Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series) (19 page)

“Is that what Rupert Locke-Smythe wants? Permission to be himself?”

“You can mock me, Susie. Money can by this wannabe-jet, a yacht, a jet-ski, flats in every major international city, but it can't buy me that. It doesn't buy me freedom. It doesn't buy me acceptance.”

“It certainly doesn't. I've noticed it with Dylan.”

“What?”

There was a flicker of annoyance in his tone. The last topic Rupert wanted to be discussing was his old school chum Dylan. Picking up on the change of pitch in his voice, Susan decided to keep her observation minimal.

“Nothing important. Only, he's very wealthy, yet as long as we've been friends I've never been able to get close to him. When I see him out socializing, he always seems to be on the edge of the action.”

“He was like that at school,” said Rupert brutally. “He was never a part of the gang. It wasn't that he didn't get involved in clubs or whatever but he never had presence. You know that song Mr. Cellophane from
Chicago
?”

“Do I know Mr. Cellophane from
Chicago
? I was Roxie Hart for a stint!”

“I was testing. I remember. Adelphi Theater, on The Strand in London. I always think of Dylan when I hear that song. Rather, I always think of that song when I see Dylan. I don't spend my days thinking about Dylan, do you?”

Rupert was deliberately wheedling for information on her relationship with Dylan. In some ways it was pleasing. It meant that he was interested in her sexually and potentially as a girlfriend – that suited her original plan. On the other hand, she'd veered off course somewhat in her own involvement with Rupert. However much she liked Rupert, she wouldn't betray a friend or put him down to curry favor with him.

“I suppose I do think about Dylan. Not in a fixated way, but the way anybody would think about their friends. Possibly more so presently because we're in the same city and hang out a lot.”

It was by no means untrue, but the last sentence had been barbed to wound Rupert slightly. It worked. He felt a jealousy ooze from him. Envy was not a feeling he was used to. He didn't like it. In fact, it was disconcerting. The experience made him feel childlike, wanting to tell Susie not to be friends with him. It was crazy talk. He bit his tongue and counted to ten.

“Well tonight's not about Dylan. It's about us.”

“Then let's focus on that,” pacified Susan.

“We're landing now,” grumbled Rupert.

“Hey Rupert?”

“What?”

“Don't crash because you're having a temper tantrum. I wouldn't want to be on tomorrow's newspaper.”

The joke was sick, but it resonated with Rupert. It had been Susan's way of letting him know she was prepared to be herself around him and that he could be himself around her.

Yet another limousine was on the tarmac in the hangar ready to whisk the couple away upon arrival. Unlike the black New York limo, this one was white.

“
Wish I thought to change on board. I was glued to my co-pilot seat throughout.”

“
You didn't trust me at the controls alone.”

“
I think you need my cautious eye watching your every move, Mr. Locke-Smythe.”

“
There's probably a lot of truth in that,” he conceded.

“
Possibly, but you look drop dead gorgeous and I look like an extra from the set of Fame,” she wailed.

She was wearing black leggings with blue scrunch up leg warmers, pink and purple high-top sneakers, a blue singlet, and a thin navy jumper that had the collar ripped off and was cut roughly to expose her midriff (had it not been covered) with a fake vintage print of the number 82 emblazoned on it. Susan knew she wasn't chic and up to date in this get up. It wasn't the Fame remake look she was rocking, but the original 80s version.

“
Where are we anyway?” she bleated, accepting there was little she could do about changing.

“
Can you wait for the surprise or is the tension too much too handle?”

“
I can wait.”

The drive was silken and when they pulled up the chauffeur opened the door. They were greeted by two Native Americans. Rupert shook hands, whispered to them, and then clasped Susan's hand in his own.

“
Oh my,” she exclaimed.

They were at the Grand Canyon. The three-hour time difference made it roughly 10 p.m.

“
This is the west side view,” lectured Rupert knowledgeably. “This reservation belongs to the Hualapai Indians who have kindly allowed us to dine here.”

Flood lights lit up the area. Approaching the horseshoe shaped, glass bottom walkway viewing deck, Susan was amazed by to find the sky-walk jutted out from the lip of the canyon. Not a sufferer of vertigo, the Colorado River running beneath was exquisite sight to her eyes, not a terrifying potential death plunge. At the outer most point, a table was set basically with serviettes, cutlery and two candles. Her eyes lit up at the champagne in a cooler.

“
That's as modern as we get,” said Rupert following the line of her vision.

The view was spectacular, as was the navy sky scattered with millions of stars.

“
Meaning?”

“
I asked the Hualapai to cook us their finest traditional dishes from the Native Indian culture, within the parameters of a delicate British and westernized American pallet.”

The spread included everything. Ingredients such as turkey, mutton, buffalo, walrus, fish, jerky, acorn, various berries, hominy and mush were on the table. Titles such as Akuaq, Nokake, Psindamaokan and Sapan were lost on Susan.

“
They eat all these foods?”

“
I think some of the dishes come from other areas. I mean, I can't see any walrus around here, so that has to originate from somewhere like Alaska I guess.”

Susan turned pale.

“
I wish you hadn't told me we were eating walrus.”

“
Buck up, Susie. You didn't notice it when eating it did you?”

“
True. It's the thought of it. The taste was fine. You're awfully sensible at times Rupert,” said Susan contemplating the man across from her.

“
And terribly reckless at other times,” he winked

“
Fortunately those reckless times don't occur when we're flying an aircraft called a,” she paused struggling to remember what Rupert had taught her on the flight, “a Cessna 172!”

Rupert literally clapped.

“
Well done you. I'll make a pilot of you yet.”

That sense of longevity in his voice relating to them as a couple bought Susan's skin up in goose-flesh.

“
Why all this, Rupert? Why now?”

“
Because I can.”

“
I don't mean to be rude, but you could always afford to.”

“
Yes financially, but by your own admission you've spent the last fifteen years strategically locating yourself geographically to prevent me from being in a position where I could do this for you.”

“
Why do you want to do this? I know you're sorry. I said we were at peace.”

Rupert gazed longingly at the stars.

“
Ever wish you could rocket up there with one other person, land and look down at the Earth? Knowing there are seven billion people with problems, making wishes on stars to make everything right. Up there on the star you could hear every wish. Then you'd understand no one lives their life without regret or remorse. No one lives their life without a broken heart. And no one can live a life without love.”

“
I've never thought that.”

“
I've never told anyone I thought that.”

As bright as the flood lights were, Rupert's blushes went unnoticed by Susan.

“
Would you rocket up there with me?” she asked.

“
I would. Then maybe you could find it in your heart to truly forgive me.”

“
But I do,” she insisted.

“
Maybe the problem isn't you. Maybe it's me. Maybe I can't forgive me.”

“
Rupert, you have everything going for you. A great job, great looks, great social life, great friends, great hobbies, what's to worry about? You broke a fat girl's heart. She got over it.”

“
Maybe I didn't get over her.”

“
You were never in love with me, Rupert. You were in love with Nikki.”

Rupert wasn't an effective communicator in relation to his emotions. He wanted to unburden his heart, but overcoming the internalization of emotion was too hard.

The silence was like an unwelcome weed – strangling the spirit out of what was an idyllic evening. Other women would be frustrated by having to console someone who was the perpetrator of the delicate relationship, but Susan wasn't other women.

“
Rupert?”

“
Yes,” he said vacantly.

“
You mentioned talking tonight. I had a few questions for you regarding high school. If you were sincere and feel up to it, I wondered if you might answer them?”

“
Of course.”

The request bought him from his star down to the sky-walk of the west side of the Grand Canyon.

“
I may be off base here, but you seemed to love drama at high school. You were the perfect Link Larkin.”

“
On stage perhaps,” he said bitingly.

“
Forget off-stage for now,” said Susan firmly. “I know you were captain of rugby, I know you still love sports, but why did you pack up the theater?”

“
It's not a stable profession is it? Unless one is as talented as you.”

The answer was too slick, too rehearsed.

“
But you're talented, Rupert.”

“
Susie, I'm from old British stock. Entertainment was never going to be my profession.”

“
Maybe not, but at university they would have had drama societies I'm guessing.”

“
They did,” his eyes averting to the rushing river below.

“
Did you sign up? Join in? Ever perform again?”

“
No.”

“
Why?” she badgered.

“
Because, I was studying law. I had a choice between theater and sports. I chose sports. I couldn't juggle the two. Legal study is a very demanding course. It's not like a Bachelor of Arts, Susie, there's study, retention of case-law and rulings, endless reading and academia.”

“
Then explain to my why you chose sports. You said the other day you preferred drama because it gave you a sense of something. You never finished saying what.”

“
I said I preferred drama because we could dress casually out of our crisp school uniforms and I wasn't going to get a beating on the sports field.”

“
No, they weren't your words. You said it gave you something.”

“
Do we have to go here now?”

“
Where else is there to go? You said you wanted to talk in private.”

“
I know for sure I said I wanted to discuss last Saturday in private and that is the reason why I took you here. Outdoor sex is out of character for me, but it wasn't just sex. I couldn’t find the right words or right place to tell you that night. I spent half the week designing a way to find a location where we could have that discussion. I could tell you it wasn't just sex. I'd be interested to hear your views.”

“
We’ll get onto that. You told me you wanted to make it up to me. You wanted me to see that you weren't the prat you were in high school. Your words, not mine, I hasten to add,” she said as his expression became thunderous. “The only way you can do that is by helping me understand you. Show me you have changed.”

“
Susie, I explained to you my childhood difficulties that had a knock on effect.”