Seduce: A Cariad Romance Three Book Bundle (Cariad Collections)

by Stein, Charlotte

  ‘What if I can’t? When the cameras are on me, I feel like a rabbit in the headlights.’

  ‘Then take a breath. This is your world. You have baked all your life. I’m not asking you to do anything different, just bake. Can you do that for me?’

  ‘I can try.’

  ‘And that’s all I ask of you. OK,’ he says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘You have to go now?’ I ask, pleading with my eyes for him to stay.

  ‘Yes, but I promise to make it up to you later.’

  ‘No one can know, can they?’

  ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘At least not yet, but we can tell them soon.’

  ‘Is that a promise, mister?’

  ‘It is.’ With a lingering kiss, he is gone to his world and I am left alone with my thoughts in a broom cupboard and a nagging feeling that, despite what Matt and Laura think, this world is not for me.

  I can stay here if I want to. No one will find me and then, when I am good and ready, I can slip away and it will be over if that’s what I want. But is it what I want? No. Even though Carly bullied me into doing this, it is only because she knows me too well. She is the wilder part of my psyche, or at least she thinks she is, but I am wild and now is the time to be wild. I want this. I want Matt Richards in my bed and I want the world to understand the simple joy that baking gives. So I will not hide and I will not give into these nerves that gnaw away at me. No, I will fight. I will stand up and be counted and then we will see. Yes, then we will see.

  Chapter Eleven

  World Going South

  I really don’t see it coming. One minute my life is stratospheric. The competition is going well – it must be, seeing as I have bluffed my way through the first three weeks and I’m still here – and the chemistry with Matt is off the scale. I’m not one to believe in my own hype, but even I could see how well this is going and that’s when I should have doubled up on security.

  Did I get cocky, because clearly I have dropped the ball – or maybe she has just plain stolen it right before my very eyes? I should call her the magician because that is what she is. Everyone else calls her Roxy McQueen. You know her. She’s the soap star with the less-than-squeaky-clean image, the one who currently can’t get enough of the Heavenly Baker. My Heavenly Baker, but I’m not sure he can quite remember that currently. I sit and watch her fawn all over him with her pneumatic breasts and come-hither stare and the sorriest excuse for a skirt that I have ever seen. Quite frankly, it’s indecent!

  We finish shooting the segment and I skedaddle. I need air. I’m suffocating, but as I make my break for freedom Laura catches me.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she says.

  ‘You didn’t know what?’ I ask.

  ‘I didn’t know they were going to use Roxy McQueen as a guest presenter. I swear I didn’t!’

  ‘OK. But you’re part of the production team.’

  ‘This decision was made higher up. They see the chemistry between you and Matt and they’re playing on it by introducing Roxy into the mix.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I reply too abruptly. I need to play it cooler than this otherwise the game will be up, but Matt isn’t doing me any favours. He barely looked at me during the whole segment of filming and every time I looked he was bantering with Miss Plastic Tits. It’s just so …

  ‘It’s not fine,’ insists Laura. ‘We can fight it.’

  ‘How can we fight it? If I try to compete with her it makes me look desperate, and if I tell everyone that Matt and I have been sleeping together and I continue further into the competition then the viewers and my fellow contestants will assume it’s a fix because that’s what I’d do. It’s hopeless.’

  ‘Only if you allow it to be,’ counters Laura. ‘We can be subtle about this. The viewing public love you. We can use it to your advantage without making you look desperate. In fact, this could play right into our hands.’

  ‘Why is he doing this?’ I ask. ‘He hasn’t paid me the slightest bit of attention since that trollop arrived.’

  ‘And I thought you said it was fine?’

  ‘I lied.’

  ‘That’s more like it. Leave this with me to ponder a while and I’ll come up with a war strategy.’

  ‘Did you say a war strategy?’

  ‘Yes, I did. Make no mistake, babe, but this is a declaration of war and we’re bang up for it.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Let’s have a little more enthusiasm, shall we?’ requests Laura.

  She has a point. ‘I’ll try,’ I promise.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ she says, and gives me a hug. It is unexpected but I suddenly feel energised. Laura is made from the right stuff.

  The next segment is excruciating, though. Roxy spends her time getting cosy with me and I have to avoid the growing temptation to stab Miss Plastic Tits through the heart with the closest kitchen utensil I have to hand. It’s a struggle but I make it through without blood on my hands. However, it does allow me to witness my enemy at close quarters and I have to admit she is formidable. A pretty girl, no doubt, but add the artificial adjustment to her rack and the sliver of PVC she has somehow slipped her bottom into and it’s tricky to compete against, so I take a deep breath and promise myself that I won’t do it. I won’t lower myself to fight on her level. I will rise above it but it’s so difficult.

  At the earliest opportunity, I slink my way out of the studios. I am so close to freedom when my phone pings.

  Hi. I’m desperate to see you. Come to my dressing room. M x

  With just those few words the weight that has been shackling me is lifted. I dive into the nearest elevator and head back up to see my man. I knock quickly because I don’t want to be seen loitering outside his dressing room and wonder if he has decided to blow the whistle on our secret assignations and announce our relationship to the world, but he doesn’t answer. I daren’t risk knocking any louder so I grip the handle and walk in.

  Déjà vu is such a horrible sensation. It’s happening to me all over again and it feels worse than the first time. It feels so much worse. She has his cock in her hand. She is all over him as he lies underneath her on his couch, her top discarded and her plastic, fantastic breasts just about held in check by a fabulously expensive bra. She looks round with a glint in her eye and not the slightest hint of embarrassment. I expect nothing better from the tramp but what cuts me to the quick is Matt’s behaviour. He never says a word. He doesn’t try to disentangle himself. He doesn’t do anything but lie there.

  I’ve seen enough. More than enough. I’ve seen enough to last me a lifetime. I can’t help the tears. They are unwelcome guests but they accompany me as I flee and nothing and no one is going to stop me. It’s all over now. He’ll never hurt me again.

  The rest is sketchy. Back at my hotel room I just want to curl up and die but a stronger desire overtakes me. I need to be free of this city. I need to feel the sea air in my lungs again. Only when I am home again will I be able to breathe freely so I throw clothes into my bag and check out and it is a small victory and in my head it doesn’t feel like running away. But fate and the gods are not yet finished with me. I’m waiting on the platform for my ride out to freedom when my phone starts to chatter.

  ‘You need to come home, babe!’ Carly says.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  I pick up the uncertainty and the confusion in her voice. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your mum asked me to call. She’s at the hospital with your dad.’

  ‘What is it?’ The phone is shaking in my hands and now the world is awash with my tears.

  ‘He’s had a heart attack. He’s in a bad way. You need to get here.’

  ‘I’m coming now!’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ whispers Carly.

  I am too. I should never have come to the city. I should never have dreamed so high. There are always consequences.

  On a late-night train no one can see your tear
s or listen to you crying. It is better this way.

  Carly is waiting for me on the station platform with tears in her eyes. We hug and I hold back from telling her about Matt. He doesn’t matter right now. He is an irrelevance in my life. My dad is all that matters now.

  I try not to think about the possibilities, but despite not wanting to, my mind drifts back to memorable moments in my life and they all include Dad. There is a horrible shadow looming large on everything now. Wherever I look and whomever I meet it is there, hovering above us all.

  My mum is desperately trying to hold it together. My arrival is a blessing and a curse. She cries as we hug and eventually I piece together the story. They were out at a restaurant with friends. Dad complained of feeling hot and then, without warning, he took a tumble, clutching at his chest. There is a blockage which the surgeons feel is necessary to operate. No, they cannot wait long, and yes, there are risks. The surgery is booked in for the following day. He is being managed currently but they need to stabilise him first before they can operate. Tonight is critical. Tomorrow will be equally so. It feels alien. I hear the doctors’ voices but they seem far away, as if filtered through somebody else’s life. This is a movie life. This is not real. They say we can go but they don’t know us. We Michaels aren’t going anywhere.

  Sleep comes in fits and starts. I drift and doze. Images flit by, some real and others imagined. I don’t think about Matt. He is unimportant. Carly sleeps close by. I try to make her go home but she is as much a part of this family as I am. Eventually she will ask about him and I will have to tell her, but not yet. My problems are irrelevant in the scheme of things.

  Morning comes with silent nurses ghosting about the place. Mum is still sleeping. I feel groggy and useless so go in search of a caffeine hit to restore some sort of balance to my body. I take shelter in simple tasks that don’t involve thought. The coffee machine is familiar. I take solace in familiar.

  ‘Are we going to talk about it?’ Carly rubs her eyes and studies me. Very little passes this girl by.

  ‘You mean why he’s not here?’ I say by way of clarification.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He cheated on me. It’s over. I don’t want to ever talk about him again.’

  ‘OK.’ Carly purses her lips. She takes the offered coffee. ‘Thanks.’ Taking a sip, she savours the bitter taste. ‘You know your dad is going to be fine, don’t you? He is a fighter.’

  ‘I know,’ I say.

  ‘You have to believe it.’

  ‘I want to believe it.’

  ‘So believe it,’ insists Carly. ‘If you believe it will happen.’

  I’m not going to argue with her. I need her to be right. The alternative is unthinkable.

  We take our coffees and go back to the room. Mum is still sleeping but a nurse is looking at me.

  ‘Your phone keeps ringing.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’ll turn it off.’ As I go to do so I see Matt’s name flash up. He doesn’t make me want to answer it so I turn my phone off. It’s early. Surgery is scheduled for ten o’ clock. My father is stable so the operation will go ahead. The nurse wakes my mother then sends us all home for a few hours. There is nothing we can do and we are making the place look untidy so, unwillingly, we leave.

  Carly drives us home but it feels odd walking into the house without Dad. We all feel it but no one cares to mention it.

  ‘Do you need a ride to your place?’ asks Carly.

  ‘I need more clothes, but I’ll be back soon.’

  It is a little after seven so we agree to meet back at half-past nine. Carly drives me home but doesn’t park up.

  ‘I’m going to shower then come pick you and your mum up and then I’ll go and open up the bakery.’

  ‘You can’t go to work.’

  ‘Someone has to and it can’t be you,’ insists Carly. ‘I’ll go in and make sure things are ticking over and then I’ll come join you at the hospital.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I can feel myself wavering.

  ‘Go,’ says Carly ushering me in. This is not the time to talk about it so I go and fall into bed, but sleep is evasive. There is simply too much to think about.

  Chapter Twelve

  Life or Cupcakes

  The hospital coffee machine is my new best friend. I lose count of the number of visits I have made. The whirr of the mechanisms is strangely comforting.

  ‘Ava.’

  His voice is so familiar yet it sends chills down my spine and not the right chills. It is after two. My father has been in surgery for four hours.

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘I don’t know what happened.’

  ‘I do. You cheated.’

  ‘I don’t remember. Everything is blurry.’

  ‘I saw you. She had your cock in her hand. Look up the definition of cheating in the dictionary. That’s it.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘How is your father?’

  ‘Don’t!’ The tears come up quickly, mixing easily with the vitriol and the anger bubbling in my blood. ‘You don’t get to ask after my family, so don’t!’

  ‘Let me help.’

  ‘Go away. You don’t get to help any more because you’re not a part of my life. Leave me alone!’

  He shakes his head and I see sorrow in his eyes. Or it might just be my own sorrow reflected.

  ‘Go away!’ I repeat and I watch him turn and walk away. I feel the tugging of my heart but I ignore it. I am stronger than that. I will not be played again.

  I sit.

  I read.

  I drink coffee.

  Mum and I cry.

  The clock stops.

  The fear never goes away.

  Dad keeps fighting.

  I need air.

  Laura gets out of a taxi and walks towards the hospital entrance but spies me wandering and walks over, hugging me to her.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispers. ‘We all are. If there is anything we can do to help just say the word.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do,’ I say but I am glad to see her.

  She releases me. ‘What’s the situation?’

  ‘He’s had a heart attack and now they’re operating to clear the blockage and fix him up.’

  ‘Good.’ Laura chews on her lips then decides to press on. ‘We need to talk and I know that you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to tell you anyway, because you need to know.’

  ‘He cheated on me. I saw it with my own eyes.’

  ‘And if that were true I’d shoot him myself. But here’s the thing, sweetheart, it’s just not Matt’s style. He’s not vindictive and he’s not that malicious and he remembers nothing, which is highly suspicious.’

  ‘I really don’t want to talk about this,’ I tell her. ‘What’s done is done. You can’t change it. I can’t turn the clock back.’

  ‘No, but at least if you have the facts you can make an informed decision and that’s all we can really ask.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Matt’s pretty honest. When he says the evening is a blur I believe him. Being in television, I know a few people, and one of those is good at analysing drinks and the chemicals people put in them.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Matt was drugged last night. We have conclusive proof. Someone went to his room, slipped him a sleeping pill crushed up in a glass of champagne, and then presumably sent you a text, because he has no recollection of ever having sent it.’

  ‘You seriously expect me to believe that someone drugged Matt last night then sent me a text inviting me over to see him?’

  ‘Not just someone, but Roxy McQueen,’ explains Laura. ‘You don’t know the little minx but I do and she’s as scheming and vicious as they come.’

  ‘So why didn’t Matt warn me about her?’

  ‘He was trying to protect you by playing it cool, not showing you any attention so Roxy wouldn’t have been any the wiser about you two, but Matt being Ma
tt, he didn’t figure that a woman’s sixth sense would come into play. Roxy suspected all along. Matt has been playing cool with her for weeks and she’s no fool. She’s been watching the competition so far and the chemistry between you and Matt is white hot. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what’s going on.’

  ‘Is she really that vindictive?’

  ‘She’s worse. She’s a woman scorned and you know how that goes.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘I know it doesn’t make a huge difference in the grand scheme of things,’ admits Laura. ‘But I thought you should know.’

  ‘I appreciate the truth,’ I tell her. ‘But I’m not sure I can deal with it right now and seeing Matt earlier really didn’t help.’

  ‘That’s because you didn’t know the truth back then.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say, but I can’t quite shift the image of him with Roxy. It is corrosive, gently burning into all the good memories of Matt and me that I have been building up to savour on a rainy day. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘If you need anything,’ she whispers, hugging me. ‘All you have to do is ask.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I hug her back before walking back into the hospital. Perhaps someone has news for me about my father because the waiting is just desperate.

  I put Laura’s news to the back of my mind but it refuses to stay there. I concentrate on focusing all my positive energy on my father but as I look around I see boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives, families looking after each other in times of need, and even though what I saw wasn’t the truth, it still hurts. To think of Matt with another woman sears my heart. It is too painful to think about and I have enough pain to deal with right now, thanks very much, so maybe I’m better off without the hassle. After all, blood has always been thicker than water and my family needs me right now. The rest of it is just a distraction. So I sit and I wait and I squeeze my mother’s hand.

  Out of the blue she says, ‘So where’s this famous baker I’ve heard so much about?’