Break The Rules: A Ludlow Nights Romance - Book 3

by CC MacKenzie

  "I did. I do."

  She went utterly still, then shifted to look up into his face. "You still have it?"

  He caught the thrilled surprise in her eyes and grinned. "Yup."

  Her smooth brow creased. "Why?"

  "To remind me of a special moment. I've never had a fiancée before. I liked it."

  "You liked the sex."

  He nodded. "Yup. Every time I think of it I ache."

  "Then don't think of it if it brings you pain."

  Something in her voice told him she wasn't referring to him.

  Never a man to pass up an opportunity when one presented itself, he shifted to lie back and pulled her on top of him until they both lay stretched out. When she tucked her head beneath his chin and sighed, he held her close to enjoy the scent of her hair and her soft body against his. Her arm slid around his waist and she took another deep breath.

  "Tell me about your parents," he said in a soft voice.

  "Not much to tell. They have too much of everything."

  He blinked. "That's a very strange thing to say."

  "Too much money for a start."

  He stroked her blonde hair, it felt like slippery silk. "Only people born with wealth see it as a great burden."

  "True. My parents were too young when they married within six months of meeting. They were bored to death of each other eight weeks after their lavish wedding ceremony. The whole event covered in a glossy magazine.

  "What happened?"

  "Too young. Too rich. Too much alike. No matter how hard they tried to fix it, their relationship fell apart. My grandpa said they were both madly in love with the celebrity image they made together."

  After she said nothing for a long while, he dipped his head to see she was staring into space, he asked, "And then?"

  "And then they had me," she whispered.

  "Didn't having a child change them?"

  "They went through the motions. To the public we were the perfect family. In private..."

  "They fought?"

  She shook her head. "Oh no. They were terribly civilized as they cheated on each other. Both equally responsible for the sham. I remember the night my mother threw her one and only tantrum. I was five. And she was pregnant. My father asked, his voice so soft and reasonable, if it was his."

  Appalled, Sean realized he'd asked her exactly the same thing. "Christ."

  "I know. It wasn't until I was older that I realized how sick the question was."

  "What did she say?"

  "She didn't know, couldn't be sure."

  His throat was bone dry. "What happened?"

  "He wanted an abortion. She said no. She had the baby. A little boy."

  Sean smiled. "So you have a brother?"

  She went so still, he dipped his head to find her face sheet white. "No. He died when he was six."

  He held her tight, kissed the top of her head. "God. I'm sorry. What happened?"

  For the longest time she said nothing.

  From the noise she made, he realized she found it hard to speak.

  He tipped her chin to look into blue eyes swimming with misery.

  "I killed him."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  She'd been too quiet all day and Sean blamed himself for it.

  Why the hell hadn't he minded his own bloody business?

  He still couldn't get over the utter shock of her words.

  Of course she hadn't killed her little brother.

  But it was clear to Sean she truly believed the statement.

  Afterwards, in typical T.C. fashion, she'd refused to speak of it.

  Every time he thought he was on the right path with her, he did something stupid.

  This morning, she'd spent a couple of hours on her laptop dealing with responses to her last blog post and to say her organizational skills impressed him put it mildly.

  She was diligent and focused and one hundred percent professional in the way she took a subject some might call irrelevant, seriously. And it seemed her followers loved her for it.

  When she went a little pale, he'd made her take a break.

  At least she hadn't turned up her nose at the ginger tea Danni had suggested or the dry cookie. She'd kept both down. Result.

  Sean decided that Danni Pebbles was an angel because she'd organized a delivery of specially prepared soups and meals.

  They'd shared simple food.

  T.C. had managed a clear broth with toasted soda bread.

  This afternoon, she'd taken a long nap while Sean caught up with his admin and checked in with Pete to ensure Anastacia was well covered.

  An hour ago, he'd heard the shower and the sound of the hairdryer from T.C.'s bedroom.

  Now he was preparing a light meal for dinner.

  All he had to do was to heat it in the oven, so it was hardly rocket science.

  He grabbed cutlery from a drawer and lifted his head to check that the woman who had a personality with more layers than the average onion was okay.

  At the moment she stood on her balcony.

  Seemed it was a favorite spot and he couldn't fault her for that because the view was amazing.

  He joined her.

  When he placed his hands gently on her shoulders, she leaned back against him.

  As one, in total silence, they watched the sunset.

  He'd never done this with anyone before, shared the approach of night.

  Now he wondered if he'd only think of her now whenever he watched the sun go down.

  The thought was terrifyingly right.

  "I love this time of year," he said, determined to keep the conversation light and easy and well away from anything that may upset her. "Tell me about your favorite summer."

  She thought of the best summer of her life in Greece as they'd sailed on their family's yacht in a blue, blue sea, beneath a blue, blue sky.

  "I stayed with my grandpa for a month once while my parents travelled around Europe on business. He had a villa on a Greek island. The days were so long they felt like a week. Days on a beach of white sand. I remember a boy who hired sun loungers. I thought he was beautiful, dark and mysterious."

  "Hmm. You were nuts about him."

  "I'd spend hours just staring at him. I filled my diary with pages of what ifs. He had wonderful eyes."

  "And I bet you kept the diary beneath your pillow."

  Her laugh was soft. "Did you have a twelve-year-old sister?"

  "Yup." He pressed his cheek to her head. "Your hair smells fabulous, like flowers drenched in spring rain."

  "That's a fabulous description. I'm gonna steal it."

  "Glad I could help. Did you kiss the boy with wonderful eyes?"

  She sighed. "I wish. No. I was too young for a man's kisses."

  "How old was he?"

  "Seventeen."

  "Hmm. You were much too young."

  She tipped back her head to smile at him. "That was the day I found Harry laughing like crazy because he'd found my diary and I ran after him, threatening to—"

  T.C. stopped dead as the sense of loss slammed into her, wave after tumultuous wave.

  Before Sean could grab her, she'd moved out of his arms to grip the balcony rail, her knuckles white.

  "He was only little. He'd seen six summers," she whispered.

  "Theresa."

  She shrugged his hand from her shoulder. "Go home, Sean. It's getting late."

  Sean found he simply couldn't cope with the tears thick in her voice.

  He told himself she needed him.

  He told himself to stay.

  Her hand was like ice as he took it.

  "Let's sit on the couch," he said as he sat and drew her onto his knees and covered them both with a throw. "Have you ever been to Cork?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Danni opened the door to her apartment to the very last person she'd expected to see—her father.

  Dressed in a well-cut suit in pale grey wool, along with a super-white shirt, old school tie and b
lack brogues, Thomas Pebbles was a tall man with salt and pepper hair. His time in the military meant he stood shoulders back, chin lifted. However, it was the look in his hazel eyes, wary and sad that made her pause.

  She opened the door wider and into his hug.

  "Hi, Daddy. I know why you're here. Nothing you say will make me change my mind about what I said to Gillian."

  He nodded, but said nothing in response as he walked down the hallway and through wide double doors into her sitting room.

  Instead of the taking the seat she offered, he moved to look out the window and the view of Hyde park. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets.

  "You were eight when you told your mother and I to stop shouting and listen to each other. I've never forgotten the way you tried to broker peace. A little pixie of a girl desperately trying to referee two grownups who didn't deserve to be called such. Last night I remembered what you tried to do when she walked out and left us. I was in pieces and you told me that ‘it's fine, Daddy, we're better off without her.’ I couldn't cope with a big empty house. I couldn't cope with the responsibility for the health and happiness of a child. Instead, you became the parent to comfort a man so weak and blinded by a love that didn't exist—" he drew a deep breath, turned to look her in the eye. "I've let you down, Danielle, and I am sorry for it. However, I cannot stand by and let your mother destroy your personal happiness."

  Danni's heart raced so fast it pounded in her ears. "I saw what I saw."

  Very slowly, he shook his head. "You saw what she wanted you to see. It might have taken Gillian nearly eighteen years, but she's finally realized she's overstepped the mark this time. Believe me when I say she received no sympathy from me. Pascale Wolfe has already made it clear to her that if he can persuade you to return to him, she will never be welcome in his home."

  "He had his hands on her," Danni spoke through clenched teeth.

  Her father sighed, shook his head. "Do you think she hasn't played this game with me over the years? She has. Many times. When a woman launches herself upon a man without warning and kisses him senseless it can take a second, or three, for him to react."

  Danni wasn't having any of it. "They knew each other from before. Don't ask me how I know, I just felt it."

  Tom Pebbles nodded. "They had met before and believe me when I say she threw herself at him then too. He has everything she ever wanted, looks, wealth and his family's prestige. But I can assure you, that in spite of the convoluted machinations of your mother, nothing happened between them."

  She'd gone through a living hell over the last five days, but Danni was absolutely certain of one thing. "Pascale had a certain reputation with women. I believe in giving people a chance. One chance. There's a pattern of behavior emerging within our family and it's one I can't ignore. I will never, ever, go through with anyone what you went through with Gillian."

  Now her father sank to the edge of a chair, his elbows on his knees as he studied her set face.

  "You are nothing like me, thank goodness. Your mother and I weren't there for you when you needed us. Especially after what happened to you with those boys at University. At the time, we were too caught up in our continuing melodrama. And for that I will never forgive myself. You don't trust men. I can hardly blame you. But I do take the bulk of responsibility for your view of the gender in general."

  She heard the regret, the sincerity, in his voice.

  Danni sat in the chair opposite him. "You loved her. Love makes a person weak."

  He shook his head. "That's not true. It's taken me too long to realize it, but true love strengthens a couple. Love does not weaken a relationship. I became obsessed by a belief in someone, something, that simply didn't exist. The woman I wanted your mother to be did not exist, does not exist and never will exist."

  She studied his face. "You've met someone."

  The hectic flush on his cheeks made her bite down on her bottom lip to hide a smile. Her father, she realized, was in love. "Yes. And she's so unlike your mother in every conceivable way."

  "Am I going to meet her?"

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling. "You will, as soon as this mess is cleared up. Since you refuse to talk to him, Pascale reached out to me to ask for my help. Speak to him. Listen to what he has to say."

  She blinked.

  The thought of the ultimate alpha male, Pascale Wolfe, reaching out to her father stunned her for a moment.

  Tom Pebbles rose and opened his arms.

  Danni leapt into them to hug a man she loved, in spite of his flaws.

  Arm in arm they walked to the door.

  He turned to her. "Promise me, you'll think about it."

  She nodded. "I'll think about it, but I'm promising nothing."

  ***

  Danni had reached out to him and for that Pascale could only be grateful.

  He was a desperate man.

  A feeling which was something of a novelty for someone who'd never been desperate for anything in his life. He still found it difficult to get his head around how fast his whole world had unravelled within a matter of hours. When he'd seen Danni's mother, he couldn't believe his own eyes. He'd known her as Gill Stone, an attractive woman separated from her wealthy husband. A woman on the prowl. They'd met in Paris two years ago at a charity function for his luxury accessory brand, Aqua di Redo. She'd clung to him like a limpet and he'd let her down gently. Looking back that had been a mistake. By sparing her feelings he'd left the door ajar for the woman to enter his life again and cause havoc.

  Well, he wouldn't make that mistake twice.

  When... if, Danni listened to his version of events and believed them, Christ, he hoped she'd believe him, then Gillian would never darken their door.

  Ever.

  Right now his belly churned with nerves as he sat in a quiet corner of the lounge in the Blue Lagoon club. It was early evening and he knew Danni had chosen the venue because she was familiar with it... neutral territory.

  He checked his watch, again.

  And wondered if it was possible for time to stand still.

  When another five minutes passed with no sign of her, he was just about to order a badly needed drink when she strolled through the door. Not in a hurry, he realized, as he clocked the bored expression on her beautiful face. Her hair was styled in that bell of sleek, shiny copper he loved so much. She wore a cute little sleeveless number in emerald silk with a flirty pleated hem. Hooked over her arm, she carried a stunning leather handbag in burnt-orange leather. She wore matching skinny heels. The shoes and bag were not his, he noted, and ran his teeth over his top lip. If that wasn't a fuck-off message, he didn't know what was.

  When she spotted him, she stopped and those stunning hazel eyes narrowed into slits.

  Chin lifted, she sashayed towards the table and his heart began to pound against his ribs.

  He rose and held out his hand, but since her response was to look at it as if it was a rattle snake, he waited until she sat before he took his own seat.

  Once the waiter had delivered their order, sparkling water, ice and a slice of lemon for her, and a stiff JD for him, they eyed each other.

  He didn't see love for him in her eyes.

  He didn't see hate either.

  Something told him, it might have been the raising of her brow and the pout of her mouth, he was in for a hard time.

  Even though she'd practised the clever and biting little speech in her head over a hundred times, Danni's mind was a complete and utter blank.

  All she could do was stare at Pascale and simply drink him in.

  Tonight, his usual immaculate appearance was missing.

  He wore tight fitting black jeans, lace up black leather boots and a black leather biker jacket over a white T-shirt. The image was bad boy scruff with tousled hair. And he looked as if he'd lost weight. Gaunt. Which only made him look even more beautiful. Bastard.

  The fact her hand didn't shake as she sipped her water told her she could do this.

 
She'd listen to whatever he had to say and then walk away.

  Closure.

  The intensity of his stare was somewhat unnerving, but she refused to be intimidated by this man. She could smell him. His scent was so familiar that a prickling began behind her eyes. It cost her, but she focused on the water in her glass and studied the bubbles until the foolish weakness passed.

  Pascale cleared his throat. "I met Gillian in Paris two years ago at a charity event my company sponsored. We chatted. She told me she was separated from her husband. I sympathized..."

  "I just bet you did," Danni muttered beneath her breath.

  He heard her of course, she could tell by the heat in his cheeks and the flash in those eyes that stared unblinkingly into hers. "I never laid a hand on her. She was not my type then or now. I made it clear I was Not Interested. My mistake, I now realize, was to let her down gently."

  "How kind of you. How charming..."

  The fire again flashed in his eyes. "I am charming. I did not wish to hurt her feelings..."

  "How... noble."

  He leaned over the table. "Is this how you are going to behave with me? Every time I say something, you insert a rude comment?"

  Her brows rose.

  A warning.

  He'd better watch his mouth or he'd find himself covered in sparkling water.

  "I'm wondering how long this long story is going to take. I have a date this evening and I don't want to be late."

  The way he paled gave her plenty of satisfaction.

  She didn't have a date, but she'd rather be dragged naked over a bed of nails before she'd admit it.

  "With whom?"

  "None of yours," she shot back, channelling her inner T.C. and taking great exception to his possessive tone.

  The man had no right to talk to her like that, as if he owned her.

  None.

  Pascale drew in a deep inhale through his nose. "When I met her at Ana and Olivier's engagement party, I admit I was stunned to discover she was your mother..."

  "I just bet you were."

  This time he didn't retaliate, but a muscle at the edge of his jaw tick-tick-ticked.