Propositioned by the Billionaire (13 page)

Alex’s voice was flat, as if he were reciting the weather forecast. But his face was white and tight and she’d never seen such turmoil in his eyes.

‘He met Jo and they started dating behind my back.’

Phoebe’s heart squeezed and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it. ‘Why?’

Alex shrugged. ‘She was sixteen. Rob was twenty-six. I guess they knew I wouldn’t have approved. They went out for a year.’ His voice cracked. ‘A whole year and I didn’t have a clue.’

Phoebe didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say.

‘The business was going through a rapid expansion and I was too engrossed to notice. Too focused on making money. I didn’t notice how thin she was getting. And I didn’t pay enough attention to Rob’s increasingly erratic behaviour.’

No wonder he’d spent the last five years racked with guilt. Part of her wanted to jump up and take him in her arms. But the pain of his accusations was still too raw and she made herself stay where she was.

‘I caught him slapping her once.’

Phoebe’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘What did you do?’

‘I acquired a scar and the bump on my nose. Rob came off worse. He ended up in Casualty. A week later he disappeared and I discovered he’d cleared out our accounts.’ He shrugged. ‘I thought I knew him inside out. Turns out I didn’t know him at all. So if I do have an issue with trust I think it’s kind of understandable, don’t you?’

Phoebe’s heart wrenched. ‘Absolutely. Five years ago. But now? Still?’

‘It doesn’t go away.’

‘The guilt has.’

Alex frowned. ‘Maybe.’

‘I’m not Rob. I would never betray you, nor intentionally let you down.’

‘You can’t know that. I can’t know that.’

Frustration suddenly flared inside her. Why was he being so stubborn about this? ‘Well, like it or not, I think you do trust me.’

Alex tensed. ‘I don’t. I can’t.’

‘You can and you do. Why else would you have allowed me to work with Jo when all your instincts fought against it?’

‘Because you were the best person for the job.’

‘Has that ever influenced you in the past?’

‘I don’t allow my personal feelings to get in the way of business.’

Phoebe let out a hollow laugh. ‘Really? I bet you’ve let that sense of betrayal influence every single decision you’ve made since.’

‘I wouldn’t be so short-sighted.’

‘Yet you were so quick to think the worst of me.’

Alex went very still.

‘You know,’ Phoebe continued, chewing on her lip,
‘I’ve made mistakes—plenty of them—but I’ve learned from them. Made myself stronger. You’ve let yours eat away at you. You once accused me of hiding, but who’s hiding now?’

‘I’m not hiding from anything.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Absolutely.’ Alex got to his feet and shrugged. ‘Like I said, it’s nothing personal.’

The cool indifference of his tone sliced through her and Phoebe felt as if a steel band had suddenly wrapped around her chest and were slowly crushing the air out of her lungs.

She’d thought she could handle this, that a casual fling was exactly what she wanted. But the power he had to wound her, the depth of the cut, told her more clearly than any number of words that she’d been fooling herself. She didn’t want a mere fling. She wanted a proper relationship and she was convinced they’d been heading in that direction. But Alex clearly didn’t.

Phoebe felt her heart harden. What an utter idiot she’d been. Well, not any more. ‘If it’s nothing personal,’ she said quietly, ‘then I think you should leave.’

Alex leaned back against the front door, closed his eyes and waited for relief to pour over him.

Because Phoebe was wrong. Utterly wrong. About everything. He didn’t trust her. Or anyone. And so what if he
had
let the events of five years ago influence pretty much every decision he’d ever made? Look at the way Jo had turned out. And look at the way he’d picked himself up and rebuilt his fortune. Neither of those things would have happened if he’d allowed himself to trust anyone other than himself.

Even getting round to trusting himself, when he’d screwed up so spectacularly, had taken a heck of a lot of work. He’d had to shut himself off, hurl himself into some sort of emotional Siberia. Which was just fine. He was perfectly happy with that. Emotions were messy and he didn’t need mess in his life ever again.

Alex pushed himself off the door and strode down the path. He couldn’t afford to trust anyone. He’d never stand back and give anyone one hundred per cent autonomy. Never had and never would.

Except Phoebe.

He stopped, his hand on the gate, his heart suddenly pounding.

She’d been right. He did trust her. The realisation thundered into his head and with it came another flash of insight.

Maybe it was more than that.

One of the photos that accompanied the article flew into his head. He’d met Phoebe for lunch. They’d gone for a walk in the park. He’d slung his arm round her shoulders and they’d been laughing about something.

But it had been the look on his face and in his eyes that had put the fear of God into him. And then when he’d thought she’d betrayed him, he’d felt as if he’d been punched with such force he’d reeled back and crashed against the wall.

Suddenly something inside him collapsed. He was so tired of being cold, of not allowing himself to feel. He was tired of empty, meaningless flings. What he had with Phoebe wasn’t empty or meaningless. He’d shared more with her in the past week both emotionally and physically than he had with anyone ever before.

And he’d just thrown it back in her face. He’d seen
the hurt in her eyes when he’d hurled his accusations at her, and he’d ignored it. Too consumed by his own torment to think clearly.

Alex’s heart thumped. The knowledge that he’d made the most horrendous mistake tore at his gut. A dreadful feeling of panic spread through him and a tight knot formed in his chest.

He had to undo the damage he’d done.

He swung back and rang the doorbell. When there was no answer he knelt down and pushed open the letter box.

‘Phoebe?’

‘Go away!’

He guessed he deserved that but she wasn’t getting rid of him that easily. ‘I want to talk to you.’

‘There’s nothing left to say.’

He hammered on the door. ‘Open the door.’

‘No.’

‘Please. I’m on my knees. I feel like an idiot.’

‘Good.’

‘I’ll sit on the doorbell if I have to.’

Silence. Then the door flung open and the relief that he’d been waiting for earlier finally came.

‘Fine. What?’

Phoebe’s face was white and drawn, her eyes were huge and glassy and his heart wrenched at the realisation that it was all because of him.

‘I’m sorry I accused you of going to the press. I know you’d never have done that.’

‘So why did you?’

‘Instinct. Habit. You’re right. I
have
let mistrust influence my decisions over the years. But apparently not any more.’

‘Apparently?’

The lack of emotion in her voice rocked his confidence and sent a chill running down his spine. ‘I think I do trust you. And it
is
personal. You’re the only person I’ve ever not worried about letting me down.’

A faint light flickered in her eyes. ‘And?’

Alex frowned. ‘And what?’ If he was being honest, he’d been expecting her to fall into his arms, draw him back inside and let him prove to her how sorry he was for being such an idiot. ‘Doesn’t it make any difference?’

‘To what?’

Fear clawed at his stomach and a sense of panic began to spread through him. ‘Well, to us. Our affair.’

‘Not really.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Alex. Look. Please go. I don’t want this and I don’t want to see you any more. So please. Just go.’

The door clicked shut and Alex reeled. For a moment he just stared at it in shock. Then a searing pain began to burn in his chest as he realised that whatever had existed between them, whatever it might have turned into, he’d destroyed it.

P
HOEBE SPENT THE
rest of the weekend wandering around listlessly, her head filled with thoughts of Alex. Every second of every minute, day and night. Where he was, what he might be doing, who he might be seeing.

So much for thinking she didn’t want him. Didn’t need him. She felt as if she’d suddenly lost a vital organ. She shouldn’t have shut the door on him. She should have taken what she thought he might have been offering: the chance to resume their relationship and get back to the hot sex.

So why hadn’t she? Why had no-strings-attached sex suddenly seemed so meaningless? When had it become not enough?

Over the course of the weekend Phoebe drove herself slowly mental with self-analysis and self recrimination. Tormenting herself with those annoying ‘what if’s and ‘if only’s.

By Sunday evening she was in such a state that she had no idea why or how she ended up standing on the doorstep of her parents’ house. All she knew was that she was climbing the walls of her own place and she had nowhere else to go.

Her mother opened the door, her father standing just behind her, and for a second they both stared at her in surprise. ‘Phoebe?’ said her mother, recovering first and peering at her closely. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine,’ Phoebe said, then promptly burst into tears.

Unable to stop the torrent that streamed down her cheeks and the racking sobs that shook her body, Phoebe let herself be pulled into the house and ushered into the kitchen. In the midst of her misery, she felt her mother gently push her down into a chair and wait while she bawled her eyes out.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said with a watery smile once she’d cried herself out and could actually find her voice. ‘Where did Dad go?’

‘His study. Tears aren’t really his thing.’

‘Nor yours.’ She pulled a string of tissues out of the box her mother had thrust in front of her.

Her mother frowned. ‘Well, no. But I’ve never seen you cry. Not even when you fell out of that tree. I was worried.’

Worried? Phoebe hiccupped and blew her nose. Her eyes stung and her throat was raw. ‘I don’t really know why I’m here,’ she said hoarsely.

Her mother sat down on the opposite side of the kitchen table. ‘Phoebe, I know I’m not the most…demonstrative…of mothers, but if you tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help.’

‘I don’t know what’s wrong.’

‘Is it work?’

‘No. Work’s fine.’

‘Is it a man?’

‘Yes. No.’ She wailed in frustration and dropped her head on the kitchen table. ‘I don’t know.’

‘The man in the magazine?’

Her head shot up. ‘Don’t tell me you saw that as well?’

‘Your sister told me I might like to see a copy. Especially since I’d introduced you to him at our party.’

Phoebe groaned and buried her face in her hands. ‘I met him before that. I work with his sister.’

‘Is she in venture capital too?’

She glanced up and couldn’t help smiling at the hope in her mother’s voice. ‘I’m afraid she designs handbags.’

‘Oh well, never mind. Is any of the article true?’

‘Some. Mum, what do I do? I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m a wreck and I’m worried it’s going to affect my work.’

‘I can’t pretend to understand PR, and you know it’s not what we’d have chosen for you, but we brought you up to have belief in yourself. That whatever course of action you take, you have the confidence that it’s the right one because you’ve given it thought. Weighed up the pros and cons.’

How could she weigh up any pros or cons when she didn’t have a clue about anything?

‘I’m very proud of everything you’ve achieved, you know.’

‘Really?’ she sniffed.

Her mother nodded thoughtfully. ‘I don’t worry about you nearly as much as I worry about the other two.’

‘Why?’

‘I always knew you’d be all right. Your siblings, on the other hand, are harder.’

Bewilderment muddled her brain. ‘I always thought you admired their ruthlessness. The way they don’t let emotion dictate to them.’

Her mother shook her head gently. ‘Emotion isn’t a bad thing.’

Wasn’t it? ‘It scares me. Alex scares me. He distorts my judgement and wipes away my self-control.’

‘That’s not his fault. He seems like a nice man.’

Huh. ‘Nice isn’t the word. He’s manipulative and arrogant and annoying and…’ Gorgeous, protective, passionate.

‘Yet you love him anyway.’

Phoebe froze. ‘No, I don’t.’

Her mother shot her a shrewd look and Phoebe blinked. She couldn’t be in love with Alex. Could she? Her mind raced. ‘Oh, God. I think I do.’

‘You think?’

‘I don’t know. I mean… I’ve never been in love before. How do I know if that’s what this…thing…is?’

‘How does he make you feel?’

‘Like I could rule the world.’

‘So what are you doing here?’

‘I told him I never wanted to see him again.’

‘Oh dear,’ said her mother. ‘I can’t imagine that would have gone down very well.’

‘It was his fault. He accused me of using our relationship to further my business.’

‘Oh.’ Her mother frowned.

‘Quite.’

‘Then you need to talk. Communication is the thing. Give him the chance to explain. To apologise.’

‘I did and he did.’

‘And you still turned him away? I’m lost.’

‘So am I,’ Phoebe wailed. ‘Totally and utterly lost. I hate that my mental stability depends on him. I hate that he can do this to me.’

‘Phoebe, darling, have faith in yourself. Loving someone and marrying them doesn’t mean you have to give up your independence. And so what if it does?
At times, you’ll have to rely on him. At others he’ll rely on you.’

Phoebe hiccupped. What would it be like to have someone to lean on from time to time? Someone strong and dependable. Someone to protect you when you were attacked, to pick you up when you fell. Someone like Alex. Her heart began to thud.

‘If he’s The One, it doesn’t make you vulnerable and it doesn’t mean you’re any weaker.’

Phoebe gave a shaky laugh. ‘I can’t believe you’re talking about “The One”.’

‘What do you think your father is?’

Her jaw dropped.

‘Don’t look so surprised. I wouldn’t have given up my own independence for anyone else. Is Alex The One?’

‘I think he might be.’ Her heart leapt and then plummeted. ‘But I’m not sure I am.’

Her mother tilted her head. ‘Did you ever look at the pictures in that magazine?’

‘Of course.’

‘Properly?’

‘Not that closely.’

Her mother got up and rummaged around in the stack of papers on the counter. ‘Look again,’ she said, opening the magazine and putting it in front of Phoebe.

Phoebe ignored the grainy photo that had been taken while she and Alex had been kissing beneath the pergola and concentrated on the picture in the restaurant.

An empty bottle of wine sat on the red and white checked tablecloth. They’d been talking and laughing and desperately trying to keep their hands off each other. The way they hadn’t been able to hold back any longer and had rushed back to his house for a night of passion
made her breathless just thinking about it. The dreamy expression on her face… The light in her eye… It was obvious to anyone with half a brain cell that she was nuts about him. Up until now, she’d clearly been lacking even that half a brain cell.

‘What am I looking for?’

‘Just look.’

She huffed and switched to the picture of the two of them strolling in the park. Alex’s arm was around her shoulders, pulling her into him and she was smiling up at him.

She leaned closer. Oh, goodness. Phoebe’s heart began to thump crazily. The expression on his face…the look in his eyes… Exactly the same as hers had been in the restaurant.

‘He adores you.’

Phoebe went very cold. The image of his face, white and stunned, when she’d told him to go away for good flashed into her head. Maybe he’d have told her if she’d let him. But she hadn’t given him the chance. She’d just pushed him away.

She began to shake uncontrollably. What had she done?
What had she done?

‘You’d better go and find him.’

Finding Alex was easier said than done. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

Phoebe staked out his house but he didn’t show up. His secretary must have known where he’d gone, but if she did she was keeping the information to herself, despite Phoebe’s best attempts at trying to wheedle it out of her. And Jo was as much in the dark as she was.

It was driving Phoebe demented.

Now she’d acknowledged that she was in fact in love with Alex all she wanted to do was tell him. Get down on her knees and grovel. Persuade him to admit he loved her too and see if they couldn’t make something of whatever they’d had before.

Simple. Or it would be if she only knew where he was.

Maybe she could hire an investigator. Whoever Alex had used to check her out had produced incredible results in a breathtakingly short period of time. She could do the same.

Or perhaps she’d resort to desperate measures and contact each and every one of the people who’d attended his party on the island. Someone was bound to know where he was.

What the hell. She was desperate. This was no time for dignity. She’d beg if she had to. She opened the relevant file on her computer and then went very still.

A flashbulb went off in her head. Her heart pounded and she felt more alive than she had in days. That was where Alex was.

He’d escaped. To the Ilha das Palmeiras.