Page 1 of Geordie

Chapter one

Billion-Dollar Question

Lily

Thesoft,flickeringcandlelightcasts a romantic spell over the room, while the classical music is a soothing backdrop to our evening. Stephen touches the white napkin to his lips then resettles it on his lap, looking like a man in control of his kingdom. He suggested we dress for dinner, him in a custom dark suit, white shirt, and gray tie. His arm rests on the table, the dark gray of his sleeve a contrast to the stark white cloth, his fingers caressing the stem of the wineglass, forehead slightly furrowed as he listens to my request. This man is my heart, with his light-brown hair swept back from his forehead and the two-day-old beard that’s more blond than brown. He’s got a rough, athletic handsomeness and, under that finely appointed suit, the hard build of a boxer with the same confident swagger.

Stephen Thomas Dunaway is a rags-to-riches billionaire with roguish amber eyes flecked with green that caught me by surprise when we first met. It wasn’t the calculating businessman who intrigued me; it was the caring, compassionate man who could drip raw sex with a glance that had my attention. He swept me off my feet and into his bed in a matter of days.

The red silk of my dress feels like nothing against my skin. Stephen requested I wear this gown tonight for his homecoming. It’s couture, one of his many gifts. I wear a white uniform most of the time, something that isn’t the least bit feminine, so when we’re together, it’s fun to play dress-up.

We pause our conversation as Winston, Stephen’s butler, whisks away my untouched plate. Our discussion has been clipped and contentious since we began dinner. Things have changed, I’ve changed, and this might be our dividing line. I sweep the wineglass up, drink deeply, then set it down. A few red specks land on the table like blood spurting from a tiny vein. “I need an answer.” Breathing it out like a period at the end of a sentence.

With a practiced fluid motion, he clutches the bottle, topping off our wine. I watch him play for time as he sits back. “Can’t this wait for a few days?” bringing the glass to his lips. “I haven’t seen you for a week. I wanted this to be a relaxing dinner and an evening where we reconnect. You know I’ve missed you.”

My impatient fingers drum the table. “It’s a simple yes or no.” It’s hard to keep my voice as cool as his. He’s had more practice. “No more saying we’ll talk about this later or that you’ll think about it. You need to decide.”

His mischievous smile appears. “I brought you something back from Italy. I was going to save it until the end of dinner, but I think now is the perfect time to show you.”

He pushes away from the table, nearly toppling the crystal in his haste. Taking long-legged strides, he disappears from the room.

I’m up, rounding the table, but don’t catch up to him until he’s reached his bedroom. Stephen pulls off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves, exposing the taut muscles of his forearms. He enters his walk-in closet, returning with a package. He presents the brown parcel to me. “It’s for your apartment. It’s that painting you liked from the gallery we visited last month. I bought it then but asked them to hold it. I knew I would be back in a few weeks. It was too important. I didn’t trust them to get it here in one piece.”

He extends the painting toward me, but when I don’t move, he motions at me to take it. I pull it away from him, my nails ripping the paper away. It’s an exquisite piece by an artist we discovered. There are, in fact, two other paintings bundled together. I place them gently against the bed.

“This is lovely, thank you.”

He frowns at the discarded gift. “You hardly looked at it. You said this would look amazing over your fireplace. The other two paintings are part of the series. Let me know when you want them hung and I’ll do it myself.”

“Your gift is thoughtful—all your gifts are wonderful—but now, right now, what we discussed tonight is more important to me. You need to tell me if it’s a yes or a no.”

He brushes my cheek, searching my face. “I love you, Lily, isn’t that enough?”

If I were a violent person, I would have hauled off and struck him for purposely avoiding my question. “No,” I say in his face, “this has gone on too long.”

He steps back, unrolling his sleeves, smoothing them out. “We’ve been busy with our careers, projects, travelling. Lily, we’re not like other people. We write the rules for our lives. We can do whatever we want. Why change that now?”

“We do whatyouwant because you’re a billionaire who uses the world as his playground. I’m different.”

He secures the buttons at his wrists then steps forward, his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You’ve never been conventional. That’s why we’re suited.”

“Yes or no?”

He gives a deep sigh, shaking his head. “No, Lily, I can’t.”

My heart drops into my stomach. I can’t believe his answer. I told myself if I just pushed him a little, he would agree. He’s given me everything I’ve asked for and more. It doesn’t matter...

His arms wrap around me in a hug. Any other time, I would sink into his embrace, happy for his attention. Instead, I shove him away. He stumbles a few steps back, eyes wide, mouth agape.

I don’t wait for his justification or the thousands of things he’ll offer to get his way and cancel what I want. Anger, hurt, and the stupidity of trusting him pushes me to get away from this place and leave him in the past.

I’m moving through the hallway, wishing I was wearing sneakers instead of these four-inch heels.Ride of the Valkyriesis filling the house like the score in a melodrama urging me to make my escape from this gigantic house. It’s when I enter the great room, the sound of his footsteps on the granite floor tapping toward me, that he catches up.

“Wait, Lily. Don’t leave, hear me out.”

I spin around. His cool demeanor is gone; there’s fear lurking in his eyes. He holds his hands out for me to come to him, but I refuse to repeat my old patterns.

“You’re a liar, Stephen. Don’t tell me you can’t. You fucking won’t,” I scream as inconvenient tears well up. I wipe them away with the heel of my hand. He steps forward again, but I throw up my hand to stop him from getting any closer. “I don’t want to see you again. No calling, no texting, nothing. We’re done.”

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