Entwine (Billionaire Series) (9 page)

Even once it was
out of sight, though, I couldn’t put it out of my mind.

I went down to my
kitchen, made myself a cup of chamomile tea, and pulled up my unfinished novel
on my laptop, trying to lose myself in the lives of my characters and forget
about the tangled mess that was my own existence.

It was about as
easy to do as forgetting to breathe. Try as I might, the words on the screen
were just words, and the characters I loved seemed like pale cardboard wraiths
in comparison to the rich, complex problems which were plaguing me in real
life. I wished that Mathis’ crime syndicate could just be conveniently killed
off or sent to China to become rice pickers with a few taps on my keyboard.

The idea of having
the gun and the money frightened me. I still didn’t truly understand the
package. I wanted more than ever to talk to Mathis, hear his comforting voice
and his deep, warm chuckle. I wanted to know that he was safe. I wanted to be
reassured that neither of us was in any danger. Most of all, I thought, as the
words on the screen blurred together in a wet mess, I wanted him to just hold
me in his arms.

Six.

That was how many
phone calls Philip had taken during which he'd asked her to step outside, sent
her on an errand, or gone into the records room by himself. Six calls that
Jennifer were sure had come from J. Who else would he be so secretive about?

Each time, when she
came back in to the office or he returned, she waited for an explanation, a
word of some kind to tell her that whatever they had was worth something to
him, and each time she was disappointed. Every time he sent her away or left,
Jennifer felt her frustration grow. To make matters worse, she kept hearing
snippets of conversation that continued to convince her that Philip was
pursuing something with J.

“...you've said
that before. How can I believe you this time...”

“...I know what I
want...”

“...yes, I am
considering seeing you again...”

The seventh time,
the phone rang as Jennifer was trying to finish typing out the latest payroll
information before it was time to leave. There was only a half hour left before
her day was done and she needed every minute if she was going to complete the
work. So, when Philip spoke up again, her patience was already wearing thin.

“Jennifer, this is
a private call. Could you step outside for a moment?”

Jennifer turned,
mouth opening to say something, but Philip had already turned away with his
hand on his cell, ready to answer. She stalked out of the room, shutting the
door harder than necessary and earning a dirty look from Emma. Instead of
sitting or walking down to the bathroom or to get a drink, Jennifer began to
pace, her brain racing.

She was glad that
she'd accepted Brad's offer for that night just so she had something to look
forward to. At least someone in her life was behaving honestly. It just still
surprised her that it was Brad. The fact that Brad thought Philip was being a
jerk, even without knowing about the sex part, spoke volumes considering her
ex's past behavior. Maybe this was who Philip really was. Maybe the nicer
Philip was all an act and she was just now seeing the true face of the man.

As she neared the
door on her third trip back across the carpet that day, she caught a few words.

“...maybe if you'd
been a little more clear, I would have always known where I stood...”

That was the last
straw. Jennifer snapped. How dare he accuse anyone of not being clear about a
relationship? She threw open the door and marched up to his desk, the past few
days of frustration bubbling over. Philip just stared, as if he couldn't
believe what he was seeing.

“I'm leaving.”

“I'm going to have
to call you back.” Philip hung up the phone and glanced at the time. “You still
have about fifteen minutes to work on that spreadsheet.”

“Maybe I need to
clarify,” Jennifer spoke in an even, firm tone, working to keep the emotion
from her voice. “I don't mean that I'm leaving for the day. I mean that I'm
quitting.”

“Wait? What? Why
would you say that?” Philip appeared genuinely shocked.

Jennifer almost
laughed. Was he really that clueless? “While I have appreciated the opportunity
to learn from you, I cannot take being disrespected any longer.” When Philip
opened his mouth to protest, Jennifer held up a hand. It felt so good finally
saying what she was feeling. She was tired of being a doormat. “When we first
met and you offered me a job, I let myself believe that it was because you saw
something in me, not because I'd let you fuck me. The way you've treated me
over these last few days, however, has shown me that you don't respect anything
about me. If you want to treat me like some replaceable whore you can pay off
with a job and a car service until you tire of me, then I'll save you the
trouble and leave before that happens.”

When she paused to
take a breath, Philip spoke up. His voice was soft. “You think I think of you
as a whore? Replaceable? What would make you... how could...?” He seemed to be
at a loss for words.

“Really?” She did
laugh this time, wincing at the bitterness in the sound. “You want to know how?
How's this. You basically use me every which way, but any time I try to get
close to you, to get to know more about you, I get nothing. You won't answer a
single damn question that may let me get to know the real you.”

“You want answers.”
He made it a statement.

“Yes.” Jennifer
crossed her arms, unable to quench the wild hope that sprang up inside her. Was
he finally going to talk to her? To let her get close?

“You deserve them,”
he admitted. “But you need to let it go.”

“Excuse me?”

Philip looked
seriously at her, something hard glinting in his eyes. “All of those answers
you want, Jennifer, they're all part of my past. My past is my business, no one
else's. No one gets those answers.”

A sharp pain went
through her. “Tell me, Philip, is it worth it? Is holding on to those secrets
worth more than me?”

He didn't speak, a
sad expression passing over his face before disappearing behind an
expressionless mask.

“Okay then.”
Jennifer nodded. “I guess I know where I stand now.”

She turned and
walked out of the office without looking back, not even when she heard him call
out her name.

I
went to bed early, too distracted to concentrate on anything for more than a
few minutes, but it was hopeless. No sooner had I closed my eyes than images of
Mathis came unbidden to my mind. I could see him smiling his charming smile at
me, laughing at something absurd I had just said, his eyes crinkling up a
little at the corners. It was as if my subconscious had been squatting, hidden,
like a smug, fat frog under a rock, ready to come out and mock me the second I
closed my eyes.

The
images were mixed in with the younger Mathis, the boy I had known at Uncle
Andy’s ranch. Although his face was smoother and rounder, his expression
lighter and more carefree, they were one and the same person to me. The Mathis
I knew now still knew how to laugh and smile, was still unfailingly courteous
and chivalrous – except to me apparently – and he still looked at me in the
same way, his gorgeous eyes softening as his face relaxed into a smile, as if I
were the only person in the world.

Tears
slid slowly down my cheeks and soaked into my pillow as I thought that I might
never see either of these men again
–
not the carefree boy nor the more serious man. It was very
rare for me to cry. Except for when I’d heard about Uncle Andy’s death, I
couldn’t remember the last time I had shed a tear. When other boyfriends had
left me, or more often when I had ended things with them, I couldn’t even
muster a few sniffles. I didn’t think of myself as cold hearted, I was just too
pragmatic to get worked up over a relationship. With Mathis, it felt as if my
chest might explode just thinking about it.

I
wasn’t sure how long it took me to fall into a restless sleep, but eventually
it overcame me, when the sky was a deep black and there were no sounds in the
world but the occasional rush of a night-time driver going wherever it was that
people went at 3am.

I
was jarred from my restless sleep well after 4am, the little red numbers on my
alarm clock blurring and shifting fecklessly in front of my bleary eyes as I
tried to read them. I could hear an insistent ringing, and for a moment I
thought I was back at college and it was a fire alarm. I was about to call out
to Sharon to put on some pants this time when I realized that I was in my
apartment, almost a decade between me and my college days, and it was my phone
making the cacophonous noise.

For
a moment I considered ignoring it, but the dutiful part of me wouldn’t allow me
to let it ring, so I leaned over and picked it up, groaning as my head throbbed
slightly with the movement. The only person who would even call me at this hour
had to be Sharon.

“What,
Sharon?” I said grumpily into the phone as I answered its needy ringing. “It’s
4am.” My voice was grainy from sleep, and my tone was enough to make most
people slam down the receiver immediately.

“Amanda?”
I froze as I recognized Mathis’ deep, smooth voice, entirely free from the
confusion of sleep.

“Mathis!”
I said his name without thinking, and cringed at how breathless I sounded, like
a giddy schoolgirl talking to her idol after a pop concert.

“I’m
sorry for waking you,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry about it. My heart
rose up, buoyed on the sound of his voice, and lodged itself in my throat so my
voice came out high-pitched and bizarre.

“Oh,
no you didn’t wake me,” I said stupidly. “Well, you did, but it’s okay – I
wanted to talk to you. H-how have you been?”

“Amanda,
you’re babbling.” Mathis sounded vaguely amused. “Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry,”
I said, cursing myself for how idiotic I must sound. “I’m still out of it. I
tried calling you last night, but you didn’t pick up.”

“I
told you it would be better if you didn’t contact me,” Mathis reminded me. “I
didn’t want to risk taking the call.”

“Sorry.”
I sounded like a broken record. Then I remembered why I had tried to call him –
the gun and the money in the suitcase. A tendril of irritation stirred in my
stomach at the memory – what had he expected me to do?

“It’s
safer if I contact you,” Mathis continued.

“I
know,” I said, a little impatient. “But Mathis, you sent me a
gun
and
enough money to buy a small country or a very large number of pudding shots –
did you expect me to sit here meekly and accept it? What on earth were you
thinking sending me those things, and without as much as a by-the-way!”

It
was Mathis’ turn to hesitate, and when he spoke he sounded slightly abashed.

“Well,
I suppose it was a little selfish of me,” he admitted. “I didn’t think how it
might seem to you – I just wanted you to be safe.”

“So
you gave me a gun?” I asked archly.

“It
was just a precaution,” Mathis assured me. “It’s very unlikely that you will
ever have to use it. I just felt better knowing that you had it – selfish, I
know, but I had your best interests in mind. Do you remember the times we
practiced in the yard at your uncle’s place?”

The
summer we met, we borrowed Uncle Andy’s rifle and took practice shots at
targets we set up in the yard out the back. Although Mathis hit the target
almost every time, it was me who always hit dead in the bull’s eye. He used to
tease me about how he’d better watch his back when I was around.

“I
remember,” I admitted grudgingly.

“I
know you could handle yourself if you needed to,” Mathis said, and I could hear
the smile in his voice.

I
wanted to ask him why. If he knew I could handle myself, why was he shutting me
out to the extent that he refused to even see me? I avoided asking, however,
not wanting to sound childish.

“What
about the money?” I asked instead, trying hard to keep any feelings out of my
voice.

“Amanda,
you know how dangerous it is for us to be together right now. I don’t want to
cheat you out of your uncle’s inheritance, but it’s too risky for me to teach
you to handle his investments at the moment. I’ll keep on maintaining them in
your name. This is the net worth – I want you to have it in case anything
happens.”

He
didn’t need to say ‘to me’ at the end of his sentence – we could both feel the
words squatting there, unspoken.

“I
don’t want it,” I told him emphatically. “I can take care of myself, and I
don’t need this money. It’s not mine, and I don’t want it.” I sounded like a
child arguing about a candy bar, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to know that I
couldn’t be bought so easily.

“Amanda,
your uncle would want me to provide for you – the money is yours by rights. He
wanted you to have it – and I do too.”

“Well,
you’re going to have to take it back,” I insisted stubbornly. “I won’t use it
and I won’t accept any money from you.”

“You’re
still so stubborn,” Mathis said with a sigh. “I’m not going to take it back.
It’s rightfully yours and I would be stealing from you if I took it. It’s yours
to do what you like with, even if that means growing an exciting collection of
dust bunnies. It’s up to you.”

I
had to smile at that. Mathis had the ability to make me smile no matter how
serious the situation. Even so, I didn’t want to accept the money.

“I
don’t want it,” I said again. “Mathis, I want to know what’s happening. Do you
really think there is danger for me? Have you decided what you’re going to do
about this crime boss guy? Has he tried to contact you again? I need to know.”

“You
don’t need to know,” Mathis said, and the trace of humor had disappeared from
his voice. “Try not to worry about it, Amanda. It’s my problem to deal with,
not yours. The important thing is that you are safe and provided for. Let me
worry about everything else. In the meantime, you just need to stay away from
me.”

I
almost shouted in frustration, but I kept my temper.

“Mathis,
I can’t help but worry – I need to know what’s happening,” I insisted.

“I’m
sorry,” he said. “Just keep away. Goodbye, Amanda.”

“Wait!”
I didn’t want him to hang up, not like this. I heard him hesitate, and I
blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. “Was there ever something
real between us, or was I just convenient?” I felt instantly embarrassed for
asking him directly, but it was too late now to take back the words.

There
was a long pause on the phone, and for a moment I thought maybe he had hung up,
but when he answered me, his voice was soft and sincere.

“You
should know better than to think you were just a passing convenience,” Mathis
told me gently. “But I’m not the young boy you knew back then. I’ve changed.
I’m a different person from who I was back then. You don’t know the person I am
now, Amanda – and maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t.”

I
opened my mouth, ready to ask half a hundred questions about what he meant, but
he hung up without giving me a chance.

What
did he mean? Was he just trying to keep me away from him? Did he think that by
hinting that he was a different person it would put me off him and make me want
to stay away from him? I remembered again the way he looked at me now and then,
the way his eyes crinkled with humor, and the concern he showed towards me.

In
my heart, I knew he was a good person, and that mattered far more to me than
whether he was the same person. It was foolish to expect that an eighteen year
old boy caught up in a summer romance would be the same person as a thirty year
old man who was experienced with women, rich, successful and smart. Even if he
was a different person, though, I knew that he was a person I could trust and
somebody I wanted to be with.

I
thought back to the suitcase he had given me. I didn’t really have many more
answers now than before I had spoken to Mathis, at least, not the answers I had
wanted to hear. I resolved not to disturb either the gun or the money, but I
couldn’t help but wonder about them, and what they meant. I closed my eyes
again, trying to get back to sleep, but it did not come until long after dawn.