‘What are you doing?’ Luke asked.
‘It’s everywhere!’ Scarlet said, but then she really started to cry and they weren’t false tears this time. As she put the phone down on the desk, Luke saw an image, and he reached over and picked it up.
The photo that he saw was of Scarlet. She was dressed in a pair of red pyjamas and her feet were bare as she stood on the street beside the ambulance that her mother was being loaded into. Two bodyguards were restraining her from climbing in. Her black hair was a mop of wild curls, her usually pale skin was red from crying and there was a look of sheer terror on her face.
Luke looked up from Scarlet’s phone and at the woman who now sat on the other side of his desk—she was the perfectly groomed star in crisis now! Scarlet was wearing tight leather leggings and a tight black top. Over that there was a large silver leather jacket that looked as if it had been thrown on at the last minute. Her black curls were now perfectly tousled. Luke knew, though, from very personal experience, that the photo was a truer portrayal of Scarlet’s morning locks.
He pulled away from that memory; instead, he looked back at the phone and the image that had been captured by the press.
It showed a rare moment of reality in a very unrealistic world and this would be the photo that would dominate, Luke was sure.
Scarlet looking less than perfect.
It was the Scarlet he far preferred.
‘It’s going to be worse than ever now...’ Scarlet could not stop crying. Yes, she was terrified for her mother, but she’d had so much hanging on today, so many plans in place. There wasn’t a hope of escaping from the press now and, Scarlet knew, now more than ever her mother needed her to be near.
‘They’re going to make my life hell.’
‘Don’t feed them, then,’ Luke said. Her head was in her hands, her fingers were scrunched in her hair, but she lifted her face and gave him a scornful look as he continued to speak. ‘You don’t have to respond to the press, just focus on your mother and yourself.’
‘What would you know?’ Scarlet scoffed.
‘Oh, I know,’ Luke said. It was pointless to sit and pretend that he could take a comprehensive history from Scarlet and leave the personal aside. ‘David, the anaesthetist, will take a more thorough history once your mother has been transferred to ICU.’ He handed her back her phone, and as he did so he looked at Scarlet’s slender, manicured fingers and remembered hands that were as smooth as a kitten’s paws.
No, anger at her spoiled, pampered life didn’t now gnaw at him; instead, it saddened him that that funny, adventurous mind had been locked away for so long.
Yes, the world was supposedly Scarlet’s oyster, but Luke knew that since the day she had been born, her life had been magnified by a lens.
‘You’re handing me over.’
‘I’m handing your mother’s care over,’ Luke said. ‘That’s normal policy when a patient is moved. I need to get back out there, Scarlet. I have patients to see.’
‘What about me?’
Typical, Luke thought, but, though he tried to generate anger, though he did his best to remind himself of the spoiled princess Scarlet was and the absolute diva she could be, he failed.
‘What about us?’ Scarlet said.
‘There’s no us,’ Luke lied.
He was angry now as he recalled all she had done, but instead of standing to leave, he sat there.
And so did she.
They sat in the silence of his office and as the world carried on outside, both went back to a time when things had seemed so different.
When hope had arrived in both their hearts.
Even if it killed them to do so, both remembered.
CHAPTER THREE
‘I’VE GOT A HEADACHE.’ Anya closed her eyes and massaged her temples. ‘I’m going to have to go back to the hotel and see Vince.’
Scarlet frowned in concern and said all the right things to her mother but inside all she felt was relief. All she wanted was to get away from the noise of the club and close her eyes and go to sleep. It was after midnight and Scarlet had been up since seven. She had given interviews and done a shoot at London Bridge, and the rest of the day had been spent propping up her mother, telling her that she could get through the show.
‘We’ll get you back,’ Scarlet said, and nodded to her mother’s bodyguard.
‘What would I do without you?’ Anya asked, and Scarlet felt the knot that had lived in her chest for more than ten years now tighten a notch. And then, because she was Anya, her mother changed her mind about leaving when a young guy came over to their table with a drink and told her how amazing her performance that night had been. ‘I’ll just stay for one more,’ Anya said.
Scarlet moved over to give the young man room to sit next to her mother but then she stood up.
She saw the exit door and started to walk towards it.
Scarlet wanted fresh air.
More than that she wanted to run.
‘Hey, Scarlet...’ A hand was on her arm and she turned to the face of one of her mother’s bodyguards. ‘I’ll send Troy outside with you.’
She didn’t want Troy.
Scarlet didn’t want anyone, she just wanted one day, one moment to be allowed out in the world alone.
She didn’t want to be here in this club.
And then she looked up and saw a man who looked as if he didn’t want to be there either.
He was taller than most and, unlike others, he was wearing a suit. His hair was dark and as he raked a hand through it, it remained a touch messy. He was smart yet dishevelled, present but unimpressed, and there was something about him that had Scarlet intrigued.
‘We’re all leaving now,’ Troy suddenly informed her. ‘Your mother’s ready to go.’
‘I’m going to stay on.’
It was a rare request.
An almost unheard-of request, in fact, and one that did not go down too well.
‘I don’t need your drama now, Scarlet,’ Anya hissed. ‘I’ve been working all night and my head feels as if it’s about to explode...’
‘Vince will sort that out,’ Scarlet said.
It ended the conversation.
Scarlet had known that it would.
Anya could stay and argue for ten minutes with her daughter or head back to Vince.
How Scarlet loathed that man!
And so, as her mother left the building, Scarlet remained.
Not alone, of course. Three bodyguards were still present, but for now at least she was minus Mom.
* * *
Luke, even before they had arrived in the club, had had enough.
It was his younger brother’s twenty-first birthday and Luke really didn’t want to be here, but up until now he’d had no real choice.
He’d bought dinner and had done the cursory pub crawl and had decided that he’d buy the first round here, stay for a little while and then disappear.
It wasn’t a regular nightclub. Marcus’s friend knew someone and had got the boisterous group into some very trendy, exclusive basement club.
At twenty-eight years of age, Luke felt old.
He’d always been more sensible than most, more responsible than most, and this place tested that to the limit. Everyone was off their heads and the noise just ate at him.
Still, it was his brother’s birthday so Luke had gone along with things till now. He had been down from Oxford anyway, in London for an interview, and at lunchtime he had checked into a hotel.
His interview had been scheduled for four, which should have given him plenty of time to meet his brother and friend at seven. Except the interview had gone really well. So well that not only had he been extensively shown through the department, his potential new boss had asked him to wait back so he could meet a colleague who was in Theatre. Of course Luke had agreed. This was a senior registrar’s position with a junior consultancy at the end of it at the London Royal after all.
There hadn’t been time to get back to the hotel t
o change so he had arrived half an hour late to meet his brother and had felt on the back foot ever since. Especially here. Everyone was dressed in far less than a suit and drinking bright cocktails and were high, if not on life, just high.
‘Nice to be single again?’ Marcus asked, as Luke bought the drinks.
‘Actually, yes,’ Luke said, though it was wasted here, he thought privately.
Marcus and his friends hit the dance floor, which actually consisted of most of the place, and Luke took a mouthful of his drink and leant against the bar. He thought about the day he’d just had.
He wanted the job.
And that might prove to be a problem.
It hadn’t been a difficult break up.
A painless procedure might be the best description.
Luke and Angie had been going out for a couple of years and had been about to move in together. Angie worked at the Royal and had told him about the upcoming role. But within a week of Luke applying, their relationship had finally come undone.
There just wasn’t the passion that should be there for a couple who were about to move in together. Added to that was Luke’s refusal to, as Angie had annoying called it, share.
Only she hadn’t been talking about the last chocolate in the box!
‘I know they’re in there,’ Angie would insist.
‘What?’
‘Feelings.’ Angie’s response had been exasperated. ‘Emotions.’
‘We don’t all have to ride the roller-coaster, Angie. Just because I don’t...’ Luke had bitten his tongue rather than admit that yes, there were hurts there. Angie would have far preferred that he rise to the bait but Luke had consistently refused to. ‘I guess I’m not messed up enough for a psychiatrist to date,’ Luke had offered.
Luke was straight down the line and dealt with whatever life threw in his path without fuss. He saw no need for prolonged discussions as to how the past had shaped today. He had no wish to come home from a long and difficult shift and to share how it felt to lose a four-year-old or whatever agony the day had brought.
How he felt was his concern, he’d regularly told Angie. Amicably they had agreed that opposites did not attract and had quietly broken up.
There was one thing, though, that Luke needed to do if he was going to take the role at the Royal—and Luke was quite sure that it was his. He needed to be sure, very sure that Angie would be okay having her ex working at the same hospital.
Luke took out his phone and saw that there was a text from Angie, asking how the interview had gone, but it had been sent three hours ago.
It was far too late to return it now.
They were exes after all.
‘Well?’
A soft voice, very close to his ear, pulled Luke out of vague introspection and he caught the heady scent of summer in the midst of winter as he turned to the sight of a young woman.
She had long, black, curly hair and huge navy eyes. Her face was incredibly pale but those large navy eyes were alert and smiling. Her lips were full and she wore dark red lipstick and not much else, just a tiny, tight, red dress.
‘Well, what?’ Luke asked in answer.
‘Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?’
‘No.’ Luke shook his head and tried to gauge her age. He was usually good at it but with her it was an impossible ask. Her skin was smoother than any he had seen and yet her eyes were wise. ‘Are you even old enough to be drinking?’ Luke checked.
‘Of course I am.’ Scarlet frowned at the odd question. Everyone knew how old she was. A fortnight ago she had turned twenty-three and it had been a massive affair—Anya had bought her onto the stage in Paris and had sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.
‘I’m Lucy,’ Scarlet said, just to test his reaction and to make sure that this man really didn’t know who she was.
‘I’m Luke,’ he responded. ‘And I’m still not going to buy you a drink.’ Luke had already decided that he was going back to the hotel.
The bartender came over. ‘Hey, Scarlet! Can I get you anything?’
‘Scarlet?’ Luke frowned and watched a small blush spread up her neck and to her cheeks. ‘What happened to Lucy?’
‘That’s my...’ Scarlet didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t want to tell him about the alias that she used for hotel bookings and things. There was a heady thrill that Luke really had no idea who she was.
It was unbelievably refreshing.
‘I’ll have a glass of champagne,’ Scarlet said to the bartender, instead of answering Luke’s question.
‘Put it on mine,’ Luke said.
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ Luke drained the last of his drink and turned to sort out the bill. ‘See you,’ he said.
‘You’re going?’
‘God, yes,’ Luke said as the music pumped.
‘That’s not very polite! You can’t buy me a drink and then leave me alone.’
Luke conceded with a small smile. ‘Drink fast, then.’
She took the tiniest sip.
‘And another,’ Luke said, and then he started to laugh as Lucy—or was it Scarlet?—pretended to take another tiny sip.
They were, it would seem, going to be here for a very long time.
‘Who are you here with?’ she asked.
‘My brother and his friends,’ Luke said. ‘It’s his twenty-first.’
‘And why are you wearing a suit?’ Scarlet asked, and then took another tiny, tiny sip.
‘To ensure that I look like an idiot.’
‘Well, I think that you look...’ She looked over his body and then up to his pale face. He was clean-shaven but there was a dark shadow on his jaw, and his eyes, when she met them properly, were a very deep shade of brown. So dark that she couldn’t see his pupils. ‘I think you’re beautiful.’
‘I don’t think I’ve been called that before,’ Luke said, smiling at her Californian accent. ‘Though I’m quite sure you’ve been called it many times.’
Now Luke looked at her properly, in the way he’d been wanting to since he had turned around to her voice.
That dress showed far too much pale skin and the red stilettos she wore looked a little too big for her skinny legs. His eyes moved to her face and she was way more than beautiful. That fluffy hair was at odds with her delicate features and her mouth was very full and red.
A little too full perhaps, Luke thought, wondering if she’d had fillers, but, God, she was surely way too young for all that sort of thing.
He wanted to kiss her.
That in itself was a rather bizarre thought for Luke. While he thought about sex for approximately fifty seconds of every minute, to want to reach over and kiss, simply kiss, a virtual stranger was something he had never felt before.
Luke checked his memory.
Nope, not once.
This was a new feeling indeed.
‘So who are you here with?’ he asked.
‘A few people.’ Scarlet shrugged but was saved from elaborating when one of his brother’s friends came over. ‘Hey, Doc,’ he said, and picked up his drink, but then he gave Luke an odd, wide-eyed look and left them.
‘Doc?’ Scarlet checked.
‘Doctor,’ Luke said, and told her a little bit more about himself. ‘Which is the reason I’m wearing a suit. I was at an interview earlier.’
‘Doctor?’ Scarlet frowned and, almost imperceptibly, screwed up her nose, as if he had said that he specialised in sewerage and had just dropped in for a drink midshift.
‘What do you do?’ Luke asked her.
Scarlet looked at the bubbles fizzing up in her still very full glass and it matched her veins because they seemed to be fizzing too with excitement. Luke really didn’t know who she was, which meant she could be anything she wanted to be.
Anything at all.
But what?
And then she remembered her time in Africa and a very far-off dream, and she brought it to life but with a little slant.
‘I’m an OB nurse
,’ Scarlet said.
‘Where?’ Luke asked, rather hoping it was at the Royal!
‘Back in LA.’
‘You’d be called a midwife here.’
‘A midwife?’ Scarlet checked. ‘A what?’
‘A midwife,’ Luke said, and watched as she started to laugh.
He didn’t get a chance to play with words and, oh, they wanted to play with words, but his brother was heading over and Luke had no intention of sticking around for a drunken conversation with him. ‘I’ve got to go,’ Luke said, and as he moved to his full height from leaning against the bar he realised just how tiny she was because even though she was wearing stilettos he towered over her.
‘So,’ she asked, ‘where are you moving on to?’
‘Moving on?’ Luke checked, and then realised that she was asking him what club he was off to next. ‘Bed.’
‘Yum!’
She took another sip of her drink and met his eyes. Luke had never met anyone like her in his life and, leaving aside the flirty offer, he actually wanted to know her some more, but well away from this dive.
‘I meant...’ Luke said, then gave up trying to correct her. ‘Can I Call the Midwife?’
Clearly she didn’t get his little joke because she frowned at his invitation to get in touch.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Luke said. She was from another part of the globe after all and, yes, he was going back to the hotel, he decided, as an overly friendly Marcus joined them.
‘Can I have a word?’ Marcus asked, slapping him on the shoulder.
‘Sure,’ Luke agreed, knowing full well that Marcus would be asking for some more money to be put behind the bar before Luke left. Marcus was studying medicine and was perpetually broke. It annoyed Luke. He himself had worked all his way through med school but he chose to say nothing tonight as it was Marcus’s birthday.
But as they pulled away from Scarlet, and Luke went to get out his wallet, it turned out that Marcus had other things on his mind.
‘How did you two get talking?’ Marcus asked.
‘What?’ Luke frowned. ‘Do you know her?’ he checked, wondering if she was cutting one of Marcus’s friend’s lunch. ‘Is she here with—’
The Socialite's Secret Page 3
