INDISPENSABLE: Part 3: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  Lunch with your mom. Meet you at my car.

  A few seconds later she’d sent back a smiley face.

  Then, a text came through from Sarah.

  Meeting Rick and his legal entourage this afternoon at 4. Our rooms. Bring your A game.

  He texted back an ok. So today was turning out like any other normal day running a billion dollar company. Tomorrow morning he’d fly out to the Indian headquarters and check out how the human rights issues were going for workers in production. Fair pay and no child exploitation were the main issues. He’d be gone for a week.

  He was going to ask Sarah to join him, but given their earlier conversation, he decided it would be a bad idea. But he’d love to take her to see the beautiful parts of India and show her the parts he was trying his hardest to help out with. Maybe next time. The thought of travelling alone was a little bleak after their romantic jaunt to Paris.

  Brock locked up his office and headed for the elevator. He’d made every dinner time a family one, as many as he could manage, while Heather grew up. But Jodie kept her days and most of her nights for herself. Brock understood that.

  Everyone needed their privacy and time to do whatever they wanted. That’s why a lunch meeting was reserved for desperate times. He could count on one hand the amount they’d ever had—and all over Heather as they tried to raise her right.

  He hated moments of clarity that made him look like an idiot. No wonder Sarah had backed off. In three weeks, she’d been surrounded by him and the constant stream of drama that was his life. Not her circus, and not her monkeys. Not only that, he’d not given Jodie the freedom she deserved to pursue a life outside of Heather—and him.

  He shook his head, as he went to meet his daughter at his car. That would change. He’d do what was right for Jodie, not him. Surely, that was a credible start to sorting his life out. His gut was in a knot. He’d never imagined what this moment might be like. He never considered they’d ever get divorced. The depth of his narcissism was astounding.

  Chapter Eight

  Sarah had no clue where to even start looking for a place to live. She scoured the real estate postings to find something. They all seemed to be homes for families and happy couples, not best friends who got drunk on cheap wine every Friday night. More likely, she just wasn’t in the mood.

  She’d come back to the apartment to get the scrap of paper Brock had written her parents address on a couple of weeks ago when he’d admitted he’d seen them. No wonder she couldn’t think about finding a place to live; she hadn’t seen her parents for two years. She’d told them to rot in the drug hell they lived in. That they were dead to her.

  She’d spent six months in rehab before she knew she had to cut them out of her life. Now, she was about to invite them back in. But Sarah wanted to know why they’d let her have her brother's art after all this time. She needed to call them out on their lack of parenting ability.

  After being at the warehouse with Brock, she knew the sadness deep inside her stemmed from not having a wonderful childhood and from losing the one thing she loved about it because of the two people who made her life misery. When her younger brother, Peter, took his life, he’d taken a whole chunk of her heart with him. That could never be replaced.

  Her parent’s addictions were worse than ever at that time, and Sarah finally succumbed to the lure of the drug high as well. Anything to drown out the torture of losing the one thing that had made her life worth living.

  Anything to drown out the fact that she wasn’t enough to make his life worth living. But Brock was right, depression was a disease, and Peter’s brain was wired in a way that nothing could stop him coming to his end that way. It was what he’d wanted, and it wasn’t about her.

  But, she had to face this all. She needed to tell her parents what they’d done to her and make them see it was wrong to love a hit more than they loved their own children. She needed to hear they were sorry they’d driven a beautiful, gentle soul into his grave.

  Sarah would pay them a visit right now. Take them by surprise. If they knew she was coming, they’d make it look and sound good. She’d know as soon as she looked at them, at where they lived, if they were still on drugs.

  They had no tricks they could play, no lies they could tell, and no places they could hide drugs that she didn’t know like the back of her hand. This afternoon, she’d be on the doorstep, slaying a few of her demons.

  After that, she’d be in the meeting with Brock and Rick. She’d have to be on her best game to save the company as much money as she could. The phone conversation with Rick’s lawyer had been a little stilted, but Sarah hadn’t given any ground.

  It was to happen today or a warrant for Rick’s arrest would be sent out. Maybe Brock was right about that, Rick didn’t deserve to get let off the hook for the way he’d treated the young women in this company.

  But for the sake of bringing the matter to an end, Sarah was prepared to offer him an option. That was her job. She was great at her job. Facing Rick would be pretty scary, very scary. She recalled the anger burning in his eyes when Brock had fired him and put her in the job in front of everyone that day.

  Also, the fact that he’d bugged Brock and had been watching them was very creepy. But, if Rick saw reason, he could come out of this very well. Sarah pulled on her jacket and took the scrap of paper. She had programmed the address into her phone GPS already. Of course, they could’ve left town since they’d seen Brock. He’d given them good money for the artwork. Maybe they'd skipped the country. Sarah had never been out of the country, apart from the trip to France with Brock. She’d have to do more travelling, on her own.

  She had to admit the beautiful gown and her time in Paris with Brock was where she wished she was right now. They’d had so much fun. And so much sex, her way. He’d honored her contract to the full, and even though he’d let himself add emotions to sex at the time, she still knew he didn’t want sex to be that way all the time.

  Then, she’d thought they could make it work, and she could let him be her Dom, and as much as it thrilled her to be that way with Brock, it also devastated her to know she had a lot of crap to still deal with. She shook her head and went to her company car.

  Best get this done. If her parents had done a runner, then she’d have to let it go, but at least she’d know she was prepared to deal with the ghosts. Sarah was nervous and scared. She wasn’t sure how she’d react seeing her parents again. Sarah text Bella to let her know she was on her way. After Bella answered, she texted back saying she’d let her know how it went.

  Maybe she’d be sick when she got there. Maybe she’d have an anxiety attack. Her breathing became labored, and she inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. She was strong enough to get through this without a panic attack. This time, she’d allow herself to feel everything she’d bottled up, but she’d also control it. Brock had shown her how she could push through things.

  Her parents never affected her life now. Sarah was successful in her own right. She was successful in spite of their awful treatment of her and telling her she’d never amount to anything. No child deserved that. They were wrong, and she wanted to know they understood that fact. Once she had it out, Sarah felt she’d be able to finally put it all behind her.

  She prayed she’d be able to put it behind her. She had to. To feel the crushing disappointment of not being lovable enough was not a place she wanted to be for the rest of her life. She was lovable enough. She was. Drugs were not fair competition. No one can compete with an addiction.

  As she drove into the stream of traffic, Sarah pushed the thought of not being lovable enough for Brock to want to change his sexual lifestyle out of the forefront of her mind. That was crazy thinking.

  He was likely just as addicted to the dominance, as her parents were to hard drugs. But then, she wasn’t willing to be his submissive on a permanent basis, so did that make Brock feel he wasn’t lovable enough either?

  She didn’t know, but she just had to get this done an
d behind her, so she listened to the GPS voice as it guided her to certain heartbreak—but ultimately, she’d be free.

  ****

  “Sarah?”

  “Hello, Evie.” Sarah refused to use the word mother or father. She looked at her mother’s deeply lined face and studied her sunken eyes. Her eyes weren’t exactly sparkling, but she wasn’t high either.

  “How did you find out?”

  “Where you lived? Brock Devlin, as if you didn’t know.”

  Her mother shook her head, and tears filled her eyes. “Your father said I should tell you. But I didn’t want to. Now he’s gone.”

  “Who’s gone?”

  “Barry.” Her mother’s shoulders shook with sobs.

  “He left you?”

  She looked up at Sarah and shook her head. “His funeral is tomorrow.”

  Sarah held the door jamb for support. “He’s dead?” This seemed unbelievable.

  “Cancer. Come in. If you want to.”

  Sarah reeled from this information. Brock hadn’t mentioned anything about her father being ill. Had he known? “Just for minute. I have some things I’d like to say.” Sarah kept with the speech she’d rehearsed in her mind. She didn’t know what else to do.

  This didn’t change anything. They both might’ve been dead a year ago and she would never have known. In fact, they’d dodged so many bullets in the drug game, they were lucky to be alive. Sarah had always expected them to turn up dead in a deal gone wrong or an overdose. But they hadn’t, and now her father was dead.

  They’d always laughed about death, said if they went, they’d go together. All they cared about was being together and being high.

  She followed her mother into the small home. It was nothing flash but a definite step up from their Aversham dwelling; it was never a home. So, he got cancer. Not surprising. Sarah tried to process the feeling she was having. Sorrow? Serves him right? Poor Mom? It was all a mish-mash; she needed to get these emotions out of her.

  “I’m sorry. This is the worst time, but I didn’t know that. As always, I’ve been shut out from you.”

  Her mother held up her hand. “Stop, Sarah. I know what you’re here about. The artworks. We sold them to Brock for you to have because we should never have withheld them, but also for medical costs. Your father’s treatments.”

  “Which clearly didn’t work.”

  “No. We were too late. But we wanted to try.”

  “It’s not just about that. It’s about my life. The way I am. What you both put me through, put Peter through—as kids. It was wrong. It was so wrong, but I’m not letting it define me.”

  Her mother cried again. Sarah felt like the worst person in the world. She had to keep coming back to why she was here, how horrible it’d been.

  “We’d been clean for six months. For the first time in our lives, we knew we’d kicked it. Then, they found the liver cancer. He battled it for a long time. He wanted to get well so we could come and make things right with you. I told him we never could. But he wanted to try.”

  The tears prickled Sarah’s eyes. Fuck. She wasn’t expecting that. Her mother looked withered, haggard, depleted. The drugs took their toll. Sarah couldn’t feel guilty about that; it was her mother’s own fault. She wasn’t celebrating the fact though. Her father wanted to make it up to her, so her mother said. For all Sarah knew, it was a ploy to get money out of her. She could check that story out using investigators and hospital records—just to be sure.

  “I deserved to die right along with him. We should’ve adopted you kids out, at least then you’d have a family. I have many regrets, but that is my biggest, and I don’t want to be forgiven. I want it to stand as my punishment, just as the death of your father has.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’d come here to hear you say all that, but I thought I’d have to force it out of you both.”

  “Sarah, you’ve done so well. We never deserved a daughter like you. So strong, and clever. So beautiful. Everyone loved you. You were always going to make something of yourself.”

  “And yet you told me constantly I’d never be a success at anything.”

  “But here you are.”

  “Thanks to me.”

  “Yes. I don’t want or expect us to play happy families now, but I do hope you go on to be happy, to find love, to have children and raise them right. Go and live the life we tried to snuff out of you because we were selfish, jealous idiots.”

  Sarah stood up. She had nothing else to say. Just nothing. Her mother had validated everything. Now, she could go and be free from the past they’d given her. “Evie, I appreciate your words. You’re right. It doesn’t change anything. I’m going to move forward with my life.”

  “Goodbye, Sarah.” Her mother stayed seated on the sofa, and she never looked up at Sarah. “I’m glad you came.”

  Was it true? Did her father really want to say sorry? Was her mother being honest now? It certainly seemed so from her body language. Sarah walked out of the tiny sitting room and opened the front door. Her father was dead. His funeral was tomorrow. The question was, did her new life seem so cold that she could just walk away from this?

  She took a couple of steps back. “Where’s the service?”

  “Cremation. Just me. We had no friends, not anymore.”

  “What time?”

  “Ten in the morning.”

  “I’ll pick you up at nine.”

  Chapter Nine

  Brock had enjoyed the light-hearted banter between him and Heather on the car ride to Jodie’s place. Heather was just an awesome person, even if he was biased. Of course, she may not feel that way about him once he’d told her why he’d called an emergency lunch. But he’d wait until they got inside.

  Jodie met them in her chair at the door. Her smile was bright as always, but Brock saw the worry in her eyes. He didn’t want to worry her. He’d gotten her into this, and now he’d be abandoning her. Had she become dependent on him? Maybe he’d made it so she didn’t know how to live without being married to him. Maybe he was giving himself a little too much importance.

  He’d bring it up as an open topic for discussion. That way he wouldn’t be railroading Jodie into what he wanted. He’d say it was a possibility, not compulsory. The house smelled divine, and he sniffed the air. “Jodie, you’ve been baking.”

  “I made some quiche, and a cream cake for dessert.”

  “My favorites. Thanks.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. Then, he followed her into the kitchen.

  “Yum.” Heather picked up a cookie and munched on it.

  “Heather, you’ll spoil your lunch.” Jodie smiled at her daughter.

  “No way. I’ll still eat.”

  “Let’s eat in here at the breakfast bar.” Jodie placed a plate of mini-quiches in front of them and bowl of salad to share. Plates and cutlery were already out. “So, Brock. We haven’t had a lunch emergency since Heather got a crush on that Greenwood boy and wanted to go to a party.”

  “Oh, Mom! Not so graphic please.” Heather screwed her face up. Apparently, a lot changed since the year that young lad was popular with her.

  Brock had to laugh at her reaction. “He was so nice. I loved the way his ears stuck out. Very cute.”

  Heather swatted him in the arm. “Shut. Up. I was thirteen.”

  “Your first love. Positively dreamy.” Brock spoke in a falsetto high pitch and clasped his hands under his chin.

  “Dad!” Heather took another swipe at him, and Brock looked at her with a big grin and batted his eyelids. Heather fought her smile and looked at Jodie. “Mom, make him stop.”

  “Anyway. Brock. Why are we here?” Jodie served herself a quiche onto her plate and picked up her knife and fork. “Not to pick on Heather’s choice of ears…I mean boys.”

  “God. Mom. You too?”

  “Say what it is you need to Brock, before Heather never speaks to us again.” Jodie cut into her lunch and placed a small portion into her mouth.

  Brock an
d Heather had both just taken huge bites from the ones they held in their hands.

  The flavor was amazing as always, and Brock relished it a minute before he sat it onto his plate. “Sorry, Heather. I can never resist eating these with my hands. So yum.” Brock felt himself stalling, so he pushed the words out of his mouth. “Jodie, we’ve been married a long time. Almost sixteen years.”

  “Yes. We have.”

  “Heather is well adjusted, successful, and happy. I think.” He looked at Heather who nodded and kept eating. Brock pushed on. “I wondered if maybe you thought there was more to life than me. I mean, just tell me. I won’t be offended. I know I have the…tendency…to like being in control.”

  Heather made a weird noise, and he just caught her eye roll before she spoke. “Understatement of the century.”

  Brock looked back to Jodie, as she set down her cutlery.

  “What are you saying, Brock?” Jodie looked hard at him, as she questioned.

  This was way harder than he thought. What if she hated the idea of divorce? What if she loved it? There was only one way through this. “Have you ever thought about a divorce?”

  Jodie’s eyes went wide, and she coughed a little with her hand over her mouth, and her eyes as wide as a plate. Heather hooted, and Brock looked at her.

  Heather fist-pumped the air. “Hell to the yes!”

  “Heather!” Jodie scolded her. “Have a thought for your father’s feelings.” Jodie cleared her throat and clearly composed herself. “Yes, Brock, I have thought about divorce.”

  “Only every day in the last five years.” Heather announced before she took another bite. Brock stared at her, but she just eyed him back and chewed her food. Heather grabbed another quiche and stood up. “Okay, parents. I’m down with this. I’m off to my room. Yell when you’re leaving, Dad.”

  Brock was speechless. What could he say to that? He looked at Jodie, and she had half a smile on her face. “Kids, what’ya gonna do with ‘em?”