The Billionaire's Beautiful Intruder (Billionaire Knights Book 3) (8 page)

T
he next few
days Molly lived as in a haze. The sudden entrance into her life of Steve, and his equally abrupt departure, had plunged her into a deep pit of emotional turmoil. She kept replaying the scenes of their brief moments together on Tyler Island, and kept hoping Steve would call, but of course he didn’t.

It was obvious that she’d been simply a short interlude in his life, a brief fling that had been pleasurable but highly forgettable. She would never feature in his thoughts, she recognized, as he’d probably already forgotten she even existed.

She’d received a call from Malcolm, who’d been alerted of her return—no doubt by Steve’s office—and inquired how she was feeling and if everything had worked out. She’d told him the truth: that she hadn’t really been of any help down there. That her presence had been unwanted and unnecessary, and the clucking of his tongue had told her he already regretted sending her out there.

“Take some time off, Molly,” he said magnanimously. “You’ve earned it.”

Seeing as she hadn’t taken a vacation in two years she knew this wasn’t his kind heart speaking but simply his acknowledgment of her legal rights.

At first she’d been inclined to turn him down and get back to work immediately, but then figured she might just as well stay home for a few days.

The first day she’d cleaned her small apartment, the second day she’d gone shopping, to stock her kitchen cupboards, and the third day the walls had already started closing in on her, her mind spinning the scenes that she’d lived through over and over again, and wondering if she would ever see Steve again.

In truth, she realized as the day drew to a close, she’d been hoping against hope that Steve would call and that they would spend some time together. Of course that had been wishful thinking, as she should have known.

Still, when the doorbell jangled she jumped up from her couch where she’d been channel surfing. She quickly went over to answer the door, but when she saw it was Mrs. Merkel she was hard pressed not to show her disappointment. What did she think? That Steve Knight made house calls? Of course he didn’t.

“Hi, Molly,” Joan said, stepping into her apartment. The pint-sized gray-haired prune-faced old woman was carrying the bag of kibble she’d forgotten to return to her. “How was your trip? No, don’t tell me. It was cut short, huh?”

She’d explained to Joan what had happened, but the old lady wasn’t merely hard of hearing but her mind had the tendency to drift in and out of focus.

“Yes, that’s right. Steve had to be back in London because of some business emergency, so instead of one month I was only on the island for three days.”

“Too bad!” croaked Joan. “I know you needed that vacation!” She patted Molly’s arm. “You work too hard. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“Actually I’m on vacation right now,” she announced.

“You are? So what are you still doing here, then? Why don’t you go and visit some nice place down South? Fly to Spain or Portugal or something.”

Joan, who was a sun addict, always wintered in Spain, in a town called Benidorm, for she couldn’t stand the dreary London weather and the cold chill.

“I—I don’t really feel like going there,” she said lamely.

The truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to go away right now, a silly hope still burning in her bosom that Steve would call at some point. Even though she knew that hope was slim and getting slimmer with each passing day.

“You should get away anyway, honey,” the older woman told her bossily. “You can use the break. You look like death warmed over!”

She did look haggard and drawn, but how could she explain her complexion wasn’t something that could be remedied with a trip to Spain? That only Steve’s love and sweet caress could heal her broken heart?

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all.”

Joan looked at her critically. “Man trouble?” she suddenly asked.

“What? No!” she responded, aghast.

Joan searched her face. “Each time my daughter looks like you it’s because some guy left her and she’s pining for him—positively pining for the moron!”

“I can assure you there’s no man in my life,” she replied truthfully.

“Pity. You could do with a good shag,” Joan returned quite outrageously.

“What?!” she cried, laughing in shocked astonishment.

“Pardon my French, honey,” the old woman said with a crooked grin. “You young girls think you’re all invincible, working nine to five, never taking a break or going on a vacation. I know women’s lib teaches you lot that the only stallion you need is an electrical one, but let me tell you, nothing can replace a good man in your bed. And I should know. I married four of them! God rest their souls. And I would marry a fifth if I could tie one down.” The corners of her mouth drooped. “Men are awfully choosy these days, and they’re all on Tinder, Badoo or some other nonsense. Nothing like a good old-fashioned ball to meet a fella! Look him in the eye and see for yourself what meat you got on your hook. But no! They’re all into this virtual stuff—and younger women, of course. Only last week a guy at the community center dance hooked up with a woman thirty years his junior. She’s fifty-six to his eighty-six. Can you believe it?”

Shaking her head, Molly said she couldn’t, and felt truly sorry for Joan.

The visit over, she quickly closed the door, a smile still on her lips. Her friend had the power to lift her spirits like no one could. Well, unless that someone was called Steve Knight, of course, she thought with a sigh, and returned to the couch.

And as if by magic, Steve suddenly appeared on the screen. He was at some press conference with his two brothers, Stuart and Michael, and they were announcing that the merger between Press Corp and Knight Enterprises was sound and that the head of Press Corp was stepping down. This Leila Holmes, who’d apparently caused all the trouble, was being replaced by… her own father! The old guy, who looked in his seventies, was rearing to go, however, as he announced he hadn’t been particularly pleased with the way his daughter was running things. And since retirement was for saps he was stepping up to the plate again, to put in another term as CEO, working hand in hand with the Knights, who he praised as the best thing that ever happened to Press Corp.

Molly wasn’t interested in the least by all this talk. Her eyes were fixed on Steve, and she thought he looked more hunky than ever in his charcoal power suit. He’d shaved his beard, and a noticeable scar was revealed beneath his bottom lip. It made him look sexy as hell, she decided. She was also struck by the obvious resemblance with his two brothers, who were both tall and strikingly handsome as well.

Then a reporter spoke and Molly sat up, her eyes riveted to the screen.

“Are you going to disappear on us again, Steve? Or are you back for good?”

Steve looked straight into the camera, and announced, “I’m back for good. I’m going to take up my position at the head of the company again, side by side with Mike and Stu, and we’re going to do some great things for the community. I needed some time away but now I’m back, and I can tell you I’m here to stay.”

Molly’s heart sank even as her pride in Steve soared. He was back, but not back in her life. He would be busy at the helm of Knight Enterprises, of course, and would have no time to visit the island again—their island as she now saw it.

Pride warred with sorrow, but eventually pride won. Steve had really managed to overcome his issues, and was now standing shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. Why couldn’t she do the same and overcome her own problems and return to her life, grateful for the experience she’d had, and wishing Steve all the best?

She could see the female reporters smiling and laughing and trying to catch Steve’s eye, and knew that it would only be a matter of time before he started dating again, perhaps found a woman to settle down with and start a family. Something he could never do with her, she knew, which was why she shouldn’t harbor any hopes for him to return to her. Men like Steven Knight wanted a woman who could produce an heir. Not a barren creature like her. She was only good for one night of pleasure, but beyond that her usefulness ended.

She spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, staring into nothingness, as she tried to fight down the sense of despair and gloom that had filled her life from the moment she’d returned to London. And just as she was getting up to turn in for the night, the doorbell rang again, and she slouched over, fully expecting to find Joan. But when she opened the door she was surprised to find Steve standing there, filling the doorframe, and looking as amazingly handsome as he had at his press conference.

“
S
teve
!” she cried, startled. “What—what are you doing here?”

Steve’s mood dropped. He’d hoped she’d be happy to see him. He hadn’t been able to get away, Leila Holmes’s plans having developed to the extent that she’d nearly done the impossible and taken over Knight Enterprises. It had taken all their skill and powers of persuasion to find the solution in Roderick Homes, who’d plotted against his own daughter to regain control of the group and boot her out.

“I—we have a job offer for you, Molly,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice. He gestured to the apartment. “May I come in?”

She stepped back, and he thought he could see disappointment flickering in her eyes. Of course. She didn’t want him here. She’d probably wished she’d seen the last of him. He was, after all, scarred for life, just like she was, and even though he’d hoped those scars would create a bond, they obviously hadn’t.

He walked into the apartment and allowed his gaze to travel around. It was very nicely appointed, with a sitting nook, small kitchen, living space. All neat and tidy. Pictures of holiday destinations lined light-tinted walls, potted plants placed on every available surface to add a homely and airy feel to the place.

His eyes were drawn to a door behind which he could see her bed, covered in a purple bedspread. So that was where she slept. Where she placed her weary head at night and sleep found her. A yearning lanced through him that had kept him awake these past few nights. A longing to be with her, to touch her, to hold her and to make love with her over and over again. She’d gotten under his skin and refused to leave, and he’d been thinking about her all the time since they’d parted. Now, however, he knew that he had no right to expect that she felt the same for him—that she yearned with the same heat and urgent passion for him.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you this, but while I was on the island all those months an idea occurred to me that I would like to see come to fruition. Tyler Island has been essential in restoring my health and equilibrium, and I would like it to do the same for others. Wounded vets recovering from burn wounds who need a place to heal, away from the world’s prying eyes, could find the rugged environment equally helpful. I’m convinced a short sojourn on Tyler Island could work wonders for them.”

He glared at a picture of Molly with a man, and wondered if he was a boyfriend. She’d been a virgin, so he definitely wasn’t her lover. But what wasn’t could always be, of course.

“What does this have to do with me?” she asked, her arms folded across her chest. She knew she was acting cold, but the way he’d come in here, all businesslike, as if what had happened between them hadn’t happened at all, gutted her. He was acting like they were strangers, not the lovers they’d become.

“I was coming to that,” he told her curtly.

God, he looked amazing, she decided. He’d removed his suit vest and his powerful frame stretched taut his shirt, pushing at the seams. Her eyes were drawn to the scar on his chin, and she longed to trace its contours with her fingers—with her lips.

“I’m in the process of setting up a foundation. The Knight Foundation will coordinate the building of the necessary facilities over the course of the next six months. We won’t be disturbing the wildlife or the fauna and flora and we won’t be putting up too many people there either. A selection committee will work hand in glove with the military and with Saint-Michael’s to select people in need of such an opportunity, and I will personally be on the committee that makes that decision.” He swiveled round, and fixed her with an intent look. “It is my prerogative to offer you the position of Medical Director of the Knight Foundation. You will, if you choose to accept the offer, be in charge of the medical side of things—training and running the small team that will be on-site.”

She frowned, the prospect of going out there all by herself, without Steve, not a very appealing one. Tyler Island without him simply wouldn’t be the same.

He interpreted her hesitation differently, however, for he told her in clipped tones, “If you’re worried about the remuneration, I can assure you that the Knight Foundation plans to reward you quite handsomely.” He hesitated. “If this project works out as anticipated, I plan to expand it to other destinations as well, so your workload, though modest at first, is bound to increase over time.”

“Other destinations?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, we own other islands like Tyler, and we would like to develop more of them so their benefits don’t just serve the Knight family but the whole community. People in need of solitude and the comfort of a pristine natural environment to help restore them to full mental and physical health. You would be stationed in London, and oversee several facilities across the globe, occasionally flying out to inspect them and to guide and supervise your teams.”

She recognized this was the chance of a lifetime. The chance to do good for a lot of people and not just the small number of people she was taking care of now.

“But… why me?” she asked. “I mean, I’m just a nurse. I don’t have the experience to run big medical teams—to be a Medical Director.”

“The teams will be quite small, and dedicated. Just like you,” he said softly. Suddenly she found that the distance between them had diminished and Steve was now standing in front of her. “And you won’t be alone,” he added. “I will handle the operational side, while you do what you do best. Taking care of people.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You mean, we’ll work together?”

He nodded. “That’s the idea.”

Her heart jumped against her breastbone in eager anticipation at the thought of working side by side with Steve. To be with him every day. But then she saw that the only part of her he was interested in was her professional part, not her heart or anything else she had to offer. The realization was like a cold shower, effectively dousing her initial jubilation. So she stepped away from him, and said, “You’ve got the wrong woman, Steve. I can’t possibly accept your offer.”

And she couldn’t, of course. It would simply be agony, to be so close to him, knowing all the time that the yearning she felt for him would never be reciprocated. It would be pure torture, and her heart wouldn’t be able to bear it. It would kill her to see Steve move on with his life. To watch him date other women and eventually settle down and start a family. All while she stood by and was forced to look on from the sidelines. It would quite simply devastate her.

His lips had hardened, and she knew he wouldn’t take her refusal well. From what she’d seen of the Knight clan they didn’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll give you a couple of days to think about it,” he finally told her tersely.

“I don’t need a couple of days, Steve. I’ve made up my mind. I won’t do it.”

He knew the reason she wouldn’t take the job was his involvement, of course. He’d made love to her and even though she hadn’t told him the revulsion she felt was evident, and now she couldn’t even stand the sight of him. He cast another glance at the picture frame on the wall, of her and this other guy, and his mood soured even more, for he’d suddenly recognized him. Malcolm. Her manager. Before dropping in on her he’d called the man, clueing him in about the offer he was about to make to Molly. Wanting to know if this would inconvenience Saint-Michael’s too much, as her patients meant the world to her.

If she had his picture on her wall it meant she felt more for him than their mere relationship implied. Why else keep a picture of her boss up there?

And now he saw the whole picture. Not only was she revolted by the sight of him after they’d made love, she couldn’t stand the thought of being away from this Malcolm guy. She loved him and longed for him, even though he wasn’t interested. Unrequited love would induce her to turn down a lucrative offer.

Sudden rage swept through him—not jealousy, of course, but merely disappointment at the setback this would mean for the Knight Foundation. Nothing more. So told her gruffly, “I want you to think about this, Molly. Long and hard. For this opportunity won’t be on the table forever.” And with those ominous words, and a last furious look at the woman who’d come to mean more to him in three days than others in a lifetime, he swept from the apartment.