London Falling (37 page)

“He doesn’t have to do that.”

“Because you’ll take him back without it?”

“No. Because even if he wins the business, we still don’t have a chance.”

Tears threatened to spill over. She didn’t want Lucy to hear them. “I have to go. I’m late for class, already.”

“Before you go, I also wanted you to know that the police found Rodney and your things.”

After all that time. “Did they arrest him?”

“No. They arrested his girlfriend, who was the one who nicked your stuff.”

His girlfriend. Of course he had a girlfriend. He really was a jerk.

“Simon said he seemed really taken aback when he learned about it, though, so he probably wasn’t involved.”

Well, maybe he was only half of a jerk. Aimee took down the number to reclaim her things.

“For what it’s worth,” Aimee said, “I miss your friendship.”

There was a long pause. “I do too,” Lucy said. “I wish things had worked out differently.”

“Me too,” Aimee said, before quickly saying goodbye.

She grabbed her books for class and raced out the door, still thinking about Lucy’s comments. Simon was still trying to win the business to force his father’s hand. And he’d still cared enough about her to search for her. Maybe he hadn’t been planning on breaking up with her? But wasn’t that why she broke up with him? Because she expected him to break up with her.

If she’d given him a chance no. It could never work. Not with his dad holding the bank over him. But at least they could have parted as friends.

Kept in touch. Talked on the phone, or emailed, or something.

Because she missed him terribly. She missed his smile. His sexy accent.

The things he could do with his body. She missed talking to him about everything under the sun. He knew more about her than anyone else on earth, and he still liked her. It was amazing. He made her laugh.

So why hadn’t she given him a chance?

Because he would have left her eventually, just like everyone else. Look at all the people who’d left her, starting with her mother. And her grandmother had pretty much left her by ignoring her–even in death. And there was her first boyfriend. And since then No one. Not a single person had left her.

That was ridiculous. Look at all the guys she’d dated since high school.

Her throat almost closed up. She’d blown off every single one of them. She hadn’t seen a future, so she blew them off, or was cold and distant. Oh God, and her friends too. They’d continued to send her emails and Christmas cards, but she never really gave them the time of day because she was always so busy. Or she thought they were just doing it to be nice, not because they actually wanted to keep in touch. She lifted her gaze to the clouds.

She rejected everyone before they could reject her.

The realization stunned her. Yet everything made total sense. That’s why she was so alone. So lonely. She never gave anyone a chance. She would reach out, get scared that they were going to reject her, and blow them off. Isn’t that what she did with Rodney? She’d tried to move forward with him, but when he mentioned his high school girlfriend, Aimee got cold feet. And rejected him.

Thankfully, since he turned out to be a big jerk.

So why was Simon different? Why had she allowed him to breach the walls she’d so carefully erected?

Because she loved him. And trusted him. He’d never hurt her, at least not deliberately. And she knew that, deep down inside. Simon was different from everyone else she had ever known. Or would ever know.

And she’d never see him again. And she could never ask him to give up the bank for her. She loved him too much for that. But until his father passed away, Simon would always be forced to choose between her and the bank.

She fought against the tears that threatened to spill. She never cried, at least not until she met Simon. But now the spigot was open, and she was afraid it would never be closed again.

Simon’s quick steps were silenced by the heavy carpet outside in the hall.

His father’s secretary quickly flipped her screen from solitaire to an Excel spreadsheet. Normally, the sight of a highly paid employee bored out of her wits would force Simon to stop and find something for her to do, but Simon merely nodded as he walked past her and into his father’s office. Today, nothing could bother him.

His father was on the phone with his golf pro, planning an afternoon of lessons, no doubt. His father looked ten years younger than any sixty-year old had a right to look. That’s what several secret plastic surgeries could do for you. Even though his father clearly knew Simon was in the room, he didn’t hurry his conversation along.

Simon cleared his throat. He couldn’t wait to tell his father the news.

His father laughed at something on the phone. “I’ll have to ring you later,” he said. More laughter, and then he finally turned his attention to Simon. “I’m quite busy Simon. What do you need?”

Simon grinned. “What if I told you I had got the royal family’s business?”

“Well, I’d seriously question your sanity, since they’ve already told us they’re sticking with RBB.”

“That’s correct,” Simon said.

His father drummed his fingers on the smooth lacquer of his chair, clearly annoyed with him. After a few seconds, he pushed back his chair and stood. “I have a very busy day planned.”

Some of the air went out of Simon’s tires. “Aren’t you interested in hearing how I got the business?”

His father circled his hand, as if to say, get on with it.

“Really, I thought you’d be more excited about this, seeing as how you have wanted the business practically your entire life.” His father’s reaction was disheartening to say the least. Simon almost chose to walk out rather than tell his father the story, but Simon had another motive, other than proving his worth to his father.

“I’m not interested in how you got some minor royal to switch their business to Ruleford’s. It doesn’t count.”

Ah, now his father’s behavior made more sense. “Ah, but it’s not some minor royal, unless you consider Prince Charles a minor royal.” His father snapped to attention while Simon continued. “Or Prince William. Or Prince Harry.” Simon stepped forward, unable to hide his grin. “Or Queen Elizabeth Is she considered minor or major in your mind?”

His father’s mouth dropped open as he sank back into his chair. “But …,”

he said.

Simon circled around the guest chairs and sat down in the one closest to his desk. He tugged his pant leg, crossed his ankle over his knee, and waited for his father to process the information. Then he dropped the big news. “And they’re allowing us to put out a press release announcing the relationship.”

His father’s jaw dropped. “But that’s impossible! In four hundred years, they’ve never allowed their banker to claim a relationship.”

“That’s right. And they still won’t.”

“Simon, you had better tell me what is going on.” His father’s voice had a hard edge to it.

Simon figured he’d had enough fun for one day. Besides, he wanted to get to the good stuff. “We’re not going to be the official bank of the royal family. We’re starting up a venture fund, which we’ll call the Royal Fund.

We’ll focus on developing small businesses in Great Britain. Businesses that would have a hard time getting loans from conventional banks, especially in this environment. We’ll offer a low interest rate, to encourage growth, so that they can provide jobs to the community. It’s a service to the community, and fantastic PR for the royal family. By lending their money–and their name–to the venture, we’ll be able to encourage others to invest their money in the business as well. Ruleford’s will be the only bank able to confirm that we’re doing business with the royal family, which is what you’ve always wanted.”

“But we’re not the official banker?”

Simon uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “This is better. It’s a public win. And being their banker would be a private win. This way, everyone knows for sure that we have their business, not just through rumor and conjecture.”

His father sat there absorbing the news. Slowly, a grin came over his face.

“How in the world did you come up with this?”

“It was Aimee’s idea, actually.” His father’s smile slowly dissipated, but Simon trudged on. He had to change his father’s opinion of her. “She told me I should focus on what I do well, not try to copy what someone else does. And I build businesses. For some reason, I have a knack for understanding who has the talent and the ideas to become a success. I simply brought that to the table in a way that would not only provide a great return for the royal family, but also a way to use their investment in a charitable way. Great PR for them and for us.”

Simon had hit on the exact idea when he was thinking through all of the conversations he and Aimee had shared over the short weeks they were together. And then he couldn’t stop until he had everything in place and a win to bring to his father.

His father circled his desk and put his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, my boy.”

Simon tried to memorize every detail of the moment. The way his father’s tie was slightly askew. The rain falling against the window. The way it felt to finally be praised by his father.

His father stepped back and slapped his hands together. “When do we release it to the press?”

Simon chuckled. “Not for several months, yet. We need to get the details worked out first.”

His father paced back to his desk. “This calls for a celebration.” He picked up his phone.

“There’s just one thing before we celebrate.”

“What’s that?” his father asked, pausing with his finger over the 9.

“You lift your restriction on who I date.”

His father slowly hung up the receiver. “Absolutely not.”

Simon forced himself to remain calm. His father needed to understand Simon’s true feelings. Surely, he’d change his mind. “Look, I don’t know why you dislike Aimee so much, but you don’t know her like I do. She’s wonderful She’s smart, and caring and the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He paused, so his father could feel the full impact of his admission. “I love her.”

“You don’t love her,” he said with a scoff. “She’s a scheming opportunist.

Clearly, someone needs to protect this family from your poor decision–making. You will not date her.”

Heat rushed to Simon’s head. He’d hoped to not have to do it this way, but he wasn’t backing down on this. Not with his love at stake. “You no longer have a choice in the matter. You either allow me to date whoever I choose, or else I back out of the deal. The royals wanted my expertise. Without my participation, we have no deal.”

His father’s cheeks turned red. “You wouldn’t do that to the family. To the bank.”

Simon stood up, leaned his fists on the table and glared at his father. “I would. And I will.”

His father shoved his chair back and stood, mirroring Simon’s posture.

They stood toe to toe, eye to eye, father against son. “Good luck then. You’ll have plenty of time to spend together, since you’ll no longer be working at the bank.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” His father had to be bluffing. He wanted the royals’ business too badly to let it go over something this insignificant.

“My father didn’t give up his hold on this bank until he was in the grave.

I can certainly do the same.” His father pointed to the door. “I expect you’ll be out of your office within the hour.” His jaw was set and the anger in his eyes was serious.

Simon backed up. In all his scenarios, he’d never imagined this. There was no way this could be happening. “Do you honestly hate Aimee so much that you’d give up the chance to publicly flaunt the royals’ business?”

His father picked up the phone. “Get security,” he said to whoever picked up the other end.

Chapter Seventeen

Simon’s head was reeling. “You’re going to go through with this?”

“Hold on,” his father said, and then put his hand over the receiver.

“Unless you decide that your family is more important to you than some slut you picked up over the holidays.”

Simon clenched his fingers so hard, he had to have drawn blood. But it was the only way he could stop himself from punching his father for his comment about Aimee. “Take that back.”

“Why? So you can fritter away the family fortune on some bimbo who’s just going to leave you in the end?”

“So I can fritter away the fortune?” What in the hell was he talking about? Simon was the one who had rebuilt the fortune after his father frittered it away through his ridiculous marriage. There was something else going on here. His father couldn’t even look him in the face. Even he knew that what he was saying was ridiculous. So what in the hell was going on?

“What’s it going to be? The bank? Or Aimee?” his father asked. He replaced the receiver at his ear as he raised an eyebrow.

Was he actually going to go through with this? And then Simon glanced down at the digital screen on the phone. It was blank. His father was bluffing.

He hadn’t called anyone. He thought that Simon would capitulate to his demands with only the threat of taking the bank away from him.

Simon staggered back. That’s what this was all about. It wasn’t about Aimee. It was about control. Simon thought about how many times his father had taken credit for Simon’s success. How many times he’d hung the threat of disinheritance over Simon’s head if he didn’t follow through on his father’s wishes. The threat to sell to RBB.

He’d been following through on every command, every wish of his father’s for years because the stakes were never high enough for him. He wanted his father to be happy. To be proud of his son. So Simon caved.

His father resented his success. Simon had succeeded, more so than he even dreamed, and his father couldn’t live with that. So he took comfort in pretending that he was really the power behind the success. That Simon was merely his puppet and he was the puppet master. And it had worked, because Simon always capitulated, hoping to finally earn his father’s love.

And now he knew that it was never going to end with his father. Aimee was right. As long as his father was alive, he’d be threatening Simon into submission. He’d have to live his life according to his father’s wishes. Not his own.