A year with the billionaire

Chapter 4

Amanda

McAllister stands, his smile heightened by relief that the meeting is done with, I’m sure. He offers his hand to me and I take it.

‘It’s good to see you again, Amanda.’

‘Thank you.’

I shake his hand, return his smile, but inside I’m questioning the ‘again’. Have we met before? I guess it stands to reason I might have met him at one of Tessa’s many social functions at the estate—many non-social too. But I only had eyes for one man back then.

I suck in a breath as I turn to face that man now. He’s still waiting, his brooding presence as heavy as the rainclouds outside. He dominates the room, dominates me, and I stifle a shudder. Why does he have the power to make me feel so small and weak?

Wrong. He makes you feel vulnerable, and that’s something else entirely.

I’m known for my strength, my decisiveness, my ability to face a challenge head-on. It’s time I started acting like me again. But before I do, I need space without him in it. Space to consider Tessa’s wishes and figure out a game plan. A plan that will keep my brain engaged and my heart locked away.

Question is, will he give it to me?

I straighten my spine and stride past him. I can feel his eyes boring through my backpack into me. My skin is alive with his proximity, my heart too... Getting space physically might not be an issue but mentally, emotionally...?

Donald

She’s surprisingly quick down the Georgian staircase, the backpack failing to hinder her in the slightest. It would be impressive if not for the fact that I know she’s running from me.

Again.

Once outside, she shows no sign of slowing, no awareness of me behind her...

Where’s she heading in such a hurry?

Anywhere you’re not...

‘Leaving without saying goodbye?’

She freezes on the stone steps and her bag lifts with her shoulders. She blows out a breath before turning to eye me over her shoulder. ‘Look, Donald—’

‘Don’t worry, Amanda, you have form for it. I’m hardly going to get offended now.’

She nips her lip, blue eyes flitting between me and the street—her escape.

‘But we do need to talk.’

‘Right now I need space to think.’

I shove my hands into my pockets, try to ignore the pang of her dismissal and the dogged desire to stay in her orbit. Dammit. How can twenty years go by and that frustrating need to be near her in spite of everything remain? An intrinsic need that runs so deep it’s as much a part of me as the blood pumping through my veins.

‘When, then?’

‘Soon.’

‘How soon?’

‘I don’t know, Donald!’ she blurts, vibrant and alive in her exasperation. ‘This whole thing has come as a huge shock and I need to get my head on straight before I can have a sensible conversation with you about it.’

‘Very well,’ I say. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘What does that matter?’

‘I’ll send the car to pick you up when you’re ready to talk.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

‘Tell that to Gran’s driver. He’ll already be contemplating his future now the estate is under new management.’

She gives a shake of her head, a bitter laugh. ‘I hardly think he wants to drive all the way down from the Highlands to ferry me around.’

‘It’s not about want—it’s his job. It’s what the estate pays him for.’

She laughs some more and my already frayed nerves snap. ‘I’m glad you find this so amusing.’

She huffs at me, raises her brows to the heavy sky above. ‘You’re a fool if you think my laughter stems from humour, Donald.’

She shakes her head, takes the last step down and turns to look up at me. I steel myself for whatever she has to say. I steel myself against the warmth that pulses through me at having her so close again. Against the age-old anger and hurt that wants to resurrect itself even though its ancient history.

But now I have Gran’s betrayal to add to the mix.

‘We’ll talk at the estate,’ I say. It’s an order, not a request. ‘It’s where we’ll be living after all.’

My skin crawls as I acknowledge the truth of it. I feel my heart beating harder, faster, daring her to deny me.

‘OK.’

I swallow, ignoring the kick to my pulse that her surprising agreement triggers. ‘Good.’

‘But I’ll get to the estate under my own steam. When are you intending to leave?’

I stare off into the distance. The hustle and bustle of Edinburgh is a relief from her and the pressure building inside my head, my chest. Why is it so hard to breathe with her around? To concentrate and think clearly?

Maybe she’s right to demand some space—some time apart before we discuss a way forward. A way that gets her out of my life for good with as little of my grandmother’s estate as possible...

‘Soon.’ My resolve builds with my thoughts. ‘I have some business to deal with here first.’

‘OK...’ She’s already stepping away. ‘I’ll message to let you know when I’m ready to talk.’

‘Won’t you need my number for that?’

She pauses, her cheeks colouring as she inches back to me, her hand rummaging in her pocket. Her eyes don’t quite meet mine as she passes me her phone, and for some unknown reason—probably the masochist in me—I let our fingers touch and feel the age-old connection warm me. Tease me.

I’m as attuned to her sharp intake of breath as I am my own, and I see the fire behind her eyes as they lift to mine, dizzying in their intensity. A thousand long-buried wants grapple to the surface and I want to pull her to me. I want to do what I didn’t have the nerve to all those years ago...

And then her hand is snatched away and I’m jarred back to reality—it’s all in me, not her. I’m the one wanting, feeling more than I should...

I clench my jaw, grip her phone tight, key in my number and dial it so that I have her number too, then thrust it back at her.

‘Thank you.’ She eyes me warily, wets her lips. ‘Goodbye, Donald.’

Goodbye, Donald.The simple phrase launches the past into the present with painful clarity. Now I get a goodbye...only twenty years too late.

She starts to walk away and anger rears up...ugly, bitter, cold.

‘Amanda...?’

She pauses, turning just enough to look at me. ‘Yes?’

I breathe in her beauty and feed the pain that is very real and very present. ‘You may have found a home in Glenrobin once, and Gran may have gifted it to you again, but I’m not her. And I’ll find a way around this if it’s the last thing I do.’

Her eyes widen and I turn before she can creep beneath my shield anew. I don’t care if I’ve hurt her—I don’t... Although the nails slicing through my palms tell me otherwise.

I walk away before I surrender to the guilt, and raise my shoulders against the knowledge that Gran will be turning in her grave.

I have myself to protect in the land of living, Gran, surely you can see that?

As for Amanda... She doesn’t get to leave for twenty years—no goodbye, no nothing—and then come back with a claim on the estate. My family’s estate. She doesn’t.

And it’s just the claim on the estate you’re worried about...?

It’s as though Gran is in my head, goading me into acknowledging the true source of my unease, and I thrust a hand through my hair.

In the distance, my driver steps out of the car, races around to the boot and pulls out an umbrella. Too late. I’m soaked through. And I hadn’t even noticed. Not the rain beating down, nor the wetness that’s seeped through to my skin.

I wave him away, much preferring the drumming beat of the rain to the panicked staccato of my heart

I left without a goodbye.

I left, and now he’s suffering the injustice of having to share his inheritance with me.

And what if he’s married? What if he has an entire family to uproot? Would Tessa really do that to him?

I’m already typing Donald Fitzroy Wife.

Enter.

So many pictures, so many articles, all pondering his personal life. Connecting him to society’s finest: tech legends, business moguls...women on a par with himself. In looks and brains. Each one so much more than I could ever be.

The past rushes forth, the pain surprisingly acute, and I close my eyes, shut out the memory determined to surface.

You’re good enough just the way you are. You have nothing to prove. No one to impress.

I breathe through the tightness, force my fists to relax.

Leave the past in the past and focus on the present, on the situation you’re in...