Chapter 19

Lucky for Wade, he'd never had much of an ego.

If he did, it would be smarting.

Liza had done it again. Indulged in a wild, passionate, no-holds-barred night of mind-blowing sex. And then…nothing.

The next day at the office, four weeks ago, she'd reverted to the cool, dedicated woman who'd wowed him with her business ethic that first day she'd presented her marketing ideas. She acted like nothing had changed so he followed her lead, and they'd been nothing beyond courteous colleagues for the last month.

Admittedly, they'd been incredibly busy, with her biography having the fastest turnaround he'd ever seen in all his years in publishing. To have a book written, copy-edited, line-edited, final proofed, and in ARC format within a month? Unheard of, but he'd made it happen. He owed his dad that much. Preserving a family legacy might be the reason everyone assumed was behind his drive to save the company.

Only he knew the truth. Guilt was a powerful motivator.

Despite Liza's encouraging insights that his dad had loved him and that's why Quentin hadn't shared the truth about his heart condition, Wade knew better.

His dad had known how much he despised Babs, but he'd been too much of a gentleman to bring it up or let it effect their relationship initially. But with Wade's continued withdrawal, both physically and emotionally, he'd irrevocably damaged the one relationship he'd ever relied on.

His dad not trusting him enough to divulge the truth about his heart condition before it was too late hurt, deeper than he'd ever imagined.

He regretted every moment he'd lost with his dad. Regretted all the time they could've spent together if he'd known the truth. Regretted how he'd let his superiority, judgement, and distaste for Babs ruin a friendship that surpassed a simple father-son bond. Most of all, he regretted not having the opportunity to say a proper goodbye.

He'd regret it all and the rift he'd caused until his dying day, but for now he'd do everything in his power to ensure Qu thrived as a token of respect for the man who had given him everything.

He had the woman who'd sold her story to him to thank too.

Wade had done as she suggested over the last few weeks. Remembered the good times with his dad: authors they'd signed together, books they'd published that had gone on to hit bestseller lists, a patient Quentin teaching him golf as a teenager and the many hack games that had followed over the years, the beers they'd share while watching the motor sport.

So many precious memories he'd deliberately locked away because of the hurt. But Liza had been right. Holding onto guilt only made it fester and remembering the good times had gone some way to easing his pain.

She'd given him a wake-up call he needed and had a surprise as a thank you.

He knocked on Liza's door, holding the Advanced Reader Copy behind his back. He hoped she'd be as thrilled with how her story had turned out as he was.

He'd stayed up all night, devouring Liza's biography from cover to cover. When he'd speed read the first draft in e-format he'd done so with an editor's eye and hadn't really had time to absorb the facts beyond she'd delivered the juicy tell-all he'd demanded.

After reading the ARC last night, holding her life in tree format, he'd felt closer to her somehow, as if learning snippets from her childhood revealed her to him in a way she'd never do in person.

Of course, he'd hated her dating tales, insanely jealous of the soccer and basketball stars that had wooed her and whisked her to parties and elite functions, living the high life. Irrational, because he had no reason to be jealous; those guys were her past.

But was he her future?

Damned if he knew. It wasn't as if they were looking for anything long term. He'd spelled it out at the start and Liza had done her best to maintain her distance when they weren't burning up the sheets those two times.

So why the intense disappointment she'd been willing to share part of her life with him, but only for the money?

The door opened and a forty-something woman with spiked blonde hair, no makeup, and sporting a frown eyed him up and down. ‘Yes?'

‘Hi, Wade Urquart, here to see Liza.'

The woman's eyes widened as a sly smile lit her face. ‘Nice to meet you, Wade. I'm Shar. Come on in.'

Shar ushered him through the door and it took a moment to register two things.

A pretty young woman bearing a strong resemblance to Liza was engrossed in a jigsaw puzzle alongside Liza.

The young woman was in a wheelchair.

Their heads turned as one as he stepped into the room, the young woman's lopsided welcoming smile indicative of some kind of disability, Liza's stunned expression a mix of horror and fear.

It confused the hell out of him.

Why was she horrified to see him? Was she scared he'd run a mile because she had a disabled relative, probably a sister?

The possibility that she thought so little of him irked.

He strode forward, determined to show her he was ten times the man she gave him credit for.

‘Hi, I'm Wade.' He stuck out his hand, waiting for the young woman to place her clawed hand in his, and shook it gently.

‘Cindy, Liza's sister,' she said, her blue eyes so like Liza's, bright with curiosity and mischief. ‘Are you Liza's boyfriend?'

‘Yes,' he said, simultaneously with Liza's, ‘No.'

Shar smothered a laugh from behind. ‘Come on, Cindy, let's leave these two to sort out their confusion.'

Cindy chuckled and Wade said, ‘Nice meeting you both,' as they left the room.

Liza stood, her movements stiff and jerky as she rounded the table, arms folded. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I came to give you this.'

He handed her the ARC, his excitement at sharing it with her evaporating in a cloud of confusion. Why hadn't she told him about her sister Cindy? Did he mean that little to her?

They might not have a solid commitment or long-term plans but he'd thought they'd connected on a deeper level beyond the physical. At the very least they were friends, and friends shared stuff like this.

As her fingers closed around the creased spine from his rapid page-turning the night before, the truth detonated.

His hand jerked back and the ARC fell to the floor with a loud thud.

‘There's no mention of Cindy in your bio.'

She glared at him, defiant. ‘‘Of course not. I don't want the whole world knowing about my sister—'

‘What the—?' He ran a hand over his face, hoping it would erase his disgust, knowing it wouldn't. ‘You're embarrassed by her.'

She stepped back as if he'd struck her, her mouth a shocked O.

Anger filled him, ugly and potent. He didn't know what made him madder: that she'd lied in her bio, that she was ashamed of her sister, or that she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him anything.

He kicked at the ARC. ‘Is any of this true?'

She flinched. ‘My life is between those pages—'

‘Bullshit.' He lowered his voice with effort. ‘Leaving your sister out of your biography is a major twisting of the truth. Which makes me wonder, what else have you lied about?'

He waited for her to deny his accusation, desperately wanted her to, but she stood there, staring at him with sorrow and regret, and he had his answer.

‘I could lose everything,' he said, anger making his hands shake. His fingers curled into fists and he shoved them into his pockets. ‘The bulk of your advance came out of my pocket. Three hundred grand's worth.'

He should feel more panicky about the precarious position he'd placed his own company in to save his dad's—the advance was only the start, because he'd poured another half a million into the marketing budget for the biography too—but all he could think about was how Liza had lied to him. How she'd withheld the truth from him.

Just like his dad.

He'd told her about Quentin not trusting him enough, about how it affected him. Hell, she'd even given him that pep talk.

Yet she'd gone and done the same regardless.

‘I earned that advance.' Her flat monotone made him want to shake her to get some kind of reaction. ‘I gave you the story you wanted.'

‘So what? I should be grateful?' His bitterness made her flinch. ‘I should've known better than to trust someone like you.'

She paled but didn't say anything, her lack of defence riling him further.

‘Guess you played me like those other poor suckers in your biography,' he said, not proud of the low blow but lashing out, needing to hurt her as much as she'd hurt him.

That's when the real truth detonated.

He wouldn't care this much, wouldn't be hurting this much, if he hadn't fallen for her.

A woman who didn't trust him, a woman who thought nothing of their developing relationship, a woman who'd done all of this for the money only.

Reeling from the realisation, he did the only thing possible.

Turned on his heel, strode out of the door, and slammed it behind him.