Bold (11 page)

“I think Christopher had something to do with it,” Zane said, his suspicions solidifying once voiced. “I wanted them to meet, to discuss the sponsorship deal for the new footy league in Nevada. But when I arrived, Christopher looked like he’d sucked on a lemon and I heard her say something about him equating her with shit he’d stepped in.”

Wyatt winced. “Fuck, that’s bad.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t get around to talking about it ‘til later, when she ended it. She said Christopher despised her club so wouldn’t do the sponsorship deal with her.” Zane shook his head. “But she wouldn’t end our relationship over Christopher’s narrow-mindedness, not after the way we connected, so there has to be more to it, but damned if I know what it is.”

On the plane ride back to Vegas, he’d rehashed every moment they’d spent together in LA, replayed every conversation, and he was still no wiser as to why Chantal had left him hanging like that.

“I shouldn’t be this cut up. I’m heading home soon, she lives here. It would’ve had an expiry date anyway.”

Wyatt mumbled some vague agreement but by his dart-away glance, Zane knew he had more to say.

“What do you think?”

Wyatt puffed out his cheeks, blew out a breath. “From what I’ve seen, you two are good together. You’ve got that thing couples who really connect have. It’s rather nauseating, actually, the way you look at each other. So maybe you’re giving up too easily?”

Zane hated that Wyatt’s observation had a kernel of truth.

“Even if I stick around, there’s still an expiration date on this.” Which was one of the reasons Chantal had given him to end it. Logically, she was right, but he wanted to live in the moment, not live a life of regrets. Not anymore.

“How long were you willing to stick around to get to know Dad?”

“As long as it took.”

“So why won’t you give Chantal the same courtesy?”

Zane couldn’t tell Wyatt the truth: that he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to leave if he fell any harder for her. Wanting more than a fleeting fuck and actually committing to a relationship were poles apart. He’d wanted to change his ways, to leave the shallowness of the past behind. But sticking around for Chantal would thrust him headfirst into a place he wasn’t sure he was ready to be. A place where he may need to choose between his home and his heart.

“Your expression says it all.” Wyatt puckered up and made exaggerated smooching sounds. “You’ve got it bad, bro.”

When Zane didn’t react to the teasing, Wyatt stopped. “If you stick around, make sure it’s for you. Not because of some half-assed idea you have that Christopher will come to his senses and want to play happy families.” Wyatt tapped his chest. “I gave up trying to get his attention years ago. And it’s not worth sacrificing yourself for the sake of family. But a woman like Chantal?” He whistled low. “Doesn’t come along very often, and if she’s half as into you as you’re into her, you owe it to yourself to give it a go.”

Touched by Wyatt’s advice, Zane reached across the table and slugged him on the arm. “Thanks, mate. Should’ve known a geek would be in touch with his feminine side.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “I deal in facts so it’s all about probabilities. You and Chantal making a go of it? A no brainer.”

Wyatt was right. He had it bad for Chantal.

Question was, what the hell was he going to do about it?

“What’s the deal with the computer hottie?” Ashlin hooked her ankle on the workout bar and stretched her hamstring, peering up at Chantal from where her head touched her knee.

Chantal would kill for flexibility like that. Even in her dancing days, she’d never had the kind of natural movement that Ashlin had.

“Wyatt? He’s a good guy. And from what I saw when you two met, he’s definitely into you.”

Ashlin stretched her other leg. “Single?”

“Do I look like a freaking dating site?”

Ashlin winced and straightened. “Ouch. PMS, much?”

Chantal eased out of her triceps stretch. “Sorry.”

“What’s up?” Ashlin picked up their water bottles and handed one to Chantal. “You were holed up in your office all afternoon after getting back from LA yesterday. You missed Miranda’s dawn yoga session and you’ve been hiding away all day ‘til now.”

“Busy catching up on work I missed while in LA.”

The lie slid easily from Chantal’s lips. Because if she voiced the truth, she’d end up a sniveling mess on the workout mats beneath their feet.

“Work, right.”

Damn, Ashlin saw right through her.

“I haven’t seen that hot Aussie around?” Ashlin lowered her voice. “Did you two hook up in LA? And if so, I want deets.”

Chantal sighed and sank onto the nearest bench. Maybe talking to Ashlin would be a good thing. Help her clarify. Reinforce she’d done the right thing. And start the arduous process of forgetting.

It had been impossible so far. On the flight home, she’d tried reading, watching a movie on her tablet, even Miranda’s foolproof meditation. Nothing had worked.

So she’d thrown herself into work all afternoon and well into last night, before downing half a bottle of wine at home in the hope of falling into an alcohol-induced coma.

Instead, she’d spent the night alternating between tossing, turning, shoving the pillow over her head and staring at the ceiling. Because every time she closed her eyes she saw Zane: touching her, caressing her, licking her…the intensity of his expression the second before he came, the mischief in his eyes when he wanted to start up all over again…

She couldn’t get him out of her mind.

Even a grueling Pilates session had done little to eradicate him from her memory. And she suspected nothing would, not for a long time.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” Ashlin sat beside her. “That bad, huh?”

“I ended it.”

God, it sounded so harsh, so final and so damn heartbreaking.

“Was he bad in bed?”

The ache in Chantal’s chest expanded. “He was a god in bed.”

Ashlin nudged her. “Then I think you’re officially nuts.”

“It’s complicated,” Chantal said, the images of Zane and her together superseded by Christopher’s overt contempt.

She’d made the right decision for Zane, she knew it, but why did it have to hurt so goddamn much?

“Where men are concerned, it’s always complicated.” Ashlin folded her arms, leaned her head against the mirror behind them. “My entire life got turned upside down because of a man.”

“You wouldn’t have ended up here in Vegas if it hadn’t,” Chantal said, wondering if her friend would ever confide in her completely.

Ashlin had divulged snippets of her life pre-dating her arrival in the States: Irish girl left her small hometown to dance across Europe, fell in love with burlesque in Paris, left dance behind to choreograph instead, ended up with a reputation as the best in the business.

Ashlin’s story had struck a cord with Chantal, the similarities between their pasts, and she’d headhunted her for the job here. Bombshells’ routines had never been better and Chantal had the added bonus of having another close friend.

But as she glanced sideways at Ashlin and glimpsed the bleakness darkening her eyes, she wondered exactly what the man in her past had done to still haunt her now.

“Is it because he lives in Australia and there’s no future?”

Chantal nodded. “What’s the point?”

“The point being I’ve never seen you as lit up as you have been the last few weeks,” Ashlin said, her melancholy gone. “Life’s too short, sweetie, to be giving up on the good stuff because it has an end date.”

“True.”

Chantal knew all this. Was more than aware of the benefits of living life to the fullest. It was her mantra every single day since she’d seen her mom go through life on rote while secretly pining over her philandering husband.

She hadn’t liked her step-daddy, a two-bit charmer who couldn’t keep it in his pants. And she’d never understood how her mom could tolerate his behavior and stay quiet. The stress of it had eventually killed her, Chantal was convinced of that.

Chantal never wanted to live like that. She’d make damn sure of it. But look where her living-life-in-the-moment mantra got her now? Craving a guy who’d made an indelible impression on her heart, knowing she could never have him.

Ashlin elbowed her again. “What are you waiting for?”

Chantal knew. She was waiting to secure the sponsorship deal so she could look Christopher Harrison in the eye and make him acknowledge she wasn’t the tramp he thought she was.

She was waiting for the recognition she deserved.

She was waiting to feel worthy.

As for Zane, her heart would have to give up waiting for anything where he was concerned.

She had to. There was no other way.

Zane was trying to decide whether Chantal would prefer roses or handmade chocolates as an ‘I’m not giving up on us’ gift when there was a knock at his hotel room door.

Glancing around to see if Wyatt had left anything behind after their post-dinner mini-bar raid, he opened the door and almost reeled back in shock.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Steele said, barging into the room as he always did, like he owned any space he entered. “What’s happening?”

Wondering if he’d had one too many bourbons and was hallucinating his brother, Zane shut the door and followed him into the sitting area of his suite. “What’s happening is that my brother, who vowed not to set foot on USA soil once he learned of my motivation to travel, is here in Vegas.”

Zane shook his head, as if to clear it. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, mate, but this is crazy.”

Steele shrugged, like his appearance meant little, when in fact it was the equivalent of him winning consecutive premierships since he’d busted a leg: frigging impossible. “Had a bit of downtime at work, thought I might pop over and see what you were up to.”

Feeling like he’d entered an alternate universe, Zane stared at his brother like he’d escaped a loony asylum. Steele never had downtime. He worked day and night. He never popped in for visits, even when he lived three suburbs away.

Zane had practically begged Steele to come with him to meet their father and half-brothers; his vociferous refusal had been adamant. So the fact Steele had traveled halfway across the world to visit was huge. Mega. But he’d clam up tight if Zane pushed for answers so he had to play it casual.

“You know what I’m up to.” Zane threw it out there, wondering if Steele would acknowledge the truth. That his presence here could only mean one thing: he wanted to meet their half-brothers and father too.

Steele glanced around the suite, feigning disinterest, before blurting, “What are they like, the guys?”

“If you’re referring to our brothers, Wyatt and Kurt are good.”

“That’s all I get? Good?” Steele rearranged the empty mini bar bottles, not looking at him, but Zane saw the tension in his shoulders, as he belatedly realized how tough this must be for his control freak brother.

Steele didn’t do well with emotions and the fact he’d boarded a plane to come all this way, and was now asking about their half-siblings, meant he was thawing.

“Wyatt’s a great guy, reminds me of you.”

Steele’s shoulders relaxed.

“He’s an IT whiz, software designer, computer genius.”

Steele looked up and the hope in his eyes made Zane’s gut twist. “Yeah?”

Zane nodded. “You’ll get on great.”

Steele cleared his throat. “I’d like to meet him.”

“He wants to meet you, too. Was considering visiting Australia to do it.”

Steele’s goofy grin made Zane want to give him a giant man hug.

“Kurt’s a cocky, arrogant son-of-a-bitch, but he’s not bad once he lets his guard down.”

Steele’s eyebrow rose. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“I’m not cocky or arrogant.” Zane laughed. “Not much, anyway.”

Steele slid his suit jacket off and hung it carefully on the back of a chair. Since he’d made his first million, Zane had rarely seen his brother out of one of his designer suits. Steele always looked confident, smart, in control. The only time he’d seen him otherwise was when they’d learned Christopher wasn’t dead. In the three years since, Zane had watched Steele turn more introverted, more controlled, more tense. Like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap.

Steele never wanted to discuss Christopher with him, barring that one drunken night after their mum’s wake. Zane would never forget the sight of his brother bawling like a baby, before Steele decapitated every single one of their mum’s garden gnomes with kicks, trampled her azalea bushes and smashed plates mourners had left around.

When Steele had calmed down, he’d told Zane what he remembered of their father. A big man who loved to laugh and tease and tickle him. A man who patiently taught Steele to play cricket in the backyard. A man who travelled for work constantly but always brought his son a present when he returned.

They’d both cried some more that night, before Steele had irrevocably changed, enveloped in an icy façade that Zane couldn’t breach. Steele had made him promise not to mention Christopher ever again. So he hadn’t. And Steele had supported him over the next three years, when Zane took out his resentment in many stupid ways. Steele never judged or offered useless advice, was just there for him as a brother, as a mate.

When Zane had told Steele why he was coming to America, Steele had shut him down. He didn’t give a fuck about his half-brothers or his father. So the fact he was standing here now, in Zane’s hotel room, meant something major had shaken him up.

“I came because I wanted to see if you were okay.” Steele sat on the sofa, looking completely unruffled, like he hadn’t just spent the better part of a day travelling.

“Go on, admit it, you missed me.” Zane grinned and sat opposite, seeing snippets of Wyatt and Kurt in Steele. The tilt of his head. The way his mouth skewed a little higher on the right. The shape of his eyes.

“Still the same cocky rat-bag.”

“And you’re still the same uptight prick.”

They grinned, their familiar teasing something Zane valued and if he were honest, had missed.