The inside of the house was like an icebox, and I cursed to myself. I should have asked our neighbor to pop in and put the heating on. After four months away at this time of year, it’d take an age to warm up.
I righted the wrong immediately and turned the thermostat to high in the vain hope that would encourage the heat to come through faster. In the meantime, I lit the gas fire in the living room. At least we’d have one room warm and cozy while the rest of the house caught up.
Aiden rushed upstairs muttering something about Xbox and an online gaming challenge while Grams settled herself in her chair, shuffled it closer to the fire, and riffled in her shoulder bag for her knitting.
Back to normal.
I ate a light dinner and headed off to bed to read, but my attention span lasted about three seconds. I owed Garen an apology and my heartfelt thanks for all he’d done for me and Aiden. What happened between us, and the atrocious things he’d said didn’t negate his generosity in helping my brother to, hopefully, recover from a disease that could have killed him. Garen’s reasons for such altruism were his own, especially after the original form of payment—for him to summon me to do his bidding whenever he felt like it—had fallen by the wayside. Regardless, the man deserved to know how grateful I was and how I’d never forget him or how much he’d helped my family.
My heart hurt as I sat at the small desk in the corner of my room and began writing. I tore up several letters before I settled on one that I thought communicated my gratitude while not completely letting him off the hook for the mean and cruel things he’d said in Switzerland. I sealed it in an envelope and stared at it for several minutes.
God, I miss you. I ache for you. I love you.
I’ve lost you.
I awoke at four a.m., the time difference between here and Switzerland messing with my body clock. I tossed and turned for an hour, then huffed and climbed out of bed, shivering as I stuffed my feet into my slippers and tugged a thick robe around my shoulders. I’d never experienced jet lag before—hell, until the trip to Switzerland, I’d never even left the country. I presumed it would take me a few days to adjust back to my normal sleep pattern, and in the meantime, I’d better get used to waking hours before the weak winter sun touched the horizon.
At least the early hour gave me a chance to sneak over to Garen’s house and post my attempt at an apology without the risk of bumping into him. And that way, if I didn’t hear anything, I’d know where I stood. I hadn’t visited his home before, but thanks to Google and his position as a man of substance in this city, I’d found his address. Unsurprisingly, he lived over in Shaughnessy Heights, one of Vancouver’s most eminent neighborhoods and a far cry from where I lived.
I showered, dressed in a warm sweater, jeans, and boots and, as it was too early for public transport, I called an Uber. Five minutes later, my phone pinged with a text letting me know the driver was outside. Peering through the drapes, I spotted him idling by the curb. I slid my arms inside my quilted jacket and opened the front door as quietly as I could. The lock clicked into place, and I jogged down the path and dove into the back of the cab.
We had to take a detour due to a road closure which, unfortunately, took me right past where my studio used to be, and where an eight-story hotel now towered above the street.
Garen’s hotel.
My gut twisted in mourning for all the good times I’d had before selling out to a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who, despite my initial hatred, was someone who’d never leave me. Not now that he’d burrowed his way so deeply into my heart.
I missed the kids and the parents, and the way my chest puffed with pride when one of my little charges mastered a particularly difficult move.
But most of all, I missed Garen.
Why did I have to fall in love with him? There was something like three or four billion men on the planet, yet my stupid heart set its sights on the one person who seemed to take pleasure in hurting me. I shouldn’t care about the man after the way he’d treated me, but someone who gave so charitably to my little brother would always have a special place in my life.
As we drew up outside Garen’s impressive property, my heart plummeted. Of course he’d live behind secure gates meant to keep the crazies out. I could hardly stick my letter to the railings now, could I? With fresh rain already falling, it’d turn to pulp in seconds.
Hang on. The postman must have a way to drop off his mail. I scanned along the impressive frontage, and that’s when I spotted a small mailbox attached to the wall.
“Can you hang on a sec?” I asked the driver.
I stepped onto the sidewalk, taking care not to slip on the damp ground. I made my way over to the black box and lifted the flap, but I didn’t get to post the letter. Instead, a voice I’d both dreaded and longed to hear called my name.
“Catriona?”
36
Garen
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Maybe I was hallucinating after a ten-mile run in cold, damp conditions. Catriona was here, outside my house, her tall, slim frame bundled up in a thick winter jacket and leather gloves. Rain dampened her hair, a few drips trickling down her temple. My chest tightened, my heart pounding, and not from the exercise, but from seeing her again. I’d dreamed of this moment for weeks, yet now it was here, the things I wanted to say stuck in my throat.
“Catriona?” I rasped.
She spun around, shock gracing her face, her green eyes appearing almost black in the dim streetlights. She nibbled her lip, then held an envelope toward me.
“Here,” she said. “You’re up early.”
I stared at the envelope without making a move to take it. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.” She shrugged. “Jet lag.”
“When did you get back?” I asked, my eyes raking over her face, a swell of yearning growing in my abdomen. Christ, I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home? I’d have sent my plane for you.”
“We got back yesterday.” She made another attempt to give me the letter. “Here. You can tear it up if you want.”
I still didn’t take it.
The cabbie poked his head out the window. “Miss, do you still need me?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Catriona reiterating, glaring at me.
I fished my wallet out of a zipped pocket in the back of my sweats and handed over a wad of cash, then tapped the roof of the car, and it drove away.
“Hey!” She folded her arms over her chest. “Now I’ll have to call another Uber.”
I inclined my head. “Come inside? Just for a few minutes.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”
I offered up a lopsided grin. “Because it’s cold out here, and the sweat is drying on my skin, and I desperately want a hot shower.” With you. “But most of all, I don’t want you to go.”
“Why?”
I locked my gaze on her, a strand of hope growing in my chest and the words I desperately needed to say finally spilling out of me. “I think we have a lot to say to each other, things that should have been said a long time ago, but I’m an idiot, and a stubborn fool who let you walk away. I won’t do that again.”
“You didn’t let me walk away, Garen. I chose to walk away.”
Because of me.
I suppressed a wince at a sharp pain that arrowed through me and nodded, my gaze somber. “Come inside, Catriona.” I extended my hand toward her. “Please.”
I gauged the chances of her accepting my invitation as fifty-fifty, so when she slipped her gloved hand inside mine, relief shot through my abdomen. I pressed the remote that opened the gates, then strode up to the house.
“Can I take your jacket?” I asked.
She hesitated, then raised her right shoulder. “I guess.”
Tugging down the zipper, she removed her coat. I hung it over the banister, then toed off my sn
eakers.
“I really need a shower. The kitchen is through there,” I said, pointing down the hallway. “I put on a pot of coffee before I left. Help yourself.”
I sprinted upstairs, showered in record time, and returned to the kitchen. Catriona was sitting at my kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee. She’d removed her boots, which I probably shouldn’t read too much into, but I did anyway. That meant she wasn’t planning on a fast escape.
I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup, then sat across from her.
“I wasn’t sure whether you were still in Montreal,” she said, meeting my gaze over the top of her cup as if it was a shield of sorts. “How’s your dad?”
“Recovering well,” I said. “Thank you for asking.”
“That’s good,” she murmured, then blew across the hot liquid and sipped.
“I got back a couple of weeks ago,” I said. “I stayed on through Christmas and New Years to help Mom when Dad came out of the hospital.”
“They must have liked having you there.”
“They did, yes.”
Fuck. Where was all this formal shit coming from? This wasn’t the conversation we needed to have at all. I pinched the bridge of my nose, then rubbed my eyes.
“We have to talk.”
She nodded then pointed her chin at the letter. “I jotted down some things. I thought you weren’t here, you see.”
“I did the same in the letter I sent you.”
Her lips twisted to one side. “I never read it.”
My brow furrowed. If she hadn’t even read it, then she still thought that what I said to the guys was true. Damn, when she’d sent it back, the envelope seal must have still been in place. Why the fuck hadn’t I noticed that?
I touched my mouth, then tugged on my bottom lip. “So you still think that what you overheard was the truth?”
“You knew then? That I’d overheard you?”
“Not immediately, no. I figured it out later.”
She nodded, pulling at a thread on her sweater.
“It wasn’t true, Catriona.”
Her head came up. “Wasn’t it?”
“No,” I expelled, raking a hand through my damp hair. “Jesus, I can’t believe you still think that all these months later. No wonder you were so angry when Aiden’s payment didn’t go through, and why you thought it was me being cruel for the sake of it.” I got up from my chair and kneeled beside hers, gazing up at her and hoping she could see the love I had for her in my eyes.
I took her hand, and she let me. “What you heard was me being a fucking idiot. A childish, stupid asshole who didn’t know how to handle teasing from my friends about a woman who, at the time, I was feeling things for that I didn’t know what to do with.” I pressed my palms to her cheeks. “A woman I’ve since realized I’m in love with.”
Her eyes went wide, the vibrant green of her irises disappearing as her pupils dilated. “You… sorry, what? You love me?”
I nodded, a smile inching across my face. This was so much easier than I thought it would be. Telling her I loved her had set me free. The one thing I’d avoided my entire life—putting myself out there and risking rejection—hadn’t killed me. Even if she didn’t feel the same way, she would. In time. What we had together in Switzerland wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t killed it with my stupidity, just put it in intensive care for a while.
A tear beaded on her eyelashes, and when she blinked, it trickled down her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb.
“I broke up with you to save face.”
I brushed her lips with mine. “I know. That’s why I wrote you the letter and sent the flowers. I worked it out. I even had Lia and Raphael test how soundproof the door was.” I grinned. “Yeah, turns out not so much.”
Her lips curved upward, and in that moment, I knew it was going to be okay.
“And then you didn’t even read it. If I’d known you hadn’t… Christ, mon petit chaton.” I shook my head and dropped my gaze to the floor.
Catriona’s forefinger tilted up my chin. “I love you so damn much,” she said, a sob bursting from her throat. “I thought I’d lost you forever. You broke my heart, and I’m going to make you spend the rest of your life piecing it back together.”
Dizzy with happiness, I stood, pulling her upright with me. I covered her mouth with mine, the kiss meant as an apology that quickly escalated into one of hot, raw need. My tongue tangled with hers, and my hands went to her hips, tugging her closer. I burrowed underneath her sweater and dipped a hand inside the cup of her bra.
“Fuck.”
I yanked the sweater over her head, tossing it to one side, then eased down the lace cup and sucked her erect nipple into my mouth. She gasped and buried her fingers into my hair, urging me on.
I lifted her into my arms. “I’m taking you to bed and I’m going to fuck you for hours, so if there’s somewhere you need to be, you’re not going to make it.”
37
Catriona
I zipped up my jacket and laced up my boots. “Where are we going?”
Garen gave me one of his looks that told me I wouldn’t get a single word out of him. The arched brow, the slight head tilt, the mischievous glint in his eye. I could bombard him with a million questions and get nowhere. He wasn’t a man who’d submit to pressure.
He captured my hand and walked me over to his garage. Inside, three cars lined up side by side, his usual form of transport—the limousine—absent.
“Where’s the limo?” I asked.
“Darryl takes it home. I don’t have a use for it unless Darryl is driving.”
He pressed down on a black fob, and the turn signals of a large, black SUV flashed. He opened the passenger door and helped me inside, then walked around the hood.
I rubbed my hands together and blew on them. Despite wearing gloves, the cold morning still got through the thick, insulated leather. Garen started the engine and jacked the temperature up.
“It should warm up in a couple of minutes.”
Thirty minutes later, Garen pulled onto a road I knew all too well. My heart plummeted, and melancholy for what I’d lost swept through me. I’d already seen this view this morning out of the cab window. I didn’t need a second viewing.
“Can we take a different route to wherever we’re going?” I asked.
“Bit difficult,” Garen said as he nosed the car into the underground car park of the hotel.
I shifted in my seat to face him and shook my head. “No, Garen. I’m sorry. I know things are different between us, but no matter how much I love you, I don’t want to see the hotel. It’s just rubbing salt in the wounds.”
He ignored me, pulling forward into a space marked ‘Reserved’. Cutting the engine, he twisted in his seat.
“Trust me?” He caressed his knuckles down my cheek. “It’s not what you think. I don’t want to hurt you or bring back sad memories of what I took from you. But there is something inside that I really want you to see.”
I grimaced and rubbed at the back of my neck. “Okay,” I said reluctantly, my vow to never set foot in the place falling by the wayside in the face of his earnest expression.
He led me through an entrance marked ‘Staff Only’. We passed by a storage area with boxes piled high, through an industrial kitchen, sparkling with new appliances and cookers, the steel countertops gleaming.
Plush carpeting underfoot and bright-colored artwork adorning the walls told me we’d left the staff areas behind and were now in the public parts of the hotel. I spied the lobby, but instead of walking in that direction, Garen veered left. I followed, my curiosity growing with every step.
He stopped outside a double set of oak-paneled doors with shiny chrome handles. There was a sign affixed to the wall, but before I could read it, Garen moved, obscuring my view. He gestured to the door.
“Go on in.”
I pushed down on both handles, and the doors gave way, opening inward. I gasped.
No, it couldn’t be. How had he… what�
�� wait… That’s impossible.
Spinning on my heel, I pressed both palms to my face, my mouth falling open in shock. “How did you do this?”
He smiled and strolled inside to join me. Bending his head, he brushed his mouth over mine in a barely there kiss that sent tingles to my toes.
“I guess, right from the start, something deep within me believed you were different. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you, but I knew I couldn’t rip apart your life without some kind of compensation. I wanted us both to win.” He drew his knuckles over my cheek. “And this was the answer.”
I stared around the familiar-looking space, dazed and more than a little overwhelmed. Garen had somehow preserved every single piece of my old studio, from the mirrors on the walls to the scratched bar where my students would balance to practice their steps, and even down to the flooring. The walls were painted exactly the same color—a soft pink—and a replica of my old office sat in the corner. The only thing missing was the stacks of paperwork that I never seemed to find time to address.
“Are you happy?”
I pivoted and ran into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. Planting a quick kiss on his mouth, I drew back. “Happier than I ever thought possible.”
“It’s built on the exact same footprint as the old studio.”
“No?”
“Yep. The architect wasn’t happy as it meant he had to change a lot of other things to accommodate it, but tough shit. My dollar, my hotel. My girl.” He kissed me this time. “I took the liberty of putting up a sign, but if you don’t like it, we can get another one made.”
“Is that what you were hiding before, outside?”
He nodded. “I’d completely forgotten about it. If you’d spotted your name, it’d have totally ruined the surprise.”
I darted outside to take a look. A shining silver plaque read ‘Catriona Landry’s School of Ballet’. I blinked, tears threatening to fall. If I let them, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Entrapped: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 3) Page 21
