The Billionaire’s Forgotten Fiancée (20 page)

“Thanks.” He swigged it down and blinked. “Wow, good stuff.”

“Better be. That was at least two thousand bucks you just poured down your gullet.” Shane smiled dryly when Trevor choked and coughed. “What do you want?”

“It’s about Ginger.”

Shane’s heart twisted. Damn, that hurt…and it might never stop hurting. She’d been his everything.

“Do you love her?” Trevor asked.

Shane gave him a cold look.

“I’m serious. Do you love her? I need to hear you say it while looking me straight in the eye.” Trevor made a V with his index and middle fingers and pointed them at his own pupils. “Say it.”

Shane locked gazes with him. “I love her. Always have.” The words burned, salt in his still-bleeding wound.

Trevor pushed his empty glass at Mark and signaled for more. Mark glanced at Shane, who nodded. Trevor downed the second one just as fast as the first, then rubbed his mouth. “I don’t even know where to begin. But…” He breathed out. “I’m the one who sent the photos.”

Shane stared, his brain unable to process for a moment. Then a fiery fury exploded in his chest, incinerating every rational thought and vestige of control. “
You son of a bitch!
”

He launched himself across the table. Glasses fell and shattered on the floor as he smashed a fist into Trevor’s face. Shane grabbed Trevor’s collar, pulling his arm back for another punch, but Mark grabbed his wrist. “Shane, no!”

Hand pinned, Shane yanked Trevor sharply toward him instead, head-butting him, knocking him from his chair and having the satisfaction of seeing blood spurt from his lips and nose. “I’ll fucking kill him! I swear I will,” Shane snarled, pulse throbbing in his temples.

“No! Jesus man, what’s the point of hitting a guy who’s not fighting back?” Mark wedged himself between the two other men. “Look!”

Shane glared at Trevor. Mark was right. Trevor didn’t even have his arms up, and blood covered his face and shirt. Yeah, like Shane would give a damn about that. What Trevor had done damn near destroyed Ginger…and Shane too.

Mark continued, “He’s
Ginger’s brother
. Are you really going to kill him?”

No. Ginger adored him.

Breathing roughly, Shane released the collar and rose to his full height. His hands dug into his hair, then clenched until his scalp hurt. He paced in a tight circle, doing his best not to step over to Trevor and start kicking him in the ribs. “Fuck.
Fuck!
Why did you do it?”

Was it out of hatred for Shane? He knew how much antipathy Ginger’s brother had for him. Trevor had always made the point that Shane wasn’t good enough for her, no matter how rich he was. Once, over a drink, he’d said, “Dunno why you bother. You probably can’t make her happy. You’re just too…broken,” when Shane had announced his intention to follow Ginger to Berkeley.

Mark signaled the waiters to clean up the broken glass. “We’re going to continue this in my office,” he said in a low voice. Customers were craning their necks, and one or two had cell-phones out. Mark whispered some instructions to the maître d’, who had appeared as if by magic, and then pushed the other men toward the back of the restaurant.

The moment they were in Marc’s office, Shane stopped, planted his feet and faced Trevor. “Start talking.”

Ginger stared at the ceiling. The TV was playing a Korean drama. She didn’t understand a word without the subtitles, but reading seemed like too much trouble to bother with. A woman and a man were talking in complete gibberish, and occasionally hooting with laughter.

Romantic comedy. Always a fun genre. And hey, if she couldn’t have real romance, she could at least live vicariously through others who did.

Until her control would suddenly break down and she’d start sobbing.

She’d gotten better though. The intervals between her crying jags were getting longer. At this rate, she would be functional in about three months. Maybe four.

Somebody knocked on her door. “Hey, Ginger. It’s me—Debbie.”

“It’s unlocked!” Ginger yelled.

Debbie came inside, carrying a big purple and yellow tote bag that matched her dress. She’d been stopping by every day, ostensibly to bring food. Ginger knew better, but played along anyway. “So what delicious thing did you bring this time?”

“Just some bacon wrapped scallops. Oh, and cheesecake.”

“That sounds good. Does your housekeeper know you’ve been filching food?”

“She does, even though she pretends like she doesn’t see it. She thinks I need to eat more.”

No kidding. Debbie was thin enough to blow away in a stiff breeze.

“Let me put the scallops in the fridge,” Debbie continued. “I want to eat the cheesecake first.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Ginger said. She needed the sugar and fat.

Debbie puttered around in the kitchen, then brought out two small plates. “You know,” she said, as she placed a slice in front of Ginger, “I should get you something for your birthday.”

“It’s not until next month.”

“Still. An early birthday present is never a bad thing.”

Ginger put a forkful of cheesecake in her mouth. It tasted sinfully good. “What are you thinking of?”

“Um. Don’t get mad…” Debbie flushed.

“Did you order me a custom dildo or something?”

“No!” Debbie giggled. “I bought you some housekeeping.” She sobered. “Please don’t take it the wrong way, but you haven’t even finished unpacking your bags from Thailand. I just thought it’d be nice if you had a couple professionals to help you clean up. And maybe it’ll make you feel better, too.”

Ginger took a look at her place. Two of her suitcases still stood in a corner between the kitchen and the living room. A thick layer of dust had settled over her shelves and framed photos, and even her TV showed the lack of care, where her fingerprints had smudged up the dust. Clean laundry sat in two baskets, and she’d been picking things out of there to wear, not giving a fig about the wrinkles. The only reason why the place wasn’t overflowing with garbage was that Debbie generally took it out when she left.

When had she turned into such a pathetic, dependent pig? Ginger had never been neat, but this was horrific even for her.

Was this her way of getting over Shane? If so, it was a dumb, dumb way. If they ran into each other in the future, what would she look like? Some wild, unkempt woman with wrinkled clothes and hag-hair, while he was masculine perfection?

“You know what? You’re right,” Ginger said. “It’s about time I did something about my place.” She got up. “Don’t bother with housekeeping. I’ll take care of it.”

“But—”

She hugged Debbie. “You’re the best friend ever. I’m sorry I made you feel like you have to mother me. I won’t make you worry again. It’s about time I get out and make myself busy. It’s better than sitting here and pining over what can’t be.”

Debbie smiled. “I’ll help with the cleaning. Because god knows you need some.”

They picked up every piece of trash off the floor. Ginger dumped all the dirty clothes from her suitcases into the bathroom to be laundered. It was too bad about the clean, but wrinkled clothes, but she hated ironing. She’d have to find some other way to make them look more respectable. She also tossed every expired item and stuff that looked wilted and gross into the black plastic bag Debbie held open. Debbie wiped things down, while Ginger cleaned the windows and vacuumed.

Three hours later, the apartment finally looked presentable. “Ta-da!” Debbie said, spreading her arms wide. “We do good work, don’t we?”

“Yes!” Ginger did a small fist pump. “I’m ready to face the world.”

Debbie has great instincts
, Ginger thought. Somehow, getting the apartment straightened up had cleared her head, revitalizing her. “Maybe I should hire professional housekeeping after all,” Ginger said. “I’ve always been horrible about cleaning up after myself.”

“I know people who can do it for cheap,” Debbie said. “And they’re very good. My mom has them come in twice a month.”

Somebody knocked on the door. Ginger took a peek, and her mouth dried. It was Shane.

“Who is it?” Debbie asked from behind her.

Ginger moved a few steps away from the door. “Shane,” she whispered. “He knows I’m in here,” she added almost numbly. Why had she just thought she would be ready to face the world? Shane was that world. The wound was still too fresh for her to pretend it didn’t hurt anymore.

“So? If you don’t want to talk to him, ignore him. This is your home.”

“Ginger, I know you’re in there!” shouted Shane.

Debbie narrowed her eyes. “Wow, he’s noisy. You know what, let me get rid of him.” She pushed Ginger out of view and yanked the door open. “Hey, keep it down before we call the pol… Trevor?”

Ginger blinked. Trevor?

“Don’t try to tell me Ginger’s asleep. It’s too early,” Shane said.

For once Debbie stepped aside without arguing. Ginger stepped in front of the door.

Shane looked like…Shane. She didn’t know how else to describe his confidence, the way his broad shoulders seemed to invite her to rest her head there, or the warmth he elicited in her. It wasn’t just sexual, but emotional and deep, like
in his arms
was exactly where she belonged—her cocoon, her safe and sheltered world.

But stress had etched lines in his forehead and brackets around his mouth. His cheekbones stood out more prominently than before, and the skin under his eyes was a few shades darker. She wanted to reach out and cradle his head gently against her heart, but instead she clenched her hands at her sides.

The two men stepped inside. Dark stubble covered Trevor’s square jaw, and his hair stood up like it hadn’t been combed in weeks. He’d lost his usual swagger. Shockingly, he was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. She’d never seen him in anything nice, not even for his college graduation, so it took her a while to accept that it wasn’t some kind of doppelganger. What convinced her was the bloody shirt. And the wadded tissue stuck in one nostril. His upper lip had swollen to the point that it looked like a sausage.

“What happened to your face?” she asked, focusing on her brother. He was easier to deal with than Shane. “Or is that classified?”

Trevor inclined his head sideways. “He punched me out.”

“What?” Her gaze darted to Shane, who looked fine, not a speck of blood on him. It didn’t make sense. Trevor was deadly with his fists, and he wasn’t the type to let another guy hit him and get away with it. “Did you two…fight?”

“If you can call it that,” Shane said, his voice cold. He jerked his chin at Trevor. “Tell her.”

Trevor dragged his huge hands through his hair. He breathed out hard—not quite a sigh but not quite a sound of exasperation either—and swallowed a few times.

Ginger’s heart began to race. She’d seen Trevor do that a few times, and inevitably the news was bad—once, when she was in high school, he’d had to tell her somebody had run over their dog. “What is it, Trevor? Did something happen to Mom and Dad?”

He shook his head. “They’re fine.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. If they were okay, whatever Trevor had to say was probably not a big deal. “Just spit it out.”

“The photos you were talking about.”

Every cell in her body stilled. “What about them?”

Trevor broke eye contact and looked down. “I was the one behind them.”

She blinked a few times, then laughed a little tremulously. “What?” He’d always wanted to be a comedian, except none of his jokes were funny. Maybe he’d gotten tired of doing whatever he’d been doing and decided to try his hand at stand-up comedy again.

“The pictures…” He sighed. “I didn’t mean anything bad to happen.”

A giant claw seemed to squeeze her neck and chest. “You didn’t mean—? What did you think would happen when you sent pictures like that?”

“I just thought it was shitty that he”—Trevor gestured at Shane—“didn’t appreciate you. You guys had been together for so long, and…well, he kept dragging his feet about proposing and, you know, doing the right thing. So I thought I’d show him that you had other options. I wanted to let him know if he didn’t act soon, he was going to lose you.”

“That was your plan? Make me look loose so Shane would try to chain me down?” Her voice started to rise. “You wrecked over a year of our lives!”

Trevor shook his head sorrowfully. “I didn’t know the pictures were like that. I had a guy make them and mail them, but I hadn’t seen them until now. They were just supposed to show you having a good time and men looking at you, checking you out with, you know, admiration and all, to demonstrate you had other options. Not like you hanging all over them.”

“You have no idea what you did. I told you to stay away from our relationship.” Trevor had always been too protective, but this crossed the line. “I thought the man I love didn’t want me anymore—wouldn’t want our baby either.”

“Well, if you had been pregnant, I would never ha—”

“I
was
pregnant!”

Trevor paled. “What?”

She pointed a trembling finger at him. “I was pregnant, and I lost the baby on my way back from South Africa. That was why I missed my connection in Amsterdam and stayed there for so long.”

“Oh my god, Ginger. I didn’t know…”

“I didn’t tell you—or Mom, or Dad—because what would be the point? By the time I came back, I was finished with my medical treatment, and the doctors said I was fine—physically. But you…you wrecked so much.”

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. “I’m so sorry.”

She looked away. She felt…hollow. How could her brother have done this? “Me, too.”

“Ginger—”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d just leave now. Unless you have any more confessions about how you destroyed something that’s important to me.”

Trevor reached out, but she scooted back like his hand was a viper. His face crumpled, now a complete ruin. Debbie took one glance at Ginger, stepped around her and escorted him outside.

The door shut behind them, leaving Ginger and Shane alone.

* * *

Debbie sat next to Trevor in the stairwell. She didn’t trust him to be on his own without doing something stupid—men could be hot-headed and dumb at the best of times, much less when they’d received a blow as nasty as the one Trevor had just gotten.