Page 26 of BillionHeir

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Chloe

I make a break for the door, walking as fast as my feet will allow actually running. As soon as I get inside, I spin around and collapse against the cool wall, still able to hear the conversation that continues after my departure.

Tristan says something I can’t quite understand, and then Liam interrupts, no doubt reading into everything that just happened.

“You think I would sleep with the help?” Maxwell asks, arrogantly.

I audibly gasp at his nasty words.

I can’t believe he would actually say something like that. To reduce our relationship to nothing more than a work arrangement is a new low, even for him. But it tells me all I need to know about how he feels about me.

As if him yanking his hand away and silently chastising me wasn’t enough, he had to go and open his mouth, making it even worse. He might not know that I was listening, but I heard him loud and clear.

We are done.

Tears of disgust and sadness fill my eyes. I swat them away angrily as I take the stairs two at a time up to my bedroom, struggling to figure out what to do next.

I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I am in no state to talk to anyone right now, but I instinctively pull my phone out to check who is calling. I plan to send it to voicemail until I see my mum’s picture on the screen. I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure before I answer.

“Hello?”

“Chloe, love, how have you been?”

I smile to myself in spite of the hurt and anger I am feeling from Maxwell’s behavior.

My mum’s voice can always lift my spirits that way.

It is like I can feel her love and support from anywhere in the world, even if there is an ocean between us.

And after the shitshow that just went down with Maxwell, that is just what I need.

“Hi, mum,” I say, holding back tears as I pace my bedroom, debating my next move. I honestly can’t believe he could be so cold after the night we shared together in each other’s arms, but I think I have been wrong about him.

“What is wrong, darling? Is it work or boys?”

Somehow she always knows. I laugh a little to myself.

“Both.”

“Both? That is quite the conundrum, then, isn’t it?”

I nod in agreement even though she can’t see me over the phone. “Yes, it is. But I will be alright. I am a big girl now.”

“Mmhmm,” she says, sounding unconvinced. If I am honest, I am not all that certain either.

“Anyway,” I say, sniffling as I wipe away the few errant tears that have slipped out of my eyes unnoticed.

I really need to pull myself together if I am going to show my face to Max and his friends again.

I look down at my watch and realize what time it is in England.

“What is going on, mum? Why are you calling me so late?”

“Oh, dear,” she says, before sighing. “I am calling from the hospital. I don’t know how to tell you this, sweetheart.”

She pauses, and I wait silently for her to continue.

“It is back.”

Ringing fills my ears as understanding and fear wash over me .

Cancer.

She is sick.

A flash of clarity suddenly hits me.

There is only one thing for me to do.

I must go to her.

“Oh, mum,” I manage to say without crying, though tears fill my eyes. “I will be on the next flight out.”

“Now, Chloe—”

“Don’t you dare try to keep me away. Not this time.”

“Okay, dear,” she says, sounding relieved.

I can hear the exhaustion in her voice, and frankly, it scares me. She is going to need to keep her strength about her if she is going to beat this again. If that is even possible.

But we can talk about that when I get there. Right now I need to focus.

I look around the room at my things all strewn about, mentally preparing for everything I need to do.

“Don’t you worry about a thing. We will do this together,” I promise. “I will text you my flight details as soon as I know them.”

“Alright, darling. Be safe.”

I hang up the phone and book the very next flight into Heathrow.

It costs a small fortune as the only last-minute seats available are in first class, but thankfully money is no longer an issue.

A say a small blessing of thanks as I type in my credit card number.

Once it is complete, I send a screenshot of the details to my mum and start doing the necessary things to leave.

An hour later, I am finished packing and making sure to leave the room the way I found it. I write a short note for Maxwell, but after he revealed his true feelings about me, I chose my words carefully.

I suppose I always knew that Maxwell Banks wasn’t looking for anything more than a distraction from his trauma, even if it felt real at the time.

I will always cherish the night that we had together, but I can’t let my feelings for him keep me here when we both know my presence here is both unneeded and, as he has made clear with his actions the last few days, unwanted.

I leave the note on my bedside table and use my phone to order a car to drive me to the airport. I feel a wave of anxiety as I walk downstairs with my bag, worried that one of the boys will catch me sneaking out, but no one sees me before I slip out the front door.

As the car pulls away from Seabanks, my eyes fill with tears once again.

This time, I let them fall.

* * *

“Wait, what? But I thought—”

“I know, I know. It has been a tumultuous few hours. I barely had time to get back to my apartment, find my passport, and get to the airport on time. My flight is boarding in twenty minutes.” I look around at the airport terminal and all the people who are milling around as I blink back tears. “It is my mum. She is sick again.”

“Oh, Chloe. I am so sorry.” Jenna pauses on the other end of the line, and I can feel her love through the phone. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” I answer, trying to stay strong. I can’t let myself fall apart now or I will be a sobbing mess. Maybe later once I am on the flight, but right now I need to keep it together.

“Maxwell just let you go?”

“He didn’t have much of a choice in the matter to be honest. I would be surprised if he even knows that I am gone,” I mutter, sounding like a petulant child.

“Why wouldn’t he know? I thought things were good between you two. Did you have some kind of argument?”

“Arguing would mean that he actually had feelings. That he was capable of communication instead of completely shutting down. Instead, he has been holed up in his office the last few days working.”

“Well, he is an important man.”

“I know who he is, Jenna,” I say sharply before closing my eyes to try and calm myself.

It is not my best friend who I am upset with right now.

“But then his friends came today, and not only was he embarrassed for me to touch him, he flat out denied that we slept together.” I roll my eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh. “In fact, he called me ‘the help’.”

“What. The. Fu—”

“Exactly,” I say before she can finish.

“So, you just left? Without saying goodbye?”

“Not my finest moment. But I panicked, Jenna. I couldn’t deal with him when my mum is so poorly. I just had to be with her. And now that I can afford the ticket, I couldn’t bear not going.”

“I know, Chlo. I know,” Jenna says soothingly. “Has he tried to call since you left?”

“No, but it is not all that surprising, actually. We never even exchanged numbers.”

“You slept together and never gave him your phone number?”

“He never gave me his either,” I say defensively. “Look, it is not like I was hired under ordinary circumstances. And then we were living in the same house. If we needed to talk, we would just walk into the other room. There was no need to have each other’s number.”

I know it sounds dumb, but honestly, I am sort of glad it has worked out this way.

“Why do you sound so calm about all of this?” Jenna asks suspiciously .

“Because it is the right decision. My mum is sick, and Maxwell no longer needs me. Did we sleep together? Yes. Does that change anything? No. Not really. Should I have discussed my departure before I left? Probably. But there was no time. This is for the best, Jenna. I have thought it all through. A nice clean break is best.”

“For who?” she asks far too knowingly.

“Both of us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I say, pushing down the tiny part of me that truly is heartbroken about the whole situation.

“Okay,” she says, still sounding dubious, but letting it go. “And your mom? How is she doing? What does she know?”

“She sounded tired, but she had been with the doctors all day having tests run. So maybe it was just from that. We didn’t talk about specifics, but after everything she has been through . . . I don’t think it is good, Jenn.”

My voice cracks as my bravado starts to fade.

* * *

It is back.

My mother’s words ring through my head as I sink into my oversized, plush, first-class seat on the international flight from Boston to London. If I wasn’t so stressed about my mum, I might be able to enjoy it more. As it is, I am a nervous wreck .

I have been focused all afternoon on what I needed to do to make it here on time for my flight. Now that I am here, it is all finally sinking in. My mum is sick again and I am going back to the UK to care for her.

I hate that it is under these circumstances, but I am happy that I can really be there for her this time.

It was incredibly difficult when she was going through her treatments before.

She would have her treatments during the day, and we would talk on the phone briefly that evening, which was usually between classes for me here in America.

This time I will be able to talk to her doctors and really be involved in her care. I will be there to cook for her and help her recover. She was such an excellent provider when I was a child, it will be nice to give back to her in this way.

I glance at the empty seat next to me, hoping that it will stay that way. I really don’t want some old geezer chatting me up the whole flight. It has been such a long day. I am hoping that after a glass of champagne I will be able to sleep most of the flight.

A rather handsome dark haired flight attendant appears as if I conjured him with a tray of the very thing I was just wishing for. If this is what first class is like, I might never fly coach again.

“Glass of champagne, madam?” he asks, lowering the tray slightly.

“Please.” I reach up and grab a glass from him, smiling gratefully .

“Can I get you anything else?” he asks with his eyebrow quirked and an enticing smile on his face. “A hot towel? Warm cookie, perhaps? For you, I would even be willing to ditch this tray and have a riveting conversation if you so desired.”

There is something in this man’s eyes that tells me that he has done that very thing with several women, and they haven’t been disappointed.

After the day I have had, I am almost tempted to take him up on his offer.

He seems like a breath of fresh air after the last few weeks with Maxwell, even if I did enjoy myself there at the end.

But my broken heart is not this man’s business.

“No, thank you.”

“My name is James. If you need anything , please, do let me know.” His deep British accent comforts me, and any other time in my life I might take him up on his very obvious offer. But after my recent experience with men, it is way too soon.

I sip my champagne and stare out the window as James moves on to the next row, watching as all of the airline workers bustle to and fro, loading luggage and directing traffic. Some might call it mundane, but I find it perfectly distracting.

I finish my glass as the last few passengers board the plane. When I look up to find the hunky flight attendant for a refill, I see a familiar face and freeze.

Doesn’t this man have his own private jet?