by Duffy, Aimée
This time, she needed to do it for herself or she’d always wonder what might have been. Maybe he still did love his wife, but wasn’t it possible he could love her too? All Anna knew was that she had to try, if for no other reason so that she would finally know how he really felt and she’d be able to get on with her life—considering of course that his rejection didn’t kill her.
She sighed and held out her hand. “Give me the bleedin’ phone. I need to book a flight.”
Jess jumped up from the chair and dashed to the living room. Her mum beamed at her, and Anna felt all the nerves back full force, making her palms sweat and her heart thump erratically in her chest. Back to nerves and dread again.
* * * *
“Yes, Safri, if I see her I’ll ask her to call you. I promise.” Miles placed the phone on its cradle and leaned back against the leather executive chair, running a hand through his hair.
His office, like his former dressing room at the studio, was far too flashy and impersonal for his liking. One wall consisted solely of a massive floor to ceiling window, looking out onto the streets of London, and the others were coated a pale cream and covered in platinum records. He had so many fancy plants in here there was no way to learn all of their names although he was sure the pink one over by the mini-bar was an orchid.
The floor was dark oak covered by designer rugs, and all the furniture was imported from Italy. He supposed it made a good impression on clients, but there was something very vital missing. Nothing in this room represented anything other than money or class. There was no picture of his family on his desk—he didn’t have a family of his own—and there was nothing there that gave an impression of who he was.
Hell, Miles didn’t think he’d recognize anything resembling who he was at the moment.
It had been three agonizingly long days since he’d posted the papers and there was still no word from Annabelle. Safri had been on the phone three times every single one of those days wondering why Annabelle hadn’t returned her calls and it was wearing on him. He’d told her the first time he’d not spoken to Annabelle and that he probably wouldn’t for a while—if ever—but the Brazilian wouldn’t give in.
It seemed Annabelle hadn’t signed the contract Safri sent her.
And he didn’t doubt that was his fault. Had his parting words to her that day in the dressing room destroyed her dream so thoroughly? Or was she simply holding out for another offer? His offer? If the latter were true, he would be thrilled.
He’d been plotting out a deal to win Annabelle over since she left for Scotland. He’d topped Safri’s offer, the advance and management package, and was hoping like hell his letter had calmed her down because this afternoon he was flying out to Scotland to see her.
Miles realized that he’d done nothing but make mistakes all the way down the line with Annabelle. First off, he’d asked her to leave the show and probably made coming back to London for the eliminations all the more nerve racking. He’d then proceeded to befriend her in the hope of convincing her to leave.
All the while, she’d been trying to achieve her dream.
Going to Scotland was a bad idea. He’d hurt her enough.
He sighed and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his suit jacket, checking anxiously for a text or call from her. Nothing.
But he had to go and find her, didn’t he? If he didn’t tell her how much he loved her, how could he stop living every single day swimming in this pool of regret he’d found himself in these days?
Yes, he’d done things the wrong way with her, but she was so different from who she was back when they’d first met. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to save her, he’d not noticed how much stronger she’d grown until it was too late.
Well, that would change. If she gave him the chance, he’d spend every damn day making sure she knew he believed in her. Miles rose and packed his briefcase, picking the small velvet box up from the center of his desk. He’d bought it yesterday in the hope that if she gave him another chance, he’d be able to keep her forever.
One thing at a time, he told himself.
The buzzer sounded on his phone just as he was about to leave the room. He hit the button. “James, I’m just heading out.” It wasn’t like his assistant to forget such things.
“I know, boss, but there’s someone here you’ll want to see.”
Miles very much doubted that. What he wanted was to get on a plane to Scotland and win back the woman he loved.
“I really don’t have time to see anyone,” he insisted. His foot beat staccato against the wooden floor impatiently. “Reschedule an appointment for when I—” His words cut off as the double doors to his office flew open.
Annabelle paused for a second at the entrance. A floaty purple dress skimmed her curves and her hair was straight and shiny. Her pearly white skin was slightly flushed across her high cheekbones and a wariness darkened her crystal-like eyes.
“I won’t be long. I know you’re in a hurry,” she said, and his heart leapt into his throat, making speech impossible.
“I know why you gave me that ultimatum last week, and I understand it was because you were scared.” She bit her lip anxiously and edged into the room. Miles tried to take a step toward her, but his feet seemed to be welded to the floor. “That doesn’t mean to say that it was the right thing to do.”
Her eyes flashed and Miles knew she was still angry at what he’d done. He’d rehearsed a glowing apology, complete with groveling if required, but couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“I’ve dreamed of being a singer since I was a little girl, and I’ll agree with you on one thing, I wasn’t strong enough in the beginning. But I am now, Miles. I can do this, I know I can. I’m not Cassie, I’m not going to end up like that.”
“I know.” He found his voice then. “Annabelle, I’m sorry, I should have seen it before. The idea of losing you that way…” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He couldn’t bear to think what he’d do if that happened.
Her heels clicked across the floor and he opened his eyes. Annabelle was now at the other side of his desk, fiddling with a paperweight on the edge, seemingly unable to meet his gaze. “I just came to let you know that I don’t like how things ended between us.” Her voice grew quiet as her attention stayed focused on the paperweight now in her hand. “I didn’t want things to end between us.”
Hope swelled in his chest and he couldn’t beat it back, didn’t want to. “I didn’t want things to end either.”
Her eyes met his then and he saw it in her expression, the same delicate hope that must have been in his. He put his briefcase on his desk, removed the papers, and walked to the other side to stand before her.
“I want you to sign with me, not Safri.” He handed her the papers, and the hope in her eyes turned to pain.
“You want me to sign with Oliver Records? That’s all?”
Shit, he was doing this all wrong.
He grabbed the papers out of her hands and grasped her shoulders. “No, I want you. I love you, Annabelle, have loved you for a while now. I’ve been so terrified the whole competition that something bad would happen to you. I only recently realized why that was. I know I made a mess of everything,” he said. “I’m not a complete idiot, and I realized too late that you have changed, that you are stronger.” He looked intently into eyes, bluer than the sky, and prayed she saw his sincerity.
Her lips spread wide in a smile full of so much joy and tenderness that it took his breath away. Annabelle threw her hands around his neck and pressed her strawberry flavored lips to his. At that moment he felt whole again, like he’d found the other part of his soul.
But how did she feel? He pulled away and tried to catch his breath. Her face was flushed and the smile was back, bigger this time.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Yes?” His brows pulled together.
“I’ll sign with you, Miles. I want to be with you always.”
He should have been elated, but he was
n’t. Not really. She didn’t love him. If she did, she’d have said so, wouldn’t she?
* * * *
Anna stared up into the leaf green eyes that always scrambled her thoughts. She loved him, so much she thought her heart would burst. And to top it off, he loved her back!
“Well, if I’m going to be moving to London and living with you…” Anna trailed off to read his expression, but he didn’t seem freaked out. In fact, his face lit up like a kid’s at Christmas.
In for a penny, in for a pound. “I think we should get married. You know, my gran’s very old-fashioned and she won’t want me living with a man if—”
His finger pressed against her lips, halting her mid-rant. Butterflies swirled around in her stomach at the touch.
A bemused smile played around the corners of his lips. “Are you proposing to me, Annabelle?” His voice was light, teasing even, and her eyes widened with the shock of what she’d just said.
He’d been married before, perhaps didn’t want to again. She’d got so carried away by the fact that he loved her, she forgot about Cassie.
But as she looked up into his face and saw the love and adoration shine through his eyes, right along with the joy, Anna made the choice to go on. “Yes.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked with a teasing tone.
Anna had to rake her brain for the answer. He cocked an eyebrow.
“Do you want a ring?” she blurted. Heat burned in her cheeks when he laughed.
“No, but it would be nice to know whether or not you loved me too.”
Oh.
Well, she was truly making a royal mess of this. “I love you, more than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”
His smile showcased pearly whites, and he sunk down on one knee, one strong hand holding hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her heart skipping several beats.
“Annabelle MacIntosh, you didn’t really think I’d let you be the one to propose, did you? After all, I’m the controlling one, aren’t I?”
Anna winced, but seeing the humor twinkling in the green depths of his eyes, she pulled her lips up in a smile.
Miles removed a little velvet box from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and opened it one handed. The simple princess cut diamond on a delicate gold band shocked her speechless. Had he been planning this all along?
“Annabelle, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” he asked, his eyes clouded with anxiety.
“Of course I will, Miles,” she choked out past the lump in her throat.
He slid the ring onto her finger and rose to face her.
She was so busy thrilling at the prospect of being Miles’s fiancée that she didn’t notice him scoop her up in his arms at first.
“I can’t wait for you to be Mrs. Oliver,” he told her, and his lips snared hers with all the desperate passion and love that he felt, and Anna kissed him back, her heart swelling to dangerous proportions in her chest.
She couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Oliver either. Fire burned through her, hotter than before. It felt like all her dreams—especially those she’d been too scared to hope for—had come true at last.
He was absolutely right. Everything did work out all right in the end.
Epilogue
Bright lights in an array of colors shone down on Anna as she sang her heart out in front of thousands of her fans at the Millennium Stadium. Every inch of her skin was sticky with sweat and her thin, gold vest clung to her curves. In any other situation, it would have been hell.
But standing on the stage in front of an arena of cheering fans seemed more like heaven. The crowd roared with applause when she finished her concert and confetti fell from the sky, blinding her view with sparkling multicolored foil.
Anna thanked the crowd then hurried backstage where she ran straight into the arms of Miles. He wrapped his around her and lifted her right off her five-inch Jimmy Choos, undeterred by her sticky body.
“You were amazing,” he said, his face beaming with pride.
Her heart swelled with love, and she stole his lips in a kiss that had the ever present flames at her core burning into an inferno. Seven months she’d lived with Miles, but the attraction and fire she felt for him still hadn’t faded—not even a little bit. She could quite happily kiss him like this forever and never tire of it.
Jess cleared her throat loudly at their sides and Anna pulled away from Miles with a grin she aimed at her best friend.
“Can you two save that for later?” Jess complained half-jokingly. “Your mum and gran are waiting for you at The Ivy, remember?”
She released Miles grudgingly, but still kept hold of his hand. “Do I have time to shower?” she asked them hopefully.
“Nope, no time. Get your jacket, we’re late already.” Jess motioned her hands in a ‘hurry up’ gesture and Anna sighed.
Although she loved having Jess around all the time now that she’d given her the job as her personal assistant, sometimes her friend got on her nerves. She never dreamt how pushy Jess could be. She had better organizational skills than a PC.
“Come on, let’s go and get your coat, Mrs. Oliver,” Miles purred, and Anna shivered all over. The wicked gleam in his eye suggested that getting her coat wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
Ever since they got married in a little chapel in Scotland a month after the show, he’d called her Mrs. Oliver every chance he got. The novelty still hadn’t worn off, and she thrilled almost visibly every time he said it.
“Uh uh, no way. Anna, you go get your own coat or we’ll be over an hour late,” Jess insisted, and Anna felt the blood burn in her cheeks.
Jess knew her so well.
* * * *
Much, much later they arrived home and Anna half-fell onto the cream leather sofa, exhaustion catching up with her. It had been a long evening and now that her gran was feeling better she didn’t want to go back to the hotel too early, but Anna was shattered. Today had been her second concert on her UK tour, and the constant rehearsing and performing drained all her energy.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the sleepless nights she was spending with Miles in the bedroom. Nope, nothing at all. Heat pooled in her womb, and she squeezed her knees together to keep her scorching need for him at bay.
He returned to the room, a bottle of pinot grigio in one hand and two glasses in the other. “Fancy a night cap?”
Anna smiled her thanks and he poured a glass. He sunk onto the sofa beside her and she shifted onto his lap, resting her head against the hard planes of his shoulder. He smelled of soap and something more spicy. She relaxed into him, content and happier than she’d ever been.
“You really were amazing tonight, Annabelle. You take my breath away every time you sing, you always have.”
Her lips curved at his praise. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You know that, don’t you? It was you who made me strong enough to succeed, and it was you who supported me through the whole competition, even when you were trying to convince me to leave.”
She honestly couldn’t believe that eight months ago she’d been worried about him not being able to love her. He might still love Cassie—and Anna was okay with that—but it was clear he loved her just as much.
He stroked her hair back from her face with his free hand and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. Skin sizzled beneath his lips and her hormones zinged, the exhaustion forgotten.
She removed the glass from his hand and placed it on the table along with hers. He cocked an eyebrow, a wry grin curving his lips. “Not thirsty?” he enquired innocently.
As if he didn’t know what she was after. “Mmm not really,” she said distractedly, shifting so she was straddling his thighs with hers. She traced his firm lower lip with the tip of her tongue and reveled in his taste. It was so Miles-like and so intoxicating that it brought out her more primal side.
* * * *
Miles slid his hands up her sumptuous curves and felt his erection grow in his jeans. She
wriggled closer and he took her mouth with his. Her smell was intoxicating, her taste like sunlight on a warm afternoon, and she felt silky all over.
If someone had told him a year ago that he’d find happiness he would have laughed in their face. Who knew he’d end up so bloody euphoric in such a short space of time? Meeting Annabelle had dragged him from the pit of anguish he’d fallen into so long ago.
Now he was walking on air all the time, sharing his life with a woman so utterly amazing that he sometimes wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven. Though the guilt over Cassie’s death was still there, it was less intense. Nothing but a vague shadow of what it used to be.
But Miles never wanted to lose the guilt, nor did he want to forget what happened. The fact that he did remember made him more conscious of Annabelle. There was no way he’d let her turn out the same way.
Though he didn’t think she would, he was still ever watchful. She was his life now, and he sincerely believed that losing her would destroy him.
“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered against his lips.
Miles was all for that plan. He scooped her up and carried her through to their bedroom, flicking on the light as he went. She slid down his torso when they reached the foot of the bed and ground her hips against him, causing his erection to swell and throb.
Miles hooked his fingers under the gold clingy material that fit her like a second skin and peeled it over her head. Her creamy breasts with their pink tips made his throat dry and completely distracted him. He snatched one of the hard peaks between his lips.
“Clothes off,” Annabelle gasped, and he chuckled. And she had once thought he was the controlling one.
“No problem, Mrs. Oliver,” he told her and stripped down to his birthday suit.
Her eyes darkened with appreciation and his heart gave a huge tug in his chest. He loved it when she looked at him like she wouldn’t mind devouring him. It made him feel like a young lad.
