by Sarah Morgan
Jenny lifted an eyebrow. ‘Because—?’
‘Never mind.’ Avery, who never blushed, felt herself blushing. ‘The truth is, our company is the obvious and right choice for an event like that. If I’d refused, everyone would have been saying, “Of course Avery Scott isn’t organising the party because she and the Prince were involved and she just can’t handle it.”’ And he would have known. He would have known how much he’d hurt her.
But of course he already knew. And it depressed her to think that their relationship had sunk that low.
‘You need to delegate this one, Avery.’ Jenny slid her shoes back on. ‘You’re the toughest, most impressive woman I’ve ever met but organising the wedding of a man you were once in love with—’
‘Was in lust with—’
‘Fine, call it whatever you like, but it’s making you ill. I’ve known you since we were both five years old. We’ve worked together for six years but if you carry on like this I’m going to have to ask you to fire me for the good of my health. The tension is killing me.’
‘Sorry.’ Out of the corner of her eye Avery noticed that her screen saver was back again. With a rush of irritation she swiftly replaced the desert with a stock picture of the Arctic. ‘Talk to me about work. And then I’m going to take a shower and get ready for the day.’
‘Ah, work. Senator’s golden wedding party. Fussiest client we’ve ever had—’ Jenny flipped open her book and checked through her notes while Avery cupped her mug and took comfort from the warmth.
‘Why do you insist on using that book of yours when I provide you with all the latest technology?’
‘I like my book. I can doodle and turn clients into cartoons.’ Jenny scanned her list. ‘He’s insisting on fifty swans as a surprise for his wife. Apparently they represent fidelity.’
Avery lowered the mug. ‘The guy has had at least three extramarital affairs, one of them extremely public. I don’t think this party should be celebrating his “fidelity”, do you?’
‘No, but I couldn’t think of a tactful way to say that when he called me. I’m not you.’
‘Then think of one and think of it fast because if he mentions “fidelity” to his wife on the big day we’ll have a battlefield, not a party. No swans. Apart from the fidelity connotations they have very uncertain tempers. What else?’
‘You want more?’ With a sigh, Jenny went back to her notes. ‘He wants to release a balloon for each year of their marriage.’
Avery dropped her head onto her desk. ‘Kill me now.’
‘No, because then I’ll have to deal with the Senator alone.’
Reluctantly, Avery lifted her head. ‘I don’t do balloon releases. And, quite apart from the fact that mass balloon releases are banned in lots of places, isn’t our Senator working with some environmental group at the moment? The last thing he needs is publicity like that. Suggest doves. Doves are environmentally friendly and the guests can release them and have a warm, fuzzy eco feeling.’ She sat back in her chair, trying to concentrate. ‘But not fifty, obviously. Two will be fine or the guests will be covered in bird droppings.’
‘Two doves.’ Jenny made a note in the margin and tapped her pen on the pad. ‘He is going to ask me what two doves signify.’
‘A lot less mess than fifty swans—OK, sorry, I know you can’t say that—let me think—’ Avery sipped her coffee. ‘Tell him they signify peace and tranquillity. Actually, no, don’t tell him that, either. There is no peace and tranquillity in their relationship. Tell him—’ She paused, grappling for the right word. She knew nothing about long-term relationships. ‘Partnership. Yes, that’s it. Partnership. The doves signify their life journey together.’
Jenny grinned. ‘Which has been full of—’
‘Exactly.’ With her free hand, Avery closed down the spreadsheet on her computer before she could insert any more errors. ‘Take Chloe to help at the Senator’s party. We need to cure her of being star-stuck. It will be good experience for her to mingle with celebrities and she can help out if the doves become incontinent.’
‘Why don’t you let us do the Zubran wedding without you?’
‘Because then everyone will say that I can’t cope and, worse than that—’ she bit her lip ‘—Mal will think I can’t cope.’
Was he still angry with her? He’d been furious, those hooded black eyes as moody as a sky threatening a terrible storm. And she’d been equally angry with him. It had been a clash from which neither of them had pulled back.
Jenny looked at her. ‘You miss him, don’t you?’
Yes. ‘I miss the sex. And the rows.’
‘You miss the rows?’
Avery caught Jenny’s disbelieving glance and shrugged. ‘They were mentally stimulating. Mal is super-bright. Some people do crosswords to keep their minds alert. I like a good argument. Comes of having a mother who is a lawyer. We didn’t talk at the dinner table, we debated.’
‘I know. I still remember the one time you invited me for tea.’ Jenny shuddered. ‘It was a terrifying experience. But it does explain why you can’t admit that you cared for the Prince. Your mother dedicated her life to ending marriages.’
‘They were already broken when she got involved.’
Jenny closed her book. ‘So this wedding is fine with you? Pride is going to finish you off, you know that, don’t you? That and your overachieving personality—another thing I blame your mother for.’
‘I thank my mother. She made me the woman I am.’
‘A raving perfectionist who is truly messed up about men?’
‘I won’t apologise for wanting to do a job properly and I am not messed up about men. Just because I’m the child of a strong single parent—’
‘Avery, I love you, but you’re messed up. That one time I came for tea, your mum was arguing the case for doing away with men altogether. Did she ever even tell you the identity of your father? Did she?’
The feelings came from nowhere. Suddenly she was back in the playground again, surrounded by children who asked too many questions.
Yes, she knew who her father was. And she remembered the night her mother had told her the truth as vividly as if it had happened just yesterday. Remembered the way the strength had oozed from her limbs and the sickness rose in her stomach.
She didn’t look at Jenny. ‘My father has never been part of my life.’
‘Presumably because your mother didn’t want him interfering! She scared him away, didn’t she?’ Jenny was still in full flow. ‘The woman is bright as the sun and mad as a bunch of bananas. And don’t kid yourself that you had to say yes to this party. You did the launch party for the Zubran Ferrara Spa Resort. That was enough to prove that you’re not losing sleep over the Prince.’
The knot in Avery’s stomach tightened but part of her was just relieved that the conversation had moved away from the topic of her father. ‘There was no reason to say no. I wish Mal nothing but happiness with his virgin princess.’ There was a buzzing sound in her head. She had to stop talking about Mal. It was doing awful things to her insides. Now she had hearing problems. ‘I’m doing the wedding party and then that will be it.’ Then everyone would stop speculating that she was broken hearted because of a man. ‘You call him, Jen. Tell him I’m out of the country or something. Find out what he wants and sort it out.’
‘Does his bride really have to be a virgin?’ Jenny sounded curious and Avery felt something twist in her stomach.
‘I think she does. Pure. Untouched by human hand. Obedient in all things. His to command.’
Jenny laughed. ‘How on earth did you and the Prince ever sustain a relationship?’
‘It was … fiery. I’m better at being the commander than the commanded.’ The buzzing sound grew louder and she suddenly realised that it wasn’t coming from her head, but from outside. ‘Someone is using the helipad. We don’t have a client flying in today, do we?’
As Jenny shook her head, Avery turned to look, but the helicopter was out of view, lan
ding above her. ‘It must be someone visiting one of the other businesses in our building.’
Flanked by armed bodyguards, Mal strode from the helicopter. ‘Which floor?’
‘Top floor, sir. Executive suite, but—’
‘I’ll go alone. Wait here for me.’
‘But, Your Highness, you can’t—’
‘It’s a party planning company,’ Mal drawled, wondering why they couldn’t see the irony. ‘Who, exactly, is going to threaten my safety in a party planning company? Will I be the victim of a balloon assault? Drowned in champagne? Rest assured, if I encounter danger in the stairwell, I’ll deal with it.’ Without giving his security guards an opportunity to respond he strode into the building.
Avery had done well for herself since they’d parted company, he thought, and the dull ache that was always with him grew just a little bit more intense as did the anger. She’d chosen this, her business, over their relationship.
But he couldn’t allow himself to think about that. He’d long since recognised the gulf between personal wishes and duty. After years pursuing the first, he was now committed to the second. Which was why this visit was professional, not personal.
If he knew Avery as well as he thought he did, then pride would prevent her from throwing him out of her office or slapping his face. He was banking on it. Or maybe she no longer cared enough to do either.
Maybe she’d never cared enough and that was just another thing he’d been wrong about.
Mal passed no one in the stairwell and emerged onto the top floor, through a set of glass doors that guarded the corporate headquarters of Avery Scott’s highly successful events planning company, Dance and Dine.
This was the hub of her operation. The nerve centre of an organisation devoted to pleasure but run with military precision. From here, Avery Scott organised parties for the rich and famous. She’d built her business on hard work and sheer nerve, turning down business that wasn’t consistent with her vision for her company. As a result of making herself exclusive, her services were so much in demand that a party organized by Avery Scott was often booked years in advance, a status symbol among those able to afford her.
It was the first time he’d visited her offices and he could see instantly that the surroundings reflected the woman. Sleek, contemporary and elegant. A statement of a successful, confident high achiever.
A woman who needed no one.
His mouth tightened.
She certainly hadn’t needed him.
The foyer was a glass atrium at the top of the building and light flooded through the glass onto exotic plants and shimmered on low contemporary sofas. A pretty girl sat behind the elegantly curved reception desk, answering the phones as they rang.
For this visit he’d chosen to wear a suit rather than the more traditional robes but apparently that did nothing to conceal his identity because the moment the receptionist saw him she shot to her feet, panicked and star struck in equal measure.
‘Your Highness! You’re … ohmigod—’
‘Not God,’ Mal said and then frowned as the colour faded from her cheeks. ‘Are you all right?’
‘No. I don’t think so. I’ve never met a Prince in the flesh before.’ She pressed her hand to her chest and then fanned herself. ‘I feel a bit—’ She swayed and Mal moved quickly, catching her before she hit the ground.
Torn between exasperation and amusement, he sat her in her chair and pushed her head gently downwards. ‘Lean forward. Now breathe. That’s it. You’ll soon feel better. Can I get you a glass of water?’
‘No.’ She squeaked the word. ‘Thank you for catching me. You’re obviously every bit as strong as you look. Hope you didn’t put your back out.’
Mal felt a flash of amusement. ‘My back is fine.’
‘This is seriously embarrassing. I should be curtseying or something, not fainting at your feet.’ She lifted her head. ‘I presume you’re here to see Miss Scott. I don’t suppose there is any chance you could not mention this? I’m supposed to be cool with celebrities and famous people. As you can see, it’s still a work in progress.’
‘My lips are sealed.’ Smiling, Mal straightened. ‘Sit there and recover. I’ll find her myself.’ At least the receptionist hadn’t pretended her boss wasn’t in the building, which was good because his extremely efficient security team had already confirmed that she was here. The fact that she’d refused to pick up the phone had added another couple of coals to his already burning temper but he wasn’t about to take that out on this girl. He only fought with people as strong as him and he rarely met anyone who fitted that description.
Fortunately Avery Scott was more than capable of handling anything he dished out. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met. Nothing shook that icy composure. Apparently not even the fact that he was marrying another woman.
Temper held rigidly in control, he strode away from the reception desk and towards the offices and meeting rooms.
Deciding that Avery would choose a corner office with a view, he swiftly calculated the direction of the Thames. There was a large door at the end of the glass atrium and he thrust it open and there, seated behind a large glass desk and talking to another woman was Avery, immaculate as ever, that sheet of shiny blonde hair sliding over a pearl coloured silk shirt.
In those few seconds before she saw him, a tightness gripped his chest.
He felt something he only ever felt around this woman.
As always, the image she presented to the world was impeccable. She projected glamour, efficiency and capability. No one meeting Avery Scott could ever doubt that she would get the job done and that it would be done perfectly. She had an address book that would have made an ambitious socialite sob with envy but few knew the woman beneath the surface.
She’d shut him out. The closer he’d tried to get, the more she’d blocked him.
He almost laughed at the irony. He’d spent his life preventing women from getting too close. With Avery that tactic had proved unnecessary. She was the one who’d erected the barriers. And when he’d pushed up against those barriers too hard, she’d simply walked away.
They’d been lovers for a year, friends for longer, but still there had been days when he’d felt he didn’t know her. But there were some things he did know. Like the way a tiny dimple always appeared in the corner of her mouth when she smiled, and the fact that her mouth was addictive. Remembering that taste stirred up a response he’d thought he had under control.
The first time he’d met her he’d been attracted by her confidence and by the way she squeezed every drop of opportunity from life. He’d admired her drive, her success and her utter belief in herself. But the same qualities that had attracted him were the reasons they’d parted. Avery Scott was fiercely independent and terrified of anything she believed threatened that independence.
And he’d threatened it.
What they’d shared had threatened it. And so she’d ended it. Crushed what they had until there was nothing left but the pain.
People assumed that a man of his position had everything.
They had no idea how wrong they were.
Mal stood for a moment, tasting the unpalatable combination of regret and anger and at that moment she looked up and saw him.
He searched for some evidence that his unexpected appearance affected her, but there was nothing. Outwardly composed, she rose to her feet, elegant and in control and displaying the same unflappable calm she demonstrated even in a crisis. ‘This is a surprise. How can I help you, Mal?’ Cool. Professional. No hint that they’d once been as close as it was possible for two people to be, apart from the fact that she’d called him Mal.
His name had slipped from those glossy lips without thought and yet only a handful of close friends ever called him that. And Avery had once been in that hallowed circle.
She knew his closest friends because she’d been one of them; one of the few people indifferent to his wealth or his status. One of the few people who’d treated him
like a man and not like the next ruler of Zubran. For a while, when he’d been with her, he’d forgotten about duty and responsibility.
Mal thrust that thought aside along with the others. Those days were gone. Today’s visit was all about duty and responsibility. He wasn’t going to make this personal. He couldn’t.
He was about to marry another woman.
‘You didn’t pick up your phone.’ He dispensed with formal greetings or pleasantries, considering them unnecessary.
‘I was in a meeting. You, a world leader who is generally considered an expert in the art of diplomacy, will surely understand that I couldn’t interrupt a client.’ She spoke in the same neutral tone he’d heard her use with difficult clients.
Somewhere deep inside him he felt his nerve endings spark and fire and he remembered that their verbal sparring matches had been their second favourite way of passing the time they spent together.
As for the first …
His libido roared to life and Mal turned to the other woman in the room, because privacy was essential for the conversation he was about to have. ‘Leave us, please.’
Responding to that command without question, the woman rose. As the door closed behind her Avery turned on him, blue eyes ice-cold.
‘You just can’t help it, can you? You just can’t help telling people what to do.’
‘This is not a conversation I intend to conduct in public.’
‘This is my office. My business. You are not in charge here. Whatever your reason for being here, nothing justifies you walking in without knocking and breaking up my meeting. I wouldn’t do it to you. I don’t expect you to do it to me.’
It was as if a high-voltage electrical current had suddenly been diverted through the room. It crackled, sizzled and threatened to leave them both singed, and it aggravated him as much as he knew it irritated her.
‘Why wouldn’t you take my calls?’
Two streaks of colour darkened her cheeks. ‘You called at inconvenient moments.’
‘And does ignoring your clients’ phone calls generally work well for you? I’d always assumed that customer service is everything in your business.’
