Page 51 of Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire)
It was a receipt. A receipt for a year’s worth of rent, to be exact. On my apartment.
“I left the furnishings as well,” Hemi said. “After a year, it may be easier to let it go. Maybe you’ll feel by then that your mum’s in you and not in that place. Maybe you’ll be able to see it.”
My throat had closed, and I couldn’t have spoken if I tried. I just lay against Hemi’s chest and let his arms enfold me while I cried.
I cried because I couldn’t show my mother what a good man I’d found, and how happy I was. I cried because I’d never thought I’d have this life, and because I’d never thought I could give it to Karen. I cried because Hemi made every dream come true.
“Is it good?” he asked after a minute, and I shook my head, then nodded, tried to laugh, and grabbed for a napkin from the table.
Before Hemi, I’d never cried. Now, it seemed like I did it way too much. But it didn’t feel terrifying, the way it had used to. It didn’t make me feel like I was falling into the pit, when I needed all my strength just to stay upright on the surface. Now, I had strong hands to pull me back up, and I could afford to let go.
“Yes,” I said at last, taking his face in my hands, kissing him, and trying to smile. “You are the most wonderful man in the world, and I love you way too much.”
“Well, good,” he said. “That’ll give me some cushion for the next time, then.”
“The next time what?”
“That I stuff up. And come on.” He lifted me with him and set me on my feet. “Eugene. We’ll do the washing up, and then you can meet my trainer and know that you and Karen have doubled the number of people in the world who tell me exactly what they think, no matter what I want to hear.”
Hemi
When Eugene walked through the door half an hour later, Hope was dressed again, but in workout gear this time, because I’d suggested that she might want to use the gym while I was in there.
She’d smiled at the idea, a teasing light in her eyes. No matter what we did, she came back saucy every time, as if it were all a game, and she was loving playing it with me. “You just think I’ll be turned on by seeing you all sweaty,” she’d said.
I’d said, “Maybe I want to seeyouthat way,” and had given her a smack on the bare bum that had felt very nice indeed. She’d laughed at me some more, and then she’d dressed in stretchy workout shorts and a tight little T-shirt that reminded me of both reasons—well, three reasons, really—that I wanted her in my gym with me.
There was even a noble reason amongst them. I could see how tentative she still felt in the apartment, and I hoped that by stamping it with her presence, she would begin to feel like she belonged there. And a less noble reason as well, the one she’d guessed: that I did enjoy seeing her dressed like that, and the thought of her on a hand and a knee on a workout bench, lifting a dumbbell, wasn’t bad at all. Not that I’d imagined it much. But if I looked at her taut little body in those tiny shorts and thought about stripping them off her and having some urgent, sweaty sex with her on her elbows and knees, my hand at the back of her neck? Blame it on how good it had felt to have her sprawled across my breakfast table, shaking underneath me, losing her words and coming hard. Not to mention the way her knees had trembled when I’d finally pulled her off of there.
Besides, she’d had only a few orgasms, and she needed more than that to feel truly satisfied. We’d be alone until late afternoon, and Ihadpromised to give her everything she needed. After this workout, I’d take a shower with her, take her to bed, and give her my full attention until she was well and truly worn out. After which she could take a nap, and I could get some work done. It sounded like a good plan to me, though I wouldn’t be sharing it. That need-to-know basis again.
The third reason? I wouldn’t be admitting that to her, either. That looking at her like that, and imagining how I’d be looking at her as soon as we were alone, made me more determined than ever that she wasn’t joining the Y. She was working out here, she was taking her swim lessons here, and that was that. I wasn’t the only bloke with an imagination, and Hope was too tiny and much too deliciously pretty. If I wanted her here with me, it was no more than any man would have felt. But I didn’t tell her that, of course. I wasn’t stupid. I’d focus on Reason One. Much safer.
And all the while, the thoughts prowled around the edge of my brain like predators in the dark. Ever since I’d seen Anika again, I’d kept remembering what it had been like to be with her. I’d shoved her from my memory long ago, but now, she kept coming back, and I couldn’t rid myself of her. It was what was still hanging there between us, the divorce, the settlement I was going to be fighting with everything in me. And everything it brought up. The darkness and the undercurrents of her, exciting and sickening all at once.
She’d been my opium: my seductive, dangerous, impossibly addictive drug. With her, I’d been no better than my useless dad. She’d nearly been my downfall, and I still sweated sometimes to think how close I’d come to not pursuing my dreams and goals, how desperate I’d been to drug myself with her instead.
Being with Hope, though…that was exactly as addictive, and nothing like the same. I needed her the way I needed oxygen. I craved her even when I’d just had her, and somehow, it wasn’t just her body I needed. And I wanted her here with me.
When Eugene walked through my front door, he looked at her before he looked at me. “Well, well, well,” he said. “How about that.”
“Hope,” I said with resignation, “this is my trainer, Eugene Watkins. And this is my fiancée, Hope Sinclair.”
Eugene smiled some more, showing off his missing teeth. “Fiancée, huh? Now, that’s what we callgoodnews. Debra’s going to be tickled. Yes, she is. And Karen, too? She does like Karen.”
“Karen, too,” I said. “Karen, definitely. We may surprise Debra at last, eh.”
“Nah. She’ll say ‘Told you so,’ like always.” He looked Hope over. “So. Dressed to work out, which means I’m charging Hemi double, and that’s more good news. You’re going to be a challenge, though, ain’t you?”
She made a rueful face. “I’m not that strong, if that’s what you mean. I’ll probably whine, too.”
“Nah,” he said. “Not you. And if you’re a little bit weak right now—well, we can do something about that. Least you ain’t been off gettin’ fat like Mr. Big here.” He looked me up and down, and not as if he appreciated what he saw. “Strip off and let’s see the damage.”
I sighed and pulled my shirt over my head, and he stood back, eyed me hard, then poked a finger into my side and shook his head. “Now, that’s just sad. You ain’t been workin’ out at all. ‘Vacation’ don’t mean ‘Go wild,’ you know. You eat like a pig over there or what?”
I glanced at Hope. Naturally, she was biting her lip, clearly trying not to giggle. “He still looks good to me,” she said. Points for loyalty, anyway, if not for honesty.
“It ain’t about the decoration,” Eugene said. “It’s about the function.” Which had Hope biting her lip some more.
