In the Rich Man's World Read online

  The taxi ride was hell. Every light to the city was red as the yellow cab bumped through the empty streets. The taxi driver, oblivious to her despair, attempted idle chit-chat, but she couldn’t even feign politeness, just stared out of the window as the city closed in. The beauty of Collins Street in the early hours of morning had zero impact, the fairy lights adorning the trees that lined the streets, the impressive entrance to the hotel barely registered in her mind—just the knowledge that in a few short minutes she had to face him.

  Only as she reached his door did it strike her that he mightn’t even be there, or, worse still, that perhaps Liza might be with him. The thought of facing her, of facing them both together, of watching their reaction as they read the paper she held in her trembling hands assassinated Amelia as she summoned the courage to knock on the door.

  ‘What the hell—’ Dressed in dark boxers, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes squinting to focus, never had he looked more desirable—or more completely unreachable.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ Amelia choked, but Vaughan was already closing the door.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to listen.’ Dismissing her, Vaughan shook his head, but as she held up the paper the closing door stilled, his eyes catching the headline just as Amelia’s had.

  He ripped the paper from her and headed inside, leaving her to walk in uninvited and watch as he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping as he read on. She let him do it in silence, knew that the time for excuses could only come when Vaughan was fully armed with the facts.

  ‘Bitch.’ He whistled the word out through taut pale lips, his eyes damning her to hell as he hit her with the full weight of his blistering stare. And even though it was agony to receive it, Amelia knew that from where Vaughan sat she deserved every last crumb of his contempt.

  ‘I didn’t know.’ Her voice was a pale whisper, her teeth chattering so violently she could barely get the words out.

  ‘That’s not what it says here.’ His voice was like ice. ‘In fact,’ he sneered, ‘it says in black and white “What Price a Heart”, by Carter Jenkins and Amelia Jacobs.’

  ‘I didn’t know about your nephew.’ Tears were coursing down her cheeks but she didn’t even notice, didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. ‘I didn’t know anything, Vaughan, I swear.’

  ‘Bull!’ he cracked. ‘You’re asking me to believe that you had no idea the paper was planning this?’

  ‘No!’ She screamed her denial. ‘I knew they had a story but I had no idea they were planning this! Vaughan, I thought Liza was your girlfriend. I was so jealous when I saw you with her that I decided to beat you to it—decided to pretend that our night had all just been about business. I didn’t know your nephew had cystic fibrosis. God, I didn’t even know you had a nephew, let alone that he was waiting for a heart-lung transplant…’

  ‘Everybody knows now.’ The despair in his eyes, the chasm of his pain, was palpable. ‘They’re insinuating that I’m trying to buy him treatment.’ His voice was a raw whisper, but it did nothing to veil the hatred behind it. ‘They’re insinuating that I’m waving money so that he can jump the queue!’

  ‘They’re not going to deny him care on the strength of this,’ Amelia begged, but Vaughan just shook his head.

  ‘They’re going to have to dot every “i” and cross every “t” now—to ensure they’re seen to do the right thing—instead of going with their gut instinct. And that is that he needs it—soon. That’s why Liza was here, Amelia, to tell me that Jamie’s nearing the end, that without a transplant he’s going to die…’

  And far worse than his rage and anger was watching this proud, commanding man literally crumple before her, head in hands, every muscle in his shoulders strung with tension, fists balling into his temples as he processed the full horror of what he had just learnt.

  His animosity was gone as he spoke on, but Amelia wasn’t blind enough to believe it was over. He was merely voicing his fears. The fact that she was there was almost immaterial now.

  ‘I’ve bent over backwards to ensure this didn’t get out—knew that if the papers got hold of it somehow they’d twist it.’ He gave a low, mirthless laugh. ‘And the saddest part of it all is that I couldn’t buy him a heart and lungs if I tried. Believe me, I’ve wanted to—I’d lose it all without even a hint of regret if I could give Jamie this chance. But even all my money, all my power, counts for nothing against the doctors. They deal with it every day, make choices no one else can, and not for a moment does money come into it. You didn’t write that did you?’ His anger was coming back now, disgust sneering on his face as he looked up to her. ‘Just layered innuendo on innuendo, half truths combined with fact.’

  ‘That wasn’t me.’

  ‘Well, that’s not what it says here, Amelia.’ Punching the paper away with his hand, he hurled it across the room, his naked anger confronting her. ‘I quote: “handing a white envelope over to one of the hospital’s directors in a secluded Melbourne restaurant…” It was a prize, for God’s sake. A holiday prize I didn’t even want my name put to, Amelia. You’ve made it sound like a bribe.’

  ‘Carter was there…’ Amelia gulped. Things were making more sense with hindsight.

  ‘You saw him?’

  Amelia nodded, her eyes riddled with guilt by association, and knew that she was going down for the third time—knew that nothing she could say would convince him she hadn’t known what the paper was planning.

  Knew that she’d lost him.

  Vaughan was right. The article had her name on it. Fact and innuendo was a dangerous blend indeed, and Paul had been careful, because from Amelia’s one look through the newspaper there wasn’t a single lie. Her carefully crafted words were interlaced with Carter’s insinuations. Overtones of corruption sounded in every paragraph, paling everything else into insignificance. Even the motor deal announcement barely merited a mention.

  If ever she’d been ashamed of her profession it was then.

  ‘I trusted you.’ She noticed the past tense of his words and it lacerated her. ‘I even thought I loved you, Amelia. I went to the hospital today to speak to Liza, to ask her if I could tell you about Jamie. To tell her that I’d met this amazing woman who just happened to be a journalist, that for once I was sure I’d got it right. What a fool!’

  Ignoring his last line, Amelia probed gently, filled with regret for all she had done, the love she had thrown away, but needing to hear how close she had come to realising her dream. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘I didn’t get to tell her.’ Vaughan’s face hardened, yet she could see the pain behind it, see his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists together in an effort to hold things back. ‘Jamie’s condition had deteriorated overnight—nothing definable, of course, nothing the doctors can put their fingers on or qualify to the press as reasons for moving him to the top of the transplant list. So I doubt it will happen now.’ He stared at her paling face, rammed in the knife just a touch further, shaming her all over again. ‘I brought Liza back here for a break, so she could have a shower and bawl her eyes out away from her son, to give her a chance to admit her terror. It didn’t seem the right time to talk about my love-life.’ His head was in his hands again, and he was speaking more to himself than to her. ‘Or appalling lack of it.’

  ‘I’ll go.’

  Her voice was a mere croak and Vaughan looked up briefly, pulling his head out of his hands just long enough to loathe her.

  ‘Why not? After all, you got what you came for.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT FELT as if she were coming home after a funeral, mourning the loss of what she’d so recently had. And her apartment seemed steeped in a life that was divided into two—before and after Vaughan.

  Before, when things like bath oils had mattered, when horoscopes had held promises, when she’d thought she had it tough, had been so naïve as to think that Taylor’s infidelity was as low as life went.

  How naïve, how pathetically naïve to think then th
at she had known pain. The loss she had felt at the end of her relationship with Taylor didn’t even compare to the raw grief that held her in its vice-like grip now.

  The waxy pink petals of the orchids Vaughan had sent her were the first thing to catch her eye, and she couldn’t help but realise that they had lasted longer than them, and there wasn’t a single thing she could do.

  ‘I guess I just fell in love,’ Amelia whispered, scarcely able to comprehend that something so beautiful could hurt so much.

  And was it worth the pain?

  She could almost hear Vaughan asking the question and remembered that first night at the hotel, standing on tired, aching feet at the threshold of the love affair of a lifetime, thought of her bruised, raw, shredded heart. Without hesitation she nodded into the lonely room.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  She knew he’d never forgive her, knew her time with Vaughan was over, yet she ached to put things right, to somehow repair some of the damage she’d unwittingly inflicted. But at every turn she was thwarted. Her angry demands for a retraction were met with an incredulous laugh from Paul, who was completely unable to comprehend why she wasn’t wallowing in the glory of it all.

  Hours dragged into days, her anger giving way to lethargy, and it was a supreme effort just to lever herself off the couch to answer the door. Flowers were being delivered, even a bottle of champagne, and her telephone was constantly ringing with messages of congratulations. Even her father, for the first time, was proud of his daughter’s work.

  But the one person she wanted to see, the one person she wanted to hear from, kept a dignified silence.

  No outburst of temper on the six o’clock news, just the stern fix of his jaw as he left the hospital with his sister-in-law and nephew to wait for a call that might now come too late. The navy eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, yet nothing could shield from Amelia the depth of his despair, the pain behind the ‘no comments’, the agony of her apparent betrayal.

  And Amelia was as guilty as the rest of the general public—greedy for insight, surfing news bulletins, listening avidly as reporters explained the disease that afflicted his nephew, that Vaughan Mason himself might carry the gene. She learnt that even in his apparent anger, his seeming withdrawal after their love-making, Vaughan had been concerned for her—had somehow been trying to protect her.

  He had loved her. With torturous hindsight she knew that now—knew that in his own unique, special way Vaughan Mason had truly adored her.

  The loud ringing of her doorbell only made Amelia jump. The prospect of another visitor did nothing to raise her spirits, and she didn’t want another bouquet or congratulations she didn’t deserve. And anyway her apartment already looked like a funeral parlor—felt like a funeral parlor.

  Amelia didn’t want to see anyone.

  Unless it was Vaughan, standing grey and washed-out in her doorway, looking as awful as she felt, yet the most beautiful thing she could ever hope to see.

  ‘You look awful.’ Perhaps not the most romantic of greetings, but it was all her quivering lips could manage. She braced herself for the crash landing of his temper, another hit to her bruised and battered heart.

  ‘Turbulence.’

  She blinked as he managed a wan smile, still scarcely able to believe he was here, unable to comprehend that he didn’t appear angry. Surely after the hell he’d been through these past days he should be raging? But instead he was talking almost normally—completely unable to meet her eyes, of course, but fairly normally all the same.

  ‘Bloody turbulence all the way from Melbourne.’

  ‘Turbulence?’

  ‘Did I forget to tell you that I’m terrified of flying?’ He didn’t even soften it with a dry smile, and Amelia closed her eyes in another second of regret. The ritual trip to the newsagent made sense now, and the white-knuckled silence in helicopters. She was glimpsing again the softer side of the wonderful man that she could have had.

  ‘How’s Jamie?’ Still holding the door for support, Amelia asked one of the many questions that had been plaguing her. ‘How’s he dealing with all the publicity? And Liza…?’

  ‘They’re fine,’ Vaughan said slowly. ‘They’re dealing with it. In fact it’s almost a relief that it’s out in the open now. Almost,’ he added, and Amelia knew it still must hurt.

  But suddenly the conversation shifted, suddenly they were talking about them—or at least Vaughan was.

  ‘Amelia, I don’t care.’ Dragging her into his arms, he held her fiercely, breathing in the scent of her hair, holding her as if for support, and all she could do was hold him back, words strangling in her throat as he loved her for all the wrong reasons. ‘I don’t care just as long as we can move on—I can see why you did it, why you had to go for the story. It’s your job, Amelia,’

  ‘You don’t understand…’

  ‘No, but I’m trying to.’

  Pulling his head back, he held her cheeks, kissed her parted lips, drinking from them as if they were the life force he needed, as if her kiss, her embrace, was the one thing that could make him go on. But she pulled back, his touch desperately wanted but the truth needed more.

  ‘Vaughan, I need you to see something.’ Letting him go even for a second was a feat in itself, but somehow she managed, somehow she made it to her desk. She rummaged through the appalling mess and for the second time in their short relationship held her breath as he read a piece of work with her name upon it—only this time it was the truth. Each word was laced with the esteem in which she held him, each carefully crafted sentence a pure deliverance of the truth.

  ‘This is what I filed, Vaughan. This is the piece I wrote.’

  ‘I guess I should have had more faith.’

  ‘Yes, Vaughan, you should.’ Something in her voice made him look up. ‘Vaughan, how you can say that you love me when you think I did that to you defies explanation. It wasn’t me. It never was me. Apparently one of the other mothers in Jamie’s ward tipped off the press—that’s why Carter was following you; that’s why they jumped so high at the chance of my spending a week with you. They thought they were on to a big story. This woman thought that her son was sicker than Jamie, that Jamie was somehow getting preferential treatment because of who his uncle was, so she—’

  ‘Poor woman!’

  His reaction confused her. She’d expected some of the venom he’d directed at her when he’d thought she’d betrayed him to somehow appear again. But not for the first time she marvelled at his insight, at the hidden depths behind this amazing man.

  ‘When you’re desperate you’ll do anything. I’d probably have done the same.’

  ‘I’ve tried to get the paper to print a retraction.’ Amelia shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ‘Perhaps if we both lean on Paul…’

  ‘There’s no need.’ Vaughan shook his head. ‘Jamie’s still where he should be on the transplant list, despite the news coverage. Those doctors have stood firm. It takes more than a newspaper article to scare those guys, Amelia. They face death every day.’ His eyes found hers. ‘I’m sorry, Amelia, more sorry than you know for doubting you. I’ve just been so used to being let down, so used to being misquoted just to grab a headline. But when I thought it was you I lost my head for a while. I was so angry I couldn’t think straight…’

  ‘Touché,’ Amelia blushed, thinking of her bitch-on-heels act at his hotel door.

  ‘Yet even with the hell of these last few days, Amelia, all I could think about was you—the real you I was sure I’d seen. Despite the agony, despite the accusations, all I could think was that if I never got to see you again you were the only thing in this world I’d truly miss.’

  ‘Apart from your family,’ Amelia said softly. Though it was the one thing with Vaughan that didn’t need saying. She had seen the love that lay burning behind the ‘no comment’.

  ‘Apart from my family,’ Vaughan confirmed. ‘I just wanted to protect Jamie. I didn’t want the papers to get hold of it. I’d promised my brother and Liz
a I’d keep Jamie out of the public eye. But I knew if we were ever going to move forward then I’d have to tell you. When I heard you say that babies were firmly entrenched on your list…’ The frown on his forehead deepened. ‘I carry the gene, Amelia…’

  ‘I’d already worked that out. That’s why you over-reacted when you found out I wasn’t on the pill, wasn’t it?’ Amelia took his hand in hers. ‘I should have known, Vaughan. It was beyond irresponsible…’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’m always careful—always,’ he emphasized. ‘I was more angry with myself than you—couldn’t believe I’d let myself get so carried away. And after you said at lunch that nothing on your list was negligible I figured that was it—that there wasn’t any point. I never thought it would go any further until….’ The beginnings of a smile ghosted on his lips. ‘You have a very good knack for making me lose my head, Amelia.’

  ‘I know,’ Amelia replied—because she did. She knew for the first time in her life the reckless abandonment that came hand in hand with love.

  ‘If you carry the gene too…’

  ‘Let’s not worry about that now.’

  ‘We have to. Because if you feel even a tenth of what I do then it’s something we’re going to have to face. Nothing on your list’s negotiable, Amelia. You want the lot. And if I can’t give you everything…’

  ‘It’s the top of the list that matters most…’ His eyes were holding hers, days of pain slowly drifting away as she spoke from the bottom of her heart. ‘Safety,’ she said softly. ‘The safety of always being loved, knowing that no matter what I do, no matter how bad it seems, I’ve always got you to lean on.’

  ‘You do,’ Vaughan said simply, kissing her on her waiting lips, affirming the desire that blazed in his eyes. ‘So what happens now?’ A smile inched over his face. ‘Does this mean I’m finally ready to settle down?’