The Millionaire's Redemption

CHAPTER FOUR

‘THIS IS NEUTRAL for you?’

Jacques joined Lily in front of her store, and looked pointedly at the sign that said ‘Lily’s’ above the glass entrance.

‘Relax,’ she replied, though the way her heart was beating told her she was probably saying it to herself.

‘We’re just stopping here for the coffee—then we can take a walk down the beach. It’s not too busy this time of night.’

‘I usually let a woman take me out for dinner before I do romantic walks on the beach, Lily.’

Her hand froze on the door at his words, and it took her a moment to hear the store’s alarm beeping. She hurriedly entered the code, trying desperately to come up with something to say. But her mind only formulated excuses—not the sassy comeback she’d hoped for.

You should have known it wouldn’t last, a voice mocked her.

And though she wanted to deny the words she couldn’t. She’d thought it was a good idea to bring him back to her store and then to walk on the beach. She’d feel better in a familiar place, she’d told herself.

But being in that familiar place had snatched her from the fantasy world she’d been in for the past few hours. The world where she’d flirted as though she were in a thinner body. As though she had all the confidence in the world. As though she wasn’t trying with all her might to value herself.

‘This is nice,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘It’s a coffee shop and a bookstore?’

‘Yeah. I love reading and I love coffee, and a lot of the people I know do, too. So I thought it would be pretty great to have a place where you could relax and do both. And, of course, there’s the view.’

She was rambling, she knew. A combination of nerves at Jacques being there and the defensiveness she always felt when she spoke about her store.

Her parents’ warnings echoed in her head—as did their urges for her to do something more respectable than being a store-owner—and she shook it off. She had more pressing things to worry about at the moment.

‘Do you have any preferences for coffee?’

‘Black, no sugar.’

She busied herself with the task, and for a few moments there was silence.

‘You have good taste.’

The milk she was pouring spilled onto the counter. ‘Wh...what?’

‘I assume you decorated the store yourself?’

She nodded mutely, refusing to look at him in case he wore that amused expression again.

‘It’s the perfect décor for a shop like this.’

She’d gone with a blue and white colour scheme, to complement the view of the sea that stretched endlessly through the glass entrance. White bookshelves held as many books as she could fit in them—old and new—and lined the walls on either side of the shop. The wooden tables and blue-cushioned chairs were homely, comfortable—exactly what she’d been going for when she’d decorated, though she knew she’d spent hopelessly too much on them.

But she only worried about that when she did her accounts and saw how many negative numbers they had.

‘Thanks,’ she said, making quick work of the clean-up before handing him his coffee in a takeaway cup. She cleared her throat. ‘We don’t have to...to do the walk. I just thought it made sense...’

‘I was teasing, Lily.’

The smile on his lips made her stomach flip. And then there were even more gymnastics when he lifted her chin.

‘You know—that thing I do so I can see you blush?’

She took a step back. ‘You mean the thing I shouldn’t let fluster me?’

‘Exactly.’

She couldn’t help a smile at his quick answer. ‘How about we take this to the beach?’

She left her coat and her shoes in the store, and a few moments later they were walking on the sand together.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said, looking out to the water.

Waves crashed against the sand at his words, and the reflection of the full moon on the water shimmered, as though thanking Jacques for the compliment.

‘Yeah, it is. I remember going on holiday to Johannesburg when I was younger. I refused to go again when I realised there was no beach.’ She shrugged. ‘Something about a beach just—’

‘Calms you?’

‘Yeah.’ She glanced over. ‘Did the same thing ever happen to you?’

There was a bark of laughter. ‘That would have involved my parents actually taking us on holiday, so no.’

The words surprised her, and if his silence was any indication they had surprised him, too. She wanted to press him—for reasons she didn’t want to think about—but before she could Jacques jogged a few paces ahead of her. Lily watched as he threw his empty coffee cup into a nearby bin, and in a few quick movements climbed onto a large boulder.

He grinned down at her when she reached him. ‘Join me.’

‘Up there? In this dress?’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll pass.’

‘How about that one?’ Jacques nodded at the boulder next to the one he was on. It was smaller, but she still didn’t see herself up there.

‘I don’t think you understand, Jacques—’

She broke off when he jumped down next to her, threw her coffee cup into the same bin—despite the fact that hers had only been half-empty—and took her free hand.

‘Come on—it’ll be a good place to talk.’

Helpless to do otherwise, she let him lead her to the next boulder, but stopped when they reached it.

‘I don’t see how this is going to work.’

‘Like this.’

She felt his hands on her waist, and realised his intentions too late—he was already lifting her.

‘Oh, no, Jacques,’ she gasped. ‘I’m too heavy—’

But she didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence since her feet were already on the smooth, cold granite of the boulder.

A few moments later, Jacques joined her. ‘Did you just say that you were too heavy?’

He barely sounded winded, and it took Lily a while to find her words. She was too busy wondering whether she’d overestimated her weight or underestimated his strength. Since she didn’t live in a world where the former was ever a reality, she settled on the second.

‘I guess not,’ she finally answered him.

‘You think you’re heavy?’

‘I...well... Kyle wasn’t as strong as you are,’ she finished lamely.

He gave her a strange look, but didn’t say anything. Instead he offered a hand, gesturing that they should sit. She ignored the spark that zipped through her at the contact, and snatched her hand back as soon as she was sitting.

‘Thanks for agreeing to have coffee with me,’ he said when he settled down beside her.

‘It was the least I could do after you helped me with Kyle. Even if you did throw most of mine in the bin.’

‘Sorry...’

Jacques smiled apologetically, but something on his face told her there was more.

He confirmed it when he said, ‘I actually wanted to talk to you in private because...’

He took a breath, and she felt a frisson of nerves deep inside.

‘I was hoping you would do a little more than just have coffee with me.’

‘What do you want?’ she asked stiffly, hearing a voice mocking her in her head.

Did you really think he was being nice to you because he liked you?

‘Nothing we haven’t already managed to pull off.’ He paused. ‘I’d like you to pretend to be my girlfriend.’

CHAPTER FIVE

IT SOUNDED SILLY even as he said it—more so when he saw the look on her face—but he ignored the feeling. This was the point of continuing the charade for so long. This was the point of asking her out for coffee.

It shouldn’t matter that the easiness they’d shared this past half an hour—the ease responsible for that slip about his parents—had dissipated.

‘Are you sure you just want me to pretend to be a girlfriend?’ she asked quietly.

‘Yes. We’ve done a pretty good job at convincing Kyle. A few more people wouldn’t hurt.’

‘“A few more” isn’t quite the number, though, is it?’

Wondering how she knew, he answered, ‘Fine, it’s a lot more than a few. But you won’t actually be on television. I just need the people at the studio to know you exist, so when I mention you on air it’ll be believable.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Latte Mornings. I have an interview on the show tomorrow morning.’ He frowned, realising now that they weren’t on the same page. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I heard your conversation, remember?’

She looked straight at him, and if her words hadn’t surprised him he might have acknowledged the way his stomach tightened in response.

‘You need a wife, right? Someone who will make you more...palatable to the public for some business deal you’re working on?’

‘Hold on.’ He took a deep breath. ‘You don’t get to make assumptions about things you overheard—out of context, I might add—in a private conversation.’

Her cheeks flushed, and the spirit that had had her looking him in the eye earlier faded as she averted her gaze. ‘I’m sorry that I eavesdropped, Jacques, but I... I can’t be your wife.’

‘I’m not asking you to marry me, Lily.’

‘Then what do you want from me?’

‘I just want you to pretend to be my girlfriend. You may have overheard that I’m not entirely willing to marry someone to get the public to like me.’ Not if I don’t have to. ‘But you gave me the idea tonight that I could pretend to have a nice, respectable girlfriend and that might have the same effect.’

‘And that’s the real reason you wanted coffee?

‘Yeah. It isn’t that much to ask, considering that I did the same for you tonight.’

He shouldn’t feel bad about this. He shouldn’t have to defend himself.

So why was he?

‘And maybe if you’d asked me straight I would have agreed. But instead you just told me to continue the charade for a bit longer—which now, of course, I realise is because you wanted to test whether it would actually have an effect, and not because you wanted to annoy Kyle—and then “coffee”.’ She lifted her hands in air quotes. ‘You manipulated me.’

‘And what you did wasn’t manipulation?’ he snapped back at her, guilt spurring his words. The picture she had painted reminded him too much of his father.

‘I didn’t manipulate you,’ she answered primly. ‘I told you why I did what I did. I was honest with you as soon as I had the chance to be.’

He shrugged, pretended her words didn’t affect him. ‘And I’m a businessman. I know how to capitalise on opportunities.’

‘This isn’t an opportunity,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m not an opportunity.’

‘Of course not.’ He said the words before he could think about how they might undermine the cool exterior he was aiming for.

‘Then stop treating me like one.’

She was right, he thought, and then remembered that she’d said if he’d been straight with her maybe she would have agreed.

‘You’re right—and I’m sorry for the way I went about this.’

She gave him a look that told him she didn’t entirely trust his words. That look combined with the wounded expression just behind the guard she was trying so desperately to keep up, made him feel a stab of guilt.

He had manipulated her. And he should know, since he’d witnessed his father manipulating his mother for his entire childhood. Somehow the man had made his wife believe that telling their children they were disappointments, failures, was normal. That raising them without the love and support parents were supposed to give was acceptable. And his mother, so desperately in love with a man who had only wanted her for her money, hadn’t believed she’d deserved more.

That her children had deserved better.

When Jacques had finally managed to convince his mother to kick his father out it had only taken his father a few minutes to change her mind. And now Jacques regretted it. The trying. The hope. The fact that he’d done it on the night of the championship.

It had been the reason he’d been so easily provoked into the fight that had got him suspended for three years. That had lost his team their chance to be a part of the international league they had fought so hard to play for.

It was why buying the Shadows now was so important. And why he needed to make amends with Lily.

‘Would you give me another chance to ask you to be my girlfriend? My pretend one, of course.’ He wasn’t sure why he clarified it, but it made him feel better.

‘If you tell me why you need a pretend girlfriend, yes.’

He nodded, and forced himself to say the words.

‘Seven years ago I was suspended from playing rugby.’ It took more strength than he’d thought it would to say the words. ‘I got into a fight that cost my team a championship game and the chance of playing in the highest league they could play in.’

She interlaced her fingers and rested her hands in her lap. ‘What was the fight about?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he answered, because it was true.

‘The scar?’ she asked, tapping at her lip.

He wondered what intrigued her so much about it, but only nodded. There was a beat of silence before she spoke again.

‘It must have been important if it cost you something that clearly meant so much to you.’

Maybe it had been important to him once—the chance of a family without his father. Now Jacques thought he’d been fighting over something that hadn’t been worth nearly as much as it had cost him.

‘It doesn’t matter,” he said again. ‘It’s only the effect the entire thing had on my reputation that does.’ He paused. ‘I heard recently from a few business associates that my old rugby club is going to be sold soon, and I want to be the one to buy it. Except I’ve been told that some of the club’s biggest sponsors will pull out if it’s sold to me. The only way to prevent that, it seems, is to build a more...positive reputation.’

She stared at him. ‘You’re seriously telling me that people care that much about your reputation?’

‘Apparently.’

‘And the only thing you did to get this negative reputation was have a fight?’

‘One that lost my team the championship and an opportunity.’

‘Yes, of course—but that’s it?’

He hesitated. ‘Well...’

Jacques really wasn’t interested in rehashing the details of the year when he’d spiralled into the depression that had damaged his reputation even more.

‘Well...?’ Lily repeated, a single brow arching in a way that made him forget the tension of the conversation they were having.

‘The year after I was suspended I spent a lot of time... Well, I spent some time on a self-destructive path,’ he said once he had steadied himself.

‘What does that mean?’

‘I...’ He’d hoped his explanation would be enough. ‘I told myself that I didn’t care what people thought about me, and I did exactly what I wanted to.’

And yet, ironically, it had been caring about what people thought that had made him act that way in the first place.

When she didn’t speak after a few moments, he found himself asking, ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’

‘What did that entail?’ she said in lieu of a reply.

He tried to formulate an answer, but nothing he could say would make him look good.

‘I can’t help you if I don’t know the truth, Jacques.’

‘Parties. A lot of swearing at journalists. Women.’ He ran a hand through his hair, wondering how telling her all this intimidated him more than tackling the largest of men on a rugby field. ‘What more do you want me to say?’

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