Chapter Seventeen
Kingi
I put it to the back of my mind while I meet with a couple of city execs who want to talk about the development of a new office block in the CBD, then catch up on some work while I have lunch at my desk—a perfect Caesar salad made by our French chef.
While I eat, I realize how little I know about Sabrina.
We only dated for a few weeks, and in that time, we didn’t have any heart to hearts.
We mostly met at parties and restaurants, or when other people were present, and even when she did come back to my place, after we had sex we still didn’t talk much. I feel a bit ashamed of that now.
Wanting to be prepared, I do a Google search and click on a few links, and what I find totally shocks me. I sit in stunned silence for a while, Chessie’s words playing over in my mind: Remember the fable about the North Wind and the Sun? Persuasion is always better than force.
Hmm. Maybe she’s right.
Eventually, I pick up my phone and call Mikaere from the Foundation to run an idea past him.
After that, I go out to my car and head for the ferry.
It’s a gorgeous May Day, and I park the car, make my way up to the deck, then get a coffee from the shop.
It’s not long before we get going, and I lean on the railing and sip my latte, looking down at the dolphins swimming alongside the boat and thinking about Chessie.
I’m sure it was difficult for her to mention going to see Sabrina, but I think she understands that I need to put this ghost to rest. I behaved badly with Sabrina, and for some reason, Tane’s clause about acting like a gentleman stung.
He might well have had Sabrina in mind when he wrote it, and I understand that.
She was right at the ball—I treated her like shit and then wondered why she reacted badly.
She’s a person with feelings, and she obviously liked me and wanted our relationship to develop, and I discarded her like an old sock without a second thought.
I’m ashamed, and I need to try and put it right. Will Sabrina be amenable to a truce? Or will she continue to be spiteful after she realizes I’m not going over to try and win her back?
I ponder on that as the ferry draws into the terminal, and I make my way back to the Porsche and head the car out.
The lower half of her apartment block is a hotel, with the upper half containing very upmarket apartments going for a couple of million and more.
I park the car just down from the block, walk to the building, and find my way to the coffee shop.
I’ve just ordered myself another latte when I glance over at the door and see her come in.
I don’t know what I expected; she’s always been dressed to the nines every time I’ve seen her, usually with perfect hair, nails, and makeup.
Today, though, she’s wearing a light-gray tracksuit, albeit a designer one.
Her hair is in a ponytail, and instead of high heels she’s wearing trainers.
Her makeup is still immaculate, but done with neutral shades rather than bright colors.
“Hey,” I say as she approaches. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”
She slides her hands into the pockets of her tracksuit top. “What do you want?”
“Can I buy you a coffee?”
She looks past me at the assistant behind the counter and says, “Trim cappuccino please.”
He nods and starts making it.
“How are you?” I ask her politely.
“Fine.”
I wonder whether I should point out that if she’s pregnant, she shouldn’t really be drinking coffee. I decide that’s probably not a good way to start the conversation.
We wait in silence until our drinks are ready, then take them over to a table by a window overlooking a side garden. We sit and sip our coffees. I’d run through several conversation starters in my head, but now she’s sitting here before me none of them seem to work.
“You look nice today,” I say, meaning it.
She looks down at herself. Then her lips twist. “I thought you’d like the outfit.”
Oh… Realization sinks in. She’s dressed this way because she wants to look like Chessie. She thinks this is what I want.
“Sabrina,” I say gently, “I’m not here to try to win you back.”
She has cool gray eyes, quite beautiful, and they scan my face now as if trying to see whether I’m telling the truth. She blinks, then looks down at her coffee cup. “I know.” She picks it up, has a sip, and flicks me a brief smile. “It was worth trying, though.”
It’s flattering to think she still wants me back, and kinda crazy too considering what happened at the ball. I can’t work out if she’s vulnerable and hurt or just a psycho.
I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and go with vulnerable and hurt. I lean my forearms on the table and look her in the eyes. “I wanted to see you to apologize.”
She surveys me cautiously. “For what? For sleeping with me?” Her brow furrows.
“No. I don’t regret it.” It’s a lie, but I make sure to hold her gaze. “We had fun, didn’t we?” She gives a small nod. She might not have been enthusiastic in bed, but I made sure she enjoyed it, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t fake it.
“I thought you liked me,” she says in a small voice.
“I did. I wouldn’t have taken you to bed if I hadn’t. You’re beautiful and spirited, and you deserve much better than me.”
She blinks, and her eyes turn a little glassy. Then she lifts her chin and says, “Yes, I do.”
“You absolutely do.”
I read the headlines, too. She lives her life in the spotlight, and I have no doubt she’s been used by many men. I remind myself of what I discovered online this morning. I’m convinced she is just vulnerable and hurting.
I decide to opt for honesty, as far as I can without admitting everything about Chessie.
“There are many times in my life where I haven’t behaved well,” I begin.
“Money does that to you. It makes you think you’re above other people, and that you have the power to take what you want, and then cast it away when you’re done.
After the headline about me jumping off the waterfall drunk, Mikaere at the Ngā Whetū Rangatahi Foundation gave me a dressing down about my behavior and said I need to step up my game if I’m going to be a role model for the young people in the community, and he’s right.
He said I need to act respectably, and to be someone who values commitment, not just the spotlight.
And he suggested that having someone by my side who reflects my values would reassure our donors. ”
Her eyebrows lift. “That’s why you proposed to Francesca?”
“Obviously, it’s not the only reason. But it was a factor.
It was an odd coincidence; I left the meeting with the board and went for a walk, and literally bumped into Chessie.
We went for a coffee and got talking, and we got on really well.
I know she’s not part of our world, but that’s kind of the point—does that make sense?
She’s down to earth and practical, and she grounds me.
” With some surprise, I realize it’s true.
Sabrina nods slowly. “I can see that.”
“We dated for a few weeks, and I just fell for her, and it was like everything slotted into place. I didn’t set out to hurt you, although I know I did.”
She looks down at her coffee cup and scratches at a mark on the lid.
“I really want to help these kids,” I say softly. “There are so many young people out there who are struggling, and who don’t have the opportunities I was born with. I think you know all about that.”
Her gaze snaps up to me, and she stares at me for a moment. Then she shrugs. “I guess it’s not difficult to track me down on the internet.”
I’d assumed she was born into money, but after researching this morning, I discovered she was born in one of the poorer suburbs of Auckland and is the daughter of a single mom.
Her Māori father has never been in the picture, and her mother raised her single-handed.
After she left school she became a dancer in a nightclub, made a few risqué movies, then met a rich older guy, and married him at eighteen.
He paid for her to go to university to study fashion because it was her dream, and she stayed with him for four years before he died out of the blue of a heart attack.
So she’s known her share of tragedy and grief.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your husband,” I say. She was eighteen and he was forty-one, so I suspect he was also a father figure for her.
“He was a good man,” she replies simply. “Everyone thinks I married him for his money, but I didn’t. I loved him.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“I got where I am because I’ve worked fucking hard.”
“I know.”
“I know what everyone thinks of me,” she says fiercely. “That I don’t have a heart. But I didn’t date anyone for two years after he died. I loved him terribly, and I still miss him every day. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life alone.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.
I’m the last person to pass judgement on someone else’s life.
My point is that you weren’t born into money and opportunity.
And you know how much difference it makes when someone gives you a helping hand.
I want to do that for others. And that’s why I’m here. To ask for your help.”
I drop my head to catch her eye. “I know you’re on the board of Te Rangi Ataahua Foundation.
” It means The Beautiful Sky, and it provides opportunities for young Māori women to learn about traditional weaving, and from there gives them an entrance to the fashion industry.
I’ve read what she’s done for the group, and how hard she works to help young women.
“Rather than sabotage what I’m trying to do, I want to bring you on board the Youth Stars,” I say.
“We want to offer you the role of Director of Outreach and Youth Mentor. We want you to use your story to inspire Māori youths—girls especially. Who better to teach them about resilience than someone who’s climbed their way out of poverty and worked super hard to get where you are? ”