Socialite's Gamble

by Michelle Conder

  She wasn’t. She’d had two lovers in her life—though no one would believe that.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Nothing was fair.

  Cilla would tell her to stop being ‘so sensitive’ but Cara couldn’t help it. She didn’t know any other way to be.

  Feeling trapped and maudlin, she decided to go to the airport and look at the destination board and pick the place farthest away from anywhere else.

  As far as plans went it wasn’t much of one and … who was she kidding? She hated being alone and she knew that if she was she’d relive every moment of last night over and over until the only place she’d be fit for was an asylum.

  Quickly texting Harriet she asked her agent if she could crash on her couch for a couple of days. It was the safest place she knew at this point in time even if she would have to explain everything and probably grovel. Harriet responded with an immediate yes, but somehow Cara didn’t feel any sense of relief.

  She’s going to be so disappointed in me.

  Trying not to picture her agent’s face when she arrived, and wondering which parts of last night she would share with Harriet, she stuffed clothes into her suitcases, wishing she’d packed a little lighter for once. The one thing she could never tell Harriet about was how Aidan Kelly had kissed her and touched her last night. Or how much she still craved the touch of a man who didn’t even like her. There was pathetic and then there was pathetic.

  And as much as her father might think that she was worthless, she knew deep down in her heart that she wasn’t. That she just felt a little … lost sometimes. As if she didn’t belong anywhere.

  Not wanting to dwell any more on negative thoughts Cara pulled on loose linen pants and a singlet top. Her Jackie O sunglasses would hide the fact that her eyes looked ravaged from lack of sleep and too much crying and a baseball cap would help cover most of her hair to stop anyone from recognising her.

  Then she closed her suitcases and dialled down to reception.

  If she hadn’t been so sleep deprived and preoccupied with her problems she might have been more prepared for the wall of paparazzi that surged towards her as soon as she stepped outside of the hotel.

  But she wasn’t prepared at all and before she had time to blink she found herself backed up against the glass wall and her cap and sunglasses knocked to the ground. Quickly bending to retrieve them she shielded her eyes from the prying lenses of the cameras.

  Wedging her glasses back into place she stood up and tried not to appear as if she was cowering. But she was and the barrage of reporters had her perfectly trapped as they pitched questions excitedly at her head.

  As a general rule Aidan was an early riser. It was a habit he’d established the day he’d taken over his father’s business.

  He usually started the day with a session in his gym, or a run around the Sydney Botanical Gardens near his home. Then he’d return, have a shot of espresso his housekeeper would have prepared and take his chauffeur-driven car to work.

  In the old days, in the beginning, he’d have driven himself to work. His first car had been a late-model powder blue sedan—as ugly as they came and he’d hated it. He used to dream about the day it would be turned into a Ferrari. Fire-engine red. Why go for the discreet black or sun-flower-yellow. At the time he’d wanted bright and bold. Out there.

  Somehow he’d never gotten around to buying that Ferrari. Why own a car you didn’t have time to drive?

  He frowned. The Merc made more sense. He could make phone calls in it, work on his computer, or take a meeting if he was in a rush. Hell, he’d even had sex in his limousine one night when he’d been pushed for time and his lover had begged.

  He remembered now that he hadn’t enjoyed the experience that much. Not like last night.

  And what the hell was Cara Chatsfield doing in his head again?

  His frown turned into a scowl. She was like a sore that wouldn’t heal. A painful one. He never should have touched her. How many times had he told himself that already? How many times had he told himself that one taste of her honeyed charms had been more than enough?

  Last night he’d been so tied up in his need for revenge that he’d become almost paranoid. He hadn’t been able to see what was real and he still wasn’t sure he knew. All last night had revealed was that the issues of his past hadn’t felt lifted when he’d beaten Ellery and he’d taken that out on Cara.

  Did he owe her an apology? Probably. Would he see her again to give her one? Probably not.

  And what was she doing back in his head again? Because Aidan knew better than anyone what happened when you took your eye off the ball.

  Yeah, you do stupid things like let Ellery off the hook…. Sighing heavily he thought that maybe he should go for a swim in the hotel pool before he left. He glanced at the bedside clock. 7:00 a.m. Hell, he didn’t think he could drag himself out of bed if the hotel was on fire. So far he had seen every hour and half-hour since he’d dropped into bed two hours ago.

  Frustrated with himself he swung his legs out of bed just as his mobile phone rang. It was the senior editor of his biggest newspaper. Since she rarely had cause to contact him he picked up.

  ‘Dana, what’s up?’

  ‘Well, good morning to you, too, chief. You sound like you’ve had a hard night. Not that I’m surprised.’

  A sense of foreboding slid down Aidan’s spine. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your big night with Britain’s wild child. Everyone here is truly peeved that you let the competition get the exclusive. They are blowing us out of the water already.’

  ‘I didn’t have a big night with anyone,’ he lied.

  Dana reeled off some of the morning headlines and Aidan felt completely stupid for not anticipating that this would happen. The room had been half filled with patrons at the time of the bet. It was a pretty good indication of how unlike himself he was right now.

  Hell.

  He wondered how Cara was faring this morning and then once again reminded himself that she wasn’t his problem. And no doubt she was lapping up the attention. It was what women of her ilk got out of bed for. Attention and notoriety.

  Which suited him just fine because they were the two things he liked the least. He knew the celebrity-hungry press wouldn’t bother him with any questions because they likely knew he’d get them sacked.

  ‘Do you want me to make a statement?’ Dana asked.

  As much as he hated the thought of the publicity he’d garnered from last night he knew the best course of action was to say nothing. ‘Just ignore it.’

  It was, after all, what he himself had decided to do about the whole thing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HAVING ORGANISED HIS CAR to pick him up at the rear security exit of the hotel Aidan stepped into the lift and turned his back on a young couple kissing passionately in the corner. Fools, he thought, and absently noted that the colour of the flowers the girl clutched were a deep pink. Almost the same colour as Cara Chatsfield’s hair.

  When he realised where his mind had led him he couldn’t believe he was still thinking about her. It was out of control. It had to be the guilt over reducing her to tears the night before because it couldn’t be anything else.

  Unlike Casanova beside him, he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. He stood still as the youth whispered, ‘I love you’, over and over into the giggling girl’s ear. Ah, young love. Thank God he’d had his eyes opened before he made a fool of himself like that poor schmuck.

  The lift doors opened and he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. His account would already have been settled so the only thing to do was to walk out. Walk out and forget last night had ever happened.

  And he would have done exactly that if he hadn’t been confronted with the vision of the woman he was trying really hard not to ever think about bailed up against the external glass wall of the hotel.

  She had one hand on her face and the other out in front of her as she tried to force her way through the pa
ck of baying paparazzi with minimal success.

  Aidan swore violently, his strides eating up the space between them in a matter of seconds.

  Shoving his way through the pack just as a security backup team arrived to control the situation, Aidan pulled Cara into his arms.

  With her hands over her glasses she didn’t know it was him and she resisted, trying to twist out of his grasp.

  Or perhaps she resisted all the harder because she did know it was him, he thought ruefully. After the way things had ended between them last night he wouldn’t have been surprised.

  ‘Sweetheart, it’s me,’ he crooned loudly enough for the closer reporters to hear. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting. If I’d known you were going to be attacked like this I would never have let you come down alone.’

  She stilled and lifted her face to his, her lips pressed together in a quivering line.

  Knowing he couldn’t cope if she burst into tears again he did the only thing he could think of. He ducked his head and put his mouth against hers. It was the briefest of touches, meant to reassure her that he was on her side and nothing more. He hoped she read it that way because his body wanted to take the kiss deeper and keep on going.

  Feeling her body sag he bent to her ear. ‘Put your arms around my neck.’

  She did, clinging to him for support, and then she was in his arms and he was carrying her back inside, her head tucked firmly under his chin.

  Aidan threw the remaining paps a fulminating glare as he walked past and he didn’t stop until he was back in his room and had quickly deposited Cara on the deep-seated sofa.

  She sniffed and gazed back at him with angry tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Here.’ He handed her a tissue and repeated his command of the night before. ‘This is becoming a habit. Blow.’

  She sniffed again and took it, swiping at her eyes beneath her sunglasses before doing as he’d instructed.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked briskly.

  ‘No … not really.’

  Aidan paced away from her. ‘What the hell happened down there? I thought you’d be used to handling those types of situations.’

  She sat up straighter and folded her long legs underneath her. ‘I mistakenly thought the US press were nicer than the UK ones and I … I wasn’t thinking very clearly when I left my room.’

  He shook his head. ‘No paparazzi are nice.’

  ‘You must think I’m pathetic,’ she murmured.

  He scowled but didn’t answer her. She looked like a scared kitten that had just been plucked from its mother to be sent home with a new owner.

  ‘This is awful,’ she murmured. ‘I take it you know what the papers printed about last night.’

  ‘My senior editor rang this morning with the wonderful news. She wanted to know why I’d let the other papers have the exclusive.’

  Cara gave a watery smile. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing. I don’t play into trashy gossip.’

  ‘Lucky for you because I hate to think about what they’re going to print after the way you just swooped in and rescued me. They’re going to say we’re a couple. Why did you do it, by the way?’

  Good question, he thought. And one he didn’t have a readily acceptable answer for. And worse still, he hadn’t thought about how his actions would be perceived. He hadn’t thought about anything other than getting her out of harm’s way.

  ‘You were in trouble and no one else was helping. I would have done the same for anyone.’ Which was possibly true. ‘And why do you care so much about what the press think?’

  She swiped at her face with the damp tissue. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Then why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are,’ he said patiently. ‘And you clearly care.’

  ‘Well, so would you if you’d just hit rock bottom.’

  Thinking that she was probably exaggerating he crossed his arms and tried not to look exasperated. ‘Why have you hit rock bottom?’

  She frowned. ‘I was supposed to be on my best behaviour last night and this morning I sent a text telling Christos that I would stay out of sight until this whole thing blew over and he’s going to be so mad at me now because there will be even more pictures of me and—’

  ‘Take a breath, Cara. And who the hell’s Christos? A lover?’

  ‘No.’ Her eyes briefly dropped to his mouth and then just as quickly found the carpet between them. ‘Christos Giatrakos. He works for my father. He’s my boss. Sort of.’

  ‘Your boss?’

  She let out a worried sigh. ‘He sent me to hostess the high-rollers room last night so that I could contribute to the family business with the specific instructions to not cause a scandal.’ She gave a little hiccup and told him the rest, including losing her lucrative deal with Demarche, the French cosmetic giant. ‘This might be one of my worst scandals to date. Put up as a stake between two men. God …’ She dropped her face in her hands. ‘I’ll never work again.’

  ‘You won’t if you keep crying,’ he growled, absently wondering what it was about this woman’s tears that moved him when usually a woman crying left him feeling like they were trying to emotionally manipulate him. An impossible task since he didn’t do emotions.

  Somehow, though, he knew Cara Chatsfield’s tears were genuine and he felt sorry for her.

  ‘I can’t help the way I feel,’ she blurted out. ‘And I don’t understand why you’re not furious.’

  ‘Stories like this are a dime a dozen.’

  ‘Maybe. But you’re not the one they’re implying is a cheap tramp. The guy’s reputation never suffers in this situation. In fact, you just come out looking more virile and attractive. But me …’ She swiped at her eyes hidden by truly ugly sunglasses and her lips quivered as she fought back more tears.

  And still he found her somehow alluring.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ he asked abruptly.

  She glanced up at him. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

  Not bothering to answer he stalked across the room and picked up the hotel phone. ‘Coffee, some pastries, bacon, eggs, toast and whatever headache tablets you have in this country.’

  ‘Why did you order all that?’

  ‘It’s harder to cry on a full stomach.’

  ‘Is it?’

  Aidan ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know, but it will help your headache.’

  She looked startled. ‘How did you know I have a headache?’

  One corner of his mouth kicked upwards. ‘The tablets were for me.’

  ‘Oh.’

  His smile grew at her contrite expression and he realised that ordinarily he’d be pissed at having his well-ordered life disrupted like this but for some reason he wasn’t.

  ‘But you keep rubbing the back of your neck.’ And it was truly distracting him. ‘You just need to relax. This will all blow over before you know it.’

  Her mouth twisted as if she didn’t believe him. ‘For you, maybe. For me … last night is just one more notch on my bad-girl belt. And I have no idea what to tell Christos now. He’s already left a couple of filthy messages on my phone this morning and that was before this latest disaster.’

  Aidan rubbed the back of his own neck then. He’d meant to help her before, not make it worse for her, and he felt another twinge of guilt about last night. He knew he could have rejected Ellery’s suggestion of putting her up as a stake but he hadn’t. For the first time in his life he’d ignored logic and felt a primal rage that he had been made a fool of. Something that turned out not to have been true.

  But if he was honest, that hadn’t been the only thing driving him last night. Once his mind had locked on to her and Ellery as a real couple he’d wanted to rip her away from him. He’d wanted to rip her away and lock her in a room and ask her how she could have been so stupid.

  But perhaps she wasn’t the stupid one in this scenario. Perhaps he was.

  Aidan wrenched at the collar on his shirt, un
used to feeling like he wasn’t in control of a situation.

  ‘If you think about this logically,’ he began, deciding it was time he did that very thing. ‘What happened downstairs actually plays to your advantage.’

  She sniffed. ‘I don’t see how.’

  ‘That’s because you’re being emotional. Think about it. I know of Christos Giatrakos. If he thinks that we’re actually involved he’ll be more relieved than not. You can tell him this whole thing was misinterpreted, we’re a couple and no harm done.’

  She chewed on the inside of her lip and Aidan forced his eyes to meet hers. Only, she had on those damned plastic sunglasses.

  ‘Take them off.’

  She paused and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. ‘Take what off?’

  Your clothes. Take off your clothes so I can see you again. Touch you. So that I can lay you out flat and taste every inch of you.

  Aidan stilled as images of Cara in his arms downloaded inside his head like an X-rated movie. Man, but he had to get out more.

  ‘Your glasses.’ His voice sounded like it had rolled across sandpaper. ‘I can’t talk to you with those damned glasses on.’

  Cara felt her body shudder at the rough timbre of his voice and she wondered if he hadn’t read her mind. If he hadn’t known that all she could think about with him pacing in front of her was how lethally attractive he was. Tall, masculine and so powerfully self-assured. He had swept her up in his arms before like a white knight and her girlhood fantasies about being saved like some princess in a fairytale had been reborn.

  Stupid, worthless fairytales. They had clearly been written by people with wild imaginations and no life to speak of. A bit like herself right now …

  ‘I need them on.’

  Aidan stopped in front of her. ‘Why?’

  ‘My eyes are sore.’

  Before she could stop him he had reached forward and slid them off her face. Cara quickly ducked her head but he gripped her chin. She shivered and closed her red eyes, trying to push his arm away. It was like trying to bend steel.