More Than One Night - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,3

and the rows of parked cars. Rhys walked toward his ten-year-old BMW, aware that his cheeks were starting to ache with all his smiling.

So many people had raised their eyebrows when he’d quit his lucrative management role with a rival I.T. firm eight months ago. Friends, family members had all thought he was nuts to walk away from a cushy job when the global economy was still so shaky. But Rhys had always planned to start his own consulting company from the moment he’d earned his computer engineering degree. He’d saved every spare cent he’d ever earned, denying himself the luxury car and fancy apartment his salary could have commanded because he was determined to be his own master, to guide his own destiny. To make his mark on the world.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number by heart rather than use his contact list, only registering that he was still underground when the phone beeped to let him know he had no signal. Shaking his head at his own woolly-headedness—apparently euphoria did that to a person, who knew?—he started his car and drove out into the dying light of a warm Sydney day. He tried his parents again and listened to the phone ring until finally the machine picked up.

“Hey. It’s me,” he said. “Just wanted you guys to know I got Gainsborough. Like I said I would. I want to take you out for dinner to celebrate, so let me know when you’re available and I’ll book someplace nice, okay?”

He ended the call as he braked at a stoplight. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to think who else he should phone. The gang back in the office, obviously, but he felt as though there was someone else he was missing. His thoughts ranged over his brothers and sisters, but he dismissed them after a moment’s consideration. They were all so absorbed in their own things that they wouldn’t really care. They would be happy for him, sure, but they’d never really understood what he and Greg were trying to achieve with the business and at some point in the conversation he would feel as though he was bragging—the younger brother trying to impress his siblings with his achievements. They would hear his news via their parents or at the next family function.

He frowned. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single other person who would understand what today meant and share his excitement. The realization left him feeling vaguely dissatisfied. Shrugging off the sensation, he called the office, laughing as he heard the guys hollering in the background.

“Go home, put on your party clothes and meet us at Café Sydney,” he instructed when they’d calmed enough to be coherent. “It’s going to be a big one.”

He followed his own advice, cutting across town to his apartment in Potts Point. He spared a glance for the Finger Wharf as he drove through Woolloomooloo. The sun glinted off the white rooftops of the luxurious apartments that had been built on top of the ancient timber wharf. Home to Russell Crowe and a number of other high-profile Australians, the wharf was considered one of the best places to live in Sydney.

Not long now, baby.

He’d been eyeing an apartment in the wharf development for years now. The smaller apartments with the lesser views started at around half a million dollars, but Rhys didn’t want a small apartment. He wanted space, he wanted views. If things went smoothly with Gainsborough, there was no reason why he couldn’t start talking to real estate agents in earnest.

No reason at all.

A second rush of euphoria hit him as he considered what today meant. He wound down the window and let out a triumphant yahoo. A few people turned to stare. He felt a little stupid, but what the hell.

Today was the day his life had finally come together. All the planning. All the sacrifices. All the hours and hours of hard graft.

Life didn’t hand out many moments like this, and he planned to enjoy every second of it. And then some.

“STOP FIDGETING.” Gina slapped Charlie’s hand away from the neckline of her top.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Everyone in this restaurant knows I’m not wearing a bra. You know that, right?”

Despite her friend’s admonition, Charlie once again tweaked the neckline of the metallic mesh halter she was wearing. No matter what she did, there was no hiding the fact that there was