Captive Hearts (Hearts on Fire Book 2)

by L. M. Connolly

  She had to warn him. “Once they have a survey done, they’ll take the cost of repairs off the amount. We could be looking at a lot less than this. We can’t lie to them about it.”

  Stephen leaned across the table and covered her trembling hand. His own was firm and warm, despite its gnarled appearance. It steadied her. The shock of discovering that Evan had played her, plus the necessity she had to face had devastated her. Scarlett felt hollow inside. Everything she had cared for was being taken away from her. Her trust in her own judgment, her self-respect. Her hotel.

  “Hey. We’ll still have enough. We’ll have plenty. Do you want to come and look around Margate? We can afford something handsome there, and have money to spare. You can carry on where you left off, and you’ll know I’m comfortable. We can put the rest into the bank, have a nest egg for once in our lives.”

  Dumbly, Scarlett nodded. What else did she have?

  *

  The deal with Woodward’s went through with shocking speed. By the end of the month Scarlett found herself a millionaire, along with her father. But not the way she wanted.

  The client turned out to be a businessman looking to expand his hotel empire, as yet unnamed, but the money was there. His agent visited the house, toured it, and made some notes on a tablet. Half an hour later, he came back to them. “The boss says yes,” he said. The man had paid their asking price, dismissing the concerns about the repairs.

  “Either he’s an idiot or stupidly rich,” Stephen had remarked to his daughter. Scarlett had to agree. They’d been completely honest about what was needed and how much money would put it right.

  Then the agent had taken her aside and spoken to her privately. “The price is contingent on you staying around for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “My client will pay you a commensurate salary for six months if you oversee the repairs. He’s also authorized me to find you and your father a place to live while the work is done.”

  He cast a cynical gaze around the office. For the first time Scarlett saw it as he did—shabby and rundown, like all the nonpublic areas. “He says he is impressed with your care for the place. He understands that your family has owned the house since the nineteenth century, and he wants your advice about the restoration.”

  Restoration? “Is he opening a museum?”

  The man gave her a thin smile. “Not exactly. He wants to restore it to its Regency appearance—with all modern conveniences, of course.”

  “He wants to live in it?”

  He shook his head. “He is considering keeping it as a hotel. The situation is too good to ignore, but he wants to take it upmarket.”

  Ah. “A boutique hotel.” That had been her plan, too. It wasn’t surprising that somebody else had thought the same way. So she’d have to watch somebody else making her home theirs. It seemed like appropriate punishment.

  After a pause, the agent said, “Exactly.”

  So, Scarlett had agreed to stay on, to prolong her agony. But the money would be safe in the bank, and the salary he’d offered was better than she could have imagined. The hospitality industry didn’t exactly offer great salaries. The flat he’d provided was great, too, the agent explaining that it was owned by his client. He’d handed her the keys and gave her the address.

  Scarlett went there with her father. He was planning to move to Margate, where his respite home was, but now it was his turn to look after her. Her devastation was more than the loss of her ancestral home; it was the conclusion of all the failures of her life.

  When she opened the door, she gasped. They’d been loaned a flat in Mayfair, with three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, plus a half bath. The gracious living room looked out over the private gardens in the middle of the square, where people scurried about below, silently because of the triple glazing. Comfortable seating, a TV that came down from a hidden slot in the ceiling at the push of a button and a kitchen that even put the one at Woodward’s to shame greeted her dazed eyes.

  The agent had told her that it was where his client lived when he was in London. Lending her the flat was cheaper than hiring one for her, the man had explained, and he wanted her close to the hotel.

  “Well, I think you’ll be comfortable here,” her father said, plumping down on the nearest sofa. “We’ve landed on our feet, my girl. It’s time we had some good luck.”

  Dazed, she agreed, but deep in her heart she would have given anything to go back, to have the money to rewire the hotel, to live in her home.

  But that had gone. All she could do was go with the flow. The sale had happened so fast, a matter of weeks. Money could achieve anything.

  All she had to do now was turn up at Woodward’s, pen in hand, to sign the final agreement. The agent had made it part of the contract that his anonymous buyer and she would be in the same room when the final contract was signed. She would finally meet him.

  She should be overjoyed. Her salary was already in her account. She’d paid off what debts they had, and they still had millions. The bank manager wanted to talk to them about investments, and her father would be leaving on Monday to travel to Margate, to look over properties there. The town wasn’t far from London, but far enough for prices to be much lower than in London.

  Once the six months were up, she’d have to leave London for good, and she couldn’t bear being close to Woodward’s and knowing it wasn’t hers anymore.

  When she arrived at the hotel, workmen were already busy. The front door lay open, and the inside smelled of old wood and sandpaper. Dust hung in the air, and the sound of drilling came from the cellar.

  Her office lay at the back of the house, overlooking the garden. Wearing one of the new outfits she’d bought, with her head held high Scarlett made her way there and threw open the door, praying she was the first to arrive.

  A man sat in the chair behind the desk, his head down, staring at a sleek modern laptop. He wore a suit, not the kind a salesman wore, but the kind his boss would wear. Or his boss’s boss’s boss.

  That was the kind of suit a man with a designer tie would wear.

  As she entered, he looked up, a polite smile on his face, and distance in his eyes.

  No, it couldn’t be. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and pictures flashed through her mind. Of them in bed together, making love, of his kindness, him putting out the fire.

  But that had been somebody else. Another Evan Cooper.

  “You!” she said, using all the loathing she could muster.

  Chapter Six

  Ethan had known this meeting would be difficult, but he hadn’t expected the jolt in the region of his heart when he saw her for the first time since their weekend together.

  Scarlett wore black pants that clung provocatively to her thighs when she moved. Her blue silk top floated free over the waistband, but he knew how trim her waist was, and the glory of the breasts that swelled above. Her exquisite features were enhanced with subtle makeup. Her silky hair was neatly tied back.

  But she hadn’t worn that expression of hurt, quickly masked, replaced by cold anger. “What are you doing here?”

  He indicated the pile of papers on the desk. “We need to get these signed.”

  Confusion reigned in her eyes, but if he went anywhere near her, she’d back off. “You’re not Evan Cooper, are you?”

  He shook his head.

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me, let me guess. Your boss sent you to look the hotel over before he made his offer. You’re his spy. That’s what you were doing there. Looking the place over for him. And, oh yes, while you were at it, why not help yourself to the owner, too?”

  Tears stood in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “Convenient, wasn’t it? You got me and the hotel! What will your boss think if I tell him how you behaved? Will he sack you, or is he as sleazy as you are?”

  She turned away, her hand going up, and he couldn’t stand any more. He’d watched women cry and rant in front of him, in his pe
rsonal life when he’d ended it with someone, and in his professional life when he’d fired someone. Nothing and nobody had affected him like this.

  He went to her, put his arms around her. Although she held herself rigid, having her next to him released some of the tension he felt. He hadn’t been looking forward to this meeting.

  “You don’t have to tell him anything.”

  She swallowed, her breath coming in short gasps. She was fighting for control. He waited and let her recover in her own time.

  Shock had convulsed her, stopped her thinking. No doubt she’d shove him away so he’d better make the most of this short space.

  “How do you know I’m not Evan Cooper?” Had she done some research?

  “You l-left something behind,” she mumbled into his shirt, before lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Her lovely eyes gleamed. A muscle in her jaw hardened. “A tie. I might just use it to throttle you. An expensive tie, although you can probably afford to buy ten of them.”

  “Fifty,” he said provocatively, unable to resist. Just as before, she roused him like no other woman had done before, her response going straight to his groin.

  “I looked you up so I could get the tie back to you. Evan Cooper as you described to me doesn’t exist. That’s how I know.”

  When she stepped back, he let his arms fall, regret filling him as she left him.

  “My name is Ethan Black,” he said softly, waiting for her response to his name.

  “I think I prefer to call you ‘Bastard.’ It fits you better. Did your boss send you to look the place over, snoop around and find out how he could reduce his price?”

  He shook his head. “No. The price remains the same, minus the cost of rewiring. I haven’t costed the price of redecoration or refinishing because I planned to strip it anyway.” Because he wouldn’t stoop to his father’s level, pushing people who were already at a disadvantage into further poverty, and even ruin. She would’ve been unlikely to get a bank loan for the repairs while the hotel was in this state. She couldn’t remortgage until the work had been done and he doubted she could afford it. But none of that would factor into his price, because he wanted something else from her.

  Her aroma drifted over to him, the light cologne and the scent of woman. This woman, unique to her alone. He’d know her in the dark, could pick her out of a group of a hundred.

  Oh, yes, his plans would work out just fine. Scarlett had so much more than the other two candidates his father had suggested, and he’d be tweaking the old man’s nose at the same time. Unlike his father, Ethan knew the value of silence. He employed it now.

  “This hotel meant everything to me. Now I have nothing. I thought I’d come to terms with that, but now I know what you did to get it, I won’t sell.”

  Her gaze went down to the thick pile of legal papers neatly stacked in front of him. He followed her gaze, then tracked back to her face. Regret filled him for causing her distress but she had to know she couldn’t do this.

  “You really think I’ll sign that now that I know what you did to me?” She sucked in a breath, her breasts heaving under the fine material. “I won’t sign it. Even if it bankrupts me.”

  He couldn’t let her do that. Time for a dose of reality. “You have to know that if you don’t sign the contract you’ll lose the hotel anyway. You can’t afford to run repairs; you can’t afford the renovation this place needs.” He tapped the pile. “I’ve had preliminary costings done. Even with the workforce I can command, it will cost more than you had, and you won’t get a loan unless it’s done.”

  Perhaps cool reason would bring her back to earth. His people, the lawyer and witnesses wouldn’t come in until he called them, so he had time to get her to see reason. Letting her rant wasn’t working. “You’ll go bankrupt, and I will buy the hotel at the consequent auction of assets at a much lower price. That’s a delay I don’t want to deal with. I’ll get the same result, but you won’t.”

  He paused, and fortunately, she was still getting her breath back, giving him a chance to continue. “And I don’t want to see you dragged into the courts, either.”

  She spun away, folding her arms, her shoulders heaving.

  Although he ached to go to her, Ethan knew the response she’d give. The opposite to the last time he’d consoled her when she’d wept.

  Scarlett faced him once more, her eyes dry. She kept her arms folded. “Why did you come here as Evan Cooper? Why not just ask?”

  He masked his expression. She was a practical person, she’d understand that part. “I prefer to look at potential purchases myself but I don’t like scouting potential premises under my real name. People get dollar signs in their eyes, and push the price up.”

  “Why?”

  She must have realized who he was by now. “Why do you think? People recognize me and they put out their best, make a show. I don’t want to see the best and nothing else. I want to see it all.”

  She huffed. “I’ve been in the hospitality business most of my life, and I can’t recall an Ethan Black.”

  A smile curved his lips, genuine amusement touching him. Warmth, too. She hadn’t joined up the dots. “You haven’t? Think about it.”

  He saw when shock hit Scarlett full-on. Her jaw dropped and she shook her head in disbelief.

  She closed her eyes and groaned. “Not Black. Noir, the French for black. The Noir Group.”

  “Bingo.”

  His low drawl brought her attention back to him. He met her gaze, drowned in the soft chocolate stare. “You’re one of those Blacks?”

  He nodded, the lids drooping over his eyes. Now her attitude would change. He was sorry for that. “I am. Currently I’m the Black. Chairman of the board, chief executive officer.”

  Her mouth drooped at the corners, and hurt rimmed her expressive gray eyes. “So that excuses everything, does it? You’re used to taking what you want, so you took me. And my hotel. You pick up little businesses and fold them in, make them part of a homogeneous whole.

  “Your agent said this was to be a hotel. You bought this with a shell company, didn’t you?” Now her gaze flashed sparks and a frown creased the skin between her brows. “Legal but unethical. You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

  He shook his head. “No to both. My parents were married. And this is nothing to do with the Noir Group. We specialize in large luxury hotels, four and five star. We hold large conventions, tourist companies and the like. The Woodward isn’t large enough for that.

  “This is a personal investment, nothing to do with the Noir Group. I bought this under the name of the company I set up outside my family. This is my concern.”

  He paused, wondering how much to tell her. He couldn’t afford his plans to get out before he was ready. Competitors would jump on it and worse, his own board would insist he cut them in. Not that he intended them to have a single penny of this. But, because of perceived competition, even if it wasn’t real, he’d have to tell them eventually.

  The only way he could keep Scarlett onside was to tell her the truth. After the way he’d treated her, using a false name and then seducing her, even though he hadn’t intended to, he had to be honest with her now. He owed it to her.

  “It’s for a project I want to keep on the down low for now. Until I’m ready to announce it.”

  “Boutique hotels?” she guessed, already rallying.

  Oh, she was sharp. “That part of the market, yes.”

  “So you’re planning something else.”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t go any further, not until he had her signature on those contracts. One was the bill of sale, another was the contract of employment, and the third was the hardest sell of all.

  In this persona, the CEO of a big hotel group, Ethan was confident, even intimidating. But Scarlett refused to be cowed. She waited. Interesting. She knew the value of silence. He liked that.

  He sighed, giving her what she needed. “All right, the truth about our weekend. I didn’t know you would be alone in the hotel.
I didn’t know you would pay me any extra attention. I didn’t know I’d have to help you douse a fire. Most of all I didn’t know we’d come together like—” Unable to find words, he stopped.

  “Like rabid dogs? Like fire and a branch? Like mating cats?” They were all true, if unflattering.

  “Like we were meant for each other.” That was the plain truth. They had fitted in a way he was totally unused to. He only shared that kind of camaraderie with his brother Ronan, and for the rest—nobody else.

  Her attention shot to him, her eyes wide. His words had vividly brought back the moment when they’d kissed for the first time, when there was no turning back. The fraught few seconds lengthened and became a lifetime.

  Until she tore her attention away from him. “What are you proposing?”

  He shot the answer straight back. “Marriage.”

  Chapter Seven

  What the hell had he just said? Scarlett floundered around for an answer, and found one. “You mean you want this to be a honeymoon hotel?”

  “Huh?” His frown gave him an overbearing look but she refused to be intimidated.

  So what if he was Ethan Black? What did that mean to her? Not as much as Evan Cooper had for a few short weeks.

  “I’ve been to Amsterdam and seen the quirky boutique hotels there. They’re fabulous. I was planning to turn this place into something like that. So a specific theme? Rock music, weddings, great art?”

  “I didn’t mean this hotel. I meant us.”

  Scraping back the chair he got to his feet and came around the desk. She had to fight hard not to take a step back.

  He kept coming until he was standing in front of her. Reaching out, he gathered her hands between him. She was too shocked to resist but she didn’t uncurl them.

  He kept his voice deliberately low and nonthreatening. “I meant us. I always meant to contact you again, but not like this. A phone call, maybe, to make sure you weren’t… We weren’t exactly careful that weekend, were we? Against the bathroom wall, in bed, on the kitchen table—and that one time, when I came inside you and carried on because my erection refused to go away.”