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Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my ocs. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No Copyright Infringement Intended.

As soon as Rebekah entered the boardroom she knew he had already arrived. A shiver ran up her spine as her eyes went to where he was standing. As if he too sensed her presence, he turned his head and his gaze met hers for the first time in nearly four years.

Rebekah watched as he politely excused himself from one of the members of the museum board and came toward her, each one of his strides making her throat tighten until she could barely breathe.

She had dreaded this moment for months, ever since she had heard that Ted DiBiase Jr., the father of her little daughter Emily, was the principal sponsor for the London exhibition she was helping the head curator organize for the museum.

Ted came and stood in front of her, his tall frame blocking her vision of the rest of the board room.

"Hello, Rebekah."

She tried to disguise her nerves but her voice still came out creaky. "H-hello, Ted."

His gaze surveyed her in a leisurely manner, taking in her blond hair, before dipping to brush her mouth, and then lower, lingering a moment too long on the hint of cleavage her velvet evening dress exposed, before finally coming back to her blue eyes.

Rebekah felt as if he had touched her all over, the electricity passing from his body to hers making her skin prickle and the air surrounding them begin to crackle with tension.

"You have done very well for yourself." He said in a tone that suggested he hadn't expected her to. "Under-curator, I hear. That is quite an achievement for a petty thief, but then—as you did to me—perhaps you have everyone fooled as to what you are really like."

Resentment simmered in the tightening coils of her belly—the belly that had nurtured the child he had refused point-blank to acknowledge as his.

"I am the same person I always was, Ted." She said with deliberate coolness.

His lip curled in disdain. "No doubt you are but I was too blinded by lust to see it at the time."

Rebekah felt her face flame as a host of memories were unleashed by his use of that crude one-word description of what he had felt for her. The vision of the configuration of their bodies rocking in passion made her toes curl inside her high-heeled shoes. Her inner thighs quivered as she remembered how he had taken her to the heights of intimate pleasure time and time again on that two-month long study holiday in London. The fiery heat of the summer sun and the blistering scorch of his passion had burned her to the core of her being.

Lust.

Ted had lusted after her while she had loved him—unreservedly and irreversibly.

"Excuse me, Mr. DiBiase." Kendall Garren, one of the museum staff, approached with a nervous smile. "I hate to interrupt, but may I have a quick word with Rebekah?"

Ted gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But of course." He said and stepped back. "I have finished with her."

Rebekah watched as he turned and walked away, her stomach feeling as if someone had just kicked it with a lead boot.

"What was that all about?" Kendall asked with a puzzled frown.

Rebekah forced her features into casual indifference. "You know what billionaires are like. They have arrogance down to a fine art."

"Yes, well, arrogant or not, you'd better be careful with Ted DiBiase." Kendall warned her. "I just got a phone call from Jerry's wife, Lisa. Jerry's been admitted to hospital with a suspected heart attack."

"Oh no!"

"He's going to be fine." Kendall assured her. "But he is expecting you to keep Mr. DiBiase sweet about this exhibition, especially as it now looks as if he will be out of action for a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Rebekah gulped.

Kendall shook her head gravely. "The doctors are suggesting he has angioplasty in a day or two. He will probably ring you himself and fill you in on what needs to be done, but in the meantime you'll have taken over the reins."

"Me?" She squeaked.

"Of course you." Kendall said. "You're the one with the most experience in London miniature sculptures. Besides, it was your idea in the first place to bring together contemporary artists and ancient works. This is the break you've been waiting for, Rebekah. It normally takes years working as an under-curator to get a chance like this. This will show everyone what a talent you have for set design and display."

Rebekah felt her chest crumple with doubt. "I don't think I can do this on my own... Jerry was the driving force behind all this. He was in contact with the sponsors. I had nothing to do with that side of things."

"Rubbish. You'll be brilliant. You always underestimate yourself. You're one of the most talented people we have working in the museum."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but aren't you forgetting something? I'm a single mom. I can't work the hours Jerry was putting in."

"Most of the work has already been done." Kendall said. "But you'll have to make the welcome speech tonight. It's important you impress the sponsors; otherwise the exhibition might fall through. You know how competitive this industry is. Everyone wants a bite at the cherry."

"I hate speaking in public…" Rebekah bit her lip. "What if I stutter or have a mental blank or something? I always do when I'm nervous."

"You'll be fine." Kendall said. "Just have a glass of champagne before you start to calm your nerves. But remember to be especially nice to Ted DiBiase. He's the major sponsor as head of the DiBiase Foundation. Without Mr. DiBiase's funds and loan of artifacts from his family's private collection, this baby won't get off the ground."

"It will be fine, Kendall." Rebekah said, her confident tone belying the fragile state of her emotions. "I can handle men like Ted DiBiase."

"Good." Rebekah said. "You've got about ten minutes to show time. Why not go and sit in your office away from things, to collect your thoughts?"

Rebekah opened her office door a short time later, her eyes widening in shock when she saw her sister in the process of making a bed with a threadbare coat on the floor.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" She asked, closing the door with a little snap.

Jennie turned and gave her a vacuous smile. "Hi, Rebekah." She said. "I'm just having a little rest between jobs."

Rebekah gritted her teeth, her brows snapping together crossly. "I told you never to come here when you're in this state."

"I'm not drunk." Jennie pouted as she swayed on her feet. "Just a little relaxed, that's all."

"Where did you get it this time?"

"Get what?" Her sister's gaze tried to focus on Rebekah's but failed. "You're such a strait-laced person, you know that, Becca? You ought to live a little. Get yourself a little buzz from time to time."

Rebekah watched as her sister's unsteady progress towards the nearest chair, her red head slipping sideways as she flopped down.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

Jennie looked at her through bloodshot eyes. "I came to ask for a loan but don't worry, I've sorted it out now for myself."

Rebekah felt apprehension creep along her skin. "What do you mean?"

Jennie gave her a smug look. "I ran into a rich guy outside the bathroom downstairs a few minutes ago. I offered him a quickie but he turned up his nose. He was such an arrogant bastard. I thought I'd teach him a lesson, so I pinched his wallet from his jacket as I brushed past."

Rebekah swallowed the lump of dread that was suddenly threatening to choke her. "H-have you still got it?"

"Got what?" Jennie's head rolled sideways again.

"His wallet." Rebekah asked. "Have you still got it or did you throw it away once you took out the money?"

Jennie squeezed her fingers into the back pocket of her leopard-skin jeans and tossed the wallet to her. "I was going to give it to my friend for his birthday. It looks like an expensive one."

Rebekah's fingertips sank into the soft leather as she caught the wallet. She looked down at it for a moment before she opened it, her eyes going wide with horror with she saw the identification photograph it contained.

"Oh no!" She gasped, her heart starting to clang against her ribcage.

Jennie lifted her head groggily. "What's up? Do you know him or something?"

Rebekah closed her eyes for a second. Surely she had imagined it. She did this all the time, imagining she was seeing Ted DiBiase's face in every newspaper or magazine she opened. As soon as she saw the blond hair, the blue eyes and handsomely chiseled features her heart would leap to her throat. It was probably because she had just seen him, she reasoned—his features were fresh in her mind.

She closed the wallet and put it in her evening bag with shaking fingers. "How did you get into the building?"

"I told the guy at the front I was your sister."

Rebekah suppressed an inward groan. "Look, Jennie. I have to give a speech in about three minutes."

Jennie turned to her makeshift bed and began to bend down. "That's all right. I'm just going to have a quick nap before I moved on."

"No!" Rebekah pulled her to her feet. "No, Jennie, you can't possibly sleep here. I might be a while and if anyone should find you in here…."

Jennie shrugged off Rebekah's hand and pouted. "I get it. You're ashamed of me. I'm not posh enough for your highbrow crowd."

"That's not true...It's just that tonight's very important to me." She said trying to ignore the clock ticking on the wall, which seemed to be speeding up.

"Come on, Rebekah." Jennie cajoled. "I only need a couple of hours sleep and I'll be on my way. I've got another client at eleven."

Rebekah felt physically ill at the thought of her sister sleeping with whoever would pay her the money to do so.

"How can you do this to yourself?" She asked. "Look at you, Jennie. You're stick-thin and so pale. You're slowly killing yourself and I swear to God I won't stand by and watch it keep happening."

"I'll be fine in a couple of days…I just wanted one more taste before I give it up."

One more taste.

How many times had Rebekah heard that empty promise? "What about giving the detox clinic another go?"

"That cruddy place. I wouldn't go there again if you paid me."

"You get paid to go to lots of other cruddy placed and to do God knows what cruddy things with no doubt totally cruddy men."

"You're just jealous because you haven't had sex in close to four years."

"Yes, well, look at the trouble it got me into when I did." Rebekah said and bit her lip as she thought of what Ted would do if he ever found out who had taken his wallet. "There's a new private clinic in Canada that's supposed to be getting good results. It's expensive but would you agree to go there if I can rustle up the necessary funds?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Will you think about it? I don't want Emily to grow up without her aunt. You've all we've got, Jennie. Mom would be devastated to have seen you like this, especially after what happened to Dad."

"I'll think about it." She said as she laid down on the makeshift bed.

Once Rebekah was certain Jennie was asleep, she retrieved the wallet from inside her bag. She looked at the photograph again, reeling under the flood of memories Ted's too-handsome features evoked.

Those blue eyes had burned with desire from the first moment they had locked with hers. She suppressed a little shiver when she thought of how that determined mouth had fed so greedily off hers. How his hands had known every curve and plane of her body and how his hard male presence had filled her with the explosion of his passion, taking away her innocence and leaving in its place an ongoing hunger that in spite of time and distance had never quite gone away.

She closed the wallet and suppressed a shuddering sigh. She would give it back to him anonymously at his hotel first thing in the morning. Hopefully he would never find out exactly who had stolen it….

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