustrating you know that?”

Now he almost laughs as he tips his own glass to my lips offering me just one small sip. Nowhere near enough to get hammered the way I want to. Yet this gentle friendship is so much better than hostility. It reminds me of the way things used to be when we were first getting to know each other.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, lifting his chin towards the tray abandoned on the coffee table.

“I’m told it’s off the menu.”

Jack fixes on my dirty little mouth.

I widen my eyes in mock innocence. “So our deal doesn’t include sex then? Wouldn’t want to blow it.”

His eyebrows wing. “We’re still talking about the business deal here, right?”

I click my tongue and slap him on the shoulder. His eyes reveal a hint of snow melt in their Arctic depths.

“I need you to own up to the past,” he tells me.

“You’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

“Finally comes understanding.” His lips are so close to mine, I feel the tease of warm liquored breath. “It’s time for us both to face up to the truth.”

Jack begins to button up his shirt. I swing my legs to the floor wishing I had something more substantial than a shirt to wear. I sense I’m not going to like what’s coming.

“When you were eighteen you pleaded with me to take your virginity.”

My eyes flare in shock. God. How can he say it like that? Out loud. “Hardly pleaded!” I can’t look at him.

“Yes, Tabitha. You treated your virginity like it was just another problem to deal with.”

“Stop saying that.” The truth swan-dives out there no matter how much I refuse to see it. We pause in a silence that grows. I can’t bear to look him in the eye. I can’t speak.

“I can wait as long as necessary. It couldn’t be more obvious that you want to deny all knowledge of that summer and I take the blame for that.”

I’m not sure if trying to come up with a spin on it that isn’t quite so coarse and unpalatable or pretending it never happened at all is the best course of action.

I go for the spin. With a touch of denial thrown in. “I was eighteen for God’s sake, heaving with hormones and a head full of romantic and pseudo-sexual crap.” I wasn’t like that at all. I was driven, focused, even then. I knew my own mind. I’m simply denying the facts. I wanted him to be the one.

“I know what happened. I’ve thought about it over and over.”

If I felt humiliated before, I can’t get over him telling me he’s thought about what I did a hundred times.

“You always were a smart girl. But, like you said, you were working too hard. Exams. University entrance. Interning at CaidCo. Despite your studies, I saw how hard your uncle pushed you in the business and how much the others used you to do their grunt work. Yet you still managed to start the first charitable trust CaidCo ever had. That first year you raised a significant amount to support Médecins Sans Frontières, in honour of your parents.”

“I’ve always suspected you were our anonymous annual donor.” I wait for his acknowledgement but he maintains silence on the matter.

“And you kept up so many other accomplishments. You were studying Russian, I remember because Harry wanted to expand into Russian markets and you were tutoring a couple of younger kids. Do you still have your violin? You played in two orchestras back then. Gave talks to schools to inspire other young women to work hard and achieve. And hung out with me. I used to wonder where you found hours in the day.”

“I burned the midnight oil, Jack. Abandoned socialising. That’s how I managed.”

“That wasn’t managing. You were overwhelmed with your workload. Always taking on more and more. The pressure was beginning to build. I’m not blaming you, Tabby. I admire you. You’ve always been goal driven. It’s in your nature. Like other things are in your nature.” Jack pauses and looks at me.

I block his inference. “So what? You worked hard too. How else would you have done so well?”

“I was much older than you. More established in my business, with managers I could delegate to. Everyone at CaidCo was delegating to you. And I focused exclusively on Zee-Com. I wasn’t doing a lot of the extra things you were doing. If I needed languages I’d hire translation services. I wasn’t trying to do it all myself. I knew what I was doing.”

I’m angry. “I knew what I was doing!” I scowl at Jack so hard he moves towards me as if he wants to take me in his arms and soothe my temper away. I scuffle backwards sending him a clear message not to touch me.

He sighs. “You’re defensive. Still can’t accept there might be a better way to have the things you want.” He hesitates. “I’ll teach you a better way. I owe you that much.”

“How noble. Are you feeling guilty about being a bastard? First you reject me. Then you… what is it? Oh yeah. Reject me twice. Now you want me to make you feel better by being grateful you’re willing to ride to the rescue?”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You never come down off your battlements and let someone help you.”

Battlements? God he’s just like Brent Tapper. He’ll be calling me Brunhilde next. “You know what, Jack. Don’t feel guilty. I couldn’t care less. I’m doing just fine. I wouldn’t let you help me, just to salve your conscience, if you were the last person on the planet.”

“Here we go again. The voice of inexperience. I’m not trying to deny your success, Tabitha. Everything you do, you do brilliantly. You give one hundred percent to everything you attempt, but that’s the whole problem. I have a pretty shrewd idea what’s happening at CaidCo behind closed doors. You’re trying to do everything and the others are letting you because you don’t know how to take control. Like old times. Am I wrong? That’s why you’re drinking. You never switch off. People have major breakdowns with the strain you’re putting yourself under.”

I feel fit to burst. “So you think I had a nervous breakdown and begged you to fuck me for relief?” I squeak. My cheeks burn. “Maybe you’re hoping if you keep up the pressure long enough, I’ll get close to begging twice!”

Suddenly all the irate tension in Jack’s face melts and he laughs. “Sorry.” He tries to control himself but laughs all the more. “Do you know how cute you are when you’re blushing and spitting fire all at the same time?”

“Funny am I?” I swing myself off the sofa all righteous indignation. “Or perhaps I’m pathetic?” A broken little sob escapes my throat.

Jack leaps up to catch me. “I shouldn’t have laughed. This is serious. I’m serious. I have never thought you were pathetic.” He holds my eyes with a look of sincerity. “Never.”

I glare until he grimaces.

“I’m just so sure of my facts. A smart girl like you knew you needed someone or something to take away the stress. To help you cope. You came up with a unique solution, that’s all.” He just won’t let it go.

“Is that the help you’re offering?” I’m appalled. And humiliated.

“No.”

“Since when would a bright girl like me think sex is the best possible relief for stress?” I know exactly what his look is suggesting. “Oh, grow up.”

Jack continues. “Let’s just say it wasn’t the best of reasons to give a guy who cares about you. I saw it as the wrong reason; a big mistake on your part and you knew I wasn’t about to hit on you. Like I said, you were way too young. You didn’t know what you were offering.”

Just like he suggested in the boardroom? I want to spontaneously combust. Could this nightmare get any more excruciating? I throw my hands over my face.

He offers me an apologetic expression, pulling my hands away gently so I can see he really is contrite. “My intention isn’t to make you feel bad about yourself. I simply want you to know I’m able to offer the help I wasn’t in any position to offer you before.”

“Sex?”

“The right help. That’s why I needed you here tonight.”

I squint up at him with a cagey expression. Part anger, part mortification, part apprehension. “What about tonight?”

“I had to be sure. Tonight confirms to me that you’re seeking help and guidance from someone older, someone more experienced and you’re still willing to let me be the one to give you that.”

“How can you be so conceited?” I twist out of his hold, march off a couple of paces, turn and march back. I’m prickly as a holly bush. “You got me here under false pretences to put me in my place. Well you did that right enough and in a spectacularly hideous manner. Good for you, Jack. And you did teach me a lesson by the way. Never to trust a word you say.”

He grabs my shoulders. Forces me to stand and listen. “That’s not what I did.”

“You make me feel like some deviant.”

“I agreed this deal as I knew it was the only way I was going to get you here to talk and I’m a man of my word. The deal still stands. You came. If you stay until breakfast, I consider retaining CaidCo. I will. But I can tell you it’s not looking good.”

“Then you’ve already decided.”

“No, I haven’t but you agreed a lousy deal. It wasn’t worth a handshake. That’s my whole point.”

“You didn’t give me a handshake.” He’d pressed his lips to my wrist.

“I knew where this was heading long before you did.”

Always ten moves ahead. I sink to the sofa again, swallow back my anger and fight tears of frustration off for all I’m worth. It isn’t worth the effort of the mounting headache.