Читать книгу The Australian Affairs Collection - Margaret Way - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

BEN SIGHED AS he flipped his phone shut and slipped it into his jeans pocket. The last thing he wanted to do was be driven all the way to Mudgee tomorrow by Miss Jessica Murphy, qualified mechanic and advanced driving instructor, he thought grumpily as he headed for the drinks cabinet. She’d declared herself well over twenty-one. More likely well over forty. And plain as a pikestaff to boot!

Still, what choice did he have after that doctor at Gosford hospital had declared him unfit to drive for at least a week? Not because of the excuse he’d given over the phone just now. His right shoulder was stiff and bruised but quite usable. It was the concussion he’d suffered which was the problem, the doctor having explained that no insurance company would cover him till he had a signed medical clearance.

Stupid, really. He felt fine. A little tired and frustrated, maybe, but basically fine.

Ben scowled as he sloshed a good two inches of his mother’s best bourbon into one of her crystal glasses. He supposed he should be feeling grateful he’d found a hire car at all, not irritated. But Miss Jessica Murphy had got right up his nose. There was a fine line between efficient and officious and she’d certainly been straddling it. He half-regretted making the offer for her to call him Ben, but he’d had to do something to warm the old tartar up, otherwise the drive tomorrow would be worse than tedious.

If only his mother had been here, Ben thought as he headed for the kitchen in search of ice. She could have driven him. But she wasn’t. She was off on a South Pacific cruise with her latest lover.

Admittedly, this one was older than her usual. In his mid-fifties, Lionel was only a few years Ava’s junior. And he was currently employed—something in movie production—so he was a big improvement on the other fortune-hunting toy-boys who’d graced her bed over the years since his parents’ divorce.

Not that his mother’s affairs bothered him much these days. Ben had finally grown up enough to know his mother’s personal life was none of his business. A pity she didn’t return the favour, he thought as he scooped a few cubes of ice from the fridge’s automatic ice-dispenser and dropped them in his glass. She was always asking him when he was going to get married and give her grandchildren.

So maybe it was better she wasn’t here right now. The last thing he wanted was outside pressure about his relationship with Amber. He was having enough trouble as it was, deciding whether he should give up the romantic notion of marrying for love and settle for what Amber was offering. At least if he married Amber he wouldn’t have to worry about her being a fortune hunter, which was always a problem when a man was heir to billions. Amber was the only daughter of a very wealthy property developer, so she didn’t need a meal ticket in a husband.

In all honesty, Ben hadn’t been under the impression that Amber wanted a husband at all yet. She was only twenty-four and was clearly enjoying her life as a single girl with a glamorous though empty job at an art gallery, a full social calendar and a boyfriend who kept her sexually satisfied. But, just before his trip down under, Amber had suddenly asked Ben if he was ever going to propose. She said she loved him, but she didn’t want to waste any more time on him if he didn’t love her back and didn’t want marriage and children.

Of course he hadn’t been able to tell her that he loved her back, because he didn’t. He’d said that he liked her a lot but did not love her. Ben had been somewhat surprised when she’d replied that she would be happy enough with his liking her a lot. He’d assumed—wrongly, it seemed—that a woman genuinely in love would be more heartbroken by his own lack of love. Apparently not! She’d given him till Christmas to make up his mind. After that, she would be looking elsewhere for a husband.

Ben lifted the bourbon to his lips as he wandered back into the living room and over to the glass wall which overlooked the beach. But he wasn’t really looking at the ocean view. He was recalling how he’d told Amber that he would think about her offer whilst he was in Australia and give her an answer on his return.

And he had been thinking. A lot. He did want marriage and children. One day. But, hell, he was only thirty-one. On top of that, he wanted to feel more for his future wife than he currently felt for Amber. He wanted to fall deeply in love, and vice versa, the kind of love you had no doubts over. The kind which would last. Divorce was not on his agenda. Ben knew first-hand how damaging divorce was to children, even when the parents were civilised about it, as his own parents had been. His workaholic father had sensibly and generously given Ben’s mother full custody of Ben, allowing her to bring him back to Australia, with the proviso that Ben spent some of his school holidays with him in America.

Ben had still been devastated to find out that his parents no longer loved each other. He’d only been eleven at the time, and totally ignorant of the circumstances which had led to the divorce. It was testament to his parents’ mutual love of their son that they’d never criticised each other in front of him, never blamed each other for the break-up of the marriage. They’d both just said that sometimes people fell out of love and it was better that they live apart.

Ben had hated coming to Australia at first, but he eventually grew to love this wonderful laid-back country and his life out here. He’d loved the school he’d been sent to and the many friends he’d made here. He’d especially loved his years at Sydney University, studying law and flat-sharing with Andy, his very best friend. It wasn’t till he’d graduated that his father had finally told him the ugly truth: that his mother had trapped him into marriage by getting pregnant. She’d never loved him. She’d just wanted a wealthy husband. Yes, he’d also admitted to having been unfaithful to her, but only after she’d confessed the truth to him one night.

His father had claimed he hated hurting Ben with these revelations but believed it was in his best interests.

‘You are going to inherit great wealth, son,’ Morgan De Silva had said at the time. ‘You need to understand the corrupting power of money. You must always keep your wits about you, especially when it comes to women.’

When a distressed Ben had confronted his mother, she’d been furious with his father, but hadn’t denied she’d married the billionaire for his money, though she’d done her best to explain why. Born dirt-poor but beautiful, she’d had a tough childhood but had finally made it as a model in Australia and then overseas, having been taken on by a prestigious New York agency. For several years she’d made very good money but just before she’d turned thirty she’d discovered that her manager hadn’t invested her money wisely, as she’d believed, instead having wasted it all on gambling.

Suddenly, she’d been close to broke again and, whilst she’d still been very beautiful, her career hadn’t been what it once was. So, when the super-wealthy Morgan De Silva had come on the scene, obviously infatuated with the lovely Australian blonde, she’d allowed herself to be seduced in more ways than one. She’d been attracted to him, she’d insisted, but had admitted to Ben that she didn’t love his father, saying she doubted he’d loved her either. It had just been a case of lust.

‘The only thing your father loves,’ she’d told Ben with some bitterness, ‘is money.’

Ben had argued back that this wasn’t true. His father loved him. Which belief had prompted his move to America shortly after his graduation from university.

Not that he’d cut his mother out of his life altogether. She’d been a wonderful mother to him and he still loved her, despite her faults and flaws. They talked every week or so on the phone, but he didn’t visit all that often, mostly because he rarely had the time.

Life since going to the States had been full-on. An economics post-graduate degree at Harvard had been followed by an intense apprenticeship in the investment business. There’d been a few snide remarks when he’d made his way quickly up the ladder at De Silva & Associates, but Ben believed he’d earned his promotion to an executive position in his father’s company, along with the seven-figure salary, the sizeable bonuses, the flash car and the equally flash New York apartment. Along the way, he’d also earned the reputation for being a bit of a playboy, perhaps because his girlfriends didn’t last all that long. Invariably, after a few weeks he would grow bored with them and move on. Never once had he fallen in love, making him wonder if he ever would.

It was a surprise to Ben that his relationship with Amber had lasted as long as it had—eight months—possibly because he didn’t see all that much of her. He was working very long hours. He’d never thought himself in love with her. She was, however, attractive, amusing and very easy to be with, never fussing when he was late for a date or when he had to opt out at the last minute. Never acting in that clinging, possessive way which he hated.

She’d also never once said she loved him in all those months, so her recent declaration had come out of the blue.

Ben had been startled at first, then flattered, then tempted by her proposal, possibly because of his father’s mantras, on marriage.

‘Rich men should always marry rich girls,’ he’d said more than once, along with, ‘Rich men must marry with their heads. Never their hearts.’

Sensible advice. But it was no use. Ben knew, deep down in his heart, that marriage to a girl he didn’t love would be settling for less than he’d always wanted. A lot less.

So his answer had to be no.

Ben considered ringing Amber and telling her so immediately, but there was something cowardly about breaking up over the phone or, God forbid, by text message. She’d already asked him not to call or text her whilst he was away, perhaps hoping that he would miss her more that way.

Frankly, just the opposite had happened. Without phone calls and text messages, the connection between them had been broken. Now that he’d made his final decision, Ben felt not one ounce of regret. Just relief.

When his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, Ben hoped like hell it wasn’t Amber. But it wasn’t her, the caller ID revealing it was his father. Ben frowned as he lifted the phone to his ear. It wasn’t like his father to call him unless there was a business problem. Morgan De Silva wasn’t into social chit-chat.

‘Hi, Dad,’ Ben said. ‘What’s up?’

‘Sorry to bother you, son, but I was thinking about you tonight and decided to give you a call.’

Ben could not have been more taken aback.

‘That’s great, Dad, but shouldn’t you be asleep? It must be the middle of the night over there.’

‘It’s not that late. Besides, you know I never sleep much. What time is it where you are?’

‘Mid-afternoon.’

‘What day?’

‘Thursday.’

‘Ah. Right. So you’ll be off to Andy’s wedding in a couple of days.’

‘I’m actually driving up to his place tomorrow.’ For a split second Ben contemplated telling his father about the accident and his fiasco about finding a hire car, but decided not to. Why worry him unnecessarily?

‘Nice boy, Andy.’

His father had met Andy when Ben had brought him to America for a holiday. They’d gone skiing with Morgan and had a great time.

‘So, when do you think you’ll be back in New York?’ his father asked.

‘Probably not till the end of next week. Mum’s away on a cruise and doesn’t get back till next Monday. I’d like to spend a day or two with her before I fly home.’

‘Of course. Why don’t you stay a little longer? Have a decent holiday? You deserve it. You’ve been working way too hard.’

Ben stared out at the beach and the ocean beyond. In truth, it had been a couple of years since he’d had more than a long weekend off, his mother recently having accused him of becoming a workaholic, just like his father.

‘I might do that,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘My pleasure. You’re a good boy. Give my regards to your mother,’ his father said abruptly, then hung up.

Ben stared down at his phone, wondering what in the hell that had been all about.