by Fiona Brand
Using one of the cleansing pads Marta always kept the bathrooms supplied with, she cleaned away the dark smudges and took stock. Unfortunately, her mouth still looked faintly swollen, and there was a small red mark on her jaw, as if Tobias’s five-o’clock shadow had grazed her skin.
Awareness tightened her stomach as she remembered the shiver of pleasure that had gone through her when he had done just that. To add to the picture of wanton abandonment, her neatly coiled hair had come loose to the point of collapse, and tendrils were wisping around her chin and clinging to her neck.
Dimly, she noted that was probably because Tobias’s fingers had slid through her hair as he had cupped the back of her head while he had kissed her.
While they had kissed, she corrected bleakly. Tobias had moved in on her, but she couldn’t forget that she had kissed him back with enthusiasm.
As if she couldn’t get enough of him.
Forcibly tamping down her thoughts about Tobias, she returned to the bedroom, unzipped her case, and found her makeup case and the waterproof bag that contained her hair and skincare products.
Setting the cosmetic bags down on the beautiful oyster marble bathroom counter, she systematically unpacked, taking a simple pleasure in stocking the bathroom with all of the signature products of Madison Spas. Storing the empty cases in the vanity cabinet, she dragged the pins from her hair, brushed it out until it was smooth, then redid the smooth coil at her nape.
After dabbing concealer over the red mark, she smoothed on a tinted moisturizer, then touched up with a hint of blusher. A coat of mascara on her lashes and a quick colorless gloss on her lips finished off the transformation.
Walking back out to the bedroom, she unpacked her clothes, a process she hoped would normalize being in the same house as Tobias.
Unfortunately, feeling normal, when she had kissed him, not once, but twice in one day, was proving difficult.
The dire warnings one of her counselors had given her about the dangerous flaws inherent in burying what had happened between her and Tobias with an organized list of therapies, as if, cumulatively, they guaranteed a cure, came back to haunt her.
In a moment of clarity, she realized that the problem was that, underneath it all, she liked the challenge Tobias posed. He was exactly the kind of tall, muscular, brooding alpha guy she naturally gravitated toward. The second she stepped into the same room as Tobias, her heart sped up and adrenaline pumped.
The plain fact was, she had been brought up with wolves, and she had gotten used to running with them. If she had been able to wind Tobias around her little finger, she would have lost interest in him, the way she had with other men.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The thought that she might weaken and give in to the attraction that still drew her to Tobias, and which seemed just as powerfully at work in him, briefly transfixed her.
It wouldn’t happen, she reassured herself. That was precisely why she had a fake fiancé.
Allegra grabbed a fragile, filmy dress in a vibrant jungle print with a plunging neckline—another extremely expensive Messena original—and shoved it on a hanger.
All she had to do was manage her time so that she did not spend it with Tobias, and stick to the engagement program.
A great way to stay away from him tonight would be to look for the keepsakes Esmae had left her, and see if there was anything that remotely resembled an engagement ring. According to Marta, the antique trinket box her great-aunt had reserved for her was labeled with her name and stored somewhere in the attic of the beach house.
Returning to the bedroom, she transferred the remaining clothing into drawers and the gorgeous walk-in closet. The final item was her jewelry case. However, as she lifted it out of the suitcase, she realized that the steel catch had gotten caught in the stretchy webbing, which had secured her suits. The net result was that the box, which was heavy, slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. The lid sprung open and diamonds and pageant bling for Africa spilled across the floor.
Muttering beneath her breath, she returned all of the items to the box, taking care to store the genuine diamonds in their own special compartment. However, when she tried to close it, the lid wouldn’t fasten properly, because the catch was now broken. She would either have to buy a new box, or get this one repaired.
She placed the jewelry case on a shelf in the closet, then neatly stored her cases away in there, as well. Her few dresses and outfits looked sparse and insignificant on their hangers, but that was a welcome reminder that her stay here would be short.
All she had to do was sleep in the beautiful king-size bed, eat the delicious meals that Marta left and locate the personal belongings that Esmae had stored in the beach house.
As heart-wrenching as it would feel to go through her aunt’s personal things, she could not contain a certain buzz of excitement. The mysterious “keepsakes” aside, there was a painting of Alexandra Mallory, the interesting and mysterious ancestor Allegra had only ever heard about, but never seen.
* * *
Dinner was brief, and oddly anticlimactic. Allegra had expected that Tobias might try to engage her in conversation, so she had pointedly been busy on her phone. However, aside from an initial greeting, Tobias had practically ignored her, eating the fresh crab appetizer followed by one of Marta’s spicy steak salads in between calls. Allegra had just found the cold dessert Marta had left in the fridge when Tobias had taken yet another call.
As he got up from the table, Allegra heard the name, Francesca, and froze.
Closing the fridge door, she walked out to the gorgeous dining room, which opened onto a terrace. She slapped the chilled bowl of dessert down on the solid oak server that ran along one wall as Tobias walked out onto the sun-washed terrace to take the call, in private.
Allegra spooned a small amount of the fresh fruit salad into a glass bowl, all while trying to convince herself that he couldn’t possibly be talking to Francesca Messena.
Correction, Francesca Atraeus, because she was now married. But when she moved closer to the terrace, ostensibly to look at the view, she heard Tobias mention the name John, Francesca’s tycoon husband, and all doubt evaporated.
An odd pastiche of emotions gripped her. Shock, and a sinking feeling that Francesca was still in contact with Tobias despite choosing and marrying someone else, followed by burning outrage.
How could Tobias kiss her twice—and both times it had been a whole lot more than a kiss—then have a private, intimate chat with his ex-lover?
And what did Francesca Atraeus think she was doing? Wasn’t one man enough for her?
The burst of anger gave way to a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach that she recognized all too well, because she had felt the same empty feeling when she had found out that Tobias had gone straight from her bed to Francesca’s.
She stared at her dessert. As tempting as the jewel-bright fruits looked, she was no longer hungry. Walking back to the table, she set the bowl, and her dessert fork, down. A sip of water relieved some of the tension in her throat but didn’t shift the churning sensation in her stomach.
Two years ago, when she had learned that Tobias had gone back to Francesca, she had done some research and discovered an interesting fact, courtesy of his lover’s social media pages. Francesca liked men, plural, and had gone through boyfriends like a hot knife through butter. But most of her exes were still in contact with her.
Either Francesca was the nicest person alive, or she enjoyed the power of keeping men on a string.
The low, clipped timbre of Tobias’s voice grew louder, signaling that he was strolling back in the direction of the dining room. If she didn’t know better, she would think it was a business conversation, but, as far as she knew, Tobias didn’t have any business connections with Francesca, who was a fashion designer. That pointed to a possibility that made her jaw tighten:
that Francesca, despite her marriage, still wanted Tobias.
When Tobias came back to the table, Allegra picked up her fork and tried to look interested in the fruit salad. “Business call?”
His expression was remote as he took his seat directly opposite her. “I thought you didn’t want to talk.”
She knew she should leave it, but somehow the fact that Tobias was talking to the woman he had dated before and after he had slept with her, less than an hour after he had kissed her on the balcony, was infuriating. It underlined the fact that, when it came to Tobias, she had always been in the shadow of another woman.
Picking up the dessert fork, she stabbed a piece of melon and attempted the smooth, professional smile she usually reserved for difficult clients. “I thought I heard the name Francesca.”
“Francesca Atraeus. That’s right. She’s arriving on a flight tomorrow.”
Allegra froze “She’s coming here?”
“Is that a problem?”
Allegra abandoned the fork with its mangled piece of melon. “It is if she’s coming to stay at this house, since I wasn’t allowed to have Mike stay.”
Tobias frowned. “Francesca’s not staying here. Why would she, when she can stay at her husband’s hotel?”
Allegra blinked. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten that John Atraeus owned one of the swankiest hotels in town, so Francesca could stay there any time she liked. Not to mention the fact that she also had family in town.
The problem was, the instant Tobias had mentioned Francesca’s name she had felt a weird sense of déjà vu. She had kissed Tobias, twice. That morning they had come crazily close to making love, so of course Tobias was going to sleep with Francesca again.
She took a deep breath and tried to think, although thinking was difficult when all she wanted to do was reach across the table, snatch up Tobias’s phone, fling it over the terrace and watch it break into pieces.
With an effort of will, she dialed back on an anger that, after two years of counseling and calming therapies, should not exist. The kind of explosive anger she recognized all too well because she had felt it once before, when Tobias had left her bed and gone back to Francesca’s.
She was jealous. Burningly, crazily jealous.
Allegra stared at the tough line of Tobias’s jaw. She needed to go somewhere quiet and bang her head against something hard, something that would hurt. Somehow, she had once more allowed herself to become entangled in the old fatal attraction: she was back to wanting Tobias, again.
“So, why, exactly, is she—” she couldn’t bring herself to say Francesca’s name “—coming to Miami?”
Tobias, who had resumed eating his beef salad, as if nothing momentous had happened, paused. “Does it matter?”
Allegra kept her expression smooth and neutral with difficulty. “I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t matter.”
He set his fork down. “Her twin was interested in installing one of their boutiques at the Ocean Beach Resort. Since Sophie now has to be out of town for a couple of weeks, Francesca agreed to come and check the resort out.”
Allegra took a sip of water while she tried to come to terms with the fact that Francesca could be a regular visitor at Ocean Beach. A regular part of Tobias’s life, even though she was married. “The resort doesn’t have space for another clothing boutique.”
Then a horrifying thought occurred.
She pinned him with a fiery glance. “Unless you’re planning on not renewing my lease when it expires in two month’s time.”
And of course, she suddenly knew that was exactly what he was planning. She had been so absorbed with navigating the terms of the will, and getting through this month with Tobias, that she’d sidelined the issue of the lease. But, if he wanted to get rid of her completely, she couldn’t think of a more perfect way.
“The reason the Messena twins are looking at the Ocean Beach Resort is that they know we’re looking at expanding.”
Allegra frowned, aware that Tobias had failed to answer her question about the lease, but she was now sidetracked by this new issue. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“That’s because nothing’s decided yet. At the moment, expanding the resort is at the planning stage.”
Even though she knew she was overreacting, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “But you had time to tell Francesca.”
Tobias’s cool glance seemed to laser through her. The intensity of it made her suddenly aware that she had been just a little too transparent about the other woman; that she could even have made the mistake of letting him know she was jealous.
Just as quickly, she dismissed the notion. They were talking about the resort; she was worried about the future of her business. There was no way Tobias could know that she was becoming more and more annoyed about his relationship with Francesca.
“As a matter of fact,” he said quietly. “Esmae had had tentative plans to expand, which she’d put on hold when she got unwell. Her banker, Gabriel Messena, brought up the project at the funeral. I gave him permission to mention that there could be retail premises becoming available in the next year to his sisters. Is that a problem?”
Allegra plastered a smooth, professional smile on her face. “Why would it be a problem?”
Briskly, she pushed to her feet. Picking up her dessert dish, she aimed a neutral look in Tobias’s general direction, as if everything was perfectly fine. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a look in the beach house attic while it’s still light out. According to Marta, that’s where Esmae stored the items she wanted me to have.”
As Allegra walked up the stairs to her bedroom, she acknowledged that the fact that Francesca Messena was still in Tobias’s life, and still wanted him, shouldn’t be a problem.
But, now that she had acknowledged that she wanted Tobias, it was a big problem.
Until Allegra received evidence to the contrary, she had to assume that Francesca, despite her marriage to John Atraeus, had once again set her sights on Tobias.
Two years ago, Francesca had gotten Tobias, and Allegra had let him go. But that would be happening again over her dead body.
It occurred to her that she could not go after Tobias and keep her fake engagement to Mike.
She would have to choose.
A fake fiancé who was extremely expensive and who had to be cued at every turn? Or a frustrating, elusive, battle-scarred tycoon who was making no bones about the fact that he wanted her in his bed, at least for now?
And she would have to make her choice before Francesca landed in Miami.
Eight
Allegra took the path down the hill to the beach house as the sun finally set and the long, extended twilight settled in. Flicking on her phone light, she negotiated the final set of steps and climbed onto the deck of the beach house, which was located on a steep bank that overlooked the beach. She found the key to the back door, which was concealed beneath a potted plant, and paused for a moment, because it had been so long since she had ventured anywhere near the beach house. Unlocking the door, she stepped into the small hall.
Wrinkling her nose at the stuffy heat, she flicked on a light to relieve the gloom, and left the door open to let fresh air circulate through the house. Sliding her phone into a handy pocket in her dress, she did a quick walk through an equally hot-and-stuffy kitchen, dining and sitting room area, and decided to open a set of French doors to allow the sea breeze to flow through.
For once, she was unable to appreciate the breathtaking view of the ocean stretching to a hazy horizon and, off to the right, the pier, with its dinghy floating off a rope at the end. If it was this stifling downstairs, the attic would be like an oven. Taking a last deep breath of fresh air, she headed upstairs, flicking lights on as she went.
Despite her every effort, her heart sped up as she walked past the master bedroom, with its wrou
ght iron four-poster bed—draped in filmy mosquito netting—dark floorboards and bleached woven rugs. Two years had passed since she’d spent the night with Tobias here. She had expected it to look different but, disorientingly, it all looked exactly the same.
Dragging her gaze from the bed, she flicked on a hall light, dispelling the sense of being caught in the past, and entangled in memories that were still too vivid. However, as she started up the narrow flight of stairs that led up to the attic, the wall sconce made a suspicious buzzing sound, flickered, then died.
She muttered beneath her breath because, when she had switched on that last light, it must have been too much for the antiquated system, and now she had blown a fuse, plunging the entire upstairs into darkness. Reaching into her pocket, she found her phone. Moments later, she activated the flashlight app again and a reassuring beam of white light illuminated the door to the attic.
She had only ever been up here once before, when Esmae had asked her to bring down a box of clothing she had wanted to donate to charity. As she stepped into the dusty, vaulted room, striped with shadows, courtesy of the window shutters, a curious sense of expectation assailed her. Even though she was a Mallory, and knew the basic story of what had gone wrong between Alexandra and Jebediah, actual facts were sketchy. And, while she had seen sepia photos of her grandparents, she had never glimpsed a picture of Alexandra or her husband, James Walter Mallory, who had died before Alexandra had left England.
She flicked a light switch. Of course, nothing happened.
She beamed the light from her phone around the room as she picked her way through old tea chests and broken furniture. Dust made her cough as she brushed past furniture that had probably not been touched for decades. She found the catches of the shutters and, systematically, opened them to allow the last natural light of the day to lighten the gloom, and took stock.
