Broken: A Billionaire Love Story (22 page)

After wandering for a bit, Olivia found herself in the entry, just idly touching lamps and pots of flowers, considering and thinking. It was so very odd for this to be her life, now. Cassandra had made no mention of the offer Olivia made to sign away any chance of money—did that mean it would really happen? Would she really have a fortune at her disposal? The thought was still incapable of being processed. She couldn't spend that much money if she tried.

The front door opened—it was Arthur. He looked stricken, like he had seen a ghost. His face was pale and gaunt, his suit disheveled.

“You,” he said, with a certain finality. “You, follow me, would you?”

She followed him into the billiards room, trying not to think of how silly it was for any sort of place, even a mansion, to have a billiards room.

Inside, he dropped his coat, picked up the telephone and started dialing.

Olivia was puzzled. “Can I do something, Arthur?”

“Do you think I don’t know what you’ve done, today? Do you think I’m just going to idly sit by and let it all happen?”

He had heard about the interview, then.

“Billions,” he said angrily. “You cost me, personally,
billions
of dollars today. That is a country’s GDP. That is years and years of work you have cost me. And so no, you cannot do anything. You have done enough. You have cost me my future. And so I am going to cost you yours. Did you know that with five phone calls,” he held up a hand, “just five. Five phone calls, and I can have you deported? You’re going to watch me, just like I watched you ruin my future. Except
I
,” he held his nose up, “I am courteous enough to let you
know
what is going to happen.”

Olivia, stricken, had no idea how to react. Slow little eeps struggled for dominance in the race out of her mouth.

Just as Arthur began the very first phone call, though, Hunter arrived.

“Hey, Uncle,” Hunter said. “You look terrible.”

“He's—he's—” Olivia struggled to get it out.

Hunter took the phone from Arthur's hand, calmly putting it down.

“He's...what?” said Hunter. “Making villainous threats and telling you about how he's going to ruin your life? Come now, Uncle. She's practically family. We can't have that.”

Olivia's heart filled with love. This beautiful young man, protecting her like she was his own. She hadn't realized how badly she needed that.

“You sniveling little meddling brat,” Arthur sneered, striding across the room, past Olivia to pick up his coat. “You never learned to mind your place.”

“I have a long history of punching people in this family.” Hunter walked after his uncle. “And I’ve tried to get past that. But you are making it really, really hard, Uncle.”

“Very well.” Arthur snapped his arms together, almost robotic. “I’ll be on my way.”

But, as he tried to step out, Cassandra was there to block the door.

“Arthur,” she said, shaking her head. “I have something to tell you.”

A shade of hope had slid across his face. “Yes, Cassandra?”

“I don’t ever plan on giving up punching idiots, family or no.”

She reared back and delivered a mighty left hook to her brother, knocking him in the side of the head. He stumbled for a moment and fell down, crashing through a nearby coffee table. He looked dazed, but uninjured. His pride hurt more than anything—and of course, after the day's events, his wallet more than anything else.

“Now,” said Cassandra, shaking her hand out. “That really hurt. Someone ought to call us a doctor. In the meantime, who wants cookies? I'm told there's a fresh batch waiting for us back in the drawing room.”

Olivia could do with a cookie or two, she had to admit. That was a lot to take in all at once. It was so very visceral a reward to see Arthur given the what-for like that.

And yet, there was something missing...

Of course, she realized suddenly.

Where in the world was Shane?

Chapter 33:

It would be the perfect time to take a drink. Just like any other time, just like every other time. The world was calling to Shane—make it happen. Now’s the time.

He stood across the street from the bar where this all started in South City. Calloway's Pub. It was dark, a little before midnight, and the night was cold for Shane even in his thick winter jacket. It was doing good business—he could hear people on the inside yelling and laughing, music blaring through the thin wooden walls.

This moment was close enough to his original sobriety date—just a few weeks ago—that he could pass it off later on. Later on, when he had five years or ten or twenty, he could look back and say, “Oh, right. I said it was this day early on, because I was embarrassed. But really, it was a few weeks later. What are you gonna do, fire me from sobriety?”

Certainly he couldn’t have been the only one to think that way.

The spotlight would be back on him tomorrow. Everyone would know where he was, what he was about. All eyes on him. So, now really was the perfect time.

Except...

Except of course he knew it would be an inestimable betrayal of trust for Olivia. For Hunter. For his mother. He was accountable to all of them, now. He couldn’t just let that go to waste, could he?

It was a hell of a thing, having apologized to his mother and brother. He couldn't really believe that he'd had the courage to do that—and that had only ever arrived with Olivia's help. It was like he had crossed some bridge in his life, and he was loathe to have to cross it again.

He might not ever be worth anything to anybody. But he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if he were to go into that bar, he’d
definitely
never be worth anything to anyone ever again.

But, god damn, a drink would be so damn good...so
perfect
...

Lights shone over him—headlights. A car drove up in front of him and parked.

“Shane?”

It was Olivia. Relief and shame flooded through him. Very quickly, she was out of the car and her arms were in his, guiding him away from the bar.

“How did you find me?”

She shrugged. “This was the last bar you went to before you came to rehab. I figured you might come back to it. I thought you would think it was...poetic.”

He laughed. He knew her pretty well. That had been his reason, as a matter of fact.

“Talk to me,” she said.

Her hands rose up to his face, so delicate and loving. No judgments. No anger. Just concern. That was harder to deal with than anything else, he realized. He couldn’t get angry at her concern.

“I don’t know. I thought...” He could feel lies wrapping up, circling around his heart, trying to surface. And then, looking at this woman he knew he loved, he did the bravest thing he could think of: he told the truth. “I thought it was the perfect time.”

“The perfect time?”

“Sure,” he said, feeling more childish with each word. “You know. Tomorrow, everybody’ll know. It’ll be like a reset in my public life. So, I can talk the talk tomorrow, walk the walk, but tonight I can just have for myself.”

She was silent for a little while, holding his hand tight and guiding him away from the bar. He didn’t want to be led away from the bar—each step was like a fight, leaving parts of his ego bruised. But he went with her.

Finally she sat down on a small wall bordering the park across the street.

“Let’s put aside the selfish aspect of that for a second, okay?”

“The selfish aspect?”

She gave him a look. “Really?”

He gave the look right back, questioning, “Yes?”

“Okay. Selfish, as in, the thought that you have nights just for yourself, anymore. Or ever. I mean, sure, you’re going to have your alone time and all of that. I respect that. But let’s not pretend that there’s ever a night you’re going to have where your actions don’t affect others, anymore.” She shrugged. “I mean, I guess you could go ahead and sever all that connection with your mom, your brother, your uncle. With me. But that’s the only way.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She leapt on that opening. “Maybe, okay. But let’s put that aside. Let’s focus on the other part of this.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re a very smart, very quick, very capable man. And I don’t think there will ever come a time when you won’t be able to convince yourself of something. How much time have you spent thinking about this?”

“I don’t know.” He took a moment to think about that, holding his fingers against his eyes. “I guess...you know, I think it occurred to me the second after you told me to come clean with the reporter.”

“Right!” Her eyes lit up. “You see? That’s just that addict in you, latching on to possibilities. It doesn’t want to be pushed down, pushed around. It wants to come back up. It’s not going to stop.”

That was a scary thought. “It might.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But not if you go have a drink right now. Do something for me?”

He sighed. “All right.”

“Just come back home with me. There’s a lot of people who want to be around you. I’ve been carrying congratulations around for you all night in my head. There’s been phone calls, did you know that? People who heard through the grapevine. Other aunts, other uncles. They talk to Cassandra or Hunter, and then they talk to me. I've had to meet all these people through the phone,” she laughed. “I just want them to tell you. Will you let them?”

“What about tomorrow?” He shook his head. “This feeling...you know, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to go away. I know I’ll just drink tomorrow if I don’t do it now.”

“Let tomorrow be tomorrow,” she said. “Just come with me right now.”

And, slowly but steadily, knowing he would still want to drink tomorrow anyway, he did.

Chapter 34:

After the dancing, the ceremony, the flowers and the fanfare (the actual, literal fanfare—Cassandra had insisted on it), the two of them were exhausted. They slid into the back of the limo and let out mutual long sighs of relief. Shane held out her hand, and Olivia held it tight.

Olivia was so proud of her man. Clean now for more than two months. Going to meetings every day to find support. Helping out at Edgemont, the works. He loved it.

Public opinion of Shane had only improved since the interview with Heck Parsons. He had gotten a steady job at some big paper—and subsequently seemed intent on losing it, offending everyone in sight from what Olivia read. But still, there seemed to be much more sympathy out there for Shane's plight than he had expected there would be.

There was an initial rush of attention, but mostly the media seemed to, startlingly, respect Shane and Olivia's wishes to be left alone. This worked well for Olivia—who, in the absence of all the scrutiny she had been dreading, managed to become more positive and assertive than she had ever felt before.

At the Conway Corporation, Arthur took a leave of absence, and Hunter rose up in his place. A neat loophole in the rules meant he could be an acting CEO up until the point of the next board election—after his birthday. With Hunter taking care of the business,  Shane was freed up to write. Every day he wrote more and more. Olivia was in awe at the volume of his passion. He seemed to be trying to make up for lost time.

Yesterday, cleaning up in their room, she had accidentally opened the pages of a notebook when she knocked it over. And then, as she picked it up to put it back in its place, she couldn't help but start reading.

Deep between the currents

of my nerve-endings and the pistons

of my heart and the thunder

stored in my bones there

is that part of me that remembers

everything about you even

before the day we met knowing

that you were supposed to find me

meet me hold me in the way only

you do like animals sliding out

from shadows of nightmares brought

forth to battle every monster I’ve known

shamanic totems of protection

and light chanting out these perfect

words “Put away all old motions

and hold me now how only you do.”

It was for her, she realized. She hadn’t meant to find it—but she was glad she had. She was glad, more than anything, that he was writing and working on his art.

Pride was her every emotion for him that wasn’t love.

“God,” he breathed, banging on the ceiling of the limo. “That was a circus, wasn’t it?”

“Totally.” She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek and then his neck. “I’m just glad we don’t have to do it again.”

“Yes,” he said. “I probably wouldn’t marry again for at least, I don’t know...” he counted off fingers. “A year? Year and a half?”

Playfully, she punched him.

The movement was rather constricted—her dress was very tight. Olivia adjusted her dress, trying to get comfortable.

“Ugh, this thing. I can’t wait to get it off.”

He grabbed her tight and kissed her, tugging at the laces of her dress. “Me neither.”

Shane pressed a button in the door, and the partition went up, closing off the driver’s view. The two were heading off to a private jet, and then to a long vacation in the mountains. 

“It'll be just us, for a while?” She couldn’t hide the hope in her voice.

He leaned in and kissed her—passionately, openly, like his life depended on her. She certainly knew that Shane was everything to her.

“Just us,” he said, cradling her into his arms. “From here on out.”

# # #

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