“This time, I am marrying you as fast as the judge can arrange it.”
She nodded. “Sounds perfect.” She searched and found his mouth, kissing him deeply and desperately, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Let’s not lose any more time.”
He grinned against her lips, and he would have sworn that his feet barely touched the ground. He linked his fingers through hers and pulled her gently down the seaside path.
“Where are we going?” She asked happily, not much caring what their destination was.
“Home.” He turned to face her, his brows lifted. “And then, after I’ve spent all afternoon showing you just how sorry I am, we’re going to go and break the news to Diana and Ivy.”
She grinned. “That sounds… perfect.”
And it was. Their wedding, intended to be a small affair, turned into a who’s who of America’s elite, capped by the attendance of the president himself. Ivy was the flower girl, and Dean walked Madeline down the aisle. And for all that the wedding became an event far grander than either Madeline or Harrison had imagined, it was beautiful, and the truth of their love shone through in every detail of the day.
They were meant to be together, and even the harshest obstacles they’d faced had not kept them apart. Theirs was a love that would be everlasting.
EPILOGUE
“That’s it, Ives. Just hold his neck, huh?”
Ivy slid her hand further under her saggy little brother’s neck. “He’s so floppy,” she giggled, staring down at his perfect face. Pale skin, bright blue eyes, and a crop of fair hair, baby Brodie Samson was the spitting image of his mother.
“He is, yes.” Madeline reclined against the bed, wincing in pain. Harrison stepped up, immediately, his expression concerned.
“Harrison, I had an emergency c-section. You can’t freak out every time I’m uncomfortable. The doctor said it would take weeks for a full recovery.”
He forced himself to relax, but it was so obviously for Madeline’s benefit, that she laughed.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Jeez, daddy. It’s like you don’t think Maddie’s tough enough to handle it.”
“Sorry, girls. You’re right, of course.” He put a hand on Madeline’s and squeezed it tight.
“He’s just worried because of mom,” Ivy explained unnecessarily.
Madeline nodded thoughtfully. “I know.”
Harrison focussed his attention on their son, and his heart seemed to shift up a gear. Two beautiful children, and the wife of his dreams. Hell, he’d gone through a lot, but his life was just loaded with freaking rainbows and fairy dust now. He felt like the luckiest man on earth.
Madeline stared at Brodie, and Ivy, and felt her heart contract with a kind of vulnerable love that she hadn’t known possible. Entirely different for how her love for Harrison laid her raw, this was an utterly jaw-dropping kind of dependency. Ivy, dear Ivy, was her adoptive daughter in name only, for Madeline had long since thought of her as her own flesh and blood.
But seeing her with Brodie in her slender arms made Madeline’s heart break for all that Sally had missed. And the last little secret she’d held in her heart rattled loose.
“Ivy, did you know that I met your mom once?”
Harrison, beside her, but out of her line of sight, stiffened.
Ivy frowned. “Huh? How? When?”
Madeline flicked her eyes towards Harrison, then looked back at Ivy. “When she was pregnant. I came back to Whitegate to, um, to talk to your dad.” Her cheeks colored, and she skipped over the timeline. “But I stopped off at the diner first for, um, dinner.” Dutch courage. “Your mom was a waitress. She would have been about four months pregnant. With you.”
Ivy was very quiet, her face wrapt.
“Ivy, your mom was so excited about you. She loved you so much. You’d just started kicking around inside of her, and she let me touch her stomach, and feel you flip your beautiful legs into her belly.” Madeline put an arm out and Ivy, still carefully holding baby Brodie, came to snuggle her step-mother. “I’m sorry she’s not here with you, honey. She would be so proud of the girl you’ve grown into.” Tears stung Madeline’s eyes and she blinked them away. “Do you know what else?” She whispered, changing her voice to sound light hearted.
“What?”
“When your mom laughed, which seemed to be a lot, her smile spread across her face from ear to ear. Just like yours. You’re so like her, Ivy.”
Harrison squeezed Madeline’s shoulder, barely able to contain his line of thought until they were alone. But finally, after Diana had visited, and then Arielle, Madeline and Harrison were left in the big hospital room.
“Maddie?”
“Mmm?” She murmured, her eyes heavy. The painkillers she’d just taken were already making her long for sleep.
“Why didn’t you tell me you met Sally?”
“Oh.” She was so tired. She blinked up at him, forcing herself to focus. “I just didn’t.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You came back to Whitegate. Why?”
She flushed, despite her tiredness. “I wanted to tell you the truth.” Her lashes fluttered down. “I missed you so much. I’m ashamed to say it, but I was prepared to let your mom suffer Kenneth’s cruelty just to have you back.” She sighed. “But you’d moved on.”
His heart turned over in his chest, his gut clenched in pain.
“I liked Sally. She was nice. I was glad you’d met someone like her.”
He closed his eyes. So much heartbreak. So much grief. And so much happiness in their future. It felt completely, spectacularly unfair.
“Sally wouldn’t marry me, you know,” he said quietly. “She knew I was in love with you. That I always would be. She thought I’d be an excellent father, and a terrible husband.”
Madeline’s smile was soft. “She was wrong.”
“Oh?”
“You’re the best husband in the whole world.”
Harrison waited until she’d fallen asleep, and the pressed a kiss against her forehead. “All for you, Angel. Always for you.”
THE END.
Following are the first two chapters of LIFE IN THE FAST LANE by Clare Connelly, which is available to purchase in the Amazon store.
LOVE IN THE FAST LANE
Clare Connelly
All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.
All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.
The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.
First published 2015
(c) Clare Connelly
Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com/mrcats
Contact Clare:
http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk
Blog: http://clarewriteslove.wordpress.com/
Email: [email protected]
Follow Clare Connelly on facebook for all the latest.
Join Clare’s Newsletter to stay up to date on all the latest CC news. http://www.clareconnelly.co.uk/subscribe.html
CHAPTER ONE
It had been three years since she’d seen him, but one thing hadn’t changed.
A single sighting of Leonardo Fontana could still turn her insides to mush. He’d changed so much since the last time she’d seen him. Three year ago, he’d been in a hospital bed, possibly crippled for life, his strong, handsome face bruised, his head bandaged, and his body kept still with casts to allow his bones to heal.
Now? There was no sign that the twenty eight year old had so much as suffered a scratch, let alone been at the centre of a crash that was generally believed to be the worst in professional racing in a decade.
It was as though Aurora was slipping through the silvery threads of time, staring across at the man she’d once loved with all her heart. Though they’
d kept their relationship a carefully guarded secret, nothing had been understated about how much they’d loved one another.
She studied him openly through the crowd of the bar. Dressed in a slate grey suit that barely concealed his raw, muscular strength, with his dark hair brushed back from his face, he was the picture of Italian virility. His eyes were wide-set and calculating, rimmed in thick dark lashes and splattered with flecks of grey and green. His nose was aquiline; she had joked, in the past, that he was the ultimate patrician. His lips, oh his lips. Her stomach turned as she remembered the power his lips had to reduce her to a quivering mess.
“Aurora? Are you listening?” Beatrice leaned towards her best friend, waving a perfectly manicured hand in her face. Aurora blinked and forced her gaze away from her former lover.
She smiled apologetically, encompassing her three companions. “Let me guess. We were talking about the wedding.”
Beatrice, Aurora’s closest friend since the first day of high school, was nestled into the crook of her fiancé Peter’s arm. They were a strikingly handsome pair. Beatrice had her mother’s complexion – fair skin, auburn hair, and green eyes; while Peter was fair and swarthy, like a true Viking. Every minute or so, Beatrice’s gaze was drawn to the sparkling emerald and diamond ring she wore on her ring finger.
Beside the beamingly, loved-up couple was the man Aurora knew they were hoping might finally tempt her into the blissful world of coupledom. And he was nice. Alec Shaw was a mid-level financier like Peter; wealthy and successful, though not boring or staid. He was handsome, in a conservative, Ralph Lauren wearing way, with his blue eyes and neatly cut walnut brown hair. His shoes were handmade, his watch expensive, and his manners practiced yet perfect. He was destined to be Peter’s best man at the upcoming wedding, and Aurora to be Beatrice’s Maid of Honor. Therefore, by some kind of unwritten yet all-known wedding law, being both single, they were also destined to get together.
“We can have the wedding at Farnley,” Beatrice referred, with a shrug, to her family’s ancient country estate. A grand hall with expansive gardens and a duck pond that Aurora had once fallen into, Aurora could perfectly picture the splendid event. “But then, there’s the fact that most of Peter’s family and friends are based here, in the City. The travel would be an inconvenience.”
Aurora lifted her champagne to her lips and sipped it thoughtfully. “Farnley is not exactly the end of the earth. It’s only two hours out of London.” The first time she’d seen the grand mansion, she’d thought it the most beautiful palace on earth. Of course, she’d grown up on the eighth floor of an unspectacular council flat in East London. A full scholarship to a prestigious public school had thrown her into an entirely different orbit; her friends came from families that had private jets, royal godparents and claims to ancient thrones. Beatrice had been no different. A mother descended from the Hanovers; a father who was a different kind of royalty – the son of a famous Hollywood director – and a half-brother who had become a legend in the world of Formula One racing. A man who had broken Aurora’s heart into a dustbowl of pieces and feelings. She tried to concentrate on the question at hand.
“But when you think about the oldies and the babies, that seems like a lot to ask of people.”
Aurora slid a side-long glance of amusement in Alec’s direction. Behind him, in the distance of the crowded bar, she was aware of Leo, but she forced herself not to look again. Staring at him as she had done was a sign of weakness that she didn’t intend to repeat. “People travel further than that for weddings all the time. Have the thing where you want it to be. What do you think, Pete?”
He lifted his eyes heavenward in his very diffident way and squeezed his fiance’s shoulders. “I think we should elope in Ibiza.”
Beatrice laughed. “Peter Donald Andre Beaumont, there is no way we’re going to elope.”
“Worth a try, eh?” He winked at Aurora.
“I think the idea of an island wedding has merit.” His voice, deep and gravelly, was intoned with the hint of an accent that came from having spent the first five years of his life in Italy. Aurora didn’t have to look up to know that Leonardo had joined them. She gripped the champagne flute tightly, to hide the way her fingers were shaking, and lifted it to her lips.
“You came!” Beatrice jumped up from the table, her tall, slender length unfurling elegantly to wrap around her older brother. “You really came!”
“It is not every day that your little sister becomes engaged,” he responded with a casual flicker of his brows.
“But still! You’re always so busy travelling around being a Formula One hot shot. I wasn’t even sure I could count on you for the wedding.”
Still, Aurora couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued somewhere past them, the lump in her throat making speech impossible.
“It turned out I was in London.”
Beatrice pulled away with a laugh. “I see. So you’re here because it just happened to fit in with your frenetic lifestyle.”
“Does it matter? I’m here.” His grin was lopsided and sexy as sin. “Congratulations, baby sister. I’m pleased for you.” He extended a hand to Peter. “You do know you’re getting more than you bargained for, right?”
“I’m counting on it,” Peter responded with a confident nod of his head.
To Aurora’s absolute chagrin, Leo pulled a chair out and sat wedged between Peter and Alec. “Leo, this is my best man and occasional thorn in my side, Alec Shaw.”
“Leo Fontana? In the flesh?” Alec asked, his eyes as wide as wheels.
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a small nod.
“Alec’s a racing enthusiast,” Peter explained unnecessarily. “And of course you must know Aurora?”
Aurora couldn’t have been sure she was still breathing.
Her lungs were burning as though flame had torn through them. Her mouth was dry and claggy, her tongue thick in her throat, and perspiration was beading at the very top of her forehead. Three years and now, in a glamorous bar in the East End, the moment of truth had finally arrived.
Be brave. She forced herself to lift her pale blue eyes to his face, carefully keeping her expression neutral.
“I have had the pleasure,” he responded drily, leaving Aurora in very little doubt that he considered their acquaintance to have been anything but pleasurable.
Even Beatrice had not known about their relationship. “Did you used to have a crush on Leo, Aurora? Or was it the other way around?” She giggled, obviously not realising she was driving a stake of mortification into her best friend’s heart. For it had been so, so much more than that.
Be brave. “A million years ago,” Aurora said with an attempt at a smile. “That’s ancient history, isn’t it, Leonardo?”
“Haven’t thought of you in years.”
Her heart turned over in her chest, for she had no doubt it was true. She had dreamed of him every night, and imagined she’d seen him everywhere she went. She’d studiously avoided any television sets when he was racing. And, if the gossip magazines that delighted in covering his string of glamorous relationships were to believed, he had long ago forgotten her existence.
It should have given her relief. After all, the ease with which he’d moved on underscored how right she’d been to end things. But relief was a long way off from how she felt.
Whether she sensed the undercurrent of tension between them or just had a one-track mind, Beatrice reached out and put a hand over Leo’s. “Seriously, what do you think? Farnley? Or the City?”
He locked his eyes with Aurora’s, and the searing anger in them would have taken her breath away, had she any to spare. “There is always Rimini.”
Aurora could no longer meet his contempt. She closed her eyes as memories of the week they’d spent on his island swirled in her gut. Making love in the warm, shallow water at the pristine shoreline; eating local delicacies in bed, all day long; lounging around, completely naked, by the pool. She sipped from her champagne again, and fo
r the first time in years, felt like she needed to drink more than was wise. That she needed something to blot out the pain.
She reached for the bottle and was relieved to see it was empty. “I’ll go get another,” she said without looking at any of them.
“I’ll help you.” Alec was apparently very willing to be pulled into the role he was being cast – attentive would-be lover.
“No, that’s fine.” Aurora needed to be alone. She softened her swift rebuke with an encouraging smile. “You stay here and take the wedding hit for both of us, huh?” Would she have reached down and run her fingers over his shoulder if Leonardo hadn’t been watching with blistering indolence? No. But he was, and so she did.
Though the bar was packed, people seemed to part for Aurora. She hadn’t modelled in years, but her face, and figure were still famous the world over. That swimsuit magazine cover had burned her into the nation’s consciousness; the British model who’d become an icon of the summer swimsuit scene. She ran a hand through her long, fair hair and smiled distractedly at one of the men behind the bar.
He appeared, in a flash, his eyes raking her face as recognition kicked in. “I thought it was you,” he said with wide-eyed surprise. “Aurora Jones.”
“That’s me,” she summoned a grin, but she felt claustrophobic suddenly. Too many people were pressing on her, and her history with Leo was some kind of inescapable weight on her chest. She ordered a champagne and handed over her credit card. “I’ll come back to get it in a moment, okay?”
“No need, Aurora. I’ll take it to your table.” His eyes swept down her face, to her cleavage, adding to the sense that she was being squashed alive.
She moved away from the bar with a small nod of thanks, her face pale, her eyes showing her pain. It was October, and the Autumnal night was fiercely cold. Aurora had dressed for her best friend’s engagement party as people expected her to, in a stunning couture slip that was glamorous but brief. As a rush of ice wind blew past her, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She wished she still smoked, but that was another habit she’d given up years ago. Along with boozy nights out, modelling, and gorgeous boyfriends with a sado-masochistic death wish.
A Second Chance at Love: A Hometown Hero Series Novel Page 13
