Broken: A Billionaire Love Story (15 page)

If she could find some other work...if some place was hiring, even just a few more hours a week, then she would be able to make school work, she hoped.

At one in the afternoon, she met with Shane.

It surprised her how much she enjoyed the sight of him. The week of clean living had done him a world of good—which was usual for men that had gone down as rough a path as he had. The color had returned to his cheeks and he had gained a little weight, granting his broad form with enough mass to make him that much more masculine. His dark hair had gotten somewhat fuller and more vibrant, his eyes clearer—though still shining with that newly-sober zeal.

She got up when he entered, holding out a hand. Instead, he hugged her, pulling her tight against him. She wanted to object, at first, but he smelled so very good, and his arms were so brilliantly strong, those tattoos right there for her to stroke gently...

Thoughts of their tryst in the stairwell immediately flooded her mind—almost forgotten over the course of the traumatic week. Hormones piled on top of hormones, telling every cell in her body to slide down his body, open the fly on his pants...

He let up first, though, and she stepped back right away. Distance, distance! They couldn’t do that anymore. And she certainly couldn’t even fathom anything physical right now.

Except...except for how short and hot her breaths were coming, and how
sure
she had been that he was going to kiss her just then.

She had thought about Shane over the past week, of course, and wanted somehow to get word to him. But then, how would that look? Why wasn’t she going out of her way to contact anyone else at the facility? It would be silly to think she wouldn’t raise red flags by doing something like that.

In the end, she had to look out for herself, first, and she just hoped he could be open-minded enough to do the same.

“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” he said. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent.”

“Thank you.”

He held her hands, stroking them gently. Surprised to find herself eager for his touch, she let him.

“I heard about it through the orderlies and so on,” he explained. “I missed you. I asked questions.”

“It’s quite all right. I’m glad to have been missed.”

He looked around at all the flowers and chocolates. “Looks like I’m not the only one who appreciates you.”

“Either that, or everyone is very good at pretending.”

“Faking it ‘til they make it, huh?”

Olivia laughed with him at the little rehab joke. Recovery was full of clichés—many of them true, in Olivia’s experience.

Breaking away from his grip, she sat down across from him—her in her chair, him on the couch. The distance seemed to pain him—and Olivia could relate. It took much of her will, now that she had seen him, touched him, not to slide up against his body.

“So. How has your week been?” she asked him.

“Great,” said Shane. “I’m really, uh...really enjoying this rehab.”

“Are you? That’s good.”

“I did really miss you, you know,” he said again.

“Yes.” She sighed softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you or...or try to call. I know it must have been sort of confusing.”

“It was at first,” he nodded. “But then I heard all the details, and I sort of...I mean I couldn’t do anything about you being here or not. I just buckled down on recovery.”

“That’s good. That was a good response.”

It really was. It showed a great deal of acceptance—a rather enormous amount, actually, which surprised her for this early stage. She had expected he would yell and rage, yelling about how unfair it was. That he didn’t do this thing she had expected and even felt like she had invited warmed her heart to him even more.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I think so.”

“You look good.”

She smiled, letting the compliment work through her. “Thank you. No, I’m fine, really. I was expecting her passing for some time. She wasn’t well.”

“I didn’t mean that I missed you in the...in the one sense. I meant that...well. You’ve really been helping me. Figure things out. I like talking to you about getting better. I missed that.”

“Oh. That’s wonderful. I mean, that I’ve been helping you. Not that you missed me.”

They both smiled, a little awkward.

“I’m really, really serious about this rehab, I think.”

She sighed. “That’s wonderful. That’s great. But it brings me to another topic—you and me.”

He smiled broadly. “I’m all ears about that.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been around the program here long enough to know, but there’s sort of an unwritten rule that says that relationships should be avoided at all costs during a person’s first year of sobriety.”

Shane leaned back in the couch and crossed his arms.

“Why is that?”

“Relationships are...trouble. Even the best ones are full of adjustment and change and compromise, and create a lot of stress. You’re worried about your partner, or worried about whether they need you like you need them, or you’re worried about changing too much too fast. That’s all normal. But if that gets compounded with the changes a person goes through during that initial phase of sobriety, then feelings get really, really complicated. And the way an addict knows best to deal with complicated feelings is—”

“—is to use. I get it.”

He put his face in his hands. Feeling terrible, Olivia wanted so badly to rush to him and rub his shoulders. She could recall easily how firm and dense they were. But of course, his flesh under her fingers would be instantly disastrous.

“I’m sorry, Shane. It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. It’s just—”

“No, no. Say no more.” He nodded, straightening up. “That all makes sense. I think I saw it coming, from the way you’ve been acting, you know. I’m sorry for pushing us this far.”

“It was a mutual effort, believe me.”

It still was. God, his face was
right there
and she could lean in and kiss him on the neck at any time and he wouldn’t be able to say no and...

No. She couldn’t just take advantage of him like that.

“Have you given any more thought to my offer?” he asked, face lighting up a bits. “Of helping you with your writing?”

She nodded. “I have. I think...I think I would really like to do that, Shane. It’s what my mother wanted. It’s what I want.”

It looked as though a big weight had left his shoulders—he had really wanted this, she realized.

“I envy your ability to know what your mother wants,” he laughed. “What do you have so far?”

He was obviously changing the topic off of rehab, but that was all right. It would be good for him, she knew, to help her out. Someone helping others was someone who was useful. Olivia knew that intrinsically. If Shane helped her, he would feel useful, and better about himself...and so less likely to use.

“Not a lot,” she admitted. She grabbed her nearby bag and started to pull out notes and applications.

“Could you sit over here?” he asked, patting the couch. “It would be easier for me to see what you’ve got.”

“Right,” she said, unthinking. “Okay.”

She sat down on the couch, and immediately he sat down next to her. Their legs touching, his hands still on hers. They sat like lovers, not like a counselor and her patient. And Olivia didn’t have the will or very much the inclination to change anything about this.

Shane, looking at her papers, pushed against her. He was almost crushing her against the couch.

“I suppose we should start on the basics,” he said.

His inked hand drifted over and he gripped her thigh, hard.

Oh, god. Suddenly the realization hit her that she had left herself alone in the room with this incredible lover of a man again. Not only that, but she had voluntarily sat directly next to him, her naked thigh pushing against his body. Her brain starting shutting down.

“Now,” he said. “A good sentence is like a hard thrust,” he enunciated the word. “A thrust into their most...vulnerable center.”

He didn't seem to have any real inclination to stop what they had started. She got the idea that his acceptance of what she had said had been a sort of front—something to get her comfortable with being so alone with him.

Breathing hard, her breasts heaving in her tiny sweater, she found she didn't care at all.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

His hand crawled up her thigh again. “You want to really stick it in them. You want them to feel it for a long time.”

“Shane...” Her voice took on a high-pitched sort of whine. “We...we...”

“I know about the rules you’re making. But I have to say...I don’t care for them.” He leaned into her ear, breathing there hard. “I want you, Olivia.”

She melted even more, her body opening up toward him. She knew he could feel her want for her.

“What if...” Olivia breathed, hot. “What if we just...no relationship, okay? Just the physical?”

That would be okay, right? That was acceptable?

Of course it wasn’t. But she didn’t care anymore.

Shane smiled. “I can do that.”

And then he was on her again, in her, with her, their passion unstoppable.

Chapter 22:

The incident happened very quickly.

The day after Olivia returned—the day after their electric reunion in her office, leaving the entirety of her couch and coffee table in disarray—Shane ate lunch by himself, which was usual. Rawls was nice, but talked too much for Shane’s liking, and Shane hadn't found himself really getting close to many others.

Shane had a pen and paper out, working on his words for once. He felt electric, writing down anything at all that wasn’t sewn into grief and heartache. They were simple lines, describing the look of the rehab center.

Men in white suits guide us

From place to place between these

Old worn down walls, worn out people

Trying to learn to learn again

And so on. It wasn’t the best work he had ever done by any means, but it was
something
.

And then another patient tripped over and knocked his lunch tray all over Shane’s notepad, milk and soda spilling together and soaking the pages.

Shane stood up and yelled.

The other guy yelled right back.

There was a fight.

It was quick and ugly, and Hector pulled Shane off before too much damage was done. The other guy ended up with a bloody nose and a black eye, and Shane had a cut across his forehead. They patched both of them quick enough.

In the medical wing, they both apologized as they were getting patched up, at Hector and Dr. Strauss’s insistence.

Later that afternoon, in Olivia’s office, he expected a tongue-thrashing. Instead, he just got her tongue in his mouth, hot and fiery and quick almost the second he entered her office.

He recognized the reaction from the countless number of bar fights he had been in over the years—the fight had turned her on a little bit. Seeing him there with his battle-scars. Sensing his opportunity, he moved his hand between her legs again—ready to take her just like he had taken her twice already before.

But she pulled away.

“We can’t do this, I’m sorry.” Olivia shook her head. “God. That was stupid. I can’t believe what...what a schoolgirl you turn me into. Kissing you because you were in a fight. God.” She bit her lip, looking at him, still obviously turned on. But she walked to the other side of the office anyway. “I can’t be around you without wanting you, and you don’t need that complicating your recovery right now.”

He had heard all this before. He believed that it was true in many cases, but when it came to Olivia, he didn't care. She was beautiful, her hair a bit mussed from their embrace, and he wanted her.

Taking a few steps toward her, Shane said cockily, “Come on. You know you want to.”

She nodded. “I do. I really do. But...we can’t. We absolutely can’t. You got in a fight today, Shane. You know how often that happens here? Almost never.”

He let that sink in for a moment.

“I can only think it’s my fault,” she continued. “I want you, I do. But I need you to respect this. Respect me. We can’t go on.”

Shane sighed. He was afraid she would put it like that. For as much as he wanted to take her, to make her his...he couldn’t just go out of his way to make her unhappy.

“Well...” Shane struggled. “I mean, I like it here, I think. I don’t want to leave, if that’s what you mean.”

“I know. I don’t want you to leave either. I can talk with Doctor Strauss, okay? I’ll have him transfer me around a little bit. Change my hours, so that you have to work with someone else. It’ll work out. I’m sorry...” she shook her head. “I’m sorry this got so complicated. It’s all my fault.”

“No.” He reached across the desk and took her hand. “You felt something. I felt something. I...I feel something. But I trust you. And I don’t want to sabotage you. Or us. All right?”

“Okay.”

“So, this is our last session?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“How about we actually do some real tutoring, then? I could help you write better in ten minutes, no lying.”

“Last time...”

“Last time, I missed you. And we had different ideas. But I’d feel bad if I didn’t help you at all. Please?”

She wavered for a moment, and then she said, “My stuff is in my car. We'll have to go and fetch it. And, we’re doing the session in the rec room. Where anybody can see.”

He smiled. “Sure.”

In no time, they walked down out to the parking lot—Olivia giving the orderlies the okay for Shane to walk with her. Shane enjoyed the feel of the warming weather on his skin—Olivia close by, coming close to holding his hand once or twice. He almost felt like a free man. He almost felt like—dare he think it?—a well man.

“Shane Conway.”

They both turned, surprised at the voice. Stepped out from the shadows of the cars in the parking lot was a small, thick man with an equally thick blond mustache—no hair on his head otherwise. He smelled heavily of tobacco.

“I’d like to say it’s a pleasure,” said the man, “but to be honest, it’s much more than that. I found you. I knew that I did, and now I have.”