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to hug me.”
“What about Felicity?”
She shrugged. “Fliss was needy. I’m not going to say more. I loved her. She loved me.”
“But she was draining, too,” he said slowly.
“Yes.”
“What about James—he was your brother. Didn’t he look after you?”
She sighed. “I told you, we were separated. And he got in with the wrong crowd.”
Damon shook his head, wishing he was hearing something different.
“Drugs.” Rebecca sighed. “He got into drugs. He was in a downward spiral.”
“So he was needy, too.”
“Kind of. But his foster parents had a younger teen. They didn’t want him influenced by James.”
“And so…?” he prompted.
“I convinced his foster parents to get him help. It took two years, quite a bit of money—some of which I had to pay—and he cleaned up his act. I was working by then, for Aaron.”
She stared past him with unseeing eyes, the sorrow reflecting only the ghosts of the past. Damon’s throat tightened. He pressed a kiss meant to comfort on top of her head.
“So that’s how you met.”
She nodded. “He asked me out. I said no. After all, what would a wealthy guy like him want with me except for the obvious? I was young, not stupid.”
Damon couldn’t believe she’d placed such a low value on herself. But given her upbringing, he imagined her self-esteem would have been rock-bottom. “No, never only that. Aaron Grainger was a wise man.” Far wiser than he had been. “He saw a woman who was intelligent, funny, smart.”
She looked up at him, doubt in her face. “You think so?”
“I know so.” He swallowed. “Now tell me about Grainger.”
“Aaron wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept asking.”
Of course Grainger had kept asking—she was beautiful…and young. How young? he wondered. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
Eighteen. Grainger deserved to be shot; he’d been at least fifteen years older. “And then…?”
“Fliss wanted to become a chef. She’d done a couple of local cooking courses, but she wanted to train in France. And James was in trouble again—this was before he got his life back together.”
Damon closed his eyes, suspecting what was coming. He remembered how proud he’d been of his wife’s talents, her Cordon Bleu skills. Never had he realised how they’d been financed. And he’d had the gall to tell Rebecca on one occasion that she should take a leaf out of Fliss’s book, to stop trying to be the world’s greatest entrepreneur and get some skills. As Fliss had.
God, how arrogant he’d been!
He wished he could take every thoughtless, cruel comment back.
Rebecca hadn’t uttered a word in her own defence. Hadn’t pointed out she’d been getting things done while those around her clung to her for support. He couldn’t help wondering what else she’d failed to tell him.
“Okay, so you asked Grainger for the money to pay for all that, and he demanded you marry him in return,” he said flatly and he held her tight in his arms.
“No, no.” She gave him another of those strange, unfathomable looks. “I asked Aaron for a loan to pay for Fliss’s plane ticket and Cordon Bleu course. I found a fabulous therapist for James to see. Aaron was fantastic, refused to accept interest on the loan, said I worked hard. I started staying later each day to make up for the interest-free bit. He insisted on taking me to dinner a couple of times. I discovered I liked him.”
“I’m sure you did.” Damon remembered how personable Grainger had been and found himself resenting the manipulation the other man had used. What eighteen-year-old could have resisted that? Let alone one who was starved of attention. Rebecca would’ve had no social life, only debt to work off. She’d have been a pushover.
“It was so nice to have someone else to lean on for a change. I told him about my dream. I wanted to be independent. One day I wanted to start a business of my own. He encouraged me, offered me a loan.”
“Interest-free again?” Damon found he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.
“No, this time the loan was done through the bank. But he arranged me a good deal with a low interest rate. The day I left his employ and started Dream Occasions he took me out to dinner, ordered champagne—the real French stuff—told me he’d already referred me to a whole lot of friends and colleagues.” She smiled. “I was a little horrified. Then he told me he loved me and asked me if I would marry him.”
She had felt obligated! The man had played Svengali to her Trilby.
“You didn’t have to marry him.”
“I know. But I was nineteen by then.” She shrugged, matter-of-fact. “What do you know at nineteen? I’d always wanted security and Aaron handed it to me. I thought my dreams had come true. It all happened so fast.”
And just as fast she’d been the manhunter of the year, snaring one of Auckland’s most elusive bachelors, establishing a successful business.
The piranhas had been circling.
“There were rumors,” he said slowly.
“About my lover? The drug addict? That was James.”
It made sense.
“And the others?”
“Others?”
“The other lovers?”
She stared at him, her dark eyes flat and unfathomable. “What about them?”
“Tell me about them.” His chest contracted at his demand.
Her face had lost all animation. “I’ve told you before. I don’t kiss and tell.”
“But what about my brother?” Pain like a knife twisted in Damon’s chest. “Surely I deserve to know about him?”
She struggled out of his arms. “I told you—he never was my lover.” Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her hands hanging loose between her knees.
Damn, he didn’t want her so far away. He wanted her back in his arms. “When? When did you me tell that?”
She turned to look at him. “When you threw it at me that he was T.J.’s father.”
“No,” he said slowly, trying to remember back to the exact words she’d used. “You denied that he was T.J.’s father—you never denied sleeping with him.”
“Oh.”
He could see her thinking about it, myriad thoughts crossing her delicate face.
“Well, I haven’t,” she said finally.
Could he trust her on this?
His heart wanted to. Straightening, Damon caught her chin in his hand and searched her eyes. They were dark, filled with secrets. But she met his gaze without flinching. At last he released her chin.
“You believe me?”
He did. No, he was confused. Hell, he didn’t know what to think anymore.
And there was still the boy. “So who the devil is T.J.’s father?”
“Does it matter?”
Her secrets ate at him. She consumed him. He wanted to know everything about her. Of course it mattered! “I don’t want to one day walk into a room and be faced with