Rebel with a Cause (12 page)

She was in love with him. Head first, totally, desperately in love with this complicated, lonely, generous man. She ached to give him everything—and could only hope that maybe he'd ask for it, maybe accept it. She couldn't end it now—it would be like ripping out her own heart.

She walked back to the living area, looked at the cards he'd designed on the computer. He'd clearly studied her work—because he'd done the samples in her favourite colours, the swirling design that she saw was a key part of her style. He really did have an eye. The fact he'd done them for her blew her away—and gave her hope. Then she turned and looked at the way he was frowning into the fridge, seeming to take hours to decide what he was looking for.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do—there was even a song about it, wasn't there? About setting something you
loved free. ‘You know, I can get my clothes tomorrow. If you wouldn't mind me borrowing your robe and you running me home?'

He looked up quickly. ‘You don't want to stay?'

Of course she did. But his relief was heartbreakingly obvious.

‘No.' She pulled the robe closer around her. It was a warm day but she was growing colder by the second. He didn't want her to stay. Her heart shrank from the truth. She didn't want to be where she wasn't really wanted. He'd just had all he wanted.

Stupid girl.

She stayed away from work the next day—phoned through to Jemma the temp and explained she had family stuff to tend to. Not an untruth. She always had family stuff to tend to. Lorenzo didn't call, didn't come to her flat that night. She pretended to sleep. He'd never called her phone before—there was no need to be checking it every three minutes all night.

On Wednesday she went in—had to finish up the last details and pack everything up to take it to the theatre. She checked with Kat on the way in, hoped she hid her disappointment when the receptionist told her Lorenzo was scheduled to be out at meetings most of the day. It was a good thing really—she still had a few hours' work to do. She didn't need the distraction.

She worked hard—the labels and business cards were printed and in a box waiting on the table. She was thrilled with the finished product, for the first time feeling excitement about the show. She'd done her best work and now she was excited about showing it to the world. Late in the day she heard the heavy tread on the stairs, couldn't stop from flying to the doorway with an all over body smile that was impossible to hold back.

‘Why are you looking so happy?' The brooding shadows were dark beneath his eyes.

Some instinct warned her not to admit that it was because he'd just appeared. ‘I've found the most fabulous frock to wear tomorrow night.'

The smallest of smiles lifted his expression and he came into the room. ‘Of course. Shopping maketh a woman smile.'

Oh, no, in truth it was just him. ‘I'm actually starting to look forward to it now.' And she was. Sure, she was nervous about what her family would think of her designs, but at least she did have a stellar outfit to go in—and an even better escort. ‘Are you wearing a tux? It's formal dress.'

His eyes narrowed a fraction and he turned away. ‘I'm not going.'

She looked after him, stunned. ‘Not going? You're not coming to the opening?'

He walked over to the window. ‘No. We're not a couple, Sophy. I said from the start that this wasn't ever going to be a public thing.'

What? But he was the one who'd taken her out to dine with some of his oldest colleagues last weekend. She tried to stay cool. ‘Well, you don't have to be there with your arm around me. You could just be there as a friend.'

‘You don't need me there.'

‘Yes, I do.' She didn't want to go without a friend. Rosanna was away on another buying trip so she wouldn't be there. But that was beside the point—she wanted Lorenzo with her, even just his presence on the far side of the room would be calming—like a secret injection of confidence. He believed in her, she knew he did. And she drew strength from it.

‘No. You don't.'

She'd have to face her family's judgment alone. She
swallowed. Okay, she could handle those nerves. But she was hurt by him now. ‘Why don't you want to be there?'

‘I don't like those foreign type movies.' He shrugged.

‘Then why do you have some in your DVD collection?'

‘You went through my collection?'

‘You know I did.'

‘Look, Sophy—' he turned to face her ‘—leave it. I'm not going.'

‘You really don't want to be seen with me?'

‘I'm not interested in complicating our arrangement.' Their
arrangement
? What the hell did he mean by that? ‘Then why have you been helping me so much if you're not interested? You want me to do well—why don't you want to be there to see if it happens?'

He turned, irritable. ‘It's just sex between us, Sophy—some down and dirty release. It's what you wanted, remember? You can't go changing it now.'

‘I'm not.' Her voice rose. ‘You've
already
changed it. You were the one who took me away for the weekend. You're the one doing these things for me.'

‘That was just so you could get your work done. You were so busy doing everything for everyone else. I thought it was a good way for you to catch up.'

‘And that's not showing you care about me—not even just a little?' She held her breath.

He went utterly still. ‘Nothing special, Sophy, no.'

She flinched but forced herself to take a step closer. ‘And there was nothing in that weekend for you? Nothing
special
?'

He stared at the floor, answered with inhuman control. ‘No.' He lifted his head sharply, like a beast sensing blood. ‘Now don't get upset.'

‘How can I not when you say there's nothing special?'
He was denying everything—denying her, denying himself and above all denying the truth. She couldn't stop the hurt brimming in her eyes as she cried, ‘You're lying to me, Lorenzo. And you're lying to yourself.'

‘No. I'm being honest.'

She clutched the back of a chair. Was he? Being brutal to be kind? She stared at his rigid body, his masklike face. ‘I don't believe you are.'

‘It's just sex, Sophy.' His mouth moved, but his eyes were like dull stones. ‘Just a tawdry affair that no one need ever know about.'

‘You really think that?'

‘We have nothing in common. We're good at screwing, that's all.'

She blanched at his crudeness. They didn't screw—she didn't just bang him for the momentary thrill. She'd made love to him—again and again. She had offered everything inside herself to him—wordlessly at least, on more than one occasion.

But she wasn't going to offer it again now—not in the face of such determined denial and such cold anger. No—she had very little left in her right now, but she did have that last drop of dignity. ‘Then if that's all it is, Lorenzo, you won't mind that it's over.'

She walked past his stock-still figure and straight down the stairs.

S
OPHY
slowly buttoned the royal blue nineteen-forties vintage frock she'd found in an exclusive retro store earlier in the week. She pushed out the fantasy she'd had about twirling in it in front of Lorenzo. She spent ages on her face, going with forties style make-up to match—full foundation, lush red lips. She breathed slowly to try to check her nerves.

She'd spent half the afternoon in the theatre foyer setting up the display, had received gratifying comments from the staff there about her designs. But they weren't the people who mattered. She was going to those people now. It was only a ten minute walk to her parents' home in the heart of Auckland; they were going to the theatre together from there.

‘I'm looking forward to the movie. It's had great reviews,' her mother chatted, oblivious to Sophy's stress.

Of course, they didn't even realise the exhibition was on in the foyer. Sophy clutched her purse, trying to hide the way her fingers were shaking as her father drove them. Her heart raced. This wasn't good. She'd even done a Lorenzo and gone for a run earlier—too bad if her cheeks were still flushed from it, she'd needed to burn off some of the adrenalin. But she might as well have not bothered. Her body felt wired, on fire, yet she was cold to the bone. She
wanted the movie to start—not have a whole hour of the pre-drinks to get through with her stupid baubles on show. But her parents were only too willing to relax, quietly chatting in the foyer to friends and generally acting like the reserved pillars of society that they were. How had she ever thought this was a good idea?

Her brother and sister were already there. And it was her sister and sister-in-law who pointed out the gleaming display cabinets of vintage inspired jewellery to her and her mother.

‘What do you think of them?' That was her sister-in-law, Mina.

‘I love this one—look at it, Soph, it's just gorgeous,' Victoria said.

‘Are you okay, Sophy? You've gone all pale.' Her brother, Ted, stared at her. ‘Now you're gone all red.'

‘I'm fine,' she squeaked.

Her mother turned to look at her. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Mmm hmm.' She nodded, not bothering to try to talk more.

‘This one would really suit you.' Mina, her sister-in-law, hadn't been paying attention. ‘It would go beautifully with your eyes.' She was looking at the blue necklace she'd made in Hanmer.

Ted, her brother—the one with the IQ too high for anyone's good—had picked up one of the business cards on the table.

‘“Designs by Sophy,”' he read aloud. ‘Even has your mo bile number listed.' He gave her a sharp look. ‘Got something to share, baby sis?'

‘
You
made these?' Her mother whirled, her face beaming.

They all turned and looked at her.

‘Umm.' Sophy was a dehydrated flower withering under the heat of her immediate family's collective stare. ‘Yes.'

‘But this is amazing! Edward!' Her mother raised her voice. ‘Edward have you seen these?'

He had—her father put his arm around her, smiling in that quietly pleased way he had. ‘Well done, Sophy.'

‘You're
so
talented.'

‘When did you learn to do this?'

‘I could never do anything so intricate.'

Victoria and Mina got in on the act. Oh, the squeals were embarrassing.

‘She got it from my side of the family,' her father said with his usual assured authority. ‘Which is your favourite, darling?' He turned to her mother. ‘I'm going to buy it.'

‘You don't have to do that, Dad,' Sophy mumbled, beyond embarrassed by their effusiveness now.

‘Oh I do. I am.' He was halfway through the crowds—off to find the manager who was in charge of the sales.

Sophy looked at them. It was weird how her heart could sink and lift at the same time. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? To have their approval? To ‘wow' them like this? So why was she feeling so deflated? ‘Guys, you don't have to.'

And she realised the problem. It wasn't them she'd wanted to impress. She wanted Lorenzo with her—here to witness it, here to stand beside her. She'd be so proud then.

Her anger flared within—with herself. She'd spent so long wanting this moment—for her parents to be proud of her. How could she let a guy, especially one whom she'd known for all of three weeks, ruin it all? Why was what he thought suddenly so much more important than everything else?

She made herself smile. ‘I'm really glad you like them.'

‘Like them?' Her mother looked stunned. ‘Sophy, we had no idea.'

Sophy shrugged her shoulders. ‘You've been busy. I've been busy too—I did it in my own time.'

‘Why didn't you tell us you were displaying them tonight?'

‘I wanted an honest reaction.'

Her sister frowned. ‘You were that insecure?'

‘Yes,' she admitted. ‘I guess I was. Still am.'

‘Oh, Sophy,' her mother scolded but folded her into a hug at the same time.

Sophy smiled. They did look good. The jewellery gleamed in the cases, the display was slick, professional and
different
—vintage inspired but thoroughly modern.

‘Darling, I can't buy that necklace.' Her father came back.

Sophy looked up.

‘It's already sold.' He was beaming now. It was just like the smile he'd worn when Ted and Victoria had both graduated with their first class law degrees, the smile she'd never seen him bestow on her before. ‘Apparently it was the first item that went. Several of the other pieces have sold now too. It's a huge success, Sophy.'

Sophy flushed with pleasure.

‘Apparently it sold within five minutes of them opening the doors tonight. Someone was obviously keen.'

Sophy's flush deepened. Her thoughts instantly flicked to Lorenzo—had he done it? Was he here for her as a surprise? Had he bought the necklace because of what they'd shared? Was this his way of apologising?

Her heart soared with hope.

‘Sophy, there's someone here wanting to talk to you.' Her brother touched her shoulder.

Sophy spun, blood thundering in her ears as she looked
through the crowds. He was here—he'd come. Someone tapped her other shoulder and she turned again, getting hopelessly giddy, and too full of hope.

‘Surprise!'

‘Oh!' Sophy gasped. ‘Rosanna!' She threw her arms around her friend and hugged her close—hiding her disappointment in her friend's shoulder and her tight hug.

‘You didn't think I'd really miss it did you?'

Sophy shook her head. She couldn't speak, her heart full and yet bleeding at the same time. She had such a great friend, such a great family. She had no right to be feeling so crushed. She looked into her friend's smiling face. ‘Oh, thank you so much for coming.'

 

Lorenzo sat in his car, still too shocked to even turn the key. He was parked just down the road from the theatre—had been since ten minutes before the doors opened and that was an hour ago now. Fool that he was, he hadn't been able to resist.

He'd been going to go—say sorry, or something. He hadn't meant a word of what he'd said yesterday. He'd done it deliberately—pushed at her until she pushed him away. But she was right, he'd been lying. Of course she was special. She was so special he was terrified.

So here he was sitting in his damn monkey suit and everything because he couldn't let her down completely. But thank goodness he had. Because now he knew.

Braithwaite.
It wasn't that common a surname. He should have made the connection sooner. But he hadn't bothered to ask too much. And she offered almost as little info about her family as he did his. Now he knew why.

The collar of his shirt seemed to be tightening round his neck—choking him.

He'd seen them arrive before he'd got out and got in
there. For once the fates had shown him some mercy. Because the last thing he'd have wanted was to have met the man again in front of Sophy. Edward Braithwaite—
Judge
Braithwaite—the man he'd stood before all those years ago. The one who'd condemned him and yet who had offered him that one last chance.

For half an hour tonight, while dressing, he'd deluded himself into thinking he could have fudged it—hadn't enough time passed? Jayne's father had sent him packing—he wasn't good enough for his daughter, wasn't good enough to invest in back then. And she'd agreed—had laughed at his dreams. He'd just been sex to her.

But ten years had passed since then and things had changed. Some things anyway. So maybe, if it was someone else, he could have pulled it off—skirted round his history and talked up his present successes. But Judge Braithwaite knew everything—had seen him at his worst. He knew the whole sorry story. And no way would he want him anywhere near his precious baby daughter.

Society might give second chances, fathers didn't. Fathers wanted only the best for their daughters; hell, Lorenzo under stood that—
he
wanted only what was best for Sophy. And that wasn't him.

He bowed his head over the steering wheel and faced it: it was always going to be this way—as it had been before, it would be again. And it was why he should never have let her get so near to him. The past was inescapable. The perfect life he'd been imagining for just a few moments was a mirage—something that he just wasn't meant to have. He'd managed his life fine without until now anyway—forging his career, working so hard. He had his hugely successful business, the charity, he had a couple of good friends. But any other intimacy? A woman, a life partner—there could be none.

He would never be good enough for a woman as wonderful as Sophy and he wanted none but her. It didn't matter how much money he made, how successful his business became, there was always that part of him—that fundamental truth that he always tried to hide even from himself.

But her father knew that truth, and, knowing how much her parents' approval mattered to Sophy, Lorenzo knew it was over.

She deserved a perfect family, a perfect lover. But it would never be him. He had never been part of a family. Had never been wanted in a family. Damn well didn't want one of his own. Being alone was what he was used to—secure, uncomplicated. And he had been a fool to think he could ever deal with anything more—or be dealt anything more.

He had to stay away now. He'd let the end he'd engineered her to declare truly be the end. So there was only one thing left for him to do. He'd go to Vance's bar. And he'd get really, really drunk.

 

Sophy didn't remember a thing about the movie that screened. Afterwards she went with her family for coffee and cake—Rosanna came too. But all she could think of was the necklace that had sold so quickly. She knew it was crazy, that she'd read too many romance novels and watched too many Hollywood movies, but she couldn't help hoping that he'd bought it for her. Maybe he'd sent someone in to buy the necklace. Maybe he'd present it to her in a romantic gesture, an apology for not being there. It was going to be his way of making it up to her. Oh, how she'd love something like that—for someone to go over the top for her, someone going to lengths to do something wonderful for her.

She was such a sad unit.

‘Are you okay?' Rosanna curled her legs up on the café's sofa after Sophy's parents and siblings had called it a night.

Sophy nodded and flopped back into the big armchair. ‘I'm just a bit tired.'

Rosanna reached forward and put her glass on the table carefully. ‘Lorenzo wasn't there.'

‘No. He said he wouldn't be.'

Rosanna's eyes had narrowed. ‘But—'

‘My mother loved those earrings. Did you see her?' Sophy interrupted. ‘I never thought she'd be into ones that are so dangly.'

‘I know.' Rosanna went along with the change of topic. ‘So are we going out to party now?'

Sophy laughed and shook her head. It was after one a.m. already. ‘I don't think so.'

Rosanna shrugged. ‘I can come home if you want.'

‘And eat chocolate ice cream? No, I'm going straight to bed.'

‘Okay. But if you wanted to do the ice cream, you know I'd ditch the plans.' She paused. ‘I'm going to meet up with Vance.'

‘What about Emmet? And Jay?'

‘Oh, they're going to the bar too.'

It was the most genuine laugh to burst from Sophy in days.

Rosanna's face lit up. ‘I have a surprise for you—close your eyes.'

Sophy obeyed, waited for what felt like ages. ‘Are you still there?'

‘Yes.' Rosanna chuckled. ‘Okay, you can open them now.'

Sophy did—and stared. Rosanna was wearing the necklace—
her
necklace.

‘I just loved it.' Rosanna angled her shoulders one way and then the other, showing off the sparking necklace with its looping swirl.

Sophy made herself swallow the disappointment and bring up a smile. ‘It suits you.'

‘Don't worry about the display.' Rosanna leaned forward. ‘I promised I'd bring it back in tomorrow and leave it for the duration of the festival, but I wanted to surprise you tonight.'

And she had.

Sophy gripped her cup closer to her chest. ‘You didn't have to buy it. I'd have given it to you.'

Rosanna flashed her huge smile. ‘I know, but I didn't want you to. I wanted you to be a success tonight so I bought it straight away. But then so many others sold too—you're a legend!'

Sophy was so disappointed it was embarrassing. She'd really thought it had been him. That it was going to be some grand gesture, to have her unwrap it as part of an apology and declaration—of what? His
love
?

As if.

Hot tears prickled her eyes.

‘Sophy!' Rosanna looked horrified. ‘I've made you cry.'