Broken: A Billionaire Love Story (18 page)

The food was delicious, of course. Chicken in some sort of orange sauce, with a spring salad on the side. Shane hadn’t had anything so full of flavor in a long time. Before rehab, most of his meals were taken from convenience stores, loaded down with sugars and salts. Rehab food—while filling—was sort of the opposite, and devoid of flavor except for the chocolates. This meal, with its hints of lavender and shades of eastern spices, brought his mouth back to a different time.

After a few minutes of eating, Hunter arrived. He too, said nothing, just starting in on the meal. The whole ordeal began to feel like a last meal before an execution.

A swirl of rage surrounded Hunter. Shane didn’t know why exactly Hunter was so angry, but it was clear on him. More evident than the suit he wore or the way he combed his hair—he was furious, in equal parts, with everyone in the room.

“So.” Cassandra swirled her wine glass. “You're a counselor, is that right?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“How much schooling for that?”

“A bachelor’s degree.”

“I take it you want to be a psychologist? Therapist?”

“Something like that, yes,” said Olivia.

“I wanted to go into mental health at one point,” said Cassandra. “Shane’s father certainly inspired some interest in the subject.” She let out a tiny little laugh. “But that...mellowed out, over time. Business considerations, you understand. I had to look after the family.”

“And you’ve done a bang-up job, dear,” said Arthur.

More eating, more silence, more brooding.

“This is wonderful,” Olivia finally ventured, clearing her throat a bit. “Is it your recipe, Cassandra?”

“Heavens no,” Cassandra said with a laugh. “Thank you for thinking so, though.”

“Mom hasn’t cooked a real meal in more than twenty years, I bet,” said Hunter. “I know I certainly haven’t seen one.”

Arthur sighed. “Hunter...”

“No, let’s figure this out. When was it, Mom? When was the last meal you cooked?”

“I’m not sure,” said Cassandra. “I’ve had other things going on, as you well know.”

“Maybe it was for Shane? I’m sure it was before I was born. That was when all the other good things happened. Has Shane told you that?” Hunter talked directly to Olivia now. “No? Oh yes. They used to take all sorts of trips. Theme parks, snow skiing, rock climbing, lots of nature and so on. But then of course I got born and all the fun died.”

Shane blanched. “Do you honestly think it’s my fault that you didn’t get what you wanted when you grew up? You grew up with billions, you little brat. How entitled are you?”

Hunter scoffed. “Entitled? Because I wanted to spend time with my family?”

“Look,” Shane wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on the table. “If you’re going to blame anybody, blame Mom. That bit...that
woman
is the reason you didn’t go anywhere, not me. I didn’t have any control over any of it!”

Hunter stood up, wiped off his hands, walked over to Shane and punched him in the head—right on his bandage. Shane sprawled out, knocked over his chair, landing hard on the floor. Everyone started shouting, and Hunter calmly walked out of the room, a satisfied smile on his face.

Olivia rushed to Shane, helping him up. Gently, he pushed her away. Blood trickled down his cheek from the re-opened wound.

“I’m all right,” he said. “It’s all right. It'll be all right.”

But he really didn't know if it would be, not at all.

Chapter 26:

Right after dinner, they retreated to Olivia’s bedroom, on Olivia’s insistence.

She locked the door behind her. This was mostly because of habit, but it was heartily reinforced by Hunter’s actions.

Hunter scared her. Olivia wasn’t sure that she had ever seen someone so filled with nothing but rage. Shane had been angry, and she had seen that at Edgemont, of course. But Shane’s anger was directed mostly at himself, and shaded heavily by alcohol and drugs. Hunter...Hunter seemed like nothing
but
rage, waiting to be let out, waiting to have even the slightest reason to come unhinged.

What sort of family was she mixed up with now?

Her mother, she would have hated these people. All this ostentatious wealth, no one really talking about what they wanted to unless they were drunk or pissed off...she would have sat everyone down and had them hash everything out until they were nothing but a gigantic pile of hugs.

But her mother wasn’t here, now. She wouldn’t be. It was up to Olivia to try and help sort this.

She sat Shane down on the bed, examining the wound on his forehead. She considered how
long
the day had been—it had started off with a fight for Shane, at a meal, no less! And now that was how it was ending. From the small refrigerator in her room and a few nearby drawers, she pieced together an ice pack in a plastic bag, and gave that to Shane for him to press to the fresh hurt. She sat down next to him on the bed, legs crossed.

“I’m sorry about my family,” Shane said, grabbing her hand. “I didn’t think...I didn’t remember how bad they were. How bad I left them. I should have warned you.”

“It’s all right.” Sitting right next to him, seeing him so clearly in pain, she could not help but touch him. Her hands floated up to his broad chest, stroking it. She wanted him to be comfortable. “I’m glad you have family.”

“Even as fucked up as all of that?”

“Even that. At least you have somebody. You shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss them.”

He sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“Besides,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“The way they think about me?”

“You’ve influenced it, of course. But their thoughts are their own. As are their problems. You don’t need to take ownership of them. There’s only one thing you really can do about any of it.”

He shrugged, shaking his head, pressing the ice pack harder into his face.

“Maybe so.”

She leaned forward, her breasts pushing against his arm.

“I’d like for you to tell me what happened between you two. Between you and Hunter.”

“I don’t want to get into that right now,” said Shane. “All right?”

“No. It’s not all right. You need to tell me. We’ve been dancing around it for a while now, and because you won’t talk about it, there’s been consequences.” She poked the ice pack, a bit playful. “Now. Tell me.”

“You’re right,” he said after a minute. “Okay.”

Sighing, he began.

“We were out in the woods one day. Right out there.” He pointed out the window toward the wilderness. “Used to be, we’d go out there every day. It was beautiful out there. Idyllic. There were all these trees growing into each other. Growing into rocks, out of big boulders. There were hills that just seemed made to play on. This thick, beautiful grass that didn’t hurt if you fell on it. No nettle anywhere, no burrs. Just easy, comfortable beauty. It was perfect for us. We loved it. When we were really young, we would go out and play games there. Pretend games, you know. Kings of castles, ninjas, all that sort of thing.

“Well, I was older than him, so I got tired of that first. The sort of curse of a younger brother is that your best playmate is always going to be tired of things before you are. With most things, I’ll always have done them before he ever gets a chance to. Anyway, I started with a four-wheeler when I was, I don’t know. Sixteen, seventeen, something like that. No, sixteen. I got it for my birthday. I was already a pretty hard drinker by that time, you know? I carried a flask of whiskey in my pocket. Rich kid, it was easy for me to get it. They had acres of booze in the cellar. Maybe they still do, I don't know. Anyway, it was easy to walk around with a buzz on.

“One day, I’m just trying to get drunk and fart around in the garage, working on the four-wheeler, and Hunter comes in and he’s just bothering me, bothering me, bothering me. ‘Let’s go out,’ he says. ‘Let’s play ninja.’ ‘Let’s run through the woods.’ ‘Let’s go for a ride.’ Finally I give in, drunk as hell at this point. I got more drunk, I remember, because I had to be around him. I didn’t know how to say no, really, and I thought I didn’t need to, because I could just get drunk enough to where being with him didn’t feel like such a burden. Stupid.

“Anyway. There we are, riding through the woods on my four-wheeler. I’m drunk and an idiot, so I keep speeding up. He keeps telling me to slow down—he’s wrapped around my waist, and you know four-wheelers, right? Not very secure. No seatbelts. Of course he’s not wearing a helmet at all. We’re stupid invincible rich kids. So. That was dumb.”

His voice became very thick, holding back all his sadness. Olivia thought he wouldn’t continue. She almost hoped he wouldn’t. She knew how this story ended already. Her grip tightened on his arm, feeling him flex his hard muscles in his distress.

“This branch—this goddamn branch, it just...I don’t know. We would walk the trail pretty often, making sure it was clear, but this one popped out somehow. The sound, that’s what I remember most about that moment. Just this hard, terrible thwacking. His skull bunching all in on itself. You can still see the scar on the side of his head, a little bit. I stopped, put him back on after he was thrown off. Blood everywhere. He was bleeding for thirty minutes before they got him into the hospital. They life-flighted him. Broken nose, broken skull, broken orbital bone, broken ankle and wrists from the fall.

“He was in a coma for a week or so. I don’t know that he found out I was drunk until a year after. Mom told him. I was always mad at her for that. He had been coming around to me before then.”

So much revelation, all at once. All that pain.

Olivia knew there was no one good reason for an alcoholic to be what he was—but certainly some people had more trauma to drown out than others.

“I’m so sorry, Shane,” she said. Her hand traced the lines of his ink all up his arm, pushing up his shirt sleeve. The flames and the darkness. “Is that what these are about?”

“Yes. I was...I don't know. I felt like I had burned away my relationship with him. I felt like it...like it put a fire underneath me.”

She moved her hands, following the pattern all the way up to his shoulder, his neck.

“Does he know that?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You must think I’m a monster.”

“Of course not, Shane. I...I’m sorry you’re hurting so much. You don’t deserve all that pain.”

He looked almost broken in half, his tough-guy persona leaving nothing behind but a scared young man still scared of hurting the ones he loved the most.

“Really?”

“Really.” She took his hand, pulling him close to her. “You’re a good person. You’re a good man.”

She wanted him. She couldn’t explain it—but all that pain, all that vulnerability he was showing—she wanted to make it okay for him. She wanted him to know that she supported him. He was all she had, and in that moment, she wanted to make sure he knew how important he was to her. She needed him in much the same way he needed her—for protection, for support.

The lust in his eyes for her was clear. All she wanted to do was sate it, to make his every feeling a good one.

Soon, they were kissing—Shane eagerly sucking at her chin, her lips. His strong hands tugging at the cloth of her dress, pushing it down around her breasts. Quickly, they were exposed, their naked surface pressing hard into his body as they continue to embrace.

She pulled at his pants, his belt buckle, his zipper. Soon, he was completely free and her hands were on his length. Already, his manhood was growing.

They kissed hard, harder, and she could feel his passion flowing into her hand as she stroked him. His need to let this pain burn away.

Their passion couldn't be restrained much longer. She tore off his shirt, revealing his inked body in its totality. The flames—the skull and flowers on his chest. Her hands, almost in awe, slipped over every inch of the art. She wanted it all. She wanted him.

Moaning, she had moved her panties down, tossing them out into the suite. She slipped on top of his lap, lowering herself down onto his hard, firm manhood. It was so big, filling her up so completely.

They had made love for a few reasons already—to escape, to enjoy—but this was the first time they had made love to heal. Not just him—but her too. Her every anxiety, every fear from this new scariness that was this house and this family...she needed him. She needed him in her life.

As she rode him, hot kisses showering on her exposed chest, that was all she could think:

I need him. I
need
him.

He was so strong. Even as she rode him, he thrust up into her, and she couldn’t hold back her feelings anymore.

“I love you,” she moaned. “Oh Shane...oh, my darling, I love you so much...”

“I love you, Olivia,” he whispered to her heatedly. “I want to marry you,” He thrust up into her hard, harder, harder, like he was turned on just by the idea of making her his wife. “I want to marry you...”

“Yes, Shane!” she moaned underneath him. “Yes! Oh darling, yes, please, please!”

Bliss overwhelmed her, the thought of being with him,
really
being with him, being so open and free with him, all their pain shared and lessened.

“I need to...” he grunted.

She nodded, rearranging herself so that she was still on him, though he was no longer inside of her. Still, they moved together, his hardness pressing hard onto her pleasure center, ensuring that she felt all of his pleasure. It was too much—neither of them could hold back.

She cried out when the bliss overtook her, biting his shoulder, loving him completely as he emptied on her body, finishing hotly at the same time as her. They held each other tight, allowing themselves to enjoy a gentle, lover's doze for several minutes as their breaths and hearts slowed.

After they calmed, he held her tight, pulling the sheets of the bed over their sweaty, tangled bodies.

“I mean it,” he said to her. “I really do want to marry you. I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to be with someone...that I’ve ever been able to depend on someone like I depend on you. I love you, Olivia.”

She wanted so badly for it to be true, for it not to be all some convenient illusion for his family’s stock prices. For it not to be some construction that only existed to get rid of her in a few months.