The Millionaire (15 page)

T
he ballroom looked
nothing like Ellie had imagined it.

It was so much better.

There were sweeps of black fabric suspended from the ceiling, pinned by fairy lights and huge hanging pendants. Each table sparkled with glassware, and tall vases of flowers in the centre exploded with blooms. The crowd was a sea of tuxedos and shimmering ball gowns, and on the stage, a six-piece jazz band was playing something swinging. Behind them, and through the tall glass windows of the ballroom, the Sydney Harbour Bridge lit up the sky.

Ellie knew she’d only played a small part in the event, but the swell of pride she felt was like nothing she’d ever experienced. The ball had been a sellout for weeks, there were some wonderful prizes in the raffle and there was, of course, Chris’s photo. It had pride of place in the reception area and there’d been a crowd around it since people had begun arriving. She’d known it would create a buzz and the sure knowledge her gut instinct was so right gave her a thrill.

But nothing could compete with the thrill of knowing Chris was her date tonight, and that he’d been in her bed every night for the past two weeks. He liked her place better than his, he’d said. Her home felt lived in and comfortable and it smelt good, which had made her laugh. During the day when she was at work, Chris would surf or run or research his next job, and he’d be waiting when she got home.

Some nights it was a takeaway Vietnamese meal from her favourite restaurant with a bottle of chilled white wine. He’d gone through her DVD collection and they’d watched corny old movies and ate popcorn. On one Friday night, he’d picked her up at work and they’d driven over the bridge to Balmoral Beach to swim and then lie on the sand in each other’s arms as the night fell and the faintest of stars lit up the sky above the city. Every night they made love, and every morning she woke with his body touching hers and those sapphire eyes gazing into hers so honestly and intently that sometimes she had to look away so she didn’t burst into hot tears.

They didn’t talk about him leaving but there was a sense of urgency in their time together. They were keenly aware that there was an expiry date looming for them. He was jumping on a place to Bangkok and then who knew where after that. Unfortunately, there was never of shortage of work for someone who documented disasters and tragedies.

Ellie had been looking forward to tonight. She’d had to be at the function early, and despite Chris’s adamant protestations that he would help out, she’d rebuffed him. She’d arrived a couple of hours before with her gown in a dress bag, as well as her makeup and shoes, and had checked the final arrangements before heading upstairs to the hotel room she’d booked for the night.

She looked down at her dress and a shimmer of excitement lit her up from the inside. Tonight was so much more than a fundraising ball. For Ellie, it was a coming out, of sorts. Not only would she be on the arm of one of the best photojournalists in the world, but she would do so in a dress that revealed more of her than she’d ever shown before.

She ran her fingers over the ruched bodice of the crimson silk dress, the fabric so soft against her skin she feared it might dissolve as she touched it. It was strapless and daring, and it clung to her breasts and left her décolletage, and her scars, exposed. She’d loved the dress the minute she’d tried it on, its empire line creating a feminine swish as she walked.

Her hair was loose and curled and it sat on her bare shoulders, a sensation she wasn’t used to given her years of covering herself up. She’d highlighted her brown eyes with smoky makeup and coloured her lips a deep red. Ellie wanted to look as wonderful as she was feeling, and when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her hotel room, she barely recognised the woman looking back at her.

“Ellie, love.” Her grandparents made their way through the crowd of people and the sight of them made Ellie weepy. Her grandmother was dressed in a long, pale blue dress, with a matching wrap around her shoulders.

“Nanna, you look stunning.”

Vilma smoothed a hand over her hair, which had been professionally coiffed just for the occasion. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dressed up like this, in a new frock and having my hair done. Thank you for taking me shopping yesterday. I feel like the Queen!”

“And look at you,” Trev said with a low whistle aimed at Ellie.

He pulled her in for a squeeze and Ellie laughed. He was wearing a brown suit that looked slightly too big for him and a tan tie. She’d never seen him so dressed up and she loved him all the more for doing it for her.

“Right back at you, Grandpa. When’s the last time you were a suit?”

He winked at her. “When I married your grandmother.”

“Ellie,” her grandmother came in close. “Really, you look… well, you look wonderful.”

Ellie hugged her again. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing exactly what Vilma meant by her words. Her grandparents had been there after her injury, had supported her, and cared for her every summer for years. Her Nanna had whispered to her every night that she was going to do something wonderful with her life. She’d told Ellie she was so much more than the scars on her chest and that one day, she would know that for herself. Finally, she did know it.

“Speaking of weddings,” Vilma elbowed Ellie in the side and craned her neck to look among the crowd. “Where’s that young man with the camera?”

Ellie held her stomach and laughed. “Oh, Nanna. You’ve been reading too many of those glossy magazines.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t snagged him yet?”

“You are incorrigible,” Ellie chuckled. How could she explain to her grandmother – who’d been married for a lifetime – that that kind of life simply didn’t suit some people? Lone wolves like Chris Malone may settle for a short while, but their calling was always stronger than home, tugged at them more than family, than obligation.

“Why, here he is!” Nanna’s face lit up like the Sydney Harbour fireworks. Ellie tried to find her poise. She took a deep breath, linked her hands together and turned to face him.

Looking that good should be illegal.

Chris in jeans and a T-shirt was spectacular. Naked Chris, wearing nothing but bed hair and a grin was dangerous. But this? Ellie swallowed as she took it all in and tried to calm her thundering heart. His hair was pulled back off his face in a hair band, which revealed his tanned cheeks and his neatly trimmed beard. Ellie wanted to reach out and touch the scar it was concealing. His shirt was so white it almost blinded her and he wore a narrow bow tie at his neck. The black satin lapels shone in the overhead lights and set off the deep navy of his suit.

The inky colour set off his sapphire eyes, which Ellie realised with a hitch in her breath, were gazing down at her. All for her.

Oh, this should not be allowed in a public place.

“Good evening everyone,” he said. “Trev, Vilma. Don’t you two look incredible?” He greeted them with handshakes and kisses before turning his full attention back to Ellie.

His smile faded into something altogether more serious and his eyes trailed down her body. She knew he’d noticed how low cut her dress was, how it clung to her. How it revealed her scars.

He took a step towards her, threaded an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Satin to silk, breast to chest, chin to chin, breath to breath. His eyes roamed her face and finally, teasingly, settled on her lips. His curved in a smile that melted her heart.

“Hello, Ellie Flannery,” he said and then he pressed his lips to hers, slow and soft, so gentle that Ellie shivered. She’d tried so hard not to think about him leaving, but there it was, clutching at her heart. She was going to have to let this incredible man go. In a few days, she would have to wave goodbye. That was why she was determined to make this night special. Spectacular. Dangerous even.

When he released her, Ellie saw the shared look of approval between her grandparents. It was so obvious it could have been seen across the harbour.

When a ringing bell announced that it was time to move inside, Ellie slipped her arm through Chris’s. Letting him go was going to have to start with holding on to him all night. “That’s an incredible tux.”

“Thank you. It’s bespoke.”

She eyed him up and down and loved the tease in her voice. “Jermyn Street, London?”

“Dingy laneway, Bangkok.”

“You like busting my assumptions wide open, don’t you?”

“I can take it off if it offends you,” he leaned down and murmured in her ear.

“I might find it extremely offensive later on tonight when we go upstairs to the room I’ve booked.”

His eyes flared. “When can we get out of here?”

She pinched his upper arm teasingly. “After the auction.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

*

Ellie and Chris
and her grandparents took their seats at table number one, totally befitting their status as guests of honour. Ellie managed to swallow a handful of food throughout the night, in between last minute hitches and a frantic search for the auctioneer, who’d gone to the completely wrong venue on the other side of the bridge. By the time he arrived, Ellie was counting down the minutes until the dessert was to arrive and he was to start the proceedings.

She pushed back her chair, smoothed her dress, and reached for her wine glass for a final swallow before she headed to the stage.

Chris reached for her, and held her hand. “Good luck.”

She kissed him again, just because she could, and threw him a smile. “Thank you for everything.”

And Ellie she made her way to the stage.

‡

E
llie looked out
over the sea of faces and tuxedoes and ball gowns in the crowd and her head began to spin. She’d been trying to add up the numbers in her head, but had lost track when the tally for auction items hit fifty thousand dollars.

And the piece de resistance was yet to come. The auctioneer swept an arm to Ellie and she pulled back a curtain on a display board. Revealed in a spot light was Chris’s photograph of her grandfather and the oohs and aahs of the crowd flowed over her like a wave.

“Our final item, ladies and gentlemen. This is a photo of Trev Kennedy from western New South Wales. He’s here tonight. Where are you, Mr Kennedy?”

Ellie held a hand over her eyes to keep out the glare from the lights and saw her grandfather slowly get to his feet.

“Trev is here tonight to celebrate our Royal Flying Doctor Service. We don’t know where we’d be without them and the work they do every day all over Australia.”

The polite applause of the guests turned into a roaring cheer.

The auctioneer continued. “And when Sydney’s own internationally renowned photographer, Chris Malone, found out his story, he took this portrait as a special gift for the auction tonight. Thank you, Mr. Malone. We do appreciate your support.”

Ellie watched as Chris nodded but remained seated. She knew what that was about. He didn’t want or need the spotlight.

“And now to the auction. Do we have a first bid?”

There was a shout from the back of the room followed by gasps and claps from the crowd. Ellie tried to see past the glare of the lights, but couldn’t make out who it was.

“Did I hear that correctly, ladies and gentlemen? Was that…?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.” The words echoed across the tables and the heads of the guests.

*