Broken: A Billionaire Love Story (13 page)

Arthur eyed Rawls’ seat suspiciously, wiping it clean with a handkerchief before sitting down. He placed himself downward cautiously, perfect posture, straightening out his sleeves before speaking.

“Well.” He said the word like it was supposed to mean something, waiting a bit before continuing. “How are you finding it in here?”

“You know, there are visiting hours.” Shane put his pen down on Rawls’ paper, making sure it didn’t go anywhere. “These aren’t them.”

“My business—our business—has paid for the next three years of this place’s operating capital. Exceptions are made. How are you finding it here?”

Just as much of a dick as ever, even when he was helping out. It was a sort of comfort, in a way, to know what didn’t change.

“It’s all right.” Shane shrugged. “It’s good. I like it.”'

Even though it was perfectly true, he didn't say:
There's a beautiful woman here who I'd like to be with all the time. I could stay here indefinitely.

“Do they think they’re going to cure you?”

“Cure me?”

“Of this problem. You’re here for thirty days. Or, however many more. I heard about your escapade the other night. Have you gotten it out of your system, this affliction?”

“I don’t know, man.” Shane leaned back. “I mean, the way I understand it, it pretty much is my system.”

“Nonsense. What are they doing here? Exercises?”

“What?”

“I imagine there would be some kind of exercises for people like you. Building up your will, like a muscle. Do they float alcohol in front of you? A range of tests, drinks filled and then taken away? How does it work? Is there an assembly line of some kind?”

Shane’s uncle was an intelligent man. This conversation was not doing him many favors.

But, like many conversations you could have with someone who was otherwise intelligent, it was difficult to correct Arthur in the middle of it. Shane didn’t want to offend Arthur. He had done so in the past and he didn’t want to now. He had gone a whole day or so without offending someone or making them angry—outside of Roderick, of course, who he hardly counted as a real person. Why ruin the streak?

Once, over dinner at Arthur’s condo, they had an argument over class and why certain people were successful and others weren’t.

“It’s simple laziness,” Arthur had argued. “Some people are born with drive and others aren’t. That’s all. The ones underneath suck up all the resources, forcing everyone on top to do the work. We are heavily burdened, my boy. Heavily burdened.”

“I don't get how you're as rich as you are and still stay so stupid.” This was Shane trying to be tactful. “Maybe laziness is some of it. Maybe”

“But you don't think it's all of it?”

“I think the problem is more structural than that.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, look at this city. Look at all the neighborhoods that rise up with money. Jobs follow these people, because all these people have money to spend at places. So there’s a lot of opportunity, which brings in a lot of low-income types. But all these poor people floating around scare all the well-to-do people, so they move out. That drives the property prices down. Jobs go away. New, illegal economies spring up. When the property prices are low enough, the well-to-dos buy it up again and make a killing, moving in and give businesses a new-old place to sell stuff.”

His uncle called all of that nonsense, and changed the subject. But, Shane had tried, anyway. Eventually it had turned into a shouting match.

Shane was hoping not to have a shouting match today. They were exhausting, and he was exhausted of them after years of only being a few steps away from shouting at any given moment.

“No,” he said finally to Arthur. “There’s no...no exercises. It’s a lot of meetings. A lot of talking. Therapy. That sort of stuff.”

For a moment, it seemed like Arthur was going to list his various rounds of disapproval with the standards of the place. His eyes had begun traveling around, his mouth working up into his mustache.

High heels clicked from the side. Shane turned and saw Olivia bearing down on them, much the same as Arthur had only moments before. Her dark eyes were full of disapproval—full of anger, even.

“Excuse me,” she said to Arthur. “I didn’t see your name on our visitor registry. Can I help you?”

“No ma’am.” Arthur tried to wave her off. “That’s quite all right. Shane and I are having a conversation.”

“Is he bothering you, Shane?”

Shane smiled. “Well, yes, but—”

“I’d like you to leave, sir,” said Olivia. “I don’t think you’re wanted here.”

Arthur stood up, face red.

Shane could said say something here, but for whatever reason, remained silent. Who, in the history of his life, had spoken to his Uncle like this?

“This boy owes me his life,” said Arthur.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you think so.”

“I am his supplier, do you understand? I ensure that he is well.”

“He doesn’t
need
a supplier like you here.”

Shane, mesmerized by his uncle getting a talking-to, still could not bring himself to interrupt. She thought Arthur was a drug-dealer! And the anger in her face—it lit her up, flushing her cheeks and highlighting her beautiful cheekbones. Her eyes alight. She was beautiful. She was—for the first time in his life that Shane could think of anyone doing such a thing—defending him.

Arthur continued to protest. “Young lady—”

“You need to get out of here,” said Olivia. “You are not
welcome
here.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur's face began to turn red.

“Olivia,” Shane said finally.

She waved him off. “He’s done with you, okay? You don’t need to come around him anymore.”

“Young lady,” Arthur said once more. “Are you done?”

“I’ll be done when you’re gone.”

“Very well,” said Arthur. “You should know, however, that this young man is my nephew. I saved his life not because I supplied him with drugs, but because I brought him to you.”

Shane could see Olivia’s stomach dropping.

“I was trying to tell you,” Shane whispered to her. “Just not very hard.”

She elbowed him slightly, hidden by turning her body just a bit. Shane winced.

“I see,” said Olivia.

“However,” said Arthur, “I’m glad to see he has someone fighting for him. Perhaps with people like you around being so passionate, he’ll remember what he’s passionate about for himself.”

Olivia’s face shifted slightly. “I hope so.”

“In the future, however,” said Arthur, bringing his hands together, “perhaps you might ask how much money someone has donated to your employment before you attack them?”

“Yes sir,” she said. “I apologize. I spoke very much out of turn.”

Arthur grunted and turned to Shane. “We’ll continue our conversation at another time. Maybe in a week, you can tell me more about the wonders they’re doing here for you.” He raised an eyebrow at Olivia. “
She
ought to hope so, at any rate.”

With that, Arthur left, his crisp footsteps echoing in the large hall.

Olivia, looking thoroughly embarrassed, walked out to the stairwell upstairs. Her angry flush had spread with her shame, turning the entirety of her beautiful pale skin red. Shane followed her. His intent was just to make her feel better, to apologize.

But, when he entered the stairwell, seeing her in the corner, so close to tearing up, he couldn’t think of just saying something to her anymore. He opened his arms and embraced her, crushed her against him. His hands slid up the slender, delicate notches of her spine, eliciting strong moans from her tender body.

He could feel her arousal sliding up, pushing out the shame—and Shane’s matched. His face slipped over to hers and they kissed with deep, hot longing. She
fought
for him back there—and she was just as fierce now, pulling him by his neck to intensify their kiss. He again wondered who had ever done that before—and the answer of course was absolutely no one. No one that he could recall.

Shane wanted this beautiful, strong woman. He wanted to make her his. His hands slid up her skirt and her legs parted. Immediately, he chanced between her legs—no resistance, just hotter kissing, their tongues melding. He probed further.

She was moist, there. Wet. He slipped past her panties, and right away his fingers were damp from her special center.

“Yes,” she moaned. “I don’t care. Do it. Do it now!”

He was happy to oblige her. Breathing hard, Shane led her down onto the stairs and lifted her skirt all the way up, removing her panties. In their passion, their clothes remained on, but there was enough clothing rearranged so that all their essential parts met.

Someone could come at any time. He didn’t care. Forgetting all inhibition, foregoing all reason, his pants down around his knees, he slid his hardness up her creamy thighs.

But still, he hesitated. In this place, this was her decision more than his. But she seemed to sense this, and nodded eagerly.

“I want it,” she moaned. “Please, yes!”

With that, he drove inside of her warm opening. Shuddering, he collapsed on her body, holding her tight against him as they writhed and pushed into one another in the shadows. Her ample bosom and wide hips provided plenty of opportune places for his strong hands to grab and press in his passion. He could release, at last, all this pent-up tension that had been building in him since his relapse. All his stress, all his need was taken out on her, and she welcomed him in again and again as he thrust and thrust.

The stairs were uncomfortable—they didn’t care. There was too much at stake for both of them to think about anything about the other, how filled their passion made them at that exact moment.

Olivia moaned sweetly with each thrust, needing him more and more. He could feel her climax approaching, her little moans and squeaks getting higher and higher in pitch. Finally, she nodded, her beautiful face letting him know it was time.

Shane had been holding back, but as soon as her bliss began to arrive, his own orgasm was unstoppable, and he had to pull out, finishing hotly on her body.

“Oh god,” she moaned, holding him close. Shivers of orgasm still fluttered through her body. Shane could feel them in his own bones, intently rubbing his chin against her neck. “Oh god...oh god.”

Chapter 19:

Olivia's head swam in the clouds late in that afternoon as she prepared to go to her retail job, still riding the bliss of Shane’s incredible attentions. Even hours later, tidying up work in her office, thinking about their hot tryst in the stairwell, she found herself blushing and becoming warm. No one had ever held her like that, taken her like that. No one had ever shown her such passion in the past.

That look in his eyes while he entered her, as she stroked the perfectly hot flames inked into his arms—like he
needed
her, like she was focusing life directly into his heart...she felt like she would remember it for as long as she lived.

They kissed for a little bit after ending it—but quickly the reality of their situation caught up with them, and they scurried off in different directions with a short goodbye.

It had to end there, of course. It couldn’t go in further. That they weren’t caught was some kind of weird and incredibly fortunate coincidence. There was no reason they should have been able to get away with it.

Unless
, some terribly hopeful part of her mind whispered,
it was meant to happen, and he’s the one you’ve always needed
.

It was tempting to think of destiny. Always with that kind of thinking there was an implacable allure that was terribly hard to break away from. That she and him were special...meant to be together. Nothing was so irritatingly convincing of the existence of fate as was coincidence.

But, such thoughts were destructive and hurtful, in the end. Of course there was no fate, she told herself. No destiny but what she made for herself. It didn’t pay off to be hopeful with weird, lusty trysts like this. The best thing would be just to stop it, thank Shane the next time she saw him, and somehow try to ride out the next few weeks until she never saw him again.

That was a scary thought, though—never seeing Shane again. She already hated the idea, already could not imagine him not being in her life. It would be like never going home again, never working on her models, never seeing her dogs.

He was...he was a
part
of her life, she realized. One that she would be hard-pressed to lose.

Focus on the good things, she decided in her office, packing up her bag. Focus on him inside you...focus on the breaths in your ear, focus on his tongue in your mouth, focus on the way he chewed so hard on your shoulder...

So, as she walked out to her car, her mind was still partially melted by all these beautiful memories.

Then, her phone rang.

Her heart started racing the second she saw who it was: the hospice where her mother stayed.

“Olivia?” asked the nurse. “Are you on your way?”

“Yes.” She struggled with her keys and her bag for a moment. “I mean, yes, I can be. I will be. Do I need to be there? What’s wrong? I’ll be on my way in about two seconds, as soon as I get in my car.”

This babbling was all her grief catching up with her at once. She had known what they were going to say from the second she saw that they called her. Still, she tried to deny it—all her feelings, she would try to deny until the world didn’t allow for any other course than to accept them.

“Olivia...she’s going.”

“Going?” Olivia shook her head. “All right. Where is she going? Different floor? Are they moving her back down to the third floor again? Because I thought we had discussed how the smells from the cafeteria really don’t agree with her constitution, and—”

“Olivia, no. You need to be here soon. She doesn’t have long.”

“Oh.” Olivia sat down in the car, her body tightening up. Yes. Okay. This was happening now. “Oh, my god. Oh god. Okay. Soon as I can. Thank you.”

For a few seconds she didn’t know how to move. Her mother was dying, how could you move? Her hands slipped over one another, her keys dumbly striking her thigh.