Aidan had, as Leda requested, vacated her apartment before she returned. What he wanted more than anything else was for her to listen to him, but somehow he doubted that she would be very calm if he was still there when she got back. In the time since he'd left her apartment he'd considered a hundred different ways to get her to listen. Yet nothing Aidan came up with seemed right.
He lay sprawled out on his bed, ignoring George's ranting and pacing. Even the comforts of home couldn't cheer him up. Every time Aidan stretched out on his bed, he couldn't stop thinking of how he'd love for Leda to be with him. And he'd been lounging about his place in jeans and a t-shirt, having been completely unwilling to even consider putting on a suit.
"Damnit, Aidan, listen to me!" George growled. "I can't put your father off any longer!"
"I'm not in the mood," Aidan grumbled.
George threw up his hands, exasperated. "Not in the mood!? Aidan, what the hell happened to you? You've changed! You're..."
"I'm me!" Aidan snapped, sitting up. "More myself than I've ever been before!"
"Then go back to being whoever you were before!" George shot back. "Carl Rosenfeld is sitting in on the board meeting today! You have to be there! If you don't get off your ass right now and start getting ready, I swear to god I'll-"
"Shut up!" Aidan interrupted, lifting his hands. "Just...shut up and let me think!"
Carl Rosenfeld...a man with money and power, just like his father. Like any other businessman his father dealt with, Aidan had learned everything he could about Carl Rosenfeld and his family. Something settled in the back of his mind, just out of reach, something he knew was dreadfully important. He has several daughters, he thought, frowning. The youngest is seven. Trudy was always talking about how she takes up all their parents' attention...Aidan concentrated, calling up all those conversations with Trudy Rosenfeld that he'd hoped to forget.
His eyes flew open suddenly. Jenny Rosenfeld, youngest daughter of Carl Rosenfeld, had been born with cystic fibrosis. All the money in the world could not change the fact that she could die very suddenly. When he'd heard that originally, it had meant nothing to him. Having seen Leda and the children she loved, Aidan suddenly understood why the Rosenfelds lavished so much attention on their youngest daughter.
He'd been focused on getting Leda to forgive him. But why should she? It was true that his original intentions had been cruel and selfish. She had no reason to see him as anything other than a self-centered prick that had never done anything for anyone but himself. This isn't about forgiveness, Aidan thought, jumping up from his bed. This is about showing her how much her kindness taught me. He turned to George and grinned.
"Call the limo around, George," Aidan said, even as he headed for the bathroom. "We've got a business meeting to attend!"
*****
He would have thought he could never be comfortable in a suit again. And yet, dressed in his finest Armani, with his hair slicked back from his face, he felt that old businessman confidence coming back. This time, however, it was tempered by the warmth Leda had shown him. When Aidan burst into the boardroom, with a frantically chattering George at his heels, he immediately had the attention of every man in the room. His father rose, an expression of outrage on his face, but Aidan held up a hand, silencing him.
"Gentlemen," Aidan said, setting the briefcase he was carrying down on the table. "We're here today to discuss the plans of the mall, are we not?"
"What's your point?" Earl Kirkland growled. "Have you secured the building site or not?"
"No," Aidan answered, opening the briefcase. "We cannot build on that spot."
"And why not!?" his father demanded, barely able to contain his temper.
Ignoring his father's tired, Aidan began pulling papers from his briefcase. In the two hours he'd had before the meeting he'd had proposals and plans drawn up, albeit a bit hastily. They would have to be refined, of course, once he convinced his father and the other businessmen to go along with his plans. However, Aidan looked at none of them as he spoke. He focused his gaze on Carl Rosenfeld.
"This land where Mr. Kirkland proposes we build the mall is home to a hospice," Aidan said. He spoke firmly and loudly, drowning out his father's protests. "It's a home for terminally ill children who have nowhere else to go. If we decide to build there, they will lose everything they've ever known."
"This is business, not charity!" his father growled.
Aidan turned a cool gaze on his father. However, his father's attention was across the table, where Carl Rosenfeld had just stood up. Rosenfeld was a tall man of middling years, thinner than any other man here and with a fuller head of hair, albeit all gray. His expression revealed little, and yet Aidan was almost certain he saw the hint of amusement in the man's faded blue eyes.
"Please continue," Rosenfeld said, his voice quiet but commanding.
"Certainly," Aidan said, pulling open the roll of paper with the plans on them. "Now, these are only ideas, of course, but they're the beginning of my plans to renovate the hospice. Why should we build a mall there? There are other places to build a mall."
"Why should we pay for this renovation?" a man next to Rosenfeld asked. His voice was steady and musing, not angry.
"I would tell you to do it for the children," Aidan said. He opted for diplomacy. "However, I can understand why you would hesitate. This is, after all, still the business world. Yet keep in mind...the entire nation will know of this. What better publicity could you ask for?"
He could tell by the faint murmuring that his words were being seriously considered. Well, expect perhaps by his father, who was near apoplectic with rage. He could use a good dose of having the rug pulled out from under him, Aidan thought, fighting back a smug grin. Lord knows it did me a world of good.
"Why the change of heart?" Carl Rosenfeld asked, at last.
Aidan took a deep breath. "Well...these last few weeks, I've been living with one of the staff members of the hospice," he explained. "She believed that I had amnesia. It was a cruel, childish trick, because I felt that she'd humiliated me. But I was wrong, Mr. Rosenfeld. I didn't need her help to humiliate myself."
All eyes were on him now. He'd always loved attention, craved it, but this was disconcerting. Aidan felt incredibly vulnerable, but he wouldn't let that stop him from saying what need to be said.
"Her kindness towards me, the man who could take away her whole life in a second, was astonishing," Aidan continued. "She accepted me without question. Through her I saw what it was that drove her to put so much of herself into loving these children. With support...emotional and financial...they could be given a chance to have lives. Just because they're ill doesn't make them less deserving of that than any other child. I want to help them. I want to help her..."
Somehow it was such a relief to finally say it. The warm feeling inside him when he thought of Leda was too strong to deny. Aidan wanted more time with her. Deep in his heart he was already entertaining a few fancies of working side by side with her through the years, running the hospice together. He wanted more nights like Valentine's, many, many more nights like that.
"I think it's a perfect idea," Rosenfeld said quietly, interrupting Aidan's thoughts.
Earl Kirkland stood up, clearing his throat and trying to regain control of the situation. "I'm sure we will take Mr. Kirkland's suggestions into consideration. However..."
"Kirkland," Rosenfeld interrupted, a hint of a smile showing at the corners of his mouth. "You've been trying to rope me in for years. And you're a great businessman, I'll grant you that. But this young man is without a doubt your son and I'm certain that, with enough financial support, he could lead a business that would rival yours with ease."
Checkmate, Aidan thought, unable to fight a grin. He watched the color drain from his father's face. If putting money into the hospice would win over Rosenfeld, Earl Kirkland would not pass up the opportunity. Now there was only one thing left to do, but first Aidan had to finish up here. As he outlined his plans for the hospice, he kept Leda in mind.
When at last the meeting was over and everyone was filing out, Rosenfeld caught him by the arm. As Aidan turned, he caught the look on his father's face before Earl Kirkland walked out.
"I'm sure you know my youngest daughter has cystic fibrosis," Rosenfeld said, his expression knowing.
"Yes, sir," Aidan answered, smiling. "You should bring her to visit the hospice. The people there are very kind."
It didn't matter if Rosenfeld thought this was just a business ploy. It was what Leda thought that worried him. Aidan didn't know what he'd do if she decided he was just trying to play another trick on her. And it was already getting late, almost three in the afternoon, but he wasn't going to allow his plan to wait a moment longer.
"Aidan," Rosenfeld called, before he could leave the room.
"Yes?" Aidan asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"She must be an amazing woman," Rosenfeld said quietly.
Aidan smiled. "She's the most amazing woman in the world."
*****
It was the longest period of time that Leda had ever been away from the hospice. When she'd come close to having a nervous breakdown the day after Valentine's Day, Martha had sent her home with strict instructions to relax for the rest of the week. She wouldn't have listened, if it hadn't been for the empty feeling that had filled her when she returned to her apartment. Leda suddenly found herself in a gloom so thick she could hardly move.
The place felt so empty without Aidan. Oh, she told herself over and over that he wasn't who he'd pretended to be. But he'd seemed so sincere, so different from who he'd been before. Leda didn't want to believe that all they'd shared had been a lie.
Sighing, she brushed her fingers against the browning petals of one of the roses. Despite what had happened, she'd had to put them in water, unable to throw them out or leave them to wither. And yet they were beginning to wilt now, petals dropping away to litter her night table. It's falling apart, Leda thought, fighting back tears. That wonderful time is falling apart. How could Aidan do this to her?
I need to get back to the hospice, she thought, forcing herself out of bed. I have to find out what's happened. She'd received no reports from Martha. What if Aidan had decided to take away the hospice after all? The thought that he might decide to simply because she thrown him out made panic flutter in her stomach. Leda forced the thoughts aside, long enough to get through a shower and get dressed.
She was running a brush through her hair when the phone rang. Leda had to throw aside papers and trash before she unearthed the phone.
"Leda!" It was Martha's voice on the other end. "Leda, you have to come to the hospice right now!"
Leda's heart plummeted to her feet. "What's wrong, Martha? What happened?"
"Oh, Leda, you have to come now," Martha pleaded. "Hurry!"
Leda tried to get Martha to explain, but the other woman hung up before she could say much more. With her heart pounding so loudly it nearly drowned out her thoughts, she raced out of the apartment and down to the street. Outside, she pulled to a halt, startled by the limo parked out front. The chauffeur opened the limo door and much to Leda's dismay, George stepped out.
"Good," George said, stepping aside and beckoning towards the limo. "Get in."
"I don't have time," Leda mut
