The Billionaire's Second Chance (15 page)

Nicholas Temple Barrett, fantastically rich, old family, power all rolled into one. He’d been masquerading as one of the regular
folk
and
once she had l
earned of his
real name and who his family was she was
still
in the dark as to why a young man of his background and abilities had been hiding from the world working on third world start-up projects in amenity-lacking stations along dusty African back roads.

Not too long after that she’d understood more about his other persona when she’d tracked him to New York and come face to face with the ruthless, high-powered tycoon he’d become. She’d been such a fool.

He hadn’t needed her comfort and all but spit on the love she offered up, telling her in no uncertain terms that she’d been a distraction during those long months of hard work in Africa.  A way for him to let off steam.  A second thought at best in the mind of a man whose future had been determined at birth.
A rich man’s folly
. In his world, she was nothing.  His words that awful day were tattooed forever on her heart lest she forget what a blind, stupid twit she’d been. 

Everything which followed his take down of her entire world had left scars.  The sort of deep, painful emotional wounds which still today she couldn’t allow to see the light of day lest the heartache leave her shattered. Some things really did need to remain in the shadows.

And yet despite all that bitterness and regret, she had listened with half an open mind as he attempted to explain why he’d done all those hurtful things. She wanted it to be that simple. Wanted for it all to fade away and be replaced by something joyful instead of an endless, nagging tirade of past regrets and heartache.

Unfortunately, the reverie of the past colliding with the reality of the present was nothing compared to her physical needs.  She had to use the bathroom.  Conceding that she couldn’t stand much less walk, Shannon clearly required assistance and the only option available  to her right this second was the man she couldn’t believe had suddenly reappeared and practically taken over her life after all this time.

Releasing another in a long series of heavy sighs, Shannon screwed up her courage and resolved herself to calling out for a bit of help. 
Help
, she mused as in
heaven help her
.  Another sigh, a brief shrug, and then no more stalling.

In a barely audible voice she called out, “Um, Nick? I could use some assistance.”

Less than a second later she remembered that
she was wearing next to nothing;
a childish baby doll nightie which gaped in all the wrong places and showed way more of her voluptuous figure than she thought prudent in this scenario. A pithy
swear
, something decidedly unladylike, slipped from her pursed lips in dismay at the exact same moment her bedroom door swung open.

CHAPTER
TEN

It was another brilliantly sunny day in southern California but Nick couldn’t have cared less. He’d been awake for hours, his mind shifting between crushed hopes and dreams, past regrets and the unbelievable opportunity to repair all that which had suddenly presented itself.

Working on the latest cup of strong coffee he’d conjured up in Shannon’s delightfully modern brew system, Nick’s mind was overflowing with thoughts and emotions he was unused to. Such things didn’t have space in his highly scheduled and relentlessly busy life. The business world he operated in dominated his existence; knowing others considered him hard and sometimes ruthless never gave him pause.  Not until now anyway.

Suddenly he didn’t like the idea that Shannon might see him through those eyes, but then again, why the hell wouldn’t she?  That had been exactly the intent he had in mind when he had ended their relationship.  Gazing with vacant eyes at the view from the window where he stood, Nick fell easily into a rewind of that time before the world had caved in on him and he’d learned to shut off from his emotions.

The year he’d spent i
n Africa working with the Peace Village Initiative was something he had locked away in the deepest recesses of his mind.  Away from the brutal glare of his own conscience, safe from meddling and entirely under his control. 

Unbidden and yet unavoidable, Nick let his mind wander back in time to another brilliant sunny day which had begun wrapped in the simplicity of that stolen year only to crash and burn before the sun had set; moving him along in a trajectory of reality that found him today as president and CEO of the family business interests, a global empire of multi-national assets and endeavors of which he was the lord and master.

He’d been busy as he’d always been that year. 
H
is unique ability to marshal resources and people h
eld
him in high regard on a project with commendable goals and aspirations that lacked funding and political power.

A water pump station had gone off-line in the overnight so he’d been gathering supplies and information before making the grueling bumpy drive
,
in a patched together truck
,
to trouble shoot a problem which spelled big problems in the water challenged region where the initiative was based.

He remembered it had been hot.  Every day on the African continent had seemed hot but this day especially so. Dressed in his usual jeans and a simple t-shirt, Nick looked like all the other western volunteers working the project; yet another reason why that period had been so meaningful.  Being just one face among many without the burden of his name and family connections had been what Nick had hoped for. It was a moment out of time for him when he’d gone by his middle name and lived as plain Nick Temple

That last day, his mind full of facts and figures, he’d been walking distracted to the sad-looking truck when his vision collided
with
his worst nightmare; a young man in a brilliant white dress shirt and tailored black trousers
who stood out like a sore thumb
in a world of khakis, jeans and t-shirts. In the stifling heat the young man had lost the ubiquitous suit jacket which
had
undoubtedly completed the ensemble yet still look
ed
as inappropriate in the dusty hot African sun as an Eskimo would have. 

Every alarm bell in Nick’s sharp mind went on full alert. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.  A feeling of dread moved through him. He felt the
icy
cold drip, drip, drip of tension that let his system know there was most definitely a disturbance in the force.

Dr. Stephen Ames, a harried professor type from Oxford Uni who was top man on the village initiative stalked alongside the out-of-place suit and judging from the pained expression on his weary face Nick knew in an instant that his hideaway sojourn, where he was just another guy, was about to come to a screeching halt.

The business suit turned out to be just as empty and vacuous as could be.  Some twenty-two year old sycophant who desperately wanted to join the ranks of the rich and powerful; sent on an unenviable errand to the back roads of a third world country to drag the unwilling heir apparent to a billion dollar conglomerate back to reality.

His grandfather, the awesome and feared Randolph Barrett who had reigned over the huge business empire with an iron fist and an evil, twisted spirit for more than six decades had b
een felled by a massive stroke.
Although clinging to life the old bastard wasn’t expected to last much longer; hence the personal valet turning up to escort him back to the canyons and towers of power and money which awaited him in the real world.

He hadn’t given a good god damn that the old man was on life support.  He’d hated the old buzzard for more years than he could count.  After his father’s tragic accidental death when Nick was but fifteen, Randolph Barrett had exercised a heavy hand in every aspect of his life and the lives of his adored younger sister Jules and his sweet, southern belle mother, Alanna.

Randolph made sure he and Jules attended all the best schools, showed up at all the right social functions, volunteered in politically correct projects and only befriended those individuals whose families could stand up under a withering investigation into their suitability to be associated with the Barrett family.

His grandfather’s right hand man was an unctuous troll named Adam Sproul who’d been at
the old man’s side
long enough to not only know where the skeletons were buried but also to have buried a few of them himself. Sproul the Troll, as he and his sister had named him, made sure everyone stood at attention for the
his grandfather’s
wishes and didn’t so much as move a toe outside the carefully constructed lines of Randolph Barrett’s control.  The man had interfered non-stop into his life, Jules’ life and even worse
,
his mother
’s
.  As if losing her loving husband at the age of thirty-six hadn’t been enough, she’d been forced into lock-step with whatever her father-in-law demanded in order to do what was best for her children who were the sole heirs to Barrett’s wealth and riches.

Sproul and his cadre of minions were hangers on and wanna' be’s of the lowest order.  Sometimes being near to power is enough. Sproul used his connections and authority to make their lives a living hell. Randolph not only allowed this he encouraged it for nothing seemed to bring the old buzzard more delight than setting people in his control against each other.  He took sick enjoyment in the unsettling of others.

After graduate school, instead of sticking to the plan which his grandfathered had laid out once he’d had total control of his deceased son’s family, Nick had managed to get himself to Africa and deeply involved in the objectives of the PVI before anyone but Jules and his mother knew what had happened. 

He’d hated the lot of them, the business heads and empty suits who managed too much money and ruthlessly wielded more po
wer than anyone had a right to.
Randolph had been furious at Nick’s defection but had begrudgingly accepted his involvement with the initiative after he’d allowed the argument that it would look good from a PR standpoint.

The out-of-place suit sent to fetch him from his anonymous sojourn was undoubtedly one of Sproul’s fuglies – a pithy and irreverent combination of words which so aptly described the army of gutter rats who were at the man’s malevolent beck and call.

Upon hearing the news that he’d been called back to the states post haste to take control of business, per Randolph’s wishes and the intent of the board, Nick went numb.  He’d been handed a life sentence for a crime that hadn’t committed. 

It wasn’t until he’d been alone, in the quiet of his tiny Quonset hut
,
packing his belongings
, when
thoughts of Shannon crowded his mind and calmed his rapidly crumbling sense of control over his own life.

His beautiful, amazing Shannon.  All around him in the confines of the sparse room Nick saw and felt reminders of her.  As soon as th
ose
thoughts surfaced came the crushing realization that
his
Shannon could be no more.

What messed up twist of fate found the two, inseparable for months as lovers and friends, apart at this critical moment?  Shannon was away on a three day pick up mission to another of the initiative’s village projects.  Leaving without seeing her, explaining why he must go, and maybe even desperately clinging to some fashion of hope that they could escape his fate, was ripping him apart inside.

He’d been hiding from his life and in doing so had not been exactly forthcoming.  That he loved her without reservation was read but even so
,
his withholding of the truth was going to complicate matters.  Some part of him gloried in the fact that this fascinating blonde haired whirling dervish of a female saw nothing but a shining hero when she looked at him.  Looked at him, not his money, not his family connections, not the future he could give her.

She thought him just another struggling grad student dedicated to doing good works in a forgotten corner of the world.  Had she known that he was cut from a different cloth, one that included private jets, fancy homes and unlimited wealth he doubted she would have allowed him to get close to her.  Shannon was one of those bright eyed innocents who
had no time
for the labels and categories our modern world ascribed to those without influence or money.

Hindsight being 20/20, Nick could see how the collision of the two realities had left him at loose ends.  The ridiculous hand written note he’d left for her had been a coward’s way out. You’re very special; I’ll always remember the time we spent together.
Ugh
.

Recalling the empty vapid words he’d numbly scribbled on a scrap piece of paper made him cringe. He hadn’t even explained why he never told her his real name or why he’d been running away the whole time she’d known him.

He knew the gossip train would pull out of the station as soon as his departure became common knowledge and knew too that Shannon was going to be stunned by what would be said. Allowing the situation to unfold the way it did had been just the first of many mistakes he would make.  Telling himself he was distraught when everything came crashing down, and that giving Shannon a gild
ed opportunity to hate his guts,
seemed to him at the time like the best thing he could do for her. A clean break. She would have her hatred of him and how he’d more or less conned everybody into thinking he was some white knight to wipe away any lingering
happy
thoughts of their relationship.