Chapter 46
Lucas
Idon’t want your money.
No one in my life has ever said those words to me. Not once.
Other than my family, almost everyone I meet, and certainly any woman I have ever dated, has wanted me for the money I have or the lifestyle I lead. Amelia is continually reminding me that I am with a different class of woman now, and in the best way.
My heart is thudding as we move through the bustling corridors of the hospital. I follow her out of Annabelle’s room, along the hallway, and out into a small courtyard.
A light rain is falling. Amelia’s hair becomes peppered with drops as she walks ahead of me. She doesn’t seem to register that we’re slowly getting covered in a fine film of water as she whirls around to face me.
She’s beautiful even now, despite the strain and exhaustion on her face. Her hair is pinned back in some kind of claw contraption, and her eyes are flashing fire.
“What are you doing here?” she demands again, sounding and looking genuinely furious. “What the hell did you go to my house for? You had no right. Was my dad rude to you? We’re moving out of there.”
It’s a stream of consciousness, and I’m not sure which question I should answer first.
“I came to find you.”
“Because I didn’t come to work? I barely do anything in that place, and what I am involved in, I’m sure you can find someone else to manage for you.”
I square my shoulders, not liking the dismissive way she describes herself.
“You didn’t show up on one of the most important days for my company. This deal is going to change everything, and you were part of that. I wanted to find out where you were?”
She scoffs. “A part of it? You mean, you flew me out to the Maldives to make sure you had a plus one for dinner?”
“Amelia.” My voice echoes around the walls. She looks back at me, eyes wide. “You were part of this. Whether you like it or not.”
“Fine, I was hugely instrumental in getting it over the line, happy?”
There are dark circles beneath her eyes. I hate seeing her like this; she looks strung out and stressed, and I realize now that it’s a look she carries wherever she goes. Always beautiful, but a little sad.
“What’s happening with your sister?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“I don’t deserve an explanation?” I ask quietly.
She plucks at a loose thread of her sweater. She’s wearing one of the pairs of pants Eleanora selected for her. The expensive fabric is trailing on the ground around her sneakers, absorbing the water as the rain gets heavier.
“Tell me.” I insist. “I have ways of finding out if you don’t.”
She rolls her eyes and actually stamps her foot, but eventually flicks a loose strand of hair out of her face and shakes her head.
“She’s sick.”
“How sick?”
“Very sick.” Her throat convulses on a swallow, and I wait, my chest tightening at the thought that her sister could be dying.
“The reason I took this job is because of the money, okay? I needed the paycheck. I’d been working three jobs before this, and I was exhausted.
Sterling House was a way for me not to have to worry about money anymore, to get my evenings and weekends back, to be there for Annabelle. ”
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. A section of it comes loose, and I itch to curl it behind her ear.
“Annabelle has a rare form of leukemia. It’s aggressive, and she’s declined a lot this year. It’s why I was so desperate, it’s why I…” she trails off, and a knot of tension forms between my shoulder blades.
“It’s why you took a job like this,” I say flatly.
“I’m not ashamed of it,” she says, standing up a little taller. “But yes, I wouldn’t have chosen to do it if I had any other option. I needed a lot of money to pay for the treatment, and working with you has allowed me to save up.”
“What will the money pay for?”
“It’s a new drug. Experimental. But the results are staggering. For people like Annabelle, it could be life-changing. Some patients have even been cured.”
Her whole face lights up at that word.
“I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she says, as if trying to convince herself. “But if my sister responds well, she could gain years back. She could live to an old age. It offers a chance of remission and survival that nothing else does.”
“How much does it cost?”
Her eyes sharpen as she looks at me. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I’ve already thought about it. You might not want my help, but I’m not letting you spend every penny you have on your sister when I could pay for it with pocket change.”
“Half a million dollars is pocket change to you?”
I smile with satisfaction. “No. But now you told me how much it is.”
“That’s an estimate, and you are not paying for this, Lucas! I absolutely refuse. No!”
“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”
She scowls at me, a reaction I confess I wasn’t expecting, and I raise my eyebrows as she steps forward, one finger pointing at me.
“If this is your idea of a severance package, forget it. I saw you pull away from me during the trip, and I know you only ever stick with the women you hire for a few weeks. You are not paying for my sister’s treatment so that you can fire me without guilt. Forget it.”
My anger flares, and I step forward, so there is only an inch between us. She doesn’t back down, her eyes a furious, blazing green. It’s a side of her I haven’t seen often, and just like everything else about her, it turns me on like nothing else.
“Who said I’m bored with you?” I demand.
“We had a silent flight home, didn’t we? The only time you spoke to me was to tell me you’d fuck me so well no other man would ever measure up.”
“And I stand by that,” I say darkly. “Maybe you just need another lesson on who’s in charge here,” I growl and grip her upper arms, yanking her toward me and crushing my mouth over hers in a molten kiss that almost blows the top of my head off.
She melts against me with a little moan of surrender, and as her mouth opens, I push my tongue against hers. But after a few seconds, she pulls back, pushing me roughly away from her.
“I don’t want your money, Lucas. I needed it to begin with, and I’m not too proud to admit that without the job, I wouldn’t be standing here. But this isn’t your responsibility. It’s mine and I will manage it.”
“How do you plan to do that?” I ask.
“I’ll think of something.”
I plan to beg her to allow me to help her. The words are on the tip of my tongue to tell her that at this moment, I would do anything, anything to be able to make her life that much easier. I would pay tens of millions just to see her smile again.
But what I hear come out of my mouth is quite different.
“I’m paying for it. You don’t have a choice.”