Therese Beharrie - Tempted By The Billionaire Next Door

She walked out before he could reply.

* * *

Dylan stared at the door long after Jess had left, hoping that their interaction wasn’t an omen for the rest of his return.

He knew the way things had spiralled between them was his fault. But he’d wanted to know what Jess knew. He told himself it was because it would give him an indication of what Anja knew. Of what his sister thought of him. But, deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t want Jess to judge him based on the only thing he’d done in his life that had disappointed his sister.

Because he’d been disappointed, too, and he knew what it felt like. His entire life, his father had disappointed him. It was the best—or, rather, easiest—word to use to describe how Dylan felt about his father. About the man’s gambling addiction. About his absence. And perhaps Dylan would have been able to put it all behind him after his father had died if he hadn’t found out his mother had known about his father’s problems before he or Anja had been born.

He and Anja had spent their entire childhood trying to comfort their mother after their father had left them. They’d no longer been children. Instead, their existence had been dedicated to keeping the woman who’d borne them from spiralling into a deep depression.

What had been the point of all that when his mother had known what she’d been getting into with his father?

When Dylan had found out, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Anja. So he’d left, and tried to deal with the anger by himself, away from her. His anger at the secret his mother had kept from them. His anger about the inexplicable grief he felt at losing a man he’d barely known.

He couldn’t get past the irony that by wanting to keep Anja from the same disappointment he’d felt in their parents, he’d disappointed her. More than that, he thought, remembering that expression on her face when he’d told her he was leaving again. He’d abandoned her.

Just like his father had abandoned them.

CHAPTER THREE

JESS WOKE UP to water dripping onto her face.

It took her a moment to realise that water was dripping on to her face, and more time to realise that that wasn’t a good thing. She sat up and looked at the ceiling, only to see a long, slim strip of water dripping across the length of the room.

Her first thought was that she needed to close the water main, and that she’d figure out where the water was coming from once she had. But when she reached down to put her shoes on, she realised that she didn’t actually know where the water main was.

It took her another few minutes to figure out that she needed to ask Dylan for help, and she sighed before slipping on the soft boots she wore as slippers.

The entire floor of the passage to the front door was wet, and Jess’s heart beat heavily in her chest as she walked through the water. She locked the door and then rushed to Dylan’s house, and waited impatiently for him to answer after she rang the bell.

Seconds later he opened the door, and Jess found herself staring into a bare chest. Again. Why didn’t he have a shirt on? she thought, annoyance straightening her spine. Didn’t he realise it was autumn ? She tilted her head up, and only then saw that his hair was mussed from sleep. Which, she discovered, had the same effect on her as his bare chest.

She forced herself to focus on the reason she’d woken him. ‘Do you know where the water main to Anja’s house is?’

He frowned. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘No time. I’ll explain after you shut it off.’

His eyes swept over her, and for the first time she realised that the only thing she’d done after waking up was put her slippers on. She must look a mess, she thought, wincing internally. But she wouldn’t dwell on it now. Which was probably a good thing since a voice in her head reminded her that she’d woken with water on her face, which had probably made her look even worse.

Thankfully, he seemed to take her appearance as a sign of urgency and he walked past her, barely waiting for her to waddle after him before he was at the front of Anja’s house, opening a concealed hatch and reaching inside. Then he was at her side again, offering her another view of his naked chest.

‘You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t put a shirt on,’ she said, crossing her arms when her comment reminded her that she didn’t have much on either. She was more dressed than he was, but her oversized shirt and black pyjama pants were not exactly the items she’d have chosen had she known she was going to see anyone, let alone him .

Besides, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and she knew her pregnancy boobs weren’t going to politely refuse to be noticed, especially in the cold.

‘If you keep telling me to put a shirt on, I’m going to think you have a problem with me being shirtless. And then I’d have to ask why you have problem with me being shirtless, and I’m guessing that’s not a conversation you want to have.’

As if to prove his point, he ran a hand through his hair. His biceps bulged and her throat went dry.

‘I’m only worried about your health,’ she managed stiffly.

‘Oh, I forgot. Because of your medical background, right?’ He grinned and she almost— almost —smiled back. Instead, she pressed a hand on his hip and pressed gently, much like she had the day before. And, just like he had the day before, he winced.

She gave him a sweet smile. ‘How’s your hip feeling?’

‘Oh, aren’t you hilarious?’

‘I’m not the one trying to be a comedian this morning.’

‘I wouldn’t have had to be anything besides asleep if you hadn’t woken me up.’ Now he ran a hand over the back of his neck, pushing his chest out ever so slightly. She swallowed. ‘What time is it?’

‘I... I don’t know,’ Jess replied as she realised she didn’t. She winced. ‘I’m sorry for waking you up. I just didn’t know what to do...’ She waited a beat. ‘Thank you. For your help.’

He nodded. ‘You have a burst pipe?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I woke up with water dripping onto my face.’ She sighed. ‘The house is a mess.’

It would be a logistical nightmare for her. Not because she would have to take care of getting it fixed, but because she wasn’t only staying at Anja’s house to house-sit. No, she had just bought her own place and was staying at Anja’s until her new home could be made liveable. It was small, and the deposit had taken most of her savings, but it was her own. A fact that always, always brought her joy.

It reminded her that when she’d cut ties with her parents two years ago she had nothing except her university degree. It could have been enough, especially since her surname meant something in the finance industry she’d been trained for, but she hadn’t wanted to rely on that. She wanted something of her own . Something that couldn’t in any way be attributed to her rich, successful parents whose only concern had been their business.

Not the child they’d mistakenly conceived.

So she’d applied for a job she was wholly overqualified for, doing the day-to-day admin for a yoga studio. She updated and maintained Anja’s website, managed bookings, dealt with queries, emails and, for the past year, helped Anja with the admin for opening her studio in Sydney. It had been a dream of Anja’s as Chet was Australian and she’d wanted roots there just like Chet had in South Africa.

And the job had turned out to be a dream for Jess—the constant stream of things to do a welcome distraction from the past and the parents she’d walked away from.

For two years Jess hadn’t spent any of the money she’d earned on anything besides the essentials. It meant that she was able to afford the small flat she’d bought, twenty minutes away from Chet and Anja’s place. But that flat was a mess.