The Gift, Book 2 (The Billionaire's Love Story) (4 page)

He took a few steps towards her and she fought the desire to move back. If invading her personal space was his way of trying to get her to back down, she wasn’t having it.

She’d stood up to worse before.

“Despite what you say, Mr. Stone, it
was
very kind of you.”

“And yet you think it’s fair to return Jacob’s present but okay to keep the gift basket?”

When he put it like that, she wished more fervently than ever that she had returned that too. “I—uh—,” she stammered, trying to explain her reasons behind her decision. “The goods in it were fresh and I couldn’t carry both things back—and…” She didn’t want to admit that she’d already opened it and shared the contents. “Jacob liked the biscuits.” Ashamed of pinning the blame solely on her son, her guilt deepened and she heard the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

Why did this man always invoke the flight or fight response in her? She felt defensive around him, as though she’d done something wrong.

“You made good use of it then?” His eyes glinted as he spoke and she was vaguely aware that his hands were in his pockets and that he stood close to her; close enough for her to sense a prickling energy radiating between them. Like static; something invisible but strong in the space that separated them.

She nodded guiltily. “We had a wonderful Christmas dinner, and for days afterwards. We’re still…” Her words petered away.
Anything to help.
Despite what he said, she knew his act of kindness, no matter how he chose to label it, was because he’d felt sorry for her. Bringing Jacob to work with her before Christmas would have showed her desperation a million times more clearly than the state of her clothes.

Thank heavens he would never know that she’d gone to a food bank just to make ends meet.

His presence always reduced her to a helpless state; it was something she didn’t like because it left her feeling inferior, even as she tried to stand her ground—something she had learned to do out of necessity. But when others took pity on her, she felt embarrassed and humiliated. As she did now.

He angled his head as if studying her reaction and even though he remained silent, the telltale tightness around his eyes indicated that this conversation was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. She blinked quickly then looked away and her gaze fell on the Tiffany box which still lay on his desk. Christmas was over and she wondered why he hadn’t taken the gift home yet.

“Thank you,” she whispered, in a faraway voice.

“I insist you give Jacob the gift I promised him. In fact,” he lifted his head and stared out of the window. “I’ll only take it back if Jacob doesn’t want it.”

She remembered her son’s face and the way it had shone when he’d opened the wrapping paper. “He wanted it,” she said, softly, recalling the moment.

“Then you must make sure he gets it.” He nodded towards the corner where the gift lay on the black leather couch. She gritted her teeth, accepting defeat this time. She only had to put up with this man for a few more days. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing that Briony didn’t need her any longer.

She walked over to the couch and picked it up. Holding the toy in her hands she silently wondered how she was going to carry it back on the subway with the shopping bags full of clothes she’d picked up for Jacob in the sales during the lunch hour.

“I need to get going,” he said, more to himself than to her. She turned around as he pulled his jacket from the chair and slipped it on. Her throat dried up as she watched him slip his arms through the sleeves of the dark gray jacket; his shoulders were wide, his arms thick. He was a fine figure of a man and Savannah looked away, feeling guilty for even staring at him.

Being single for a few years had made her awkward around men. She’d never paid them much attention, nor had she been interested in pursuing anything after Colt. But this man made her feel uncomfortable, and interested, and edgy all at once. He pushed her away with his harshness and pulled her towards him with his kindness. It was the fact that he invoked a reaction in her at all—and not just because he wore a ring on his finger—that she found most disturbing. He was out of bounds, and she felt guilty for having any thoughts about him at all, but he was also so far out of her league that he might as well have been an alien.

“Is anyone else in?” she asked, her voice feeble as she tried not to stare at his muscular arms. The combination of his white shirt and dark gray jacket made his blue eyes look so dark that she couldn’t drag her gaze away even if she tried.

“I don’t know,” he replied, indifferent. She got the impression that he hadn’t come in to do any work and was only passing through. He snatched the Tiffany box from the desk and she was tempted to ask him about it but moved towards the door, sensing that he was in a hurry.

“Happy New Year,” she said, in a last attempt to be friendly.

“You too.” He barely glanced at her.

Chapter 5

The only reason he’d gone to the office was to pick up the gift but he’d been shocked to find something lying on the floor outside his office. Closer examination showed it to be the present he’d bought the boy; unwrapped but unopened.

She had returned it.

She had just this moment left his office but the idea of Savannah Page returning a gift that hadn’t been intended for her in the first place, pissed him off.

His mom would tell him that he was obsessed by the idea of Jacob, especially at this time of the year, when the past was all the more poignant. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Maybe the kid reminded him of himself, maybe he didn’t. Maybe Jacob showed him what the future might have held, or maybe these were mere stories he tortured himself with. Maybe he just felt sorry for the boy and his mother and the idea of her scrounging for extra food had made him feel something.

Now
that
was a rarity.

We don’t need your charity.
She’d tossed those words at him carelessly. His jaw would have dropped but he’d learned to control his feelings and his reactions.

But, sweetheart, you do need my fucking charity
.

He’d been tempted to tell her just how much he knew she needed it, but something had stopped him. Maybe it was the sight of her standing in front of him and looking vulnerable, something that was unlike her. He had expected more of a fight from her and yet she’d looked almost helpless, as if she was unsure of something. So he had refrained from telling her that he’d sent the gift basket because the sight of her lining up to get food had seeped into his consciousness.

Ordinarily, he felt sure that she would have crucified him because she had that kind of temper on her.

If he was being honest with himself, it made him secretly happy to know that he might have made her Christmas easier, even if he didn’t believe in the season of goodwill anymore.

Now he was left staring at the Tiffany box, debating what to do with it.
Return it,
his instinct told him.
And move on.

The beep of his cell phone momentarily distracted him and he pulled it out of his pocket. Naomi was hounding him again. Her actions surprised him because she should have known better but he knew what drove this: she was worried that he was losing interest in her. He hadn’t gone away and he hadn’t called to see her either. She’d been waiting for him; waiting for the booty call.

He briefly considered the idea of asking her to come over tonight. If anyone knew how to relieve him, it was Naomi. Hours of sex with her drained him, leaving him too tired to remember and sleep would come quickly.

But he wasn’t in the mood for sex, or her.

He grabbed his car keys and knew what he had to do. He’d given his driver the week off, starting on Christmas Day, right after he’d asked Morris to drop the gifts off at Savannah Page’s address. It had surprised him, where she lived because it was an up and coming neighborhood with newly built apartments. Not the type of area he expected someone to live in if they had to visit a food bank. The woman certainly had an intriguing set of circumstances and his interest had been more than roused.

But he’d never expected her to return the gift and she’d come in at a time when he was least prepared for it. This recent exchange with her had left him feeling restless. He decided to stay off the whiskey tonight. Maybe he’d hit the boxing ring and go a few rounds with his trainer instead.

The coming year was going to be a big one, and he needed to be fighting fit and ready.

The thought inspired him and he locked his office and headed out, ignoring Naomi’s text completely. But Savannah Page was waiting for the elevator. He stopped, ready to retreat but it was too late because she’d already seen him. She appeared just as painfully surprised to see him. A forced smile crawled from her lips, a smile which he returned just as begrudgingly.

They waited in awkward silence for the elevator and once inside, they suffered even more discomfort with only the two of them and twenty one floors to descend.

She finally spoke. “I don’t want you to think that I was being ungrateful about returning the gift. Jacob was over the moon when he unwrapped it.” She already looked weighed down by the toy box and the shopping bags in each hand and he was half tempted to call her a cab. For a brief second he even contemplated offering her a lift but convinced himself that she would only regard it as further charity.

“Which is why it surprises me that you were so adamant to return it,” he replied, settling his back against the elevator wall.

The elevator stopped at the 13
th
floor and someone got in. She moved closer to him. “It’s a nice thing you do—for those children from the Adoption centers,” she said and he noticed that her gaze fell on the Tiffany box in his hands. An unasked question lurked in her eyes.

He nodded in return but said nothing.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” she asked, obviously trying hard to make conversation. Under normal circumstances he felt sure she would not have bothered. Had he, by giving her the gifts, made her feel indebted towards him? He didn’t like the thought of that. She was doing what most people did. She was making an effort because of who he was: Tobias the Great, rich and successful.

It was an imbalance most would covet, yet it made him uncomfortable. He was certain that if he was an average nobody, she wouldn’t have bothered.

With a third person in the lift Tobias felt even more guarded. He wasn’t in the mood to make conversation with anyone right now, not even Savannah Page. Having something to say implied interest, it implied wanting to find out more about the other person, it implied a level of interest he did not feel. And yet he felt something for her. Only, he wasn’t sure what it was—pity or something else? But he knew one thing; it had been the first time since Ivy’s death that he’d been even remotely interested in another person.

“Did you?” she asked, frowning at him, when he didn’t reply.

“Christmas is Christmas,” he replied, fully aware that his answer told her nothing. Silence fell again and he stared straight ahead at the door and hoped that this woman wasn’t exchanging pleasantries just because she felt obligated towards him.

Mercifully she remained quiet and when the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, she murmured a quick, “Have a good evening,” and rushed off. He watched her struggle to get through the revolving doors, loaded down as she was with her bags and the moment she slipped out of sight he wished he’d made more of an effort and not done that cold distance thing he did with most people.

~~

“I want to return it,” Tobias insisted.

“If you’re sure, Sir.”

“I am.” Tobias was anxious to leave because this place had too many memories. He had bought her many items of jewelry from here over the years.

The manager nodded his head. “Would you like to exchange it for something else, perhaps a—” He was about to open the window of the display cabinet behind him but Tobias stopped him. “Don’t.”

“As you wish, Sir but it is a large amount of—”

“I don’t want anything. Don’t you fucking understand?”

“Of course, Sir. Certainly. One moment, Sir.” The man disappeared behind closed doors, leaving the other two shop assistants glancing at him nervously. One attempted a half-assed smile.

He’d bought the gift in a moment of drunken madness. Even then the shop assistants had hovered around him like fleas the moment he’d stepped into the esteemed Tiffany store. People always hovered around him. They were always too eager to please and to do his bidding. He hated it.

That day had been especially bleak for him and he’d given in. Whatever he did, however much he drank, however much he used Naomi’s body for his own satisfaction, or no matter how hard he drove his business negotiations, he always felt the void—the one she had left behind.

He missed her. He missed her with all his heart and soul, but as time went on the memories and feelings he’d treasured had slowly started to slip away. It wasn’t that he was beginning to forget her, but more that the vividness of his memories had started to fade. Her essence still lingered around him, but not as strongly as before. He could still see her smile, hear her voice, feel her skin, but only for a few seconds before the imprint of her image slipped through his fingers like water. People told him it was high time he moved on but the stain of his misery wrapped itself around his soul and refused to leave him completely. It lingered around him, dragging him to the cellars of darkness whenever he tried to come up for air.

But something strange had happened this morning. He’d woken up feeling better than he had these past few days. Consecutive nights of not sleeping much, coupled with heavy drinking and spending Christmas alone had left him in a sour mood for the most part. Yet he’d woken up alert, and refreshed, and ready to take on the world. Maybe he had needed time away, by himself. No board members to bother him, no business meetings to attend, no Candace, no Naomi. Not even his parents or Xavier.

This morning he decided that it was time to return the gift. Buying a gift for Ivy was as sick as it got. Coming to the office today had been a way of getting back into the world. Of leaving his place that reeked of alcohol and dirt. He hadn’t washed during those days, and had loped around in his PJs, looking like a sixty year old has-been. At least he’d successfully managed to dodge his parent’s pleas to join them for Christmas in Aspen. He’d even ignored Xavier’s calls.