by Kim Lawrence
‘You will be back for my birthday?’ Josie asked over the phone.
In his hotel room Draco left the window and the view of Central Park. ‘Aren’t I always there for your birthday?’
‘Just checking. It should be a good party. Aunt Gabby is cooking all my favourite food.’
‘You’re being good for your aunt Gabby, I hope.’
‘I’m always good and she loves having me. Ask her if you like—she’s here.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. Josie, I was wondering if you’ve seen—’ He stopped suddenly.
‘Have I what…? Sorry, Dad, the line’s not so good.’
The line was working a hell of a lot better than his brain! He was so desperate for news of Eve, any scrap or small detail, that he’d been about to milk his teenage daughter for information on her.
What the hell was he doing?
He had lost count of the number of times he had picked up the phone, hungry to hear her voice, but he’d never dialled the number. And why? Because he’d been proving a point. They had not spoken since the night of that damned charity ball.
Pathetic!
All he’d actually proved was that he was gutless. What else did you call a man too afraid to admit he needed a woman, needed to hear her voice, see her smile, watch her fall asleep?
His chest lifted in a silent sigh; he was afraid to admit that he’d finally fallen in love. The admission came with a certain sense of relief; love had made a fool of him once and he’d sworn it would never happen again. But it had.
‘You still there, Dad?’
Draco stared at the phone in his hand blankly for a moment before lifting it to his ear.
‘I’m fine.’ He wasn’t but he would be, he thought.
‘I said do you mind if I ask Eve…to my birthday party…please?’
‘That would be fine.’
* * *
Eve had been nervous about meeting Mark Tyler, but it wasn’t nearly as awkward as she had imagined. By the time they were drinking their coffee they had discovered they had a lot in common and were talking as though they’d known each other all their lives.
If things had been different they might have. As the thought registered in her brain, she looked at the hand he had laid on hers and sighed.
Across the table Mark looked concerned. ‘Are you all right?’ He caught the direction of Eve’s gaze and, flushing slightly, went to move the protective hand he had instinctively placed over the smaller one that lay on the table, but as he lifted it her wrist turned and her fingers curled around his.
Their eyes met and clung, and her voice was thick with the same emotions that shone in her eyes as Eve shook her head.
‘I’m fine; it’s just…I…’
‘I know,’ he acknowledged.
Coffee finished, the bill paid, Mark suggested he walk her back to her flat rather than call a cab. As it was a beautiful clear evening and she wasn’t ready for it to end yet, Eve agreed.
Outside the pavement was wet but it had stopped raining and the night sky was bright and clear, or at least as bright and clear as it ever got in the City.
Eve walked straight into a puddle, splashing her new shoes and tights.
‘Singin’ in the Rain,’ they both said in unison and then laughed.
‘One of my favourite films,’ Eve said.
‘A classic,’ Mark agreed. ‘So you’re not sorry you came?’
Eve had admitted to him how nearly she hadn’t, how even at the last minute she had almost choked. She still hadn’t got over the shock of being contacted by a half-brother who hadn’t known she existed until he had been going through his dead father’s things and who now wanted to meet her.
‘I’m glad we met. I don’t know why I always assumed you knew about me…probably because I knew about you, even though I’m not meant to,’ she said.
‘I was scared stiff,’ her half-brother admitted with a laugh.
‘You were?’
‘Amy encouraged me; she said it was the right thing to do and then when I saw you at the charity thing the other week—well, Amy made me come over.’
Eve smiled. Mark had brought his wife into the conversation constantly; he clearly adored her, which was wonderful for him. The relationship she had always envied him with his…their father had been pretty awful, apparently. Lord Charlford had bullied his son and heir, taking every opportunity to belittle him. It was his wife who had given Mark his confidence back and given him the strength to escape his father’s toxic influence.
‘Tell me to mind my own business, Eve—Amy always says I’m too pushy!—but do you…have anyone in your life? The man I saw you with…Morelli, perhaps?’
They had reached her building and Eve paused and turned around to face her half-brother. ‘There is someone,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not sure—’
‘If he’s the one?’
‘We’ve only been together a couple of months but…oh, yes, he’s the one for me. I’m just not sure…’ Eve’s voice terminated on a tearful wobble and she was horrified to feel her eyes fill as she gulped past an emotional constriction the size of a boulder in her aching throat ‘…if I’m the one for him. He’s…’ She stopped and shook her head, the lamp light picking out the tear that escaped and slid down her cheek.
Since he’d left for New York after that night almost three weeks ago now, she hadn’t heard a word from Draco other than a pretty terse text when he had landed. She had told herself she hadn’t expected more, but of course in reality she had.
She’d had a lot of time on her hands to think about her expectations regarding Draco and recognise how unrealistic they were. She had finally admitted to herself that she wanted all the things that she had once scorned. She wanted to love a man to distraction and she wanted to be loved the same way, and it very much looked as though she was not going to get either of those things, as Draco couldn’t give her what she needed.
Self-respect and simple common sense had told her that this was a crunch point in their relationship. When Draco returned she owed it to both of them to be honest with him and if he couldn’t give her what she needed it was time to move on. She understood now, if her mother really did love Charles Latimer as she loved Draco, why she had stayed with him. Eve could see herself slipping too easily into the same sort of arrangement, but dying a little more each day as her self-respect was eroded.
The thought filled her with utter horror but so did the prospect of never seeing Draco again and that was what it would involve. There were no half measures.
Mark lifted a hand and blotted the tear with his thumb, smiling down into her tearful face. ‘You’re unhappy. I’m sorry.’ His handsome face tightened with anger as he added softly, ‘Whoever he is, he’s a fool.’
‘Don’t be nice…’ she sniffed ‘…or I’ll cry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me just lately.’ Only yesterday she had had to leave a meeting because she’d started to cry when someone had shown her a picture of a litter of kittens her friend had rescued after someone had tied them in a sack and thrown them into a rubbish skip.
‘Don’t worry, I’m used to tears. Since she’s been pregnant Amy cries at anything and everything.’
Her mother, Hannah and now this Amy were all pregnant. Sometimes it felt as though she were the only person in the world who wasn’t!
She went still, and her legs began to tremble as a coldness crept over her body, invading every cell with a terrible dread as the feelings swirling through her coalesced into one question!
‘Oh, God!’
‘What is it?’ Mark watched in alarm as the last vestiges of colour left her face.
His concerned voice shook Eve out of her daze. She struggled to act normally, forcing a smile and shaking her head. ‘Just a thought, that’s all. Something I should have considered but I didn
’t… Silly, really.’
Silly was perhaps not the most appropriate word to describe a potentially life-changing event, and the more she thought about it, the more… No, she thought, closing that door. She would not and could not think about it now. She needed to know for sure first and that couldn’t happen until tomorrow unless…?
She scrunched her brow, trying to remember if the supermarket on the corner stayed open twenty-four seven and, if they did, did they stock pregnancy-test kits?
‘Look, I’d invite you in for coffee but I’m a bit tired.’
Mark nodded, kissed her cheek, then hugged her. Eve planted a reciprocal kiss on his clean-shaven cheek and hugged him back.
‘You will come to Charlford to visit, won’t you? Amy is longing to meet you. The place is upside down as she’s ripping out and tearing down everything that reminds her of Dad—she always said he made her skin crawl. But after I found out about you… She says the best way we can punish him is by having good lives.’
‘Amy sounds…I’d love…’ Her voice trailed away.
Mark, his hand on her shoulder, turned to follow the direction of her wide-eyed, shocked stare. He turned just in time to see the fist that a moment later connected with his jaw and sent him sprawling.
With a cry Eve was on her knees beside her brother. ‘Mark, are you all right?’
Holding his jaw, Mark shook his head. ‘Fine. He took me by surprise, that’s all.’ The glazed expression in his green eyes was replaced by one of anger as he looked up at the tall man who stood over them. It was mixed with a healthy helping of fear as the man was big in a lean, athletic way, a real tough customer.
‘What the hell are you doing, Draco?’ Eve demanded, fitting a clean tissue to the blood seeping from the corner of her brother’s mouth as she sat back on her heels to glare up at him.
The red haze that had descended when Draco had seen the guy touch Eve’s cheek and then tenderly embrace her was slowly receding, leaving an anger that was equally lethal but as cold as surgical steel.
‘I would ask you the same question but it’s very obvious,’ he bit out.
‘Oh, I am so, so sorry, Mark.’
Mark took the tissue from her.
‘And he’s sorry too, aren’t you, Draco…?’ Eve said.
‘No.’
The unequivocal response drew a glare from Eve, who lifted her head to tell him exactly what she thought of him but he was gone… She turned her head to see him walking away down the street. ‘Stay there and don’t move,’ she said to Mark. Her jaw tightened with determination. ‘I have something I need to do.’
Mark caught her arm. ‘Leave it, Eve. The guy is dangerous.’
Eve let out a scornful snort. ‘I’m not scared of him!’ she declared.
He was walking and she was running but it took her fifty yards before she caught up with Draco. As she drew level with him she caught his arm.
She was panting to catch her breath as Draco swung back, his lips curled in a snarl, his eyes as cold as ice chips.
Her eyes searched his lean face. ‘Are you mad?’
One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer. ‘Not any more.’ For weeks he had fought the knowledge that he loved her, then finally admitted that he was afraid. He’d felt he had moved forward when in reality it turned out he’d been right all along. Loving someone always ended badly.
His cryptic reply just added another layer to all the other layers of confusion in her head—him being here when she knew he was in the States, his attack on Mark, his attitude now as he looked at her as though she were something unpleasant he had stepped in. She was too shocked to be angry or even hurt.
‘You’re not even here.’ Stupid thing to say, Eve, she told herself as her eyes travelled the long, lean length of his broad-shouldered, muscle-packed frame, seeing but still not quite believing he was here. That this was happening.
‘Yes, I can see how that might be inconvenient for you,’ he drawled.
There was a heavy beat of silence as she waited, fully anticipating that any second now a light would go on in her brain and she’d understand what was happening. But there was no light, just the aftertaste from the acid bite of his sarcasm. She saw his hands clench into fists, and the tension that was rolling off him in waves had a physical presence.
‘What are you doing here?’ If she could work that out maybe the rest would fall into place but, no, it wouldn’t, because nothing would explain him hitting Mark and nothing, she thought, feeling a stab of anger, would excuse it.
His jaw clenched as he realised he’d nearly made the mistake of his life. ‘Spoiling your evening. I suppose you do know he’s married.’
Her green eyes still shocked and glazed like someone who had just been jolted out of a trance, she blinked. She followed the direction of the sharp, contemptuous movement of Draco’s head to where her half-brother had got to his feet and was walking towards them.
‘Mark? Yes, I know.’
Forehead furrowed, she tried to figure this out. What was the relevance of Mark’s marriage? Did he know her half-brother? Was there some sort of feud between them, though she had not imagined until now that Draco was the sort of man who resolved feuds with his fists. Up to this point she had only seen Draco be controlled and cool, the last man in the world she had imagined losing control. Not that he didn’t have a passionate nature, but outside the bedroom he kept those passions on a tight leash.
She was relieved to see that her half-brother seemed all right, no thanks to Draco. Worried for his safety if he followed after her, she waved her hand and yelled, ‘No, Mark, it’s fine.’ The last thing she wanted was to be in the middle of a brawl.
Had Draco thought she was in danger? The idea might have worked if he hadn’t walked away immediately afterwards, and if it hadn’t been for that look he’d given her, the coruscating contempt in his eyes in that last dismissive glare…
Turning back to Draco, she said in a fierce voice, ‘You lay a finger on him, you bully, and I’ll…just don’t…’ She expelled a shaky sigh. ‘You hit him, you really hit him!’ That part still didn’t seem real; none of this seemed real.
She knew the man was married and she had been totally brazen about it. Draco searched Eve’s face for some sign, some little spark of guilt, and saw none…nothing. How could he have got it so wrong?
Mark reached them, the bruises already coming out on one side of his face, the sight of which made Eve feel sick. She moved to stand between the two men. ‘Leave him alone,’ she warned again.
Draco’s jaw clenched at her protective gesture. ‘I’m curious…is it the title?’
Eve blinked. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Is that the attraction?’ He slid a look of smouldering contempt Mark’s way and she felt her brother take an involuntary step back. Eve for one didn’t blame him. Draco was being positively intimidating! ‘Or do pretty blond boys do it for you now?’
‘Pretty?’ What on earth…? Mark, he meant Mark, who was not pretty, but definitely handsome, in a much less aggressively masculine way than Draco. When illumination came it was dazzling, and with total clarity she finally realised what Draco had seen—or rather what he thought he had seen.
Draco thought that he had caught her in an assignation with a lover!
Ignoring Mark’s restraining hand, she stepped forward, her hand extended towards Draco.
‘Or does your deceitful little soul enjoy the illicit thrill of sneaking around?’ Draco accused.
Her hand fell away.
The shocked hurt in her eyes made him pause, anger, guilt and jealousy twisting inside him, but only briefly. Had she considered his feelings when she got into bed with his pretty lordship? She had zero loyalty and did she ever consider anyone’s feelings but her own? He’d seen qualities in her that weren’t there, the same way h
e’d felt a deeper bond where there wasn’t one. There was just sex, as she’d always insisted.
‘Or is it just a case of like mother, like daughter? Where is your father in all of this?’
Eve was not even conscious she had raised her hand until the whiplash crack made her jump back in shock. Only she hadn’t jumped; Mark had pulled her back after she’d slapped Draco across the face.
Mark held her back with a protective arm, anger making him feel brave as he faced Draco. ‘He’s dead. Her father is dead; our father is dead.’
Draco froze, the blood draining from his face as his gaze moved between the two faces staring back at him with similar expressions of disgust and loathing.
‘He’s your brother? Charlford was your father?’ he said in a strangled voice. He was struggling to take in the information as panic slid through his body, freezing his brain. He had messed up big time! ‘I thought…’
‘You thought that I was cheating on you and you also implied that my mother has questionable morals,’ Eve said coldly.
‘I didn’t say that!’
Even as he protested he realised that it didn’t matter what he said; there was no going back. She would never forgive him—he had insulted her mother, and he’d punched a man…her brother!
She was looking at him with loathing in her beautiful eyes and he deserved it.
The shame of having lost the control he prided himself on, the shame of acting like some sort of Neanderthal was a bitter taste in his mouth, and the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. Maybe that was for the best. So far what he’d said had only made things worse.
‘As good as!’ she charged furiously. ‘I’m really glad I discovered before it was too late what an intolerant, evil-minded jerk you are!’
His lean profile clenched. She was saying nothing that he didn’t deserve. The furious jealousy he had felt when he saw Eve appear with another man had ripped away any claim he had to being civilised. He had never experienced anything like it before, and he never wanted to again.
‘Well?’
He arched a brow and said quietly, ‘What am I meant to say?’
