The Heartbroker (25 page)

I’VE BEEN WORKING FOR Dad for over a week now and I am loving every moment. After having spent what feels like an eternity wrapped up in my misery at home, it’s so good to be
doing
something, to have a purpose to my days.

Dad’s been helpful and involved, not fatherly in the slightest, treating me like he would any member of staff.

We’ve just finished another meeting with Anita—this time in the dry, sitting at her firm’s chic city offices, rather than in my steamed up car—and are walking back to Dad’s office together down the city’s main shopping street, enjoying the brilliant sunshine.

“I really like her designs, Dad. I think she’s come up with something that will appeal to our target market but look and feel different from those run of the mill new developments.”

“I agree. She’s doing a great job for us. Hey, want to grab a coffee?” he asks as we walk past the park in front of Astoria, my favourite café.

“Yes, thanks. That’d be nice.”

We sit at a table outside, sipping our coffees, discussing the next steps in Dad’s development.

“You have a real knack for this work, you know, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad. I really enjoy it.” I beam at the compliment.

It’s true: I held an initial fear I would be reminded too much of my high school holiday jobs as Dad’s Girl Friday. But such fears have abated as he’s passed me challenging and interesting tasks, trusting me completely.

“What are your plans? I love having you in the business, of course, though I wonder if you might want to branch out into something else. You did run a successful business on your own, after all.”

“Yeah.” My mind turns to
Live It
.

Jeez Louise.
Live It
feels a million years away now. Surprising when its demise occurred only a short time ago.

I’ve stayed in touch with Stefan and Jocelyn, both of whom have scored themselves jobs they love, landing on their feet, much to my endless relief. The guilt of causing them and the rest of my staff difficulty and pain still smarts. I guess it always will.

I think about the work I’m doing with Dad, about how I get to spend time with him, about how much I enjoy the job without the stress of running my own business. Although I don’t get to be the omnipotent boss, calling the shots, that no longer seems as important as it once did. I smile to myself as it dawns on me I’m happy doing what I’m doing and I don’t want to be anywhere else.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.” I bite my lip.

“Oh?” Dad questions.

“I was wondering. Do you need me to stay on for a while? I like the work.”

A smile breaks across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I’d love you to.”

Relief floods through me. Yes, this is the right move for me—for now, at least.

“Thanks.” I jump out of my seat to hug him.

“We’re a pretty good team, wouldn’t you say, kiddo?”

I nod, smiling. I have a sense of happiness I haven’t had since before my world came crashing down around my ears. “I do, Dad. I do.”

* * *

I’m still buzzing when I get home that night. I walk through the door, dropping my keys on the kitchen bench, and open the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine.

Pouring out a glass I hear a knock at my front door. That’s weird: I’m not expecting anyone. Maybe it’s Alexis? She said she might pop around.

I open the door, glass in hand, and my heart leaps into my mouth. Logan is standing on my doorstep, looking nervous as hell.

He stares at me, hesitating for a moment. “Hi, Brooke. Wow, you look different. You look so beautiful.” He’s tentative, almost breathless.

I stand, rooted to the spot, mouth agape as my brain tries to compute his unexpected presence.

Then hot anger rises, threatening to explode out of the top of my head like a volcano on cocaine.

I fix him with my coldest stare. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

It’s not a question: it’s an accusation.

“I wanted to see you. No, I
needed
to see you. You haven’t returned any of my calls. You kind of left me no choice.”

He has the audacity to smile at me, as though he hasn’t used me and dumped me, causing me more humiliation than any one girl ought to have in a lifetime.

Remembering the full glass of wine in my hand, I hurl its contents at his face, watching with angry satisfaction as he blinks, frowns, and is forced to wipe the wine away with his sleeve.

“How dare you turn up here like nothing’s happened? You prick!”

I turn and slam the door, almost breaking the window as I do, hearing the satisfying
whack
as door meets jamb.

My heart is hammering so hard, any moment now it’s going to leap out of my mouth.

I drop my glass on the floor. I barely register it smashing against the tiles.

I can hear him banging on the door. “Brooke, please hear me out. You have to. Please.”

“I don’t have to
do
anything,” I shout through the door. “There’s nothing you can say I want to hear. You can just piss off back to America, Logan.”

He bangs on the door again. “Please, Brooke. Honey. I can explain everything.”

“Oh, I bet you can.” I cross my arms, drumming my foot on the floor.

“If you just hear what I have to say, I promise I’ll leave. Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

I try to steady my shaking hands, making white-knuckle fists at my sides. “You can have three minutes.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “Always negotiating. Three minutes it is.”

I open the door and look at him, my belly flip-flopping again at the sight of him. I almost feel sorry for him, standing on my doorstep, wine splashed across his face and down his white T-shirt.

I force myself to concentrate on his face rather than trail down his body, knowing his wet T-shirt is clinging to his toned chest.

Hey, he may be the biggest asshole to walk the face of the planet, but I’m only human.

He walks through the door and into my house, crunching across the broken glass, and closes the door behind himself. I prepare myself for what’s to come.

As he turns back to face me an involuntary shot of desire runs through my body.

Really, Brooke? After all he’s done?

“Well?” I ask, tapping my foot in impatience, ignoring the way my Girly Bits are betraying me.

“It’s
so
good to see you, honey.” He takes a step closer to me.

“Don’t! Don’t you dare come a step closer,” I say, putting my hands up. Thankfully he complies. “And I am
not
your ‘honey’.”

He looks wounded. Good.

“I know how this looks to you.”

“You do?” I ask sarcastically. “Like you slept with me and stole my company, perhaps? Is that how it looks, Logan? Is it? Because that’s sure as hell how it feels.”

He stares at me before responding. I squirm in my heels. I hold my ground defiantly, reminding myself this man stole my company—my baby, my
life
—after everything I put into it over the years. And he broke my heart.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what happened, Brooke.”

“Really? Well maybe you would like to put me straight, Logan? Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what happened.” I glance at my watch. “You have two and a half minutes left.”

He runs his hand through his thick hair and I’m forced to look away. It’s such a familiar gesture, reminding me of our time together. I swallow hard.

It was all a ruse, it wasn’t real. Logan never loved me; he was just using me.

“I know
You: Now
has taken your client base over, and all but destroyed your company. Brooke, I am so sorry about that.”

“Sure you are. Tell me, Logan, were
we
a part of your take over process? Was that your plan? I’d be so busy falling for you I wouldn’t notice the dagger being stuck into my back?”

“It wasn’t like that!” he protests.

I’m on a roll. “Oh, really? Who knows? Maybe this is something you do regularly? Maybe you’re the resident gigolo? You find a company you want, then you screw your way in so you can grab and run before the sex haze has worn off.”

“Gigolo? Sex haze?” He frowns for a moment before his face clears. “No. You’ve got that so wrong. You and me? We had nothing to do with what happened.”

“That’s where you’re so wrong, Logan. We had
everything
to do with it.” Tears sting my eyes and I wipe them away furiously. “You
knew
: you work for the company that stole
Live It
.”

“
Worked
. Past tense.”

“What?” I ask in irritation.

“When I found out what they were doing, I put it on the line to Geoff. I told him it was either me or you.”

His words sink in, and I stare at him. “You quit? Over what happened?”

“I told you all this in my messages. Didn’t you listen to them?”

Messages? Oh. All those voicemails he left: the ones I deleted without listening to.

“I even tracked down Jocelyn and convinced her to talk to you, to help you see reason, to explain.”

My mind races back to my last conversation with Jocelyn, outside our old office block. She had things she wanted to tell me. I didn’t let her.

My legs suddenly turn to jelly as I struggle to breath. Logan strides over, steadying me before I fall.

He wraps his arms tenderly around me. It feels so good, so right.

“Brooke, you
know
me. You think I’ve done these dreadful things, but I haven’t. I would never do anything to hurt you. I quit my job because I couldn’t work for a company that would do that to you, to your business.”

“But, but—” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “You signed the letters to our clients, the ones stealing our business.”

He shakes his head. “It was an electronic signature. I didn’t sign any letters.” He takes my hands in his, and I look down at them, almost as though I’m watching it all on TV. It doesn’t seem real.

“It was never my intention to steal your business. I was sent to New Zealand to assess your company so that we could enter an honest partnership with you. And that’s exactly what I did. It was Brad who came up with the idea to dupe you, and it was Brad who did it.”

Memories of the way in which I confronted Logan about Stefan’s suspicions in Queenstown flood back. Brad had threatened to call his dad with his new plan, and Logan had argued with him about it. Brad was the one who turned up on our doorstep. Brad was the one who took our data, stole our clients. Deep down inside I know Logan is telling the truth.

“You weren’t in on it.” It’s a statement of fact, not a question.

“No, Brooke. Not only would I never do that to you, I’d never do that to anyone. It’s not who I am.”

A fresh thought occurs to me. “Why has it taken you so long to come here to see me?”

He looks at me in obvious exasperation. “I tried every way I could think of to get in touch with you. You didn’t return my calls. You wouldn’t listen to Jocelyn. Hell, I even called Stefan, although he hung up on me after calling me names.”

I manage a weak laugh.

“I was stuck in Eastern Europe for days, unable to get through to you. Once I got back to San Francisco I confronted Geoff on what he’d done. It was then I put it on the line to him and ended up quitting. I got on the first flight I could out here. Brooke, I needed to see you.”

I look into his eyes and something stirs inside me. I believe him with all my heart.

“What about how you asked me what I would do if I didn’t have my company? You asked me straight after we signed the contract. The timing seems pretty suspicious.”

He shrugs. “To be honest, I was sounding you out. I wanted to see if you were open to other possibilities.”

“Why?”

He sweeps one of my errant curls away from my face. “In case you might, I don’t know, decide to live somewhere else some day. Somewhere like . . . San Francisco?” He smiles shyly at me and my heart squeezes in my chest. “I was too nervous to come straight out and ask you, in case you said no. Even though I knew how much I loved you, we had only been together a couple of weeks. I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh.” I bite my lip. A tear trickles down my face.

“You and me?” He brushes my cheek with his thumb, sweeping my tear away. “We were something amazing that happened. It wasn’t planned. I fell in love with you, Brooke. Almost from the moment I met you.”

My throat tightens.  “How can I trust you after what happened?” My tears stream down my face. “You broke my heart.” My voice cracks, my whole body shaking.

He pulls me in closer to him. “I know.” He hangs his head. “I never wanted to do that, not in a million years. Brooke, I quit my job for you. I’m here in Wellington—for you. It’s—” he falters, his words momentarily choked. “It’s all for you.”