High Risk

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  * * *

  When Tom pulled up outside the Gardens of Rosendal, the parking lot was already full. Expensive cars, some even with private chauffeurs, and a line of cabs. Long red carpets unrolled on the snow. There were huge iron drums full of burning wood, and the fires sent cascades of sparks soaring into the night sky. The pink castle that had given the gardens their name was visible in the light of the fires.

  There were people everywhere, he noticed as he locked the car. Men in suits and women in long, colorful dresses and thick coats, shoe bags in their hands as they walked down the red carpet toward the party—an enormous greenhouse. Crystal chandeliers and small strings of lights lit up the glass building in the darkness, making it look like a glittering, hovering vessel studded with billions of stars. Music and the scent of food made their way out into the winter chill.

  There was a line to get inside, and Tom joined the end, waited patiently for his turn. There was an elegant couple with a child in front of him, a pair of celebrities behind, talking admiringly about the luxurious setting for the party. Ambra had said she would take a cab, so he was waiting alone among the couples and occasional family with small children.

  Alexander De la Grip was welcoming the guests at the entrance. His wife, Isobel, was by his side. They were shaking hands and smiling at everyone. The two were a strikingly beautiful couple, and their love almost seemed to cast a glow around them. It was obvious in every gesture, every glance. As Tom approached, he saw the child between them, a slim, serious boy in glasses. Marius. Tom hoped the boy wouldn’t remember him.

  Alexander caught sight of Tom, and his face lit up. He gave Tom a long, firm handshake. “I’m so glad you could come. It’s been far too long.”

  “Thanks for the invite,” Tom said. He hadn’t liked Alexander when he’d first met him, thought he was a superficial, spoiled, jet-setting brat, someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth, interested only in himself and having fun. But for once Tom was wrong, and Alexander proved to be much more than the handsome playboy everyone thought him. When Isobel went missing, it was Alexander who started the search for her. He paid for the entire rescue operation and even flew to Chad to take an active role in her rescue. Something, Tom was forced to admit, few civilian men could have done.

  Alexander had demonstrated that he was more than capable, and had ultimately contributed to the success of Isobel’s rescue mission. Tom couldn’t feel anything but respect for a man willing to give everything he had for the person he loved.

  Isobel shook Tom’s hand too. “Like Alex said, it’s great to see you. I really hope we can get together more often now.” Her voice was warm, but it wasn’t pushy. They didn’t really know one another, but the fact was he had saved her life, and that kind of thing bound people together. He himself was indebted to a number of people for similar reasons.

  Isobel’s father had been in the military, he knew, just like her grandfather. And there was something genuine about her, something he respected. She was one of those people who made a difference in the world. Plus, she had a powerful handshake. And the reddest hair Tom had ever seen. He was pleased for her and Alexander—they seemed so happy.

  “Congratulations on your marriage,” he said, meaning every word. The couple didn’t want gifts, and so he had donated a large sum to Isobel’s pediatric hospital and an equally large amount to Doctors Without Borders.

  Tom looked down at the boy standing between them, with Alexander’s large, protective hand on one shoulder. Marius looked up at Tom with a curious expression on his face, and his eyes repeatedly darted to the package Tom was still holding under his arm. He held it out to the boy. Marius’s eyes widened.

  “This is for you,” Tom said. It wasn’t much compensation for what he’d done to the boy back in Chad, but it was better than nothing. The parcel was so big that Marius teetered under its weight. Alexander hurried to help him.

  “Thanks so much,” Marius said in perfect Swedish. The boy had been in Sweden for only six months, but he was eight, going to school, and was, according to a not entirely objective Alexander, a genius.

  Tom patted Marius on the shoulder, nodded to Alexander and Isobel, and moved inside. The meeting had gone well after all.

  He was handed a glass of champagne and glanced around for Ambra. They hadn’t seen one another since Sunday morning. It was now Friday evening, and he was longing for her. But Ambra had sent him a message to say she was running a little late, so he would have to wait. Just as long as she hadn’t changed her mind.

  That second part was on repeat in his mind. As long as she hadn’t changed her mind.

  Since it was only twenty seconds since he last glanced at his watch, he resisted the impulse to do it again.

  He looked around the room, making judgments and running analyses in his mind, kept his back to the wall and tried to look normal. Then he spotted David Hammar. His friend was on the other side of the room, exuding his usual aura of power and arrogance. Tom knew plenty of financiers, respected very few of them and liked even fewer. But David Hammar was in a league of his own. A working-class kid who, through sheer hard work and a genius for business, had made it to the very top of the Swedish business world. Rude and ruthless according to some, one of the most moral and reliable men in the world according to Tom. David came over to him, and they looked at each other for a long moment without saying a word. Tom held out his hand, but David ignored it and pulled him into a firm bear hug instead. He thumped Tom on the back and held him even tighter.

  “Finally,” was all David said.

  Tom cleared his throat and pulled himself from the embrace. He wasn’t sure they had ever hugged before. “Lots of people,” he said.

  “We missed you at the wedding. I hope you’re doing better now. You look good anyway.”

  David was married to Alexander De la Grip’s older sister, Natalia, meaning that the two men were brothers-in-law. It was hard to imagine two more different people, however, at least on the surface: financial shark David and playboy jet-setter Alexander.

  “Hey, Tom,” Natalia Hammar said. She came over and held out her hand, and Tom shook it. David gave his wife a warm glance. Natalia Hammar was slim, elegant, and incredibly competent within the world of finance herself; she and David were practically made for each other. She was carrying her daughter on one hip, and Tom looked down at the baby.

  “How old is she now?” he asked politely. His sisters were always talking about children’s ages. And food, and sleep.

  “Ten months.”

  Tom studied the gurgling child. She was sweet in a chubby, toothless kind of way. It was hard to imagine a woman as sophisticated as Natalia Hammar giving birth to a baby that looked so completely ordinary, but both Natalia and David looked at Molly as though her happy gurgles were the height of intelligence, so who was he to judge. New parents were curious creatures. Natalia excused herself, and David watched the two women in his life leave with so much love in his eyes that Tom felt something approaching jealousy.

  “Beautiful family you’ve got,” he said.

  “Yeah,” was all David replied.

  They stood like that, each holding a glass of champagne. Tom wasn’t overly fond of the drink, but he couldn’t see anywhere to put it down.

  “How long will you be in town?” David asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  There were other children running around, snatching candy and chips, chasing one another. Despite the exclusive guest list, the party was relaxed, not the least bit staid. There were a few camera flashes, but he noticed that they weren’t really affecting him. Neither did the buzz of the crowd or the heat. He felt relatively calm. He jumped at one loud noise, but then he began to relax again and his pulse was almost back to normal. Despite that, he could feel his mood worsening with every minute that passed. Would Ambra show up? He checked the time again.

  “Ellinor’s coming, too, huh?” David asked.

  “No.”

  David seemed confused. “I
thought . . .”

  Tom interrupted him, didn’t want to go into the details. “No, I invited someone else. She should be here any minute.”

  I hope.

  She had sent him a message to say thanks for the deli basket and the flowers, but what if she thought he was too pushy, too demanding? He had no idea.

  “Want me to take that?” David asked, nodding to the full champagne glass in Tom’s hand. He waved over a waitress, and soon enough they each had a bottle of beer in hand.

  “Cheers.” They toasted.

  “So, who is she?”

  “Who?” Tom asked bluntly.

  David gave him an amused look. “Your guest. Whoever you’re waiting for. She’s the reason you keep checking your watch every other second, no? I’m assuming it’s a she.”

  Tom took a swig of his beer. “I don’t know if she’s coming,” he admitted.

  “There are plenty of single girls here if she doesn’t,” David said with a shrug that irritated Tom enormously. As though Ambra was replaceable. Tom wasn’t interested in anyone else. If Ambra didn’t come, he would go home. His eyes followed a group of kids rushing forward.

  And then, finally, he spotted her.

  Though, at first, he wasn’t even sure it was really her.

  The room was full, there were people everywhere, the volume was loud, and the many candles created shadows and dark corners, which made it difficult to see clearly. But he was good at identifying people, and the woman looked like Ambra, moved like her.

  His heart started to beat a little quicker.

  It was Ambra. But some new version of her. The same Ambra, but not. For one thing, he had never seen her in a dress before, was used to seeing her in baggy sweaters, hats, and coats. He knew she was a woman, of course. They’d slept together; he was well aware that she had both breasts and an ass. He had seen her naked, could probably remember every inch of her body, recount in detail how the various parts of her smelled, how smooth the inside of her thighs were, how soft her buttocks were.

  But he had never seen her like this.

  She was dressed in blue, in a shining sheath dress that hugged her waist and hips. She was talking to a tall man in a suit and hadn’t caught sight of Tom yet. She must have done something to her hair, because it was glossy and bouncy and shone every time she moved her head even slightly, as though she was covered in stardust. She seemed taller than normal, and when his eyes moved down her legs he saw her heels, which made her legs look incredibly sexy. This was a glamorous being, experienced and cool. And she was here for him.

  The man she was talking with was standing close to her and had just placed a hand on her bare arm. Tom’s eyes didn’t leave them for a second.

  “That her?” Tom had completely forgotten about David. His friend sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

  Tom forced his shoulders to relax, tried to smooth out his facial features. He wasn’t used to feelings like these, barely had any right to be jealous. He wasn’t jealous. Not much anyway.

  “Yeah,” he said, still staring. Ambra was laughing now. She looked like a princess tonight. Gone was the eager reporter, the vulnerable young woman. The person in front of him, wearing sky-high heels and a close-fitting dress, her hair glimmering and her back straight, was another creature entirely.

  “She looks nice,” David said neutrally, too neutrally. Tom gave him a suspicious look. His friend still seemed to be struggling to hold back a laugh.

  “What are you laughing at?” he asked.

  David thumped him on the back. “Nothing. I’m just happy to see you like this. Like a mere mortal.” He took a swig of his beer and seemed to be having fun. “You could go over and talk to her. Instead of standing here staring, I mean.”

  Tom didn’t budge. Ambra moved her slender arm, and her wrist glittered. Everything about her glittered.

  David patted him on the shoulder. “Go now, before you explode. But, hey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Try a smile. And breathe.”

  Tom shook off his hand. But he did take a deep breath.

  And he smiled. It felt strange. But he did it for Ambra.

  Chapter 48

  Ambra nodded at what the man was saying. She didn’t know him, couldn’t even remember his name, but he knew who she was, had introduced himself and was now blabbering away about himself and a “super-hot project.”

  She wasn’t even listening.

  There were always people who did this. Threw themselves at her the minute they heard she worked for Aftonbladet, hoping for some free PR by talking nonstop about themselves, which wasn’t exactly how it worked.

  Usually she wasn’t even polite enough to listen, but the truth was that the sky-high heels she was wearing made it difficult to walk normally, which meant it was easier just to stay put and pretend to listen. She was in a good mood, so she could stand there nodding for a while.

  The shoes really were difficult to walk or stand in, but she had been practicing all week, and while there were plenty of things to be said about the impracticality of ten-centimeter heels, she felt damn hot in them. They did something to her legs and her posture. Every time she caught a glimpse of herself in a reflection somewhere, she noted that she really did look good. And judging by the way the man—he was in advertising, or possibly finance, something to do with opportunities and thinking outside of the box—kept sneaking looks at her breasts, she was a hit tonight. She fluttered her eyelashes, just because she could. The man was self-obsessed, but he was also rather good looking, and she had knocked back her welcome drink and felt positively inclined to the entire world.

  The advertising/finance man’s face lit up. He placed an eager hand on her arm and then continued his monologue about himself. She would let him go on until she spotted Tom, she decided. She was planning to believe everything Jill said—that she was pretty, that the dress suited her, that she could have whomever she wanted. And she wanted Tom. She ran her hand over the thin silk on her hip, adjusted her grip on the silver clutch, checked her nail polish. She did look beautiful and attractive tonight, even if it had taken a good deal of help. She had spent hours in the chair at Jill’s hairdresser, a celebrity place where it was apparently impossible to get an appointment. He used products she had never heard of and cut her hair strand by strand before doing something with tongs, heat, and even more products. She had to admit, it made her curls look more glamorous and elegant than ever before.

  After the hairdresser, she ended up at a makeup artist, who gave her dusky, defined eyes, matte skin, and glossy lips. It looked so good she never wanted to wash it off. She was just getting ready to dump the chatterbox when she heard a deep voice behind her, one that made her feel giddy.

  “Hi,” Tom said. His voice was amazing, calm and deep, serious and controlled.

  She slowly turned around. Oh my God. She couldn’t stop staring. She wasn’t the only one who had fixed herself up for the party.

  Tom’s hair was freshly cut, and he was wearing an extremely well-cut suit, a dark shirt, and no tie. He smelled great, of aftershave and outdoors and new clothes. And he had . . . Ambra reached out and touched his cheek.

  “You got rid of your beard,” she said, completely fascinated by how different he looked. Younger, happier. Much, much more handsome. So handsome she actually felt weak at the knees.

  Tom caught her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “You like it?” he mumbled into her skin, kissing it again. The kiss hurtled like an express train to every erogenous zone in her body, and she smiled. If she had been the fainting type, she probably would have done it right then.

  Had he been longing to see her as much as she had him? It felt that way, judging by the glimmer in his eyes, the way he kissed the inside of her hand without tearing his eyes from her. It felt like she was worth it, like she deserved to be desired. What if they were meant to be together after all? She found herself being sucked into his dark, laughing eyes. She’d never believed all that talk about finding your
soul mate, but if she did have one, then it was Tom Lexington. He was the one she wanted.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, waving over a waiter.

  The man Ambra was talking to, whom she had completely forgotten about, cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but we were actually talking,” he said.

  Tom gave the man a tranquil look. He didn’t say anything, but something happened between them, and the man practically shrank back, turned on his heel, and walked away.

  Ambra took the glass of champagne that Tom handed her. His eyes moved over her, openly appreciative. “You look fantastic,” he said, and his gaze made her hot inside.

  She sipped her champagne. “You forgot to mention this was a wedding party,” she said accusingly.

  “Is that bad?” Tom asked, without looking the least bit guilty.

  “You could’ve told me,” she said.

  She had shaken hands with Alexander De la Grip when she arrived, which was a slightly surreal feeling. Alexander was famous, after all, or infamous depending on how you looked at it. As a former entertainment reporter, she had half expected to be thrown out. But he just greeted her politely and wished her a good evening. Isobel was polite too, and said she was glad that their misunderstanding had been straightened out.

  Tom reached out and touched a lock of her hair. When he turned on the charm, she just wanted to glide into him, press her body against his, whisper indecent things in his ear, get drunk on his scent. She sipped her champagne again, allowed the bubbles to fizz in her mouth before she swallowed them in small sips.

  Since her entire afternoon was spent being fixed up, made up, and getting dressed, she hadn’t eaten, and she could already feel the effect of the alcohol. She laid a hand on Tom’s arm.

  “Who was the man you were talking to?” Tom asked nonchalantly.

  Ambra shrugged, had already forgotten him. But wait. Tom wasn’t jealous, was he? Of that guy? She studied him more closely, didn’t know what to think. This was all so strange, the way a person could be no one special to begin with, someone you didn’t know or think of, someone without any importance at all, only to become the only person you wanted to spend time with, do things with, the only one you wanted to see and talk with. The only one who determined whether a party would be fun. She sipped her champagne. She had fallen for Tom, she knew that already, but imagine if he had fallen for her too?