Broken: A Billionaire Love Story (20 page)

Two weeks passed. Olivia spent almost no time with Cassandra or Arthur, but Hunter came by to play games of Risk with her and ask her about model painting. She had asked Shane—who asked a couple of his “guys” (because, now acting as a billionaire heir again, Shane had men for everything, apparently)—to move her models into her suite, and was able to stay busy with them.

Her suite was basically
their
suite, which suited Olivia well enough. She slept better when Shane was with her, though two or three nights a week he would need to be alone. She tried to be understanding of this—practicing for marriage, a thought that still both terrified and electrified her. But on the nights she spent with Shane, they made love constantly, and it was beautiful and perfect and hot and Olivia couldn’t say enough good things about him or it. If it weren’t for the incumbent fear of not knowing if she would ever be able to work her profession again, it would have been the happiest time of Olivia’s life.

Dr. Strauss from Edgemont Heights had called her to ask what was happening—he had seen the news, like everyone else. The whole of the rehab facility, of course, knew she would be marrying her own patient. But, Arthur had already had them all sign several-paged contracts of secrecy on the matter. She explained to Dr. Strauss, holding back some tears, that she wouldn’t be able to come back to work for a while.

“Good luck out there,” he told her.

She had also received a few phone calls from her brothers asking her what was happening. They were excited for her, though a bit befuddled. Hadn’t she just gotten out a relationship? Wasn’t this awfully close to Mom’s death?

But they wished her the best, knowing it was her life and not theirs. Her oldest brother, Claude, jokingly asked for some money.

For a couple of hours each day, a team of wedding planners sat down with Olivia and Shane, both. Did they want blue flowers, green flowers, pink flowers, red flowers? Rock songs, blues songs, jazz songs, dance songs? Lemon cookies, chocolate cookies, chocolate-chip cookies, any cookies at all? Over and over, narrowing down the enormous affair that would become their wedding.

Every time Shane made a decision, Olivia rejoiced. She had not spent a lot of time as a little girl thinking about getting married, if indeed she would at all. Her father had never been a part of her life, and so the “necessity” of getting married had been a bit lost on her.

All she really wanted was to stand in a white dress and admire Shane looking super-hot in a tuxedo and say some words and then let everyone who had made the trip to see them have a nice party. This was easier said than done, however—and even these small preferences demanded choice after choice after choice.

Shane helped her immensely in this time, taking charge. He would look at a color palette, and say, “Well look, I think really these two are only choices. Which do you prefer?”

And, by narrowing it down like that, they were able to move forward.

Shane dealt with the stress of the incumbent wedding by opening up more and more to Olivia—telling her about how badly he wanted to be writing poetry with all his free time. Maybe doing some tutoring to help out others—he had enjoyed doing that in the rehab facility.

Shane also started letting off more steam with Hunter. In the past couple of weeks, Hunter and Shane had started lifting weights together. Olivia was glad for this change—it seemed to make Shane a lot happier. He was writing in his notebooks frequently, filling up one every few days.

There was still tension with his mother. This seemed largely revolved around her drinking, which Shane was convinced was alcoholic. Olivia convinced him, though, to stay quiet about it. That would be too raw a wound, and too much for him to take on. All he needed to focus on was his own recovery.

And Olivia, of course. She hoped he could focus on her—a positive influence—more than his mother—who was dead-set on being negative.

Then, one Friday, a package arrived for Olivia.

It was delivered straight to the door of her suite, interrupting her while she was in the middle of painting the streets on her model.

It was a thick package, in one of those large manila folders. Puzzled, she ripped it open, and discovered very quickly that it was an admissions packet for the most prestigious Social Work graduate program in the country, the one she had wanted more than any of the others, at Vermont, at Shane’s alma mater.

How had she...when had...what was...why was she getting this?

Had there been some time in the whirlwind of the last few weeks that she had snuck out some applications and just completely forgot about it? With all the mess happening with Shane, she had decided to pump the brakes on applying until the fall, after the wedding, when her life had calmed somewhat and she would have time to focus on it.

But now, with this...a cold suspicion layered on her heart.

Had he...?

No.

No
.

Had they
arranged
for her to get into the university?

Just as that thought began to percolate, Shane showed up, all smiles.

“You want to go to the park?” he asked her. “It’s a beautiful day out. I thought you’d like a walk.”

“You don’t want to just tramp about on your expansive grounds, Mr. Conway? Won’t the servants get lonely without you here?”

He didn’t seem to pick up on her sarcasm. “I’m sort of going nuts just hanging out here. Let’s go out. Yeah?”

And so soon, they were in the city proper, walking through Forest Park. The whole ride over, she had been icy, quiet. She welcomed the anger she felt—it was the only thing keeping her anxiety at bay.

As they walked through the expansive trees, a small brook babbling quietly nearby, Shane finally clapped his hands.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he said. “What is it?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“You got me into graduate school.”

The news of this—that it was apparently something that displeased Olivia—seemed to take Shane by surprise.

“Well, sure.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea. Hunter agreed with me. My wife wouldn’t be going to some regular school. She’d be going to the best in the nation.”

“Shane...” she put a hand to her head. “That’s not fair, you know? There’s only a limited amount of spots available every year! You pushed out someone who deserved to be there!”

He smiled. “You deserve to be there.”

“That’s right, I do! So why do I need special favors to get there?”

“I don’t see what the problem is. You’re getting what you wanted. You wanted to go to this place.”

“I wanted to get there because I’m good at this and because the people there knew that.”

“What do they know? You go to graduate school, you’re just becoming a trained monkey, anyway. You’ve said it yourself. You don’t want the degree for the education. Everything you need to know is learned in the field. You want to go there so you can get a better job. So, now you can.”

“So, I’m a monkey now, is that it?”

“Olivia...”

She was well aware that she should just keep her mouth shut. But her anxiety had been eating away at her all day, and now her mind was in a full-blown panic.

“No, no. I get it. I’m a monkey. I’m not worthy of the mighty and great Shane Conway unless I go to his alma mater. And even then, really, I’d just be pretending to fit in. Which works out anyway, because we’ll be done in a few months. Right? This is all part of the payoff, isn’t it? Pay me some money, leave me with an education, and then you get to go and do whatever you want?”

“Olivia. Stop.”

“Well? Isn’t that it? Isn’t that the idea? To give me a little more class so I can appear worthy of having a marriage with your highness?”

He had begun to look quite hurt. Olivia again told herself to stop, but caught up in the emotion of the moment, she found all her words slipping out of her mouth without her control.

“You’re taking this the wrong way,” said Shane quietly, “and I don’t like you implying that I don’t want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Olivia shut her eyes, holding her hands to face, walking away for a moment. She turned back when Shane gasped suddenly.

In front of Shane now, from nowhere, was Heck Parsons. It would have been comical, the way he brushed himself off of dirt and leaves, if Olivia wasn’t battling so much panic and rage.

“Trouble in paradise, huh?” he asked, smiling.

His teeth were heavily yellowed—Olivia guessed tobacco. He certainly stank of it.

“What?” said Shane. “What the hell are you doing here? Haven’t you gotten what you want?”

“I’m not stupid, you know,” said Parsons. “The way you’ve been acting, you seem to think I’m stupid. Do you think I don’t follow up on stories? Do you think I don’t follow up on
nice
stories?”

Shane shook his head. “I don’t know the first thing about your business.”

“You were checked in at the rehab center. I found out. With the way she left? Not too many people were volunteering to defend her anymore.”

That really hit Olivia deep. She was already hurting, and that was terrible to hear.

Wasn’t Arthur supposed to have had everyone sign contracts guaranteeing their silence? But, that was only the employees...Parsons could have easily started talking to the patients, once their time was up.

“And that means,” continued Parsons, “you were not being so charitable, helping out and all of that. And it means she was your counselor. Now, how many ethics violations do you suppose that racks up for you?” he asked Olivia.

“Shit,” said Shane.

Silently, Olivia agreed.

“It’s just like they say, right?” said Parsons. “It’s not the scandal, it’s the cover-up. And this one is going to be one nice big embarrassment for you. Your uncle, especially.” He let out a big belly laugh. “You know, I would feel bad about ruining two relationships, but since the one you two ‘lovebirds’ have is fake anyway? I’m going to let this news out on you. Your uncle? The guy who saved your life, and all of that? He’s a snake.”

Shane harrumphed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Did you know he doesn’t really care about your recovery? It’s a cover. He wants you to look pretty and stable so that he can merge with Global-Comm. Because you’re the heir-apparent, if you’re a mess, they’d pull out of the deal, and he knows
you’re
spiteful enough to go make a mess of yourself just because it hinges on you.”

“Fine,” Shane shook his head. “Whatever. I knew that already.”

It certainly was news to Olivia. But she tried to keep her body language neutral—even if she was mad with Shane, they had to be a unified front against this reporter.

“You knew it already?” Parsons sounded surprised. “And you were going to let him go through with it?”

Shane shrugged. “I didn’t know how to stop it without leaving Olivia. And I didn’t want to do that.”

All that cold, calculating suspicion Olivia felt turned instantly into shame and embarrassment. He had been trying to stay with her. Was that why he had worked for her acceptance into the university? So that they could get away—back to the last place where he had felt happy? They could share it...he could work on his poetry, and she could work on her degree.

“I have to say, Shane,” said Parsons, “I’m surprised.”

“Why are you here, man?” Shane asked. “Is it just to rub it in my face what you’re going to do?”

Parsons considered that. “I don’t know, exactly. A sense of fairness, maybe? This story is happening. There’s nothing you can do about it. But you...you strike me more as a victim in most of it. I wanted for you to be able to prepare. I like you, Shane. I like your poems. I read some, researching you. Found out your pen name, found the little university journals where you published. It was good stuff. I hope you understand that I still have to let this story break.”

“I hope you understand I still think you’re as much of a snake as my uncle."

Parsons laughed at that, hands on his hips.

“You’re not the first,” he said. “And you won’t be the last.”

Then he walked away, disappearing down the trail in the park. 

Olivia pulled Shane down to a nearby park bench, and had Shane explain it all to her—the business deal, Hunter’s desires to run everything, all of it. She listened carefully, holding back all judgments.

“It’s a disaster,” he said at last. “I
want
to marry you. I do. But...I don’t want to ruin this thing with Hunter. And...I don’t know. Even postponing the engagement wouldn’t work. I can’t
not
be with you, now. I can’t even fathom that.”

“Neither can I.”

“And so...so if we’re together, I look stable. And that’s all they want. Arthur can point to that and say, ‘Look! He’s totally fine.’ We can maybe try...I don’t know, pretending to break up, and keeping you and me a secret...”

“I’m tired of secrets.”

“Me too. This is a disaster,” he said again.

“You’re right,” said Olivia. “It is a disaster, right now. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

And Olivia told him—what Parsons had given them was an opportunity, not a problem.

Chapter 30:

They sat in the car outside the mansion, quiet. Shane didn’t want to turn the car off. It was stupid, but he knew that if he turned the car off, he was pretty sure they’d never talk about what they needed to talk about. It was strange, the sort of connections the mind made in the middle of the conflict—like the engine of the car running somehow kept the engine of their relationship alive. Everything was so fragile with them, and he felt like one wrong move could break them forever. His hand was on hers, gripping hard, and she was allowing it. There was affection there, but mostly it was desperation—and he felt like it was for those reasons that she allowed him to keep holding her.

He tried to count to ten, his fingers flexing and reflexing.

In rehab—when Olivia had been gone—there had been a speaker at a meeting that affected him deeply. The speaker was an older man—older even than Rawls—brought in from the outside. A guy with years and years of sobriety who just came to share and listen to help himself. He had silver-peppered black hair and a thick black mustache that stretched out to his cheeks. Shane could recall his words clearly.