Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire

But the void couldn’t be filled—no view to fill it, no one to share it, no one to laugh about it. She was mad with him for ruining what should have been one of her life’s most marvellous moments. Mad with herself for letting him.

She sat in the damp air and wallowed. She was pathetic. Other tourists walked on by. She hadn’t banded together with any of them. Just wanted her own company—as she’d told Rhys. But she’d lied. She’d wanted his.

Finally she stood, deciding to go down to the village below where she was staying. Maybe she could add another day there, hope for better weather tomorrow. She could laze in the thermal pools this afternoon and try to jolly herself out of it.

As she went she saw someone walking up the other way.

He was staring straight at her. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just looking kind of frozen. Oh, man, she was hallucinating. Thought it was him. Wishful thinking. She blinked a few times. Maybe she had some weird form of altitude sickness?

‘Sienna.’ Not a question, but a call—a command for attention.

‘Rhys?’ For the first time in years she nearly fainted. She consciously tensed every muscle in her body, refusing to let the light recede. ‘What are you doing here?’

He didn’t reply until he was right in front of her. He really was there. Wearing khaki trousers, a long-sleeved tee and at least three days’ stubble. ‘There was something I wanted to tell you.’

She waited—for once in her life struck dumb.

As Rhys drew in his breath, all the sentences he’d mentally rehearsed in the aeroplane disappeared into the mist. ‘I, uh, didn’t want you to go.’ With relief he saw the colour flood back into her cheeks.

‘Pardon?’ She stood, feet planted firmly on the ground, in front of him.

The words forced their way out from deep inside. ‘I didn’t want you to leave. I wanted you to stay.’ He puffed the air out. There. He’d done it. He’d said it.

She whirled on him. ‘That’s it? That’s all you have to say?’

She unzipped the pocket to the side of her thigh, pulled out the wrinkled pages from the paper.

‘I’m sorry I thought…I’m sorry I couldn’t…I’m sorry.’ He wanted to talk but the words weren’t coming. The blockage in his chest had risen to his throat and it hurt. He just wanted to reach out and pull her home to his embrace. If he could hold her tight to him, maybe he could whisper it all in her ear. God, how he needed her comfort and how he longed to comfort her. She was close enough to touch but she was looking mad and now words were flying from her.

‘You know, you’re the one who needs the surgery. You’re the one whose heart needs cutting open—to free the blockages. Let the blood flow. Let the love flow.’ Tears spilled down her face; the pages rustled in her shaking hands. ‘I opened up to you—really opened up. And you held back from me the whole time.’ She sniffed, scrubbed a tear away with a fist. ‘Even when you told me who you were, you still held back.’

Defensive anger rose. ‘No, I didn’t. Not in bed. I gave you everything there and you know it.’ He’d shown her, again and again.

‘So what about sex, Rhys? There was more to us than sex. Don’t you get it? It would never have been that fantastic if there wasn’t more.’

He stopped. Of course there was more than sex—that was just one tangible facet of a deeply profound bond. They connected on many levels, not just the physical. He ran his hands through his hair. This wasn’t going anything like he’d imagined. He was supposed to have apologised to her and then it would all have been OK. He’d tried to prepare. Knew he’d have to talk. But now it had come to the moment, he still didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know where to start.

‘I just wanted to forget it all.’ He ached to enfold her in his arms, needing to feel her length against his. To be certain they weren’t ever separating again.

‘Trying to forget doesn’t work—does it?’ She stared at him sadly.

He looked away from the accusation in her gaze, the astuteness, the question she’d asked before and would ask again. She’d pierced through. He could feel his tension building, demanding to be let out at last. He’d come so far for her. He was already committed. And if he didn’t talk now, he’d lose her.

‘Actually I have a photographic memory.’ A slight lift of his shoulders as he started. ‘And like an elephant, I can’t forget.’

After a stretch she spoke again, softer this time. ‘What can’t you forget?’

He looked up the path to where she stood square on, facing him. Slim but so strong. Stronger than he’d ever imagined. Those brilliant blue eyes of hers stared intensely, seeing right through him, willing him to share his burden. The ultimatum—giving him no choice.

And finally he did it. Told her. The one thing he’d never told anyone—the awful truth. ‘It was my fault.’

‘What?’

He glanced at the paper in her hand. ‘My cousin. Theo.’

‘How?’

He looked down at the ground, not wanting to see her frown. ‘We were skateboarding. I was in front. We were racing. A car came out the driveway.’

He’d got such a fright from the noise he’d come off his own board, landed roughly on the edge of the footpath, right on pieces of broken bottle. He’d skidded, the bits of glass embedded deep in his thigh, ribboning the skin and muscle, marking him for life.

‘I don’t see how it was your fault, Rhys. That car came flying out of the driveway—straight across the footpath. The driver was the person who was going too fast, who should have stopped to check. You were just playing in your neighbourhood like all kids do.’

‘But if I hadn’t challenged Theo to a race. If I hadn’t been showing off and going so fast, calling out to him to hurry. We didn’t hear the car. He was asking me to wait up and I didn’t—’

He broke off suddenly. Head bowed, he tried to fix his blurry vision by focusing on one tuft of grass poking through the muddied track. Cold sweat slid over him. And as he talked he didn’t know if she could hear him any more. All he felt was the agony. The fear. ‘I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help him. I just sat there and held his hand and watched while he slipped away. He looked at me and then he just—’

They’d tried to tell him Theo wouldn’t have known anything. But Rhys knew better. He’d seen it in his eyes, seen the plea for help.

He hated going over this. Hated the memories. Wanted to keep it all buried deep where he could try to forget about it. Even though he failed day in, day out. But trying to forget was better than grinding through this rotting mess that tasted foul as he spoke of it. If only, if only, if only. Thousands of times he’d replayed it. Thousands of hours feeling horror and dread and guilt.

‘And now you’re a doctor.’

She understood already but still he voiced it, realising now how much he wanted to tell her, hoping comfort would come with confessing everything. ‘I was so useless. He was dying and I couldn’t do anything. I won’t be in that position again. At least now I can try to help. Not do nothing.’

Sienna longed to touch him, wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he stood so defensively. Not looking at her, fists clenched, sweat shining on his forehead. She saw how hard this was for him. How deep the feelings were buried. While she didn’t want to stop the flow, she couldn’t let him go on blaming himself. She stepped a little closer.

‘You didn’t do nothing, Rhys. You held him. You were there for him. You were with him. He wasn’t alone.’ That, she knew, was huge.

It was Rhys who had been alone. A scared child, burdened with a guilt no one would have expected him to carry. Not many people could handle holding someone who lay dying—not in circumstances like that, not without help. She understood his mission now, the need that drove him to work in the field he did, with the dedication he had. So busy fighting he’d forgotten how to have fun.

Her heart ached—for him, and for her. He’d paid a price high enough—he didn’t need to be with someone who might only cost him more. She bre

athed little, quick breaths, trying to be strong. Maybe they could talk. It might help. But after that she knew she had to walk away.

She definitely didn’t want a heart that worked properly if it was going to hurt this bad.

‘How many?’ She focused on him.

‘How many what?’

‘How many do you have to save before you feel better about Theo? You can’t bring him back.’

‘I know that.’

‘It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid—you weren’t responsible for him. The person responsible was the person behind the wheel of the car.’

He stood like a statue and she had no idea whether she was getting through to him.

‘You can’t go beating yourself up over this the rest of your life. I’m sure he’d hate that.’

He flinched. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The silence grew and this time she waited.

‘I just wanted to help him.’ The words came out low and so full of need she could hear the bleed in his heart and the tears in his soul.

Very gently she replied, ‘You did.’

‘How was the view from the top?’

Change of topic. That was as much as she was going to get. He was so on edge she didn’t know whether to push much more. He stood rigid as he battled to keep everything in.