He couldn’t disagree with her quietly spoken words. He was a fool, because he’d never find someone quite like Brianna ever again. But wasn’t it better for her to think of him as a fool, than to know the truth about him? He’d grown up in an environment where the only relationship between a man and a woman had been about sex and money. What did he know about love? And he sure as hell couldn’t accept her love, when he wasn’t sure how much he could love back. He cared for her. He knew that. Cared so much it hurt. But was it love? Jesus, he didn’t know what that meant.

He watched as Brianna climbed out of the car, her head held high. She was one classy lady, which only served to remind himof their differences. Still barefoot, her sandals hanging from her fingers, she walked away from him with her spine straight and her demeanour dignified. She never once looked back.

He waited for her to step inside before speeding off, screeching the tyres in his determination to get away. He ignored the pain he felt in his chest. After all, he’d known all along this would happen. And it was fine. He was fine. He was meant to be alone. Relationships weren’t for him. Brianna might think she loved him, but she didn’t. Couldn’t in fact. Because there was so much about him she didn’t know.

* * *

As soon as she shut the door, Brianna ran to her bedroom and flung herself onto her bed. There she did the only thing she was capable of. She cried her heart out. Great wailing sobs she couldn’t control. At some point she must have crawled inside the bed, but she wasn’t aware of it. The tears just wouldn’t stop flowing. Now she understood why they called it a broken heart. It really felt as if her heart had smashed into lots of tiny pieces.

The next morning, though the tears had finally dried up, a dark cloud of despondency hung over her, sticking to her wherever she went. It was there during her shower, still there when she got dressed, and weighed heavily on her now as she answered the door.

‘Oh, my darling, you look awful.’ Her mother stood back and gave her the sort of once-over that only mothers can do.

‘You sure know how to cheer a girl up,’ Brianna replied dryly, letting her in. ‘I take it the gossip grapevine is working well and you’ve already heard about what happened at the party.’

‘Well, Abigail did phone me this morning to say Henry had been grabbed by the throat and then punched,’ her mother told her as she took a seat opposite Brianna in the living room. ‘Apparently he was lucky his jaw wasn’t broken, but there’s anawful bruise coming up. What on earth did Mitch think he was playing at?’

‘I don’t think he was doing much thinking,’ Brianna acknowledged sadly, hugging at a cushion. ‘He’d been called a con artist, Mum. One who tricks women out of their fortunes.’

Her mother bristled. ‘Whatever Henry might have said, there is never any excuse for violence. From what I hear, Mitch could have killed him.’

Brianna thought back to the look on Mitch’s face as he’d lunged at Henry. Cold, menacing, dangerous. ‘If he’d wanted to kill him, Mum, he would have.’

‘And you admire that?’

‘I admire people who stick up for themselves. What I don’t admire are people who go around deliberately trying to humiliate others. You weren’t there, Mum. You didn’t see how Henry provoked him. Trust me, Henry got off lightly. Mitch made sure he had a soft landing in the pool.’ She sighed. ‘And if you’re going to say in your next breath that it isn’t how gentlemen behave, then don’t bother. True gentlemen don’t behave like Henry, either.’

Her mother had the grace to agree. ‘It wasn’t nice of Henry, you’re right. But he was looking out for you. You are worth a lot of money. That would be quite an incentive, in many men’s eyes.’

‘Well, you don’t have to worry any more, either of you. Do you know why? Because the man who is clearly only after me for my money, has dumped me.’ The stupid tears began to fall again, tears she thought she’d run out of.

‘Oh, darling, I am sorry.’ Her mother moved to sit next to her and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

‘Don’t be a hypocrite, Mum. You’re not sorry at all. Mitch was good enough to work for your charity, but never good enough to date your daughter, was he?’

‘It doesn’t have anything to do with being good enough,’ her mother replied sharply. ‘But it’s not easy being in a relationship where the two parties feel unequal. Especially when it’s the man who feels inadequate next to the woman.’ She gazed at her daughter. ‘I know you’re hurting darling, but you’re young. Mitch has done the right thing by you. In time you’ll see that.’

‘No I won’t. All I’ll see is a man too damned scared to allow himself to fall in love.’ She looked down at where her mum was holding her hand. ‘It doesn’t all add up. He’s a strong, confident man. Why would he let someone like Henry undermine him?’

‘Probably because Mitch can’t handle your wealth, darling. It’s a lot to ask a man to take on. Those that don’t see it as an opportunity for sudden richness can find it a massive dent to their pride. We might live in a modern era, but it’s still more socially acceptable for a woman to marry a rich man, than the other way round.’

Brianna sighed. ‘You’re probably right. It was always a bone of contention between us.’ Then she threw her arms around her mother’s neck. ‘God, I wish I’d been born poor.’

* * *

While Brianna was being comforted by her mother, Mitch was on his own, praying for the phone to ring. He didn’t want to wish a disaster on anybody, but right now he needed something to take him away from his solitude. Why was it he couldn’t look at his kitchen without imagining Brianna there, burning the bacon? Couldn’t even sit on his own sofa without picturing her curled up on it. And his bed. Christ, his bed even smelt of her. It was driving him crazy. More than ever before in his life, he needed to work. That focused him like nothing else, allowed no time to think. Then, when he returned home, he would be fine. There wouldn’t be anybody waiting at the airport for him, buthe’d quickly get used to that again. Used to the way things had always been.

With a gesture of sheer frustration, Mitch grabbed the wetsuit from the living room floor and began to pull it on. The sea had always been a great solace. A place he could lose himself, for a while. He would spend his day windsurfing, and trying to forget the time he went with Brianna.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In the office a few days later, Brianna hesitantly picked up the phone. She had never had to do this. Never had to contact an ex-lover. In previous relationships she had said goodbye and never looked back. This was different, on two levels. Firstly, Mitch had been the one saying goodbye. Secondly, they worked for the same organisation. Not seeing each other again wasn’t an option, unless one of them left. She couldn’t see Mitch leaving. Neither was she prepared to take that route. Not when work was the only thing keeping her sane. Taking in a deep breath, she dialled his number.

‘McBride.’ At the sound of his deep, clipped voice, her heart lurched.

‘Mitch, it’s Brianna.’ She hesitated. What did you say to an ex-lover? ‘How are you?’ she asked formally.

‘Well, thank you,’ came the clearly amused reply. ‘And you?’