At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? (13 page)

But they'd both grown quiet during the ride home. She'd been unable to tear her thoughts away from the prospect of losing him. She'd see him again for the wedding and perhaps occasionally after that, but this was the last time he'd really
be
with her.

Ryder's driver pulled up at her apartment building and
she felt her lips tremble as it came into view. He didn't have time to come up—would they say goodbye in the car like mere acquaintances?

Ryder stepped out of the car and circled around to open Macy's door before pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I'll just tell the driver he can go,” he said against her hair.

Stunned, Macy pulled away to leave a foot of space between them. “You'll miss your flight.”

“I'll catch another one. Tomorrow or the next day.” His tone was offhand, but his body was rigid, his eyes intense on hers.

Yesterday he'd told Bernice it was imperative he get home as soon as possible. And now he was happy to miss the flight she'd booked? “You need to speak to your brother.”

His shoulders rolled back. “I'm not leaving with things left undecided between us. We need to fix this before I go. Get back to where we were forty-eight hours ago.”

A shiver passed along her body. She'd do pretty much anything to go back to where they'd been forty-eight hours ago. To the bliss they'd shared in Sydney, to the excitement of the trip home when they were planning their wedding and married life. But no one could turn back time, not even Ryder Bramson.

“That's not going to happen, whether you stay another day or not,” she whispered.

His eyes were closed for a long moment and his hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Macy, we can make this work.”

She swallowed hard before she was able to speak. “Ryder, I can't. I'll give you a paper marriage so you can buy my father's company, but I just can't do more than that. I'm staying here in Australia. Permanently.”

He looked up and down the street and she knew he was checking for paparazzi. There were none around but he gripped her elbow and guided her into the more private foyer anyway. If people saw them having a falling out, or—God forbid—overheard the nature of this conversation, it would be all over the world within the hour. This was the worst possible place to have the conversation but she couldn't invite him up; he didn't have the time.

Ryder steered them into the same alcove where he'd first kissed her.

“You love me,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Come home with me. I'll wait—we'll catch a plane together.”

A little piece of her heart ripped away. She touched a hand to his chest, needing to say this but not wanting it to be an accusation. Just the naked truth. “Ryder, you'll never love me.”

He flinched as if he'd been hit but he recouped and met her eyes again. “Not in the way you mean. The falling in love kind. But I care for you. That will grow to a solid relationship.”

“It would be a one-sided love. How can you ask that of me?” Suddenly cold to the bone, she stepped back, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “If you care for me, why are you setting me up to have my heart broken?”

The words slammed into him and Ryder took an unsteady step back. Was that was he was doing? Setting a woman he cared for up for pain?

No. He was
not
his father. He'd vowed to protect Macy and he'd do everything humanly possible—more—to protect her.

He gripped her shoulders. “I'd never hurt you.”

“I'm not saying your eye will drift and you'll find a
mistress the way your father did. You're too…honorable for that.”

A dark pain sliced through his chest. She thought honor was all that would stop him doing something so despicable? “It's not a matter of honor,” he rasped. “I
couldn't
do that.”

“There are worse ways.” Her lashes lowered to rest on her delicate cheeks. “If you came to resent me, I couldn't stand it.”

Resent her? He couldn't think of
anything
that could make him resent someone he respected as much as Macy. The dangers and obstacles she was throwing up were irrelevant. He needed to turn the conversation around. Make her see sense.

He took her hands and folded his around them. “We're getting married anyway, why don't we just give this a shot? No children until we're sure. You come live with me and if you're unhappy you leave, no questions asked.”

“No,” she said almost too softly to hear.

His heart pounded. He couldn't fail. “What's wrong with that plan?”

“Ryder, I'm in so deep now that I can feel my heart bleeding in my chest because you're about to get on that plane. Imagine how I'll be if I get in any deeper with you? I won't subject myself to that.”

“Are you sure?” His voice grated against the sides of his throat as he spoke the words.

“If there was a chance you'd love me back, then I'd take the risk. But you won't and you know it.”

A thick band of steel encircled his lungs, making it hard to draw breath. He couldn't refute it. It'd be a lie to say different. But he'd give anything in this moment to be able to say the words she needed to hear. To feel those special emotions she wanted him to return.

But he'd never love her the way she loved him. It wasn't in his nature. He didn't have her beautiful heart. Even after all she'd been through, losing her mother, suffering the emotional neglect of her father and sister, she was still able to offer him the precious gift of her heart and soul.

Suddenly, he saw himself with agonizing clarity. What the hell was he doing here, asking her to give him even more? He swore under his breath. She was right to demand he walk away, she deserved more than he was capable of giving. She deserved the sun and the moon, and every star in the night sky. She deserved a man who would love her with an open and giving heart.

Grief ripped through him, as if he was being physically wrenched in two. He had to leave. To walk away. He owed her that.

He stepped back, hating the distance already. “I'll honor your wishes,” he rasped.

“You will?” She blinked up at him.

Another tear crept down her cheek and he itched to carefully brush it away. “I'll leave you to live your life and find the love you deserve.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tight and pushed herself back into the wall behind her. He couldn't stand it. He'd caused this pain with his blasted plan to get control of the stock in his company. But he'd make it worse if she didn't leave.

He needed to say something. Anything. “Macy—”

She cut him off. “How do you want to do this? Get married?”

Ryder heaved out a breath. No doubt about it, she was one hell of a woman. Still willing to go through with the wedding for his sake. Once he took the shares he needed, he'd sign her father's company over to her. If
she still didn't want it, she could sell it. It was the least he could do.

And in the meantime, he'd make the process as easy for her as he could. “We'll get married somewhere private and no fuss. I'll come back here and we can do it in a registry office if you want. If you want to leave Chocolate Diva now, then do it. A clean break. I'll pay out your contract and bring someone in from another subsidiary to finish up.”

She shook her head, frowning. “I've never broken a contract or left a project unfinished. I'll see it out.”

“These are extraordinary circumstances,” he said gently.

“I'll complete the contract.” Her chin went up and he realized she needed this for her pride.

It was all he could offer her in this moment—allowing her to keep her dignity. “I appreciate that. Bernice isn't leaving yet—she'll organize the paperwork for the wedding and let you know when she needs you for a signature.”

She looked up at the ceiling for a long moment and when she spoke, her voice sounded as if it was coming from a long distance away. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

Not able to stand the expanse of space between them anymore, he pulled her to him and rested his forehead against hers. “I'll see you at the wedding.”

She slipped her arms under his coat, around his waist, gripping his sides. “But it won't be like this again, will it?”

She was right. It would never be like this again between them. He leaned down and kissed her and she kissed him back with a touch of desperation.

Holding her face in his hands, mouths so close
their breaths were mingling, he spoke against her lips. “Goodbye, Macy.”

“Goodbye, Ryder.”

Then he released her, stepped back and strode out of the foyer before he changed his mind and promised her things he'd never be able to deliver.

R
yder had been gone eight days—one hundred and ninety-one hours—which Macy had filled by working dawn till after dusk and then spending more time at the gym to ensure she fell into an exhausted slumber. But her dreams betrayed her and she spent her nights in an imaginary existence where she was still with Ryder.

Or where he left her all over again.

It was late Tuesday night when she turned the key in her apartment door and forced herself inside. She needed to move to an apartment not haunted by memories of Ryder's presence—a place he didn't own—but it wasn't practical yet. There were just under two weeks left on her employment contract and after that she'd change jobs and apartments at the same time. Maybe change cities, too. Or countries.

At least the media interest had died down after a few days. They'd taken some shots of her walking alone on the
streets, run them under various headings which included words like “lonely,” “sad,” and “abandoned.” She'd barely worked up the energy to care.

She dropped her gym bag and her briefcase and ignored the flashing light on her answering machine as she prepared for a hot shower. It'd been monumentally reckless to fall in love with her boss. Even more unwise to fall in love with a man who wanted to marry her to claim stocks in a company. But the worst of all—the crime against herself—had been to fall in love with a man who would never love her back.

They hadn't spoken since he'd left—he was honoring her wishes as he said he would, giving her as clean a break as he could. But they'd have to talk soon to arrange the wedding. Foolish though it was, their wedding was like a star of hope in the future. For one more day, she'd be with him, touch him and he'd be hers.

After toweling off and pulling on some yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt, she walked without enthusiasm through to the kitchen to see what she could scrounge up from her depleted cupboard.

The phone rang and her first impulse was to leave it for the answering machine as she'd been doing lately, but she couldn't avoid the world forever, so she picked up the cordless receiver.

“Macy,” her father's voice boomed. “What did you do?”

Her stomach sank that these were the words he chose after years of no contact. She should have left the call to her machine after all.

“Do to what?” she asked coolly.

“To Ryder Bramson.” His frustration practically vibrated down the line. “Last week he said you'd agreed to marry him.”

Memories of that day in Sydney when she'd accepted his proposal tortured her—the naive joy that had filled her heart; the wedding plans they'd made while traveling back to Melbourne; the beautiful love-making—they crashed in on her from all sides, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the ache.

“I did,” she rasped.

“Then what have you done since then to screw it up?”

Thoughts tumbled through her brain, and she tried to get a hold on the conversation's direction, but came up blank. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“He's cancelled the deal.” Her father threw the words at her like bullets and she felt her jaw slacken as she processed the information. “He's—” She stopped, cleared her throat and forced the words out. “He's not buying Ashley International?”

There was silence on the line. “You didn't know?” her father asked after a moment.

“No,” she whispered. If the deal between her father and Ryder was off, the deal between her and Ryder was also off. The pain she'd been trying to keep at bay for eight days ripped open and poured through her body.

“I was sure you were behind it,” he said, sounding more confused now than angry.

A cold and clammy sheen coated her skin as her body accepted the news that Ryder had severed their last link. And her father had been the one to deliver the news. She refocused on him. “Sorry to disappoint your expectations, but no.”

“Macy, honey, I need you to do something for me,” he said, voice now sweet and conciliatory. “Smooth things over with him. Make him go through with the sale.”

If her shock had allowed, she would have laughed at
the absurdity of the request. “No one makes Ryder do anything. He's not that kind of man.”

“He's refusing to take my calls, but he'll talk to you, I just know. It's important.”

Despite her own pain, something in his tone alerted her to what he wasn't saying. “How important?”

He paused then sighed. “I've already committed the proceeds of the sale elsewhere.”

The information was coming together to form an appalling scenario. “So if the deal doesn't go through…”

“I'll be financially ruined,” he finished for her.

“I'm sorry, Dad.” And even with the ill feeling between them, she truly was sorry to see anyone, especially a family member, ruined. This situation seemed to be a nightmare for everyone. “But as I said, Ryder Bramson isn't a man to be swayed if he's decided on something.”

“Macy, I know I haven't been the best father to you, but I'm begging. You don't need to marry him. Tell him he can just buy it.”

She gulped in a breath, stunned into holding it for two heartbeats. This was the news Ryder would have wanted to hear most—he could simply buy Ashley International and own the stock in BFH that he needed. No messy deals to marry her. But it was probably too late, now that he'd called off the deal. “I can't promise anything, but I'll try.”

Trembling, she hung up the phone and leaned back on the wall behind her.

Ryder no longer wanted—or needed—to marry her. The one thing she'd had to give him was her father's company.

Now he needed her for nothing.

She slid down her living room wall, coming to rest on
the carpet, knees pulled tight to her chest. The rational part of her mind said Ryder canceling the deal to buy her father's company was a good thing, that a clean break would allow her to get over him. So why, then, did it feel as if her heart had physically been wrenched from her chest? She wanted to get out of here, to go for a run, to escape. But her legs wouldn't move. She couldn't feel them. Her hands and lips had gone numb, too.

He'd called the deal off, didn't need her, and he hadn't even bothered to tell her she'd become superfluous to his plans.

His face swam before her eyes, speaking the words he'd said the night they'd parted.
I'll leave you to live your life and find the love you deserve.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to erase the finality of the message. She'd
asked
him to leave her alone. Had he found another way to get stock in Bramson Holdings and was simply taking her at her word and limiting their contact? Or was it that she was out of sight, out of mind? A fun diversion for his time in Melbourne, but now it was over he hadn't spared her a thought?

Her heart stuttered, but no, she couldn't believe him capable of that level of callousness. He was a good man. He was trying to make this easy on her—knew he couldn't love her and was letting her get on with her own life. Which she would do. One day.

But not today.

 

Macy sat back in her office chair, closing her eyes against the report on her screen, the bright lights and the office itself. She hadn't yet come up with what she'd say to Ryder once it was late enough Australian time to ring him and plead her father's case. She had to try,
despite knowing it would make no difference. She knew his decision wasn't about her father or his company. It was about her.

A crushing weight bore down on her from above, pressing her deeper into her chair, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle to stop herself breaking into a thousand pieces. Her life stretched out before her, colorless, stark, lifeless, knowing Ryder was out there in the world somewhere, living his life. He'd be occasionally in the papers, ensuring that the wound never healed. But even without the reminders, she'd never fully heal from this.

A loud, commanding knock sounded at her office door—she'd had it closed all day, an extra layer of protection from the world. She ignored it. Tina must be away from her desk, but she'd be back soon and deal with whoever was there.

The knocking came again, but she wasn't speaking to anyone today. Tina had cancelled her appointments and was holding her calls, allowing Macy to focus on the final report of their project. She'd been wanting a full day to do this anyway.

The knocks came a third time, this time accompanied by a familiar, deep voice. “Macy.”

The sound of Ryder's voice sparked through her like an electric charge, at once bringing her head up to attention…
he was back
…yet causing the ache in her chest to double as understanding dawned. He'd come to explain.
Of course
his code of honor would demand he tell her in person he wasn't buying the company. That they no longer needed to marry. Knowing the truth was torture enough, but
hearing
him say the words? To have to reply coherently and wish him well in his life? Maybe even wish for him that he found the woman he could love, who
could open his heart. She wouldn't be able to stand that conversation. There was no choice but to wait him out.

“Macy, Tina said you were in there.”

She groaned, dropping her arms to her sides. She'd told her father that Ryder wasn't a man to be swayed. That same determination meant that now he knew she was here, he wouldn't leave until she answered. She slipped her feet into her shoes under the desk and dragged herself upright, trying to snap herself out of the shock; hoping Ryder wouldn't notice how badly she was affected.

She opened the door a fraction, but didn't dare look at him yet in case was overcome by the sudden urge to throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her back. If she kept nothing else, she'd maintain her self-respect.

She filled her lungs, held the air there a moment, then let it out in a controlled breath and met his eyes. “Ryder, I need to get this work done now. Could we talk tomorrow?”

He leant against the doorframe, bringing his face nearer, allowing his scent to envelop her. “I need to speak with you,” he said, voice low. “Open the door.”

Her skin quivered, reacting to his nearness, and his deep voice practically reverberated through every cell and molecule in her body. Unable to deny him much of anything when he spoke like that, yet knowing she invited more heartache, she opened the door and gestured for him to come in before closing it behind him.

She tried not to drink him in like a woman dying of thirst, but failed. His large frame was draped in a black overcoat which he tugged off and threw over the back of a chair. Then he turned and she was hit by the force of his presence—at once so familiar and yet different. His closely cropped hair begged her to touch, his full bottom lip called to her. But his beautiful eyes were shadowed
and bloodshot. Everything inside her yearned to smooth the smudges beneath them with her fingers. Everything, except her sense of self-preservation.

He stepped closer but stopped, seeming uncertain. “Your face is pale.” He frowned, jaw tight. “You're upset.”

Tears stung at her eyes but she refused to let him see. She swallowed and blinked away any traces of moisture. “I stubbed my toe,” she lied.

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

She took a step back, away from the temptation of him. “I stubbed it hard.”

He looked down at her bare, non-mangled toes visible in her slingbacks. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said without a trace of irony.

Her breath hiccupped in her throat. She couldn't do this—not now while everything inside her was still so raw. She swept an arm toward the door. “I really need to get this work done this afternoon. I'll call you tomorrow—”

“Macy,” he interjected, his coffee-brown eyes locked on her, “there's so much I need to tell you.”

Her shoulders drooped a fraction. He wasn't leaving. If she could gain herself a couple of minutes to regroup, perhaps then she could handle hearing what he'd come to say.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked with a false smile as she waved a hand toward the wet bar.

He didn't move. “I'd rather talk first.”

Macy nodded wearily and faced the inevitable. They were having this conversation now whether she was prepared or not. There was only one acceptable option remaining—heading this train off at the pass.

She straightened her spine, ready to face the most
torturous discussion of her life. “I've had a call from my father. I know you don't need his company anymore.”

Ryder didn't flinch. “That depends on your definition of need.”

“Did you find another way to get enough stock to control your company?”

“No,” he said slowly, deliberately.

She dragged in a lungful of air. He needed the stock but had cancelled the sale. He didn't want to marry her anymore. And he wanted to avoid that marriage enough to sacrifice the stock and possibly his aspirations of becoming chairman of the board. Even as the rejection struck her squarely in the solar plexus, she couldn't blame him—what man would want a wife he couldn't love, but who loved him? He'd obviously thought it through and recognized the risk of her clinging; of her holding on too tight and smothering him. And the worst of it was, she couldn't guarantee the risk didn't exist, much as she'd like to deny it.

She lifted her chin and offered him the escape he needed. “My father has another deal on the table.” Her voice broke, but she swallowed and continued. “He'll sell to you without you marrying me. You can have the company, Ryder. The stock.”

With not even a flicker of interest in the offer, he took a step forward. “My priorities have changed.”

Stunned into stillness, she took several beats to reply. “What do you mean?”

He moved to the blue couch against the wall and held out a hand to her. “Come and sit with me.”