Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series) (13 page)

No Dylan. No Rupert. No Imogen.

As much as she loved the cast, Susan had never felt lower. She was certain it was affecting her performance, but she knew if she failed to launch the new musical the damage to her career could be disastrous.

She knew she could've picked up the phone to Dylan at any point, but nothing urged her to do so. The only urge was to concentrate on work to erase all thoughts of Rupert Locke-Smythe.

Every time her phone alert sounded she was hoping it was him, but each time she was disappointed. Working Saturday wasn't unexpected, particularly with previews so near. It was the Sunday break filling her with fear. Given her personal distractions, spending it with David, Fiona and Miller, who had no family or friends in the states, would be beneficial, but she was sapped of energy.

“
At least come for drinks,” said a voice from the door.

Looking up, she saw Dylan. Flinging her arms around his neck, she burst into tears.

“
Don't tell me you missed me that much.”

“
Actually I did. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's been emotional highs and lows. I'm not coping. Didn't know what to do with myself.”

“
Susan-Marie this is not meant to be 'Mission Impossible'. I said I'd help you so you wouldn't be left in this situation. Why didn't you call?”

“
Because I swore an oath I'd never beg for a man after Rupert.”

That she was comparing him to Rupert in the love-stakes was a comfort to Dylan.

“
I'm not asking you to beg. I'm giving myself to you.”

Her face was puzzled.

“
As a friend. I’m here as a friend.” Forcing out the word “friend” was akin to a cat spitting out a hairball.

“
Let's go for a drink. No pressure. Nothing you don't want to talk about. Let's chat. Enjoy mingling with the cast. See where the night takes us. Can you do that?”

“
Of course. I feel better having seen you.”

With a few glasses of wine under her belt, the stress of the week reduced dramatically. The tsunami of emotion she'd been caught in with regard to the Locke-Smythe family became distant and irrelevant to her. Why was she prioritizing Rupert's pain over her own? He wasn't doing the same, that was for sure. He'd called to ask if they were at peace to ease his own conscience. When she hung up, he hadn't even bothered calling back.

“
Heard anything from Rupert?” asked Dylan over the sounds of the thumping music.

She knew when Dylan appeared at the dressing room that he'd inevitably ask. But in a secure frame of mind she was compliant to discuss the subject.

“
Somewhere quieter,” she mouthed.

Heaving their way through the throng, it was close to twenty minutes before a tiny booth far away from the DJ mixing desk was vacated. Susie slid right in.

“
He never called.”

“
Why does that not surprise me?” said Dylan, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the table.

“
I called him.”

“
Has he taken the bait?”

If she was being strictly honest, she hadn't laid any bait for him to take.

“
No. I rang to ask how he was. He said he was hung over. Then he asked if we were at peace.”

“
What did you say?”

“
I said I thought we were.”

“
Clever girl. Have you been reading Sun Tzu?”

“
Sun Who?”

“
Sun Tzu. He wrote 'The Art of War'. He was a general, strategist and tactician in the Chinese military. The book is over two thousand years old and considered one of the most influential military books in history.”

“
Dylan. This is Susan-Marie Thompson you're talking to. When I'm not reading musical scores, I’m normally escaping into a romance novel or diving into a little chick lit. Ancient books on Asian warfare hold no interest to me.”

“
Then you must be a natural.”

“
How'd you figure that,” she raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“
Sun Tzu said 'All warfare is based on deception'. Rupert may not have made the first move, but you've lulled him into a false sense of security. When he comes, and he will, because guys like Rupert always want what they can't have. When he comes you’ll be back in charge.”

“
I wouldn't be so certain. He's not made much of an effort. I'm not sure my appeal is that high.”

“
Give him time. Women are a game to him, don't forget. It's just that he's using old moves on someone he thinks he knows. The isn't Brighton College prefect and head of drama Susan-Marie Thompson, this is the man-eating, black widow, musical theater Broadway diva Susan-Marie Thompson. His schoolboy tactics won't work twice.”

“
No they won't.”

Immersed in the company culture of the cast, Susan was able to relax, enjoy and get to know her new family. Dylan stayed in the background, but his presence was reassuring. He wasn't neglected, because the younger cast members were fully aware of the power he had within the industry. They flocked to lavish attention on him, keen to make a lasting impression.

Seeing him surrounded by a string of beauties was comforting to Susan. She wanted her friend to be happy. He was caring and thoughtful and deserved the love of a good woman. As long as they weren't all after him for his influence in theater, he'd be enjoying himself big time. He was dapper in his uniform of black. His shirt was tucked into his trousers. The belt buckle was bold, brass and unique, but not as unusual as the satin pirate shirt which was without buttons, laced up from the upper chest and had flowing sleeves. She couldn't pretend he wasn't attractive.

Hearing the last call for drinks at the pub they were at, Susan took the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air, certain the cast would be keen to carry on the party at a nightclub.

Oh to be young again, she thought stepping out.

Inhaling deeply, she noticed a man leaning by a street lamp who was watching her. She could see from the light he had brown boots on, rinse-denim jeans, a white t-shirt, an open brown-leather bomber jacket, and navy beanie almost falling from the back of his head. From the breast pocket of his jacket he waved a white handkerchief.

“
I come in peace,” said Rupert.

“
I'm surprised you've come at all.”

“
I haven't but I might do later if you fancy a—”

“
Please don't say 'booty call,' Rupert, because if you do I am going to have to slap you silly.”

“
Note to self, lewd insinuations won't win favor with Susie.”

“
What are you doing here Rupert?”

“
Right now admiring the view.”

He nodded at her. The skinny jeans and high heels made her legs look far longer and more slim than they were. The blouse wasn't anything special. She couldn't believe she was chuffed he was admiring her figure.

“
What are you really doing here?”

“
I want to go back to my gym,” he drawled.

“
I haven't been at all this week,” she said.

“
Me neither. Do you want days or nights?”

So much for Dylan's theory that Rupert would be desperate to get her back. The only thing he was desperate for was to ensure his stomach remained as a six-pack.

“
You said you didn't want times dictated when I wanted to discuss this. Maybe I feel like that now,” she shrugged.

“
Don't be objectionable, Susie. You said it would be easier to have separate shifts to avoid each other. It was sensible. Now I'm trying to make life easy for us.”

“
Mornings.”

“
You want mornings?”

“
Obviously. I won't be able to do evenings when the show starts. It's only six months, Rupert. I'm sure you'll manage.”

“
When does the show start?”

“
What do you care?” snarled a male voice.

Rupert was looking over her. Swiveling her neck, she caught Dylan from the corner of her vision.

“
Why do you care what I care?” Rupert toyed with Dylan.

He had absolutely no clue how much Dylan hates him, thought Susie. I hope this doesn't get ugly.

“
Because I care about Susan-Marie. You don't.”

“
Dylan, why is it we never catch up on your sporadic visits here?”

“
Go home, Rupert, and down another bottle of scotch.”

Rupert stepped back as if the words had the physical impact of a resounding slap. He looked at Susie in disbelief. Would she have revealed his private confessions the other night and the knock-on after effects to Dylan? Would she share his private thoughts with someone else?

Susie felt sick. That blow was below the belt and Dylan knew it. Avoiding Rupert's talk of the past, she'd glossed onto the drinking of the scotch to explain his sudden illness that interfered with the date. Dylan had pressed her until she'd cracked. The alcohol was better than revealing private family matters, so deeply personal. While she appreciated him being protective towards her, Dylan could be excessive. The way he'd taunted Rupert so easily with the alcohol, she knew he'd have done far worse if he knew of the twins and the accident.

“
Rupert, it's not what you think.”