One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) Page 30

  ‘Do it,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Move me.’

  * * *

  Hayley was aching all over, trembling, itching for a need to be fulfilled. All the flirtatious banter, the teasing, the kissing in the snow, no one had ever got to her like this man had. This complex billionaire no one seemed to understand except her. She saw him. All of him. His worries and concerns were so similar to hers. They were like two parts of the same Christmas cracker. And right about now she was ready to be pulled apart.

  She braced herself against the wall of the lift, her hands on his chest as he made love to her, fast and urgent, then slowly, thrusting long and deep, until she dug her nails into him and begged for release.

  She kissed his mouth, looking into his eyes, wanting to watch as he came apart, as he pulled her to pieces with him. And then it was happening, it was like being catapulted through the air at a million miles an hour and not knowing where you were going to land. Stars pricked her eyes as Oliver called out, his hair damp between her fingers, his skin shining with perspiration. Tiny pleasure sensors were sending happy signals to her every part. She didn’t want to let him go. Then one of her legs buckled.

  ‘Ow, cramp,’ Hayley said, shifting a little but not wanting the connection to end.

  Oliver kissed her lips. ‘You OK?’

  She nodded, putting a hand to his cheek. ‘You?’

  ‘Spent,’ he responded, still catching his breath.

  She laughed. ‘A billionaire with nothing in reserve.’

  ‘I didn’t say I had nothing. I just think maybe a change of location could be in order.’

  ‘Ah, the infamous red room. Finally I’m going to see it?’ Hayley asked as he stroked her hair back from her face.

  ‘You really think I have one?’

  ‘I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.’

  42

  Oliver Drummond’s Penthouse, Downtown Manhattan

  Hayley opened her eyes and blinked at the unfamiliar shapes in the half-light, trying to recall where she was. Oliver’s penthouse. A fuzzy, furry feeling spread through her as she remembered the previous night. The fashion show, the lovely meal, the lift … the balcony overlooking Central Park. Now, here she was, wrapped up in Egyptian cotton feeling like she could conquer the world. She turned onto her side, facing Oliver. There was just one little thing eating away at her. The McArthur Foundation fundraiser. She should tell him she was organising it. Not telling him was virtually lying to him. But she knew how it would make him feel. If she told him, it would impact on what they had together and she didn’t want that. The time she spent with him was just about them. It didn’t involve Angel or Michel or Drummond Global or Cynthia. She didn’t want to burst that happy bubble just yet, especially after last night.

  She mussed his tawny hair and watched him open his eyes.

  ‘Good morning,’ she greeted. ‘What do you have for breakfast round here?’

  ‘God, Hayley, you must have one hell of a metabolism.’ He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. ‘Either that or you’re going to just wake up twenty stone one day when it catches up with you.’

  ‘And if I did?’ She asked, looking cross.

  He smiled. ‘Obviously I’d love you just the same but …’ He stopped. ‘By “love” I meant, you know, care about you, as a person and …’

  ‘You love me!’ Hayley exclaimed, bouncing her body on the bed. ‘Oh I’m going to be Mrs Drummond! Bosco, the doorman! Send for Emo Taragucci to design my wedding gown! Book Romario’s for the reception and order Maroon 5! We’re going to get married!’ she shrieked.

  Oliver shook his head as he watched her theatrical performance. ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘Your #DoubleWs will be devastated. I might have to hire personal security and carry mace.’

  ‘God help anyone who tries to attack you.’

  ‘What’s for breakfast?’ she said, diving over him and knocking him back into the pillows.

  * * *

  It was like his chest had been hit with a steel bar. Oliver couldn’t reply. He shifted his body into a full sitting position and tried to take a breath. It wasn’t coming.

  ‘Oliver?’ Hayley asked, pulling the sheet up around her and looking straight at him. ‘Wow, did I hit you that hard? I obviously don’t know my own strength, Man of Steel.’

  This couldn’t happen now. He tried to raise his chest but everything was compacting down like someone had placed a railway sleeper on his ribcage. The beads of sweat were at his forehead already and his vision was starting to blur. This wasn’t like the last time. This was much, much worse. He fought to regain control.

  ‘Oliver?’ Hayley said again. There was concern in her voice.

  ‘I’m OK,’ he breathed out, the words scratching and jarring.

  ‘Oliver, please. You’re scaring me.’

  Her eyes were wide and pricked with tears as she stared at him. She reached a hand out for his and he moved it away. He needed to manage this on his own. He didn’t want to let this touch her.

  ‘Really, I’m OK,’ he whispered through dry lips. His body’s reaction was continuing to tell him the exact opposite.

  ‘You’re not OK. I can see you’re not OK. Tell me what to do or I’m going to call an ambulance.’

  He didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want to die now, after a night that had meant so much. There was no denying he was falling hard for her and maybe this was telling him he was a fool to even think of it. What good was a dying man to her? What good was a dying man to anyone?

  His heart galloped in response, pulsing the blood through his veins until it was all he could hear in his head. This was really happening, right here, right now, when he was probably the happiest he had been since his father died.

  He used his arms to push himself to the edge of the bed, trying his best to shut out the pain and Hayley’s piteous scrutiny. He needed to get up. Somehow he needed to find the strength.

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ Hayley said, grabbing his robe and wrapping it around herself. ‘This is crazy. I’m calling an ambulance.’

  ‘Hayley, please …’ The words barely made it from his mouth. ‘Please, just go.’

  ‘Go?! Are you completely insane? I’m not going anywhere.’ She picked up her sequinned bag and pulled her phone from inside. He watched her thumb move across the screen. 911.

  His throat was starting to get tight now and his head was filling up like someone was tipping liquid cotton candy inside then letting it grow and morph. The pressure in his chest was unbearable. It would be easy to give in. Just let his body have its own way, sink into the pain, give in to it all. No more worrying, no more stress, just peace. As he tried to get up from the bed he felt his eyes start to close.

  ‘Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance … I need an ambulance now.’

  St Patrick’s Hospital, Manhattan

  Oliver was in the same room and attached to the same machine he’d been strapped to the time Clara had accompanied him here. Hayley was sat where Clara had been sat but instead of spinning the beads on a statement necklace she was chewing at her nails. They’d been left alone but he didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? Now everything was complicated. Ruined.

  ‘Didn’t think the morning after the night before I’d end up in the hospital,’ Hayley remarked. ‘I’ve done police stations before but never hospitals.’

  ‘You should go,’ Oliver said, his voice tight.

  ‘Why do you keep saying that?’ Hayley asked. ‘What is it you’re not telling me?’

  Her voice told him he’d hit a nerve. How was he going to play this? Where was he going to go with this situation now? Last night he had had one of the best nights of his life, it had felt as close to real as he was ever going to get. Not just physical attraction but warmth, tenderness. The hot sex in the elevator had been one thing but when they’d come together on his balcony overlooking Central Park she’d come apart so completely, so honestly. What the hell had he been thinking? He had absolutely nothing
to give her. He was like a convict on death row, biding time, just waiting to die. He had made this situation. He had let himself care. He had let her care. He’d had no right to do that. Asking her to leave now was too late. He’d just have to make her and he knew exactly how he was going to do that. However much it would hurt him it was his own stupid fault.

  He put his hands to his chest and ripped a sucker from it.

  ‘What are you doing? Don’t do that,’ Hayley said, her jaw dropping.

  ‘Any second now a very attractive Dr Khan is going to walk through that door.’ He ripped another sucker away. ‘She’s going to look me up and down and tell me I have stress and I work too hard.’ Another sucker came off. ‘She’s told me this week already.’

  He reached over the cabinet for his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.

  ‘Is that what it is then?’ Hayley asked. ‘Stress?’

  ‘So they say,’ Oliver answered.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She pushed some errant hair back behind her ear. ‘You really scared me in the apartment. I thought you were … having a heart attack or something.’

  He wanted to laugh now. Make light of it. Tell her she was being ridiculous. He didn’t have the energy.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, sliding himself off the bed.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m still breathing. Today must be my lucky day.’ He used every last ounce of reserve energy he had to stand straight. The muscles in his abdomen rippled in response but he kept his expression neutral.

  ‘Well, are you going to go back home? I can call us a cab,’ Hayley suggested, getting to her feet.

  ‘I can call a car,’ he responded, taking the pulse monitor from his finger. ‘You should get back to Angel.’

  ‘Right, yeah, I should probably do that.’

  Hayley’s tone had his stomach squeezing hard. This was the right thing to do. The only thing. He gritted his teeth together.

  ‘Have I done something wrong?’ she asked.

  He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see the hurt expression he knew she would be wearing. What was he doing? This was practically killing him. He shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Then what the hell is going on here?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Oliver, last night I thought …’

  ‘Listen, Hayley, last night, it was fun and …’

  That had been overly flippant. He didn’t want to hurt her. But maybe hurting her was what it would take.

  ‘Fun.’

  She had spat the word out. Those three letters felt so sharp. Each letter spiked his insides like a shard of ice. He looked at her then, out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t realise now but he was doing it for her and she would one day see that. Because the second he had started to care, instead of arranging a date, he should have backed right off. Now, at the hospital, after this latest dramatic and unwelcome visit … he wasn’t prepared to put her through anything like that again. And the one thing he could guarantee was there would be a next time.

  ‘I’ve got a lot of business stuff going on at the moment so …’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Hayley said. She got to her feet, stuffing the clutch bag under her arm. ‘And business is so important when seconds ago you were wired up to a heart machine.’

  ‘Hayley …’

  ‘No, there’s … something wrong with you … in the head. I have no idea what it is and I don’t want to know.’ He watched her wet her lips. ‘I thought last night … you were someone different. The guy I’ve got to know away from the captain of industry mantle and the power suit. The one who makes me laugh, the one who fights me for the last word.’

  Her words were hitting every part of him like tiny poison darts sent to deliver a killer dose. He wanted to stop her. He wanted to smother her mouth with his and kiss her like he had last night. Show her how much she meant to him already. But he couldn’t do it. It would be a selfish act and he had to be more unselfish than ever in this situation.

  ‘But now I know it was just an act and I’m still just as naïve as I was all those years ago when I fell for the charms of another man.’ She sighed. ‘But at least he didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t.’

  He swallowed. She couldn’t have been more right about that. Not even he knew who he was. He had an idea of who he wanted to be, but with time running out did it even matter anymore?

  ‘There’s something you should know,’ Hayley stated, flicking her hair back and adjusting her bag under her shoulder.

  He looked at her directly then, giving her his full attention.

  ‘I’m helping your mother organise the McArthur Foundation fundraiser.’ A sigh left her. ‘I didn’t tell you because it’s only just happened, quite spontaneously, and I knew that’s where your mother had asked you to speak and how much you loathed it. And I thought if I kept that and this completely separate it could somehow not collide together and I could make it work.’ She sniffed. ‘But now I realise there is no this and perhaps I should have focussed on more of that and right now I definitely know I should have run the other way the second you asked me what my wish was.’

  She was organising the McArthur Foundation fundraiser? His chest tightened all over again. Why would she be doing that? And she knew his mother? It gave him all the fuel he needed to hold onto his clenched jaw and his decision to end this.

  A tear escaped her eye and began to slowly slide its way down her cheek. ‘Goodbye, Clark.’

  He watched her turn towards the door then she walked through it, disappearing from sight and slipping right out of his life.

  43

  St Patrick’s Hospital, Manhattan

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Tony burst through the door of the room where Oliver was still sat on the bed.

  ‘Can you take me home?’

  ‘That ain’t a proper answer and don’t we need to sign you out or something?’

  ‘I’ve ended things with Hayley.’

  If he said it out loud then it would become real and he could move on. He couldn’t get the look on her face out of his damn mind. He’d made her believe she was no better than one of his Wish Women. Just thinking about the title she’d made up hit him where it hurt.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me? Why? What happened? Tony exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.

  ‘This happened!’ He raised his hands to indicate his medical surroundings. Dr Khan had been in during the time it had taken Tony to get here and offered him more advice, including the one thing he was never going to consider. Why the word ‘risk’ scared him so much more in health than in business he didn’t know.

  ‘She stayed the night … and this morning you did your whole collapsing thing and … what? She freaked out?’ Tony pieced together.

  He shook his head. ‘It was more like I did.’

  Tony put his hands on his hips, sucking in his chest. Oliver could feel the displeasure from his friend. He didn’t want a dressing-down here. He was perfectly capable of doing that himself. He just wanted to get home and focus on something else.

  ‘I got it,’ Tony said nodding. ‘You met someone you actually care about. Someone you wanted to give more than one night to.’

  Oliver took a stride towards the door of the hospital room. ‘Really, Tony, I don’t need to dissect it, I just need you to take me home.’

  ‘Now she’s seen you at your weakest. And she still stuck by you …’ Tony continued. ‘You’re scared, if you make this more than one date, you’re going to have to tell her the rest of it.’

  Oliver turned on him then. ‘And so what? She’s better off without me. Everyone is!’

  The volume of his voice shocked even him. He watched Tony close his mouth as if he had thought better of saying anything else. He didn’t want to say anything else either.

  ‘Please, Tony, no lectures. Just take me home,’ he begged.

  With that said his cell phone began to ring from the pocket of his jeans. He slid it o
ut looking at the display. Daniel Pearson.

  ‘Oliver Drummond.’

  ‘Mr Drummond, it’s Daniel Pearson.’

  ‘You’ve got something for me?’ He tightened his core.

  ‘I’ve just spent a very interesting twelve hours shadowing Andrew Regis.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Let’s just say he didn’t spend the night alone and I think you’ll be very interested in who he shared his time with.’

  ‘Let’s meet,’ Oliver said, biting his bottom lip as he looked at his friend.

  ‘Just name the time and place.’

  ‘Give me an hour and I’ll meet you at Carly’s Coffee House. D’you know it?’

  ‘Yeah I know it.’

  ‘Good,’ he paused. ‘Anything on Michel De Vos?’

  Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan

  Despite more snowfall and the freezing temperatures, Hayley had walked block after block before finally having the strength to go back to Dean’s apartment. All the signs of Christmas – the trees on sale, the scent of apple, cinnamon and spiced wine, the carols coming from every store and street entertainer – seemed to be mocking her. Happy Holidays! Why on Earth have you wasted your time messing about with a guy when you should be focussing on the whole reason you came to New York in the first place. Your daughter. The very first thing you saw him do was run out on a date. How could you be so naïve and think he would treat you any differently?

  She pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly to the voices in her head. But it didn’t stop a depth of sadness cloaking her. She had only known him a short while, but despite all her mental pep talks she had really liked him. Really liked him.

  She braced herself before pressing the intercom of Dean’s apartment. Angel didn’t need to know anything about this and she could gloss over the details for Dean’s benefit like she’d done so many times to get out of trouble when she was younger. Oliver Drummond was coming completely off her radar and her entire focus was now going to be on finding Michel and organising the McArthur Foundation fundraiser. Her priorities had become temporarily screwed and she was never going to let it happen again.