Page 95 of The Reluctant Billionaire

He opens his eyes slowly and squints at his screen like he’s afraid of what he’ll see on my face.

Damn right.

‘There’s been an emergency,’ he begins. ‘Sylvie’s daughter, Shayla, is in labour. She’s five weeks early.’

‘Oh no!’ I clap my hand over my mouth. Sylvie’s been so excited about this baby. It’ll be her first grandchild. But even I know five weeks premature is far from ideal. ‘Is she okay? Is the baby okay?’

‘I don’t have many details—I just got a call from Judy. But it’s the summer party at the centre this weekend and Judy can’t make it. They need someone in there running the kitchen so it doesn’t all go to shit, so I’ve agreed to do it.’

‘But you’re not a chef,’ I say, ‘and they’ve got other volunteers who can help in the kitchen, don’t they? Can’t they get someone else to do it?’

He sighs and rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. ‘They’ve got some volunteers, yeah, but Sylv and Judy run that place. Judy can’t do it by herself, baby. She’s too old. She needs someone there who knows the place like the back of their hand. I can take care of it all for her.’

And there we have it.

I can take care of it all for her.

Fucking Aide and his fucking saviour complex.

‘I’m so sorry about Sylvie’s daughter,’ I say, making a concerted effort to keep my temper. ‘It’s absolutely awful. But the community centre isn’t your problem this weekend, because you already made a commitment.To me.Remember? You can’t pull out of a wedding just like that.’

‘I hate doing this to you,’ he tells me, finally raising those big, blue eyes to me. I know he believes he’s telling the truth. ‘But I have no choice. I can’t let those kids down, sweetheart. They need me a lot more than you do.’

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

‘They’ll always needhelpa lot more than me,’ I tell him, and yeah, I raise my voice, because I’m now seriously fucked off. ‘But they don’t need you. They need a support system, and adults who are there for them, but that doesn’t fall on you, okay? And don’t tell me they need you more than I do because they’llalwayswin that argument if you let them.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’ he asks. ‘I can’t let this go south for them. If I don’t help, Judy might have to cancel the party—there’s no way I’m letting that happen.’

‘Honey,’ I say. ‘It’s not incumbent on you to make sure that place looks after itself. I know it means a lot to you, but you’ve pumped so much time and money into it already. You gave up two weeks of your time for it last month—that’s alot. If you’re so worried about it not being able to run itself then throw some more money at it and hire a fucking full-time manager who’ll be available for all these emergencies.It’s not your problem.’

‘It’s just a one-off,’ he pleads. ‘I’ll make it up to you. We can go away next weekend. Or—I know—I’ll fly out late Saturday or first thing Sunday and we can still do our quiet time together. But I told Judy I’ll be there tomorrow and Saturday, so there’s nothing I can do about that.’

‘Wrong,’ I bark. ‘You should’ve told her you’d be away tomorrow and Saturday and that there was nothing you could do except maybe offer to hire someone. Don’t go breaking your word to me like it means nothing and then make me feel like I’m being a selfish bitch for calling you out on it. You and I had a trip planned. You don’t get to go all unilateral and cancel it without checking with me first. It’s just so fuckingrude.’

‘I get that you’re upset,’ he says, pacing back and forth in his office. ‘But it’s an emergency. I’m sure you’ve had work emergencies you’ve had to cancel stuff for in the past.’

‘Yeah, because it’s my business,’ I say. ‘And if it was a crisis at Totum, I’d get it, because your duty is to your investors. But you’re not these kids’ parent. You need boundaries, Aide. There’s always going to be something with these kids. You can’t just toss aside your plans and your personal life and my feelings anytime there’s a hiccup.Jesus.

‘It’s like you can’t bear to allow yourself a weekend of indulgence when other people are out there suffering. I get it! But at the level of wealth you’ve got to, there will always be that conflict, and you’ve got to find a way of squaring it off without thinking you have to sacrifice all your own pleasure in this desperate attempt to keep everyone else afloat.’

I pause, because I’m out of breath, and I’m so angry I’m shaking, and I’m also so angry that I can’t actually keep my train of thought straight in my head. I am fucking furious that he’s bailed on me without a backwards glance, and I’m equally furious that in his head he’s some sort of martyr whose focus on the greater good is so unwavering that it makes people like me, who just want to have a good time, look like they have their priorities wrong.

If it was a real crisis I’d be understanding. Of course I would. I’d be gutted, but I’d give him my blessing. But I know, I justknow, he’s doing this out of some fucked-up lack of boundaries rather than because there is no practical solution.

Aide’s a fucking tech genius. If anyone can find a practical solution that doesn’t involve him missing the wedding weekend, it’s him. I recall a phrase I read once.If you can afford to solve a problem, you don’t have a problem.Of course he could throw some money at this situation and get it sorted. But he just can’t help himself.

‘I wish I could get out of this, but I can’t,’ he says in this martyred, patient tone that makes my palm twitch, becausefuckis it self-righteous and irritating. ‘If I thought there were options, I’d have called you up first. But I’m doing this, and I’m just really fucking sorry I’ll be missing out on our trip. I know you’ll have a blast. Think of me when you’re partying away, yeah? I’ll probably be clearing squashed sausage rolls off the floor.’

‘Don’t you dare play the hard-done-by card with me,’ I tell him through gritted teeth. ‘It’s very clear that you’re doing exactly what you want in this scenario, and that’s wading in to play St Aidan again instead of treating the commitment you made to me this weekend as anything remotely sacred. And don’t even think about trying to fly out on Sunday. I’ll speak to you when I’m back.’

And with that, I end the FaceTime and immediately put my phone on Do Not Disturb mode. It’s childish, and churlish, but I can’t take another second of the smug self-righteousness on that gorgeous face of his.

36

LOTTA

There was an empty spot in my bed last night where St Aidan, Christian martyr, should have been, and now there’s a very luxurious and very empty seat next to me on The Montague Group’s private jet, which is even more shit. He bombarded me with voice notes and texts and calls yesterday, but I only allowed myself to respond once.

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