Never Goodbye (The Barrington Billionaires Book 7), Page 2

  They say no good deed goes unpunished . . . and that pride goes before a fall.

  They’re right.

  Almost two months away, what did I think would happen? Did I honestly believe I could simply return and everything would pick up exactly how I’d left it?

  Claire’s clients had been supportive at first. Annie and Kade’s story was all over the media. He was the Australian boy next door who’d discovered he was also the child of one of the richest families in the US. Annie was the hard-working woman who had loved him poor and was now living out her own Cinderella story. That was the ideal, romanticized version of their journey.

  The reality was Annie had a business she didn’t want to walk away from, and Kade had needed to learn how to navigate the constant scrutiny of being an overnight celebrity.

  When Annie had asked Claire to help them with that transition, she’d agreed without hesitation. That was what she did. So, she’d helped redesign the vision of Annie’s transport company. She’d introduced Kade to the methods her other clients utilized when dealing with the public. He’d needed to learn how to be himself while not giving the media anything that could be used against his family—his US one or his Australian one.

  They’d become Claire’s only clients, while not technically being clients at all.

  All of which is my fault. I could have said no at any time. I could have stepped back, addressed the concerns of my own business, and circled back to help them in a way that wouldn’t have cost me my clientele.

  My misstep was overconfidence.

  I don’t regret saying yes.

  Which part would I have refused?

  When Annie and Kade were still reeling from meeting the rest of the family he’d only recently realized he had and they’d asked me to meet them as well?

  When they asked me to stay and do what I do best—build a plan for success?

  How about when, out of gratitude to Annie and Kade, Clay Landon had decided to make their wedding into the most extravagant event Boston had ever seen? Someone needed to remind him that acrobats were not necessary during the cocktail hour.

  Should I have said no to helping Viviana’s brothers, Dylan and Connor, prepare for the wedding?

  Maybe.

  Every door had been open to me in Melbourne. What if they don’t reopen? It was humbling to see how quickly her financial situation had changed. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, news of one high profile person no longer using Claire’s service had the rest in a near stampede to leave her as well.

  Confidence was difficult to maintain in the face of that.

  I could have told Annie that my business was suffering and asked her for compensation for my time here. Her new husband is a billionaire, and they were essentially my clients.

  But I didn’t want to ask a friend for money.

  Pride.

  Claire paced the small garden and assured herself she could fix everything that was falling apart. Annie was married now. She was heading off on her honeymoon the next day. I’m free to go home and put my business back together.

  Even the extra ten pounds I put on . . . it’ll come back off.

  Every decision I make is a step toward or away from chaos. Annie is like a sister to me, and I don’t regret helping her, but it is time for me to return to my life.

  She hiked up the hem of her gown and sat on a bench that blissfully was temporarily hidden by an enormous planter. One deep breath in. One slowly released breath out. Breathe in. Breathe out. All I need to do is break this down into achievable tasks. Once I get home, I’ll reach out to my clients again. What I do is important. They’ll see that. If they don’t, I’ll build a new base of clientele. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.

  The door of the garden opened. Claire would have announced herself, but didn’t when she recognized the voice of Annie’s now brother-in-law, Asher Barrington, and he sounded irritated. “Ian, we’re at a wedding, not a funeral. Mom asked me to find out what’s bothering you, that’s the only reason I’m doing this.” Before Ian responded, Asher continued, “If you’re still obsessing about Pamela you need to get over it. It’s ancient history.”

  “Accepting stories at face value has proven to be a destructive pattern for our family,” Ian, the only single Barrington son, said in a cold tone. “One I no longer support.”

  “We found Kade. He’s happy. Mom and Dad are happy. They actually like Pam and Dave. Your ongoing investigation into Kade’s kidnapping was understandable at first. Now it’s just annoying. No one cares.”

  “They should. They should absolutely care whether Pamela is an innocent who hid a child to protect him or is a criminal who escaped and is using him to protect herself now.”

  “Kade is no longer a child, and even if you found out that the woman who raised him as her own was a horrible human being before she ran off to Australia with him . . . who gives a fuck? He wasn’t hurt by the experience. In fact, it’s insulting how much happier he is than the rest of us. Sometimes you have to leave well enough alone.”

  “That’s precisely the philosophy that kept us from finding him.”

  Asher let out an audible sigh. “Listen, I get the guilt thing. Do you think I don’t wish I’d believed Mom when she said Kade was alive? Sure. Nothing I can do about that now, though. I can imagine with all of your government connections you’d feel even worse. I mean, if any of us were going to find him, it should have been you. That Grant was the one—”

  “Is this you trying to make me feel better?”

  “No, this is me waking you the fuck up. Let it go, Ian.”

  “I can’t, Asher. I need to know what happened.” Ian’s voice was guttural and tormented.

  Not wanting to miss a word, Claire leaned forward in her chair, causing it to scrape against the stone floor.

  And froze.

  Shit.

  Had they heard her?

  She waited.

  “You need to focus on something else. What about Annie’s friend, Claire? She’s not ugly.”

  Claire sat up. Not ugly? This was why eavesdropping was a bad idea. Only in movies did people overhear something good.

  “I have zero interest in her,” Ian countered.

  Ouch.

  Well, the feeling is mutual, buddy.

  Sure, Ian had the classic good looks of the Barrington clan, and she might originally have found that distracting, but he had the personality of a shoe smeared with shit. He was that much of a downer.

  “That’s a shame, because there’s a plot afoot to nudge the two of you together. Emily asked me what I thought. Oh, shit, I wasn’t supposed to say anything to you. Try to look surprised when it happens.”

  “I’m not the type who appreciates surprises, but don’t worry, I would have quickly seen through any attempts to hook us up. Very little that people think is hidden actually is.”

  Claire covered her mouth with one hand and told herself he wasn’t referring to her being in the garden with them. She was well concealed.

  “Whatever, just don’t let on that I said anything. All the women like Claire, and I don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t marry into this family.”

  “Don’t worry. You wouldn’t be the reason. She’s the polar opposite of everything I find attractive. Who wants a woman whose profession is literally to tell people what to do? I could tolerate that for about thirty seconds.”

  What an asshole.

  “Fair enough.”

  “I don’t trust her, either. On one hand, she’s supposedly a moderately successful businesswoman, but how fast did she drop everything when she had the chance to come to Boston and have her name associated with ours?”

  Claire nearly surged to her feet in protest but stopped herself just in time. She shouldn’t be surprised by his low opinion of her, he looked at everyone through that same dark lens.

  Asher interjected, “Okay, so you don’t like her either. I’d ask you who else is on your shit list, but I honestly don’t care. Do us all a favor�€
”just smile and keep your issues to yourself.”

  “Good talk, Asher,” Ian said with sarcasm.

  The door of the garden opened. “You coming back to the reception?”

  “In a minute.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean it when I said I don’t care.” In a lighter tone, Asher added, “If you need to talk, I’m always here. We’ll figure it out. I don’t want my kid to have crazy uncles.”

  Ian said in dry tone, “I’m all set.”

  A moment after the door to the garden closed, Claire stood and found her escape route blocked by Ian, arms folded across his chest, with the same closed off expression she’d come to associate with him. “Enjoying yourself?”

  Did she really think I wouldn’t know she was there?

  Claire looked deliciously flustered, a fact that annoyed Ian. He’d meant what he said about her not being his type. He preferred women with a little more meat on them, softer both in curves and personality. His cock, though, had formed its own opinion of her. As his blood rushed south, he reminded himself that his dick hadn’t had a deciding vote since high school. “I was here before you and your brother arrived. For your information, there’s nothing I find appealing about you, either. So your opinion of me and my business matters . . . let’s see . . . oh, not at all.”

  He told himself to walk away.

  Her eyes widened when he took a step closer. Hell, he was just as shocked by the move. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” she said in a tight, low voice.

  He stepped closer still. She stood her ground, her small breasts heaving beneath the bodice of her gown. He didn’t want to imagine cupping them, kissing his way from one to another, but once he did he couldn’t think of much else. “So, you don’t find me attractive?” He leaned down so his face was just above hers.

  It was an electric moment, the kind that froze time.

  Her breath warmed his lips. “I can tolerate you for about thirty seconds.”

  A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I knew you were listening.”

  “Which makes you even more of an asshole.”

  “I’m not sorry. Your silence proved my point.”

  Her shoulders squared. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re beyond that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t like how you’ve practically moved in with my parents, and I don’t believe Annie’s the only reason you’re here.”

  “Why else would I be?” She studied his face for a minute then shook her head and took a step back. “Wow. You know what? Keep your paranoid accusations to yourself. You don’t need to put another thought into me or my motives. I fly home tomorrow.”

  A lifetime of being told to do just that had Ian’s temper flaring. He stepped closer and growled. “You’d better be exactly what you claim to be.”

  Eye blazing with anger, she asked, “Are you threatening me, Ian?”

  “If I am . . . are you scared? You shouldn’t be unless you’re hiding something.”

  She looked down at her watch. “Looks like our thirty seconds are over.” With that, she spun on her heel and strode out of the garden. “I’m heading back to the reception. Stay away from me, Ian.”

  Ian folded his arms back over his chest and told himself he didn’t care if he’d upset her. Hating him was safer for her than giving into the desire he’d glimpsed in her eyes. Okay, so maybe he’d lied about her not being his taste. She’d have been in his bed a long time ago if they’d met in any other way, if she wasn’t the best friend of Kade’s wife . . . if her accent didn’t constantly remind him of a chapter of the Barrington history that never should have been . . .

  After his mother’s breakdown, the focus of the family had been keeping things calm for her. No one cried. No one yelled. And problems? They’d dealt with them on their own.

  It had made Asher into “a hammer.”

  Grant into a control freak when it came to money.

  Driven Andrew to the edge.

  Made Lance so soft Ian struggled to connect with him.

  And Kenzi . . . she’d suffered in silence until finding her voice.

  Someone needs to pay for all that, and I will find that person.

  Run away, Claire.

  The best I could give you is an angry fuck—and I don’t need one more thing to regret.

  Chapter Three

  Shaking and blinking back angry tears, Claire burst out of the garden and rushed blindly in the opposite direction from the reception. She stopped and rested against the wall of the first hallway.

  I should have walked out as soon as they entered the garden.

  I should have announced my presence.

  Her hand came up to her lips. He didn’t have to be cruel, though.

  Ian’s general state of unhappiness had been the topic of more than one discussion with Annie, whose major concern was Kade and what it would do to him if Ian found anything damning about the woman who had raised him.

  “Do you think he might?” Claire had asked.

  “I don’t know,” Annie had said. “A few months ago, if you’d told me Kade wasn’t biologically Pamela’s I wouldn’t have believed it. I understand why Ian wants to know what happened back then, but I pray he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.”

  “What is that?”

  “Someone to punish. At first, I thought Kade had it rough because his life was pulled out from beneath his feet. Suddenly he didn’t know who he was. But, he’s working his way through that.”

  “With your help.”

  “I’m only able to be his rock because you’ve been mine,” Annie had kindly said. “Ian blames himself for so many things he couldn’t have known. He was too young. Grant says Ian has always been the fixer in the family. Even Asher turns to him for help, and he’s never let them down. He can’t fix this, and he’s not handling that well.”

  “Even if he found someone who was responsible—it wouldn’t change what happened.”

  “We know. I don’t think that Ian sees opening up that part of the past has more potential of hurting his family than healing them.”

  People who are hurt often don’t realize when they’re hurting others.

  I tell my clients that all the time.

  It’s our choice, though, how much we let their unhappiness affect us.

  She raised a hand to her lips. There had been a moment in the garden when she’d thought he might kiss her. And I wanted him to.

  That was the hardest admission to make to herself.

  He’s a miserable man.

  A dangerous one.

  I don’t need that in my life.

  How can I be attracted to him?

  She groaned. Maybe it’s those dark, brooding eyes.

  Those arms that look like they could easily carry me.

  And part of me wants to be the one who shows him . . .

  She smacked herself in the forehead.

  Oh, my God. I think I can change him.

  Habits change.

  Character doesn’t.

  I should thank him for being such an asshole. That’s all that has stopped me from making a huge mistake.

  She opened her eyes and clapped her hands together. She needed to stop wasting time thinking about Ian and focus on what mattered—getting home tomorrow and getting her clients back. One more day in Boston, then her life would go back to normal.

  “On my worst day, in a tux or naked, I am better looking than you,” a man boomed, and Claire straightened off the wall at the sound of Connor’s voice. Since Annie had married into the Barrington clan, her sister-in-law’s brothers were sort of family.

  Sort of.

  Three. Two . . .

  “Stop picturing me naked,” Dylan taunted then made a pained sound in response when Connor socked him in the shoulder as they rounded the corner.

  “I didn’t. You’re disgusting,” Connor protested. “It’s a saying.”

  “No it’s not. No one says that.â€
 Dylan nodded to Claire. “Claire, tell Connor I’m right—as usual.”

  “I’ve never heard the expression, but I’m Australian, so it could be a thing.” She forced a smile. Viviana said they were rough around the edges because they’d lost their mother at a young age. Claire could see that, but they were also suffering a bit from Peter Pan syndrome. One day, maybe, they’d want to grow up—but even though they were in their late twenties, that day hadn’t come yet.

  And probably wouldn’t any time soon. God had blessed the two of them with strong, square jaws, thick blond hair, and shoulders that belonged on linebackers. Women flocked to them. Men couldn’t intimidate them. What motivation did either of them have to change?

  Their most appealing characteristic? Their devotion to their sister. They were only in tuxes because they knew it was important to Viviana.

  Claire had to admit she’d grown fond of them. They’d gone shopping together, practiced which utensils to use for what course during fancy meals, and that bread should never be thrown across a table. They bickered, but their loyalty to each other was evident. It made her wish she had siblings. What was life like when there was someone to share the load?

  Connor whined, “I need a drink.”

  “You both promised you wouldn’t at the wedding,” Claire reminded him gently.

  “Annie’s parents own a beer brewery. We’d be supporting their business by tossing a few back,” Dylan added in frustrated tone. “I asked Kade, and he said he didn’t care.”

  Claire gave his shoulder a supportive pat. Part of her hoped they wouldn’t change. In a world full of people who obsessed about what other people thought about them, these two were blissfully either unaware or indifferent. Many of her clients could benefit from that kind of confidence. “What are you two doing out here?”

  “We’re so bored.” Dylan looked around the hall as if concerned he’d been overheard. “It was a nice wedding. When do we get to leave?”

  Connor shook his head. “That’s rude. It’ll be over when the fat lady sings.”