Pawn of the Billionaire(66)

“But why do you think you need to be punished, Toni? I’m sorry you didn’t come into the room when I was talking to Father and smack me round the face. We could’ve sorted it all out much quicker.” I grinned. “But I can understand why you did what you did. I don’t think a punishment is justified.”

She drooped a little in my arms. “I just thought we could do that and then I could enjoy the reward. And I wouldn’t need to feel guilty about it any more, what I did to you, how much it cost.” She was still pink. I felt proud of her, that she could ask for what she wanted even now.

I held her closer. “Toni. It makes no difference to me how much it cost. It could be ten, a hundred times more and I wouldn’t notice.” I kissed the top of her head. “As for what it did to me, maybe I deserved it, need to learn from it.”

She sighed, nestling closer, and we stood silently for a moment. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was so thankful that she was back safely, I was just enjoying her being there.

Then she shifted uncomfortably, and I let her go.

“Your back?”

She nodded. “It’s not too bad.”

She knew what I thought about not getting a doctor, so I didn’t say anything about it. “Let’s go and have lunch, then we can find a chair that’s comfortable for lounging in.”





Toni





I lay on the therapy table as the physical therapist manipulated my back. It wasn’t comfortable, but I could feel the knotted muscles loosening. It would all help in the long run. Perhaps I’d been too stubborn, refusing to come here until a week had passed without it feeling better.

“Is that all right, Miss Chapman? Are you warm enough?”

“Mmm. It’s fine, thanks.” I wanted to be quiet, and just think.

It’d been a busy week. Suite Five was now full of people planning the marketing campaign. James had been wonderful. I’d finally asked him for help, and he’d sat down with me and Paul, going carefully through what we’d done.

“The first thing you need is to get a psychologist on board,” he’d said. “You can’t possibly anticipate all the questions needed without professional advice.”

Paul and I had looked at each other and burst out laughing. We’d not even thought of it. James had looked at me, bemused. I’d struggled to stop giggling long enough to explain. It had been a strange week. My mood was silly and giggly. I felt stupid, but I was just so glad to be back home. And it really felt like home.

I didn’t know how to broach the subject, but I was ready to leave the apartment. Each evening we’d have dinner, our conversations wide-ranging. Each evening, we’d end up on the sofa in his office, talking. We’d kiss, but James was driving me mad with his caution, and I was ready for so much more. But at the end of the evening Steve would be waiting with the car to take me back to the apartment, and somehow the right moment never materialized.

The therapist tapped my shoulder, and I rolled over and sat on the edge of the table. My back felt warm, but I could certainly move more easily.

“There you are, Miss Chapman. That should help.”

I smiled. “Thank you. It’s already looser.”

He nodded. “It’ll take a little while. I’ll see you in three days, and we’ll check on it again for you.”



* * *



As Steve drove me back to the apartment, I decided that I’d have to take the next step. James wouldn’t. So I went to find Anne.

That evening, I dressed carefully, glad my movements were easier, and that I had such a wonderful choice in a walk-in closet that was bigger than the room Maria and I had shared back at the Lodge.

Steve came to the apartment and he carried my suitcase down for me. I was moving back, whether James thought I was ready or not. I leaned forward as we drew up towards the house.

“Steve, I’ll go in the front like I usually do. Can you take the case around the back and give it to David to go up to my room, please?”

“Yes, Miss Chapman.” He looked slightly worried. I smiled at him. “You won’t get into trouble. I promise.”



* * *



After dinner, James and I sat in the lounge again, and I curled up, so happy that I was moving more freely.

“I think the therapy helped,” James murmured, his arm around me.

“Definitely. Thanks for insisting.”

“My very own stubborn Toni.” He sounded amused.

I snuggled in closer, undoing one of his buttons and sliding my hand inside his shirt, feeling him as well as hearing his sharply indrawn breath. “Am I allowed to be stubborn about another request?”

“Hmm.” He pretended to think. “Well, it might be the best time, while I’m feeling indulgent. So, what is this demand, then?”