Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology

by Violet Vaughn

  “There are a few shops near the town. But you will have more of a selection in Verona.”

  “That’s what I thought. Thanks.”

  “It’s late in the day to go shopping for suits. Most shops will be closed now. You should have tried earlier.” Why had he left it right until the last moment?

  “I was working.”

  “I didn’t know you had a job.”

  “I have various investments that still require my input.” His reply was vague, like a fading rainbow.

  “Various investments?” Leo was interested to hear more.

  Riley nodded.

  “Andrea said you trade in the markets, as a hobby.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a hobby. There are serious amounts of money involved.”

  “Don’t you find it risky?”

  “The risks are where the money is.”

  “It’s just as well that you made your money back home then, something to fall back on if times turn bad.” Leo folded his arms tighter.

  “That’s right.”

  “Who did you work for before?”

  “An investment bank in Boston. Why? Do you want a job there?” Riley gave him a smile that didn’t light up his eyes.

  “Who knows? I might be tempted to follow in your footsteps,” said Leo.

  “How’s that?”

  “Travel around, take each day as it comes.”

  “Good luck.” Riley told him and walked towards the main door and opened it, immediately the bell sounded.

  “Thanks for the advice. I’ll be sure to take it.” Leo nodded and watched the door close behind him.

  Riley pulled the warehouse door behind him hard, but caught it in time before it banged. That man had a way of winding him up; it was almost as if he could see right through him but luckily Riley was accustomed to keeping his cool. Most of the time. He’d been in trickier situations before and only his ability to act calm had saved him.

  Not like recently though. Things were tough at the moment and Leo wasn’t his biggest problem. When he became one, Riley would deal with him. For now, the more pressing concern was how to get a hold of fifty thousand dollars and soon.

  He shouldn’t have taken that tip from Claydon—something about it had sounded off from the start. He knew it was riskier than most of the trades he’d placed, but he’d gone ahead anyway. Unfortunately it had cost him dearly. A few hours ago he’d lost his cool. He’d lost it last night too when Andrea had walked in.

  Fuck.

  Fifty thousand dollars. It was the only reason he’d come to the warehouse looking for Andrea. He was desperate to borrow the money and he’d considered his last resort option: asking Andrea for it.

  He knew she had money. Plenty of it. He’d seen her figures. Some people didn’t learn, leaving their laptops around the way she did with all of her passwords in one document on her hard drive. She was begging to be robbed.

  But he wasn’t going there, not yet. If he could avoid it he would. He had meant to slowly pour his heart out to her. Spill out his troubles and hope that she would take pity on him. He’d thought that a bottle of wine and a heartfelt confession might do it.

  Except that in his panic, he’d forgotten she was away today.

  He hadn’t been thinking straight all day. If he could get the money he could play the markets again quickly and try to reverse his losses. Maybe there was a way he could convince Andrea to lend him that amount. It wasn’t how he liked to do it but this current problem had been foisted on him. He needed to get the money from somewhere.

  The wedding invite was a pain in the ass that he didn’t need to deal with especially at a time like this when he had too much going on. With the wedding on a Friday, he couldn’t afford a day away from his computer. He’d need to be glued to the screens the whole time.

  Maybe he could turn up for part of the day. So he had to get a suit, just in case he’d need to make an appearance. It would keep Andrea happy though it wasn’t a priority for him but if he needed to borrow money from her then he had to do these kinds of things. He had to suck up to her.

  The surprising thing in all this was that he didn’t want to let her down either. He hadn’t expected it to happen but she’d stolen a piece of his heart.

  She was pretty enough, nice enough. Bed-able. He hadn’t expected to care for her as much as he was beginning to. And he wasn’t lying when he told her yesterday that he was starting to fall for her. That hadn’t been part of the plan and he considered it an unnecessary distraction because he cared more for the kind of life he wanted to lead.

  An easy life.

  Women did it plenty of times. Why couldn’t men? A few years here, a few years there. What difference did it make whose bed he slept in as long as he was taken care of?

  What was it his best friend had told him once? Screw a woman well the first time and you could walk all over her for life. He couldn’t walk all over Andrea, she was way too smart for that and he’d noticed that she’d become cautious lately, despite his efforts to screw her at every opportunity. No, his friend’s advice didn’t seem to be working too well on Andrea. He’d have to try harder, engage her emotionally. He could see she was one of those types who needed more persuasion. It would have been easier if he’d hooked up with either one of her friends. The one by Andrea’s side that day, the one with her tits more out than in her bikini, she’d have been an easier target.

  But he felt he’d gone for the right person. Andrea was becoming more to him. Perhaps this time he might have an ending that worked for both of them. Not a fairy tale ending. That crap didn’t exist. But something that made them both happy.

  He just needed more time to work on her and he was convinced that in time he could charm her again. The way he saw it, she wasn’t the real problem. If he had a problem, it was Leo.

  23

  He wouldn’t show her the suit when he bought it and claimed that he wanted to surprise her. She knew whatever he wore he would look beyond gorgeous in it. Riley looked amazing when he simply got out of bed so she knew he would look triple hot when he was all dressed up in a formal suit. She was secretly looking forward to it especially since all she’d ever seen him in was jeans, or shorts and casual wear.

  Andrea ran the Argan oil serum through her hair and liked the way the curls shone and looked healthy when they fell over her shoulders. Her pale pink A-line dress that she’d bought for this day, many months ago, gave her skin a healthy glow and contrasted beautifully with her dark hair and eyes. She slipped on her silver sandals, loving the new found height it gave her and admiring the way it made her calf muscles more shapely and muscular. She walked around the room and checked out her profile from different angles. Admiring her reflection in the mirror, she deemed herself worthy of attending Ava and Nico’s wedding. It was to be held in Montagnano—the village where Nico was raised and it was no more than thirty minutes away. She could barely contain herself. It wasn’t even her wedding, but she was more than a little excited.

  Happy with her appearance she peeped out of the living room window. The glorious August day promised golden hours of sunshine and the happy assurance of summer.

  She could not imagine a more fitting day for such a beautiful occasion as the wedding of her dear friends. Nico and Ava meant the world to her, and she’d been a part of their story from the beginning.

  Glancing at her watch, she walked over to the bathroom. “Are you nearly ready?” she called out, knocking on the door. “I’m done.”

  She thought she heard a groan and knocked again, but there was still no reply. “Riley? How are you doing? We should get going. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

  “Oh….god….” She thought she heard a groan, and alarmed, she twisted the doorknob and flung the door open.

  “Riley?”

  She found him reeling on the floor, his face twisted and red, his eyes bulging.

  “Riley?” she screamed, and flung off her stilettoes to crouch beside him. His face was red and lined with swe
at, and he clutched his stomach.

  “What’s the matter?” She screamed, looking him up and down, unsure what the problem was.

  He was wearing his shirt and trousers, and she saw that the tie lay draped over the bathtub. Riley couldn’t speak and she ran her hand quickly across his hot forehead. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “My stomach,” he gasped.

  She looked down at his hand on his stomach. Appendicitis? “I’m going to call the doctor,” she said, suddenly afraid.

  “No,” he said, grimacing.

  “It could be your appendix!” The thought of it frightened her.

  “No!” he said, straining to get through the pain.

  “Riley, we need to get you seen to,” she said softly, thinking he was scared of medical treatment.

  “It’s not my appendix. I get this sometimes. It will pass.”

  “Get what?”

  “Irritable bowel syndrome. It flares up from time to time. I have a sensitive stomach. It…is…stress...” He bit the words out slowly, as if another spasm had started.

  Stress? Was he still worried about his trading deals? She hadn’t asked again after that day. “Riley,” she urged, “Let me call the doctor.”

  “You can’t. Give me some time, I’ll be fine, I promise you.”

  “You don’t look fine.” His face was contorted and ugly, and she could see he was in pain, could hear it in his voice. “Let me get help.”

  “No,” he insisted. “They’ll be angry you called them out for this.”

  “Then at least let me get you something. Can you take painkillers? Do you have medication?” she asked, throwing her hair out of her way. The ringlets, loose and heavy threatened to fall over his face as she bent over him.

  “It comes and goes in spasms,” he explained, closing his eyes now as the muscles on his face seemed to relax.

  “Do you have anything you can take?”

  He shook his head. “Whatever I tried doesn’t seem to help much.”

  “Wait,” she said, and sat back, against the bathtub. “Can you move a little?”

  He moaned again, but slowly shuffled his body so that he was close to her. “Here,” she said, smoothing down her dress, “put your head here.” She helped lift his head onto her lap and sat with her back against the bathtub and her legs sprawled out in front of her.

  He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I just need a little time. It will go in a while. We can still make it to the wedding. But, why don’t you go? It seems wrong of you to miss it,” he urged.

  “And leave you here like this?” She wasn’t worried about the wedding, not with him like this, in so much pain. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Your friends will be disappointed and they’ll blame me. You should go and I will come along later, I’ll get a taxi, once this spasm goes.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll wait with you. How long have you had this?”

  He grimaced again. “Don’t. Don’t say anything.” Letting out a moan he clutched his stomach again.

  “Okay,” she said softly. “Try to relax.”

  She sat stroking his forehead and slipping her fingers through his hair. The spasms would come and go but her touching his face seemed to comfort him. This mattered to her more than the wedding—but she knew that missing this wedding would be one of her greatest regrets.

  Perhaps there was a chance they would be able to go along later. The reception would go on until late and maybe the situation was not as hopeless as it seemed.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there with her back against the bathtub like that. It seemed like an hour at least and when he opened his eyes later and smiled at her, she felt a longing in her heart, felt pure joy that he was better.

  “I think it’s passed,” he said, looking up at her with tired eyes. She stroked his cheek, then his nose and lips.

  “Do you feel better?”

  He nodded and looked at her with shiny eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for what?”

  “For looking after me.”

  She nodded her head. “Don’t be silly. I was worried about you.”

  “It’s a known condition,” he said, getting up. “Avoiding stress is a way not to get this.”

  “Are you worried about your deal?” she asked, letting her hand slide along his back now that he was sitting up. He adjusted his body so that he was sitting like her with his back against the bathtub. “I guess I am.” He looked at his watch. “Shit, Andrea. The wedding,” he croaked, standing up slowly.

  “We’ll be too late for it now.”

  He seemed shaky as he straightened himself up. “I’m sorry. I ruined it all.”

  “Don’t keep blaming yourself,” she said, getting up, “Ava will understand. I couldn’t leave you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, attempting to take a step towards her. “I still feel a little woozy. Please, Andrea. Don’t make me feel any worse. You should go without me.”

  “I’d like to go with you. The party starts later and goes on all night.” She felt hopeful and was willing to wait until the evening when she hoped he would be in a better condition. Right now he didn’t appear to be in pain, but just seemed a little shaken.

  “Sure,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. “I know how important this is to you.”

  “It’s fine. Really.” She said, smoothing down her now crinkled dress.

  “I hate that you missed this on account of me.” He said, putting on a brave face. “Let me freshen up, and I’ll be ready before you know it.”

  “I’ll iron my dress again,” she said, rushing out.

  She stared back out of the window and tried to imagine the goings on in Montagnano. The wedding would be over now. She tried to imagine Ava and Nico right at this very moment, and felt, for the first time, deep disappointment that she had missed their moment. Still all was not lost. They could still be a part of their special day.

  She slipped off her dress and got out the ironing board but the sound of retching from the bathroom had her running over there again. She pushed the door wide open to find Riley bent over the toilet bowl and the smell of sickness hit her nostrils.

  “Riley!” she yelled, feeling scared. He straightened up and ran a hand across his mouth. She briefly caught sight of the vomit in the toilet and threw the lid down and flushed it.

  “You’re really ill. Is this supposed to happen?” His face was a sickly green, and his eyes red.

  “I’ve never thrown up before.”

  “Maybe it was something you ate?” She was standing in nothing but her underwear.

  He wiped a hand over his face. “I don’t think I can go to the party,” he said, weakly.

  “Don’t worry about the party,” she said. “I’m worried about you. I’m going to see if I can call my doctor.”

  “No. Trust me, Andrea. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. Look at you.”

  “Maybe it was a combination of something I ate and too much stress.”

  “I wish you’d talk to me about your troubles, Riley. Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “We’re living together,” she reached for his hand. “And you don’t want to trouble me? I thought we had something.”

  “You’re too good for me, Andrea. People like you shouldn’t be with people like me.” His voice sounded oddly flat.

  She shook her head again. “You’re talking rubbish,” she said, putting it down to him being sick.

  “I don’t want to spoil today for you or your friends. They’ll wonder why you didn’t come. You go.”

  “And leave you like this?” she said, looking at his mottled face. “No way.” How could she leave him?

  “I sometimes take Senna tablets to help, or a mild laxative. Or even mint tea,” he said. “Do we have anything like that?”

  “Not at home, but I’ll go and
get some.”

  “Why are you in your underwear?”

  “I was ironing my dress.”

  His face fell. “Baby, I am so sorry. We can pick up some tablets along the way and then we can go.”

  “No way,” she said, looking at him. She took his hand and pulled him with her to the bedroom and started to unbutton his shirt. “I thought you didn’t take any medication?”

  “I don’t, but I don’t want you to miss any more of the day. I should be okay to make an appearance if we get something along the way.”

  “No. Don’t say another word about the wedding. You rest up. I think you’re overworked and overstressed,” she said pulling his shirt off. “You just need to take time out and lie down. Get some rest. You were up most of the night again weren’t you?” Now that she thought about it, he’d barely been to bed. “You didn’t sleep much either, did you?”

  He looked at her guiltily.

  “No wonder you’ve made yourself so ill.”

  “I need to stop trading and find something less stressful to do.”

  “I know you want me to think everything’s alright. But I can see it isn’t. That deal, the shares and stuff are weighing down on you.”

  He looked away. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said, removing his trousers.

  “How can I not worry? Look at what it’s done to you.” If this problem of his was brought on by stress, it was not surprising.

  “I’m going to take your advice and get some rest.”

  “Go to the party, Andrea. Don’t let an idiot like me ruin the day for you.”

  “If you’re an idiot, you’re my idiot,” she said, and the words came easy. Seeing him like this when he was at his most vulnerable and being able to care for him had made her see the other parts of a relationship. She liked looking after him especially at a time like this when he needed her.

  He pulled away the duvet and slipped in to bed.

  “You’re tempting me,” he said, and a shadow of a smile began to creep along his lips as his eyes wandered down the length of her body.

  “You don’t have the energy,” she said, playfully ruffling his hair.