Free Rekindling Love (British Billionaires Series) by Sorell Oates

bright on Broadway.”
     
    Skipping in, Imogen threw her arms around her, kissed her on the cheek, then skipped out as lightly as she came in.
     
    Was that a goodbye sent from Rupert, with Imogen as the messenger? Was it possible not everyone in the school knew about Rupert using Susan over the rehearsal period for a step-up at school? It didn't matter now. Susan had always been about making friends. For the first time in her life she had an enemy and she wanted to bring him down.
     
         
     

CHAPTER 9
     
     
     
    Imogen was stretching out on the plush gray sofa in Rupert's minimalistic living room. Black hair in a long braid down her back, goofy slippers on, complete with leggings and a New York Jets football shirt, she was equally at home here as she was in the flat Rupert had bought her two floors below. Taking in the clean lines, gray and black shades with the odd splash of white, she sighed at how detached and cool the room felt. Every technological gadget available was in his possession. Aside from the black and white vases (which cost a fortune) placed on either side of his black entertainment cabinet that ran the length of his wall, a few coffee table books and a cinematic flat screen, the room was almost bare. Not a photo frame was in sight. Every item, even if skewed, was coordinated by Rupert for effect. Masculine – yes! Cozy – no!
     
    “ All these women in your life and yet there is not a sign of any of them anywhere. Where's the vibrancy and color?” she mulled.
     
    “ Yes, well, there are no women in my life now. This is a bona fide bachelor pad. Besides which,” he lifted her feet from his couch to sit beside her with his glass of red wine, “you don't appear to have any problems visiting daily. The decor can't be that repellant.”
     
    “ I never said it was repellant. I was merely stating the obvious. I say what I see, bro.”
     
    “ Imogen, with my IQ and qualifications, let me remind you I do not require you to draw my attention to the obvious.”
     
    “ You're in a mood tonight.”
     
    “ I've been in a mood all week,” he said dejectedly.
     
    “ You're giving me daggers.”
     
    “ I'm not, but I am directing the full blast of my frustration on you. This is entirely unfair of course, but all I think of is the art gallery and Susie.”
     
    “ I didn't know she was going to be there,” shrieked Imogen, her response demonstrated this conversation had taken place numerous times since the infamous gallery opening.
     
    “ You sent her flowers!”
     
    “ I didn't leave any contact details.”
     
    “ You admitted that was good luck, not good management. You had every intention of contacting her and every hope she'd contact you.”
     
    “ Rupert, I told you that months ago when I read the announcement in the American Theater paper. I remember the day. It was after you found out Oscar and his whirlwind romance with the journalist had him tying the knot in Egypt.”
     
    “ You didn't say you were contacting Susie.”
     
    “ I can't remember exactly what was said.”
     
    “ You didn’t say ‘I am going to send Susan-Marie Thompson flowers,’” he assured her.
     
    “ Katy.”
     
    “ What?”
     
    “ Katy is the name of Oscar's new wife.”
     
    “ Forget that. You want me to settle down and have a wife? I couldn't be any further from that eventuating,” scowled Rupert.
     
    “ Why'd you do it then?”
     
    “ What?”
     
    “ Give those girls the boot?”
     
    “ Because when I saw Liz's face at the gallery, I saw the impact of incorrectly assuming our relationship was implicit. I couldn't bear seeing her hurt. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I want a simple life.”
     
    “ Maybe life would be simple with just one woman.”
     
    “ Perhaps.”
     
    “ Rupert?” asked Imogen tentatively. “Why now?”
     
    “ Blast from the past.”
     
    “ Susan?”
     
    Nodding, he dropped his head ashamed of himself.
     
    “ That's fabulous. High school