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‘Gee, thanks, mate. Though, by your tone, I’d swear you have as much confidence in my abilities as that woman over there has of making it to the door without falling flat on her face.’
Riley grimaced as a supermodel tottered on incredibly high heels towards the heavy oak doors, either drunk, high or both. Great company his brother had kept.
Making a lightning-quick decision, Riley beckoned Matt towards the huge glass windows overlooking Collins Street. ‘Look, I have a feeling Joe’s will is going to be messy. Or, more to the point, what he’s left behind will be messy.’
Matt’s expression didn’t change—a true professional, which was why Riley trusted him. ‘How so?’
Riley sighed and tugged at the tie knotted at his throat. He hated wearing the things and couldn’t wait for the day when stockbrokers took to T-shirts and jeans. As if.
‘Call it a hunch, but I don’t think Joe managed his money wisely. In fact, I’m not sure he has much left.’
This time Matt couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘You’re kidding? He was reportedly one of Melbourne’s richest guys. And you’re no pauper. The Bourke name is synonymous with wealth.’
‘Yeah, well, I think Joe has been living on his name for a while now.’
While fleecing him as often as possible. Stupidly, Riley had continued to bail out his flake of a brother, hoping he’d change, mature once he became a father. It hadn’t happened.
‘What about Maya and the child?’
‘As far as I know, they should be okay for now. Joe owned the apartment they live in and bought Maya a new car when she had Chas. I assume he paid the bills.’ Or more correctly, Riley had given the money he’d shelled out at increasingly frequent intervals over the last six months.
Damn, he should’ve intervened; he should’ve made a stand. But then, where would that have left Chas, the little guy who had no say in who his parents were?
‘But apart from those assets, you’re concerned he won’t have money left to provide for Maya and Chas?’
‘Exactly.’
Matt paused, an uncomfortable look on his face as if he was searching for the right way to phrase what came next.
‘You’re really worried about them, aren’t you?’
Riley nodded, banishing another image before it could take hold, that of Maya cradling a sleeping Chas in her arms as she put him in the car, a small possessive smile playing around her mouth, a mouth he had no right noticing.
‘In that case, let’s hope this all turns out for the best. For everyone’s sake.’
The astute gleam in Matt’s eyes did little to calm Riley’s nerves. He had major misgivings about this whole mess: about Joe’s will, his helpless nephew and the woman left to raise him.
He needed to know more.
He needed to help.
It was the least he could do after the part he’d played in his brother’s death.
CHAPTER TWO
MAYA STEPPED FROM the bath and quickly wrapped her dripping body in a towel from habit. Joe had hated the changes giving birth had wrought on her body: the stretch marks, the new distribution of weight, a changed body shape in general and he’d told her so on a regular basis. She’d learned to cover up in front of him, to hide her shape beneath baggy clothes, all in the effort to feel better about herself.
But then, nothing had stopped Joe’s nasty streak when he’d been on a roll and unfortunately, ever since she’d given birth to Chas, he’d been on one continuous ‘make Maya pay’ quest.
Tying the towel turban-style around her long blonde hair—in desperate need of a trim—she slipped into her favourite pink towelling robe and fuzzy fuchsia Princess slippers. Ironic, considering she couldn’t be further from a princess if she tried, but the minute she’d seen the funky slippers she’d had to have them. Spending all day in jodhpurs and grubby T-shirts gave a girl a complex and she often had the urge to buy the most ridiculously feminine items.
Though the baby monitor was silent, she peeped into the nursery, unable to get enough of her gorgeous little boy even when he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful lying on his tummy, bottom in the air, snoring ever-so-softly. A little angel without a care in the world—and she had every intention of seeing it stayed that way. She’d put up with Joe’s appalling treatment for the sake of her son. Now that Joe had gone, she would do anything to protect Chas from harm. Anything.
She tiptoed into the room, inhaling the faintest hint of baby powder, her eyes adjusting to the near-darkness broken by a tiny teddy bear night-light, loving every precious moment of being a mum to this little boy. Whether asleep or awake, Chas was the centre of her world and if she thought she’d loved horses, it was nothing to the overwhelming love of motherhood. It frightened her in its intensity yet she was powerless to resist it.
‘Ma-ma,’ Chas cried out softly, wriggling down further in the cot, thrashing from side to side till he got comfortable again.
She held her breath, not wanting to wake him, desperate for a full night’s sleep herself. The funeral had been tougher than she’d imagined and all she wanted to do was have a hot chocolate, fall into bed and pray that she’d sleep. Real rest had eluded her for months now courtesy of the tense, uncomfortable co-existence she’d slipped into with Joe.
Kissing her finger, she gently placed it on Chas’s cheek and tiptoed from the room, heading for the kitchen and the comfort of warm cocoa. However, she barely had time to fill the kettle before there was a soft knock at the door.
No one visited her. Her mum was in a special accommodation home and the people she worked with were just that, work acquaintances. She didn’t socialise, she didn’t have friends, so who was bothering her at eight-thirty on the night of Joe’s funeral?
Almost dead on her feet, she ignored whoever it was and flicked on the kettle, spooning several heaped teaspoons of cocoa into a mug. However, the knock came again, louder this time. Rather than have the unwelcome visitor wake Chas, she padded to the door and opened it a fraction.
‘What are you doing here?’
Her response sounded sharper than she intended and Riley stiffened, a tiny frown appearing between his brows.
‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After today…’ He trailed off and for a guy at the top of his field, one of Australia’s number one stockbrokers, he appeared uncertain.
Guess she had that effect on the Bourke men. Once the initial spark had faded, Joe had been uncertain of everything where she’d been concerned: uncertain if she was the woman for him, uncertain if she was wife material, uncertain if he wanted anything to do with her and her child as he’d insisted on calling Chas.
‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, the pain of Joe’s attitude towards Chas stabbing her anew.
Riley pinned her with a glare, the intensity behind the steady blue-eyed stare making her squirm. What was it about this guy that made her feel helpless? She’d been that way ever since he’d bustled into the apartment a few hours after Joe’s death, taking charge of arrangements, snapping orders into his mobile phone, delegating jobs like a king. Introverted in her grief at the time, she’d let him take charge.
He appeared smarter, stronger and bigger than everything around him, capable of handling anything and more. In a way, he intimidated her. He’d intimidated her when they’d first met but then she’d been so ga-ga over Joe that night at the ball she’d barely noticed his serious—though just as cute—older brother.
Cute. What a joke. Nothing about Riley was cute. With his dark hair, piercing blue eyes and tall, athletic frame, striking would be more appropriate. Even sexy, though she couldn’t equate the words sexy and Riley in her mind in the same sentence right now.
‘You sure about that? You don’t sound fine to me.’
He hadn’t budged and, by the determined expression on his face, he wouldn’t till she convinced him she really was okay.
Sighing, she unchained the door and swung it open. ‘I am, but I can see you’re not leaving in a hurry so you may as well come in and have a cuppa with me.’
‘Not the most gracious of invitations but you’re right, I’m not leaving here till I know you’re okay.’
‘What are you doing for the next twenty years then?’ she muttered under her breath.
Thankfully, Riley chose to ignore her sarcastic comment and followed her into the kitchen, his presence dwarfing the tiny chrome and black space.
‘What’ll you have?’
‘Coffee is fine,’he said, grabbing a carton of milk out of the fridge and a clean mug off the sink, looking more at home in the kitchen than Joe ever had.
Stop it! Stop comparing him to Joe.
She blinked, almost surprised at her inner voice chastising her like that. For a girl who’d hardly noticed Riley when they’d first met, she was certainly making up for lost time and making unfavourable comparisons between the brothers to boot!
Joe had been cocky, brash and fun-loving.
Riley was serious, thoughtful and responsible.
Joe had hogged the limelight and adored being the centre of attention.
Riley faded into the background, preferring to take control from the sidelines.
Joe had some hang-up with winning.
By all counts, Riley was a winner; his reputation in the business world spoke for itself.
However, there was one area where the brothers couldn’t compare.
Joe had said he loved her, though she’d discovered that wasn’t true.
Riley obviously tolerated her for the sake of Chas. She’d seen it after Joe’s death and earlier today at the funeral: the curiosity, the censure, the pity.
And she hated it.
He probably thought she was a pathetic basket case but at least he’d been there for her, for Chas, at a time when she’d needed him the most. Which was more than she could say for anyone else in her lifetime, including her mother.
‘How did the wake go?’ she asked, more out of something to fill the growing silence than any burning need to know.
Riley’s lips compressed into a thin line. ‘People stayed as long as the finger food and alcohol kept coming. A few blokes retold some of Joe’s tall tales. That’s about it.’
‘Guess I wasn’t missed then.’ She couldn’t keep the irony from her voice though she couldn’t fathom the answering flicker of something dark and mysterious in his eyes.
‘Joe knew you loved him. He wouldn’t have needed to see you schmoozing with his phoney mates to prove that.’
‘I guess you’re right,’she said, guilt piercing her soul. She could hardly face the truth even in the deepest part of her, too horrified to admit that she hadn’t loved Joe.
She had at the start. At least, she’d thought she did. Maybe it had been infatuation, maybe it had been a plain old-fashioned crush. She’d been so naïve, so clueless when it came to men that she’d fallen for the first classy guy to look her way, wanting to believe his smooth lines, wanting to believe that he loved her. For someone who’d never known real love growing up, it had been a heady experience.
‘Look, this isn’t any of my business but I know you two had problems and I hope you’re not beating yourself up over them. Joe was fun and spontaneous and affectionate but he could also be a selfish brat.’
Maya didn’t question how Riley knew about her relationship troubles with Joe. She didn’t have to. It hung unspoken in the tense, awkward silence between them and she jumped in relief when the kettle whistled.
‘Joe and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues but then I guess that’s part of being a couple,’ she said, pouring boiling water into the mugs, grateful to concentrate on such a mundane task and not have to see the look of judgement on Riley’s face.
Riley was a smart guy and a smart guy would’ve read between the lines and known the argument he’d overheard the night of Joe’s death had only been tip of the iceberg stuff.
A smart guy would’ve twigged that things had been worse. A lot worse.
She’d wanted to explain, to smooth things over with the brother-in-law she never knew but her good intentions had blown up in her face. More to the point, Joe had blown up in her face.
‘Why did you come around that night?’
No use glossing over it. Riley had brought up the subject; she may as well finish it.
He shrugged, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug she handed him and staring into the strong black liquid like a wizard looking for answers in a cauldron.
‘I hadn’t seen Joe in a while. Guess I was worried about him. And you and Chas,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘But you’d never visited before,’she persisted, driven by some strange need to get Riley to talk, perhaps to give her some answers to Joe’s irrational behaviour that night.
‘I know, my fault. Business keeps me busy. I’m pretty much chained to my desk or travelling.’
He sipped at his coffee and Maya couldn’t decide if he was giving her the brush-off or not.
‘Joe never mentioned you much.’
Until he’d gone out with Riley that night, arrived home two hours later reeking of alcohol and spewing forth a torrent of vile accusations that hadn’t made sense. She hadn’t even known Riley, let alone fancied him.
‘Joe and I weren’t as close as I would’ve liked, probably both our faults.’ Riley glanced away, a sad expression on his face before his gaze returned to hers, melancholic, uncertain. ‘He seemed pretty out of control that night. Was that a one-off?’
She wished. ‘Joe wasn’t happy. His behaviour the last few months was erratic.’
Riley frowned. ‘Erratic?’
‘He didn’t spend much time here.’
Major understatement. That night had been typical: with Chas screaming in the nursery at Joe’s escalating abuse, she’d fired back, taunting Joe, hitting his vulnerable spots, knowing it would enrage him further and he’d do what he always did.
Run.
Not come home for days.
Seek and find comfort wherever he could as long as it wasn’t with her.
‘Joe didn’t seem too stable when we chatted that night and I wondered if his death was purely accidental.’
Maya stiffened, understanding Riley’s need to have answers but resenting his inference and the intrusion into her privacy nonetheless.
‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Joe’s car crash was an accident. Joe was too cocky, too full of himself to end his own life.’
Despite her certainty, she would live with the guilt for the rest of her life—that her words had pushed Joe to get behind the wheel of his car when he clearly could barely walk, let alone drive.
She should’ve stopped him.
But she hadn’t.
And it had killed her fiancé, the man who had told her that same night that he’d never had any intention of marrying her, ever, and the humiliating reasons why.
‘You must’ve had a rough time with Joe…’He trailed off, having the grace to look uncomfortable.
‘And what are you trying to do? Make me relive the tough stuff just for old times’ sake?’
