by Lucy King
‘Open up!’
Everyone went deathly silent, as if taking a collective breath could somehow detract from the fact that they were all partaking of an illegal lock-in.
‘Maybe it’s the police,’ said someone in a hushed voice from over by the fire.
‘It can’t be the police,’ said someone else. ‘I’m the police.’
‘It isn’t the police,’ said Abby, her voice sounding as though it came from far, far away and her heart beating so wildly she feared for her ribs.
Sheila’s eyes widened. ‘Is it him?’
She nodded, feeling as though she were having an out-of-body experience. ‘I rather think it might be.’
‘Heavens,’ said Sheila, clasping a hand to her chest. ‘Drama.’
But Abby shook her head as the shock receded and reality reappeared. ‘He doesn’t do drama. He’s probably here with a query over my bill.’
‘Will someone open this damned door,’ shouted Leo, ‘or do I have to break it down?’
‘That definitely sounds like drama,’ said Sheila, plucking a key off a hook and making her way to the door.
And she was right, it did, but Abby was going to remain icy calm because she wasn’t going to read into his sudden appearance. She really wasn’t.
But that didn’t stop her heart from giving a stupid lurch when Sheila opened the door and there he was looking so intense, so dishevelled and so wild that her head spun.
His gaze darted around the pub, and, when it fell on her, pinned her to the spot. Not taking his eyes off her for even a second, he strode through the pub, a path appearing like the parting of the waves. He came to a stop right in front of her. So close and radiating so much heat and tension that she went dizzy all over again and had to grip the edges of her stool for support.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said and annoyingly enough it came out as a croaky whisper.
‘You didn’t give me a chance to respond.’
‘Yes, I did.’
His eyes burned into hers and Abby’s mouth went dry. ‘About five seconds, Abby. Do you really think that was long enough?’
She swallowed and looked at him, and, goodness, it was hard not to reach out and touch. ‘And if I’d given you longer?’
‘That’s why I’m here. I’ve had longer.’
‘And?’
‘You caught me by surprise, Abby, back there in the folly.’
‘I know I did. I’m sorry.’
He swung his gaze around the room, over the thirty or so people dotted about the place not even bothering to pretend they weren’t agog, and then back to Abby. ‘Look, is there somewhere a bit more private we could do this?’
As the only option was her room, which was hardly appropriate given the way things stood, she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
Leo’s jaw tightened and he shifted as if uncomfortable, but then he shrugged and said, ‘Fine. If that’s the way it has to be.’
But apparently it wasn’t because a second later Sheila was yelling, ‘Make some space by the fire, people. Let’s give these two a chance to talk,’ and, with a few muttered protests, the sofa sitting in front of the fire was vacated.
Slipping off the stool, Abby arched an eyebrow at her. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’
Sheila leaned forwards and said in a low voice, ‘Yes, well, he’s gorgeous, and he was willing to break down a door for you. I bet he’d never skive off child-support payments.’
‘No, you’re right, he wouldn’t.’
And because he wouldn’t and because she was desperate to know what he had to say, she let Leo take her hand and lead her to the sofa. They sat down. Waited for a moment for everyone to return their attention to their drinks and conversation, and just when Abby thought she was going to burst from the anticipation and longing and, above all, hope, Leo spoke.
‘I owe you an explanation,’ he said and she instantly felt like a balloon that had been popped because that wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. At all.
‘What about?’ she said, struggling to keep the disappointment from her voice, her face.
‘My wedding day.’
‘I know about your wedding day.’
‘No,’ he said urgently. ‘You don’t know the half of it. You don’t know what happened after Lisa left me at the altar. Hardly anyone does.’
‘What happened, Leo?’
He swallowed, grimaced and an ache started up in her chest at the flicker of old pain that she saw in his eyes. ‘I caught up with her outside the church,’ he said, ‘and I begged her to reconsider. Begged her. I loved her. I thought. So I threw aside my pride and told her everything I was feeling. And I mean, everything. All the emotions that were swirling around inside me, the pain, the jealousy, the hurt.’ He winced. Sighed. Shook his head. ‘It wasn’t pretty,’ he said hoarsely. ‘In fact it was hideous. And even worse, it was witnessed. Not by everyone, but by Jake and a few other friends who’d dashed after me.’
Abby’s heart squeezed. ‘What happened after that?’
‘I hated her for a while, especially the pity I’d seen on her face. But not for all that long, because despite the way it looks she’s not a bitch. She was genuinely in bits over what she was doing,’ he said, and then, with a shrug, ‘but as she said at the time, she just couldn’t do anything about it.’
Well, she could have done, thought Abby waspishly. She could have called it off the week before. The morning before even. She hadn’t had to leave it until a moment that she must have known was going to destroy the man she’d once supposedly loved.
‘I imagine the lure of a childhood sweetheart is a powerful thing,’ she said instead.
‘Maybe. Whatever it was, my heart had been absolutely shredded and every one of my emotions trampled on. And then when I’d got over the pain, I realised I’d been made to look like a fool. It wasn’t something I was particularly keen to repeat.’
‘No.’
‘It was so easy just to lock the emotions down. That way I’d never be vulnerable or look a fool again. I’d be safe.’ He stopped. Looked at her thoughtfully and smiled slightly. ‘But then I met you and those intentions went straight to hell.’
‘Oh, Leo.’
‘There’s no need to look like that. They’re not locked down now. And I really don’t give a toss about being vulnerable or looking like a fool.’
Her heart began to thump. ‘No?’
‘No. I mean, look at me. I’m a wreck and I’m spilling my guts in front of a pub full of people.’ He glanced over, arched an eyebrow, and said to the room at large when gazes were hurriedly averted and conversation suddenly started up again, ‘Oh, don’t pretend you’re not all trying your hardest to listen in.’
Then he turned back and the amusement in his eyes faded. ‘I can’t begin to tell you what I feel for you, Abby.’
Her breath caught at the look on his face. ‘You can always try.’
‘I love you. I adore you. I think I have done for weeks because, you know something, yes, that trip I organised to the St Jude’s set might have had an ulterior motive, but you were right. I did want to do something nice for you. And I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’ll show you the emails I sent Caroline when I was trying to set up the meeting. They’re embarrassingly gushy. They sing your praises and list your virtues. And there are lots. I love you, Abby. Very much. It’s not just lust that I feel for you even though I managed to convince myself it was. It’s love.’
Happiness soared through her and her heart swelled to bursting. ‘As a first attempt,’ she said shakily, ‘that’s not bad.’
He took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I’m also scared.’
‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’
‘Oh, I think there is.’
‘I’d neve
r do anything to hurt you.’
‘I know,’ he said with a nod, ‘but being in love with you also brings the terror of losing you.’
‘You won’t lose me.’
‘Won’t I?’ he said, and the look in his eyes turned troubled. ‘What if I turn out to be, I don’t know, somehow not enough?’
Abby frowned. ‘Not enough?’ How could he possibly be not enough?
‘I wasn’t enough for Lisa—we’d been together for three years and she ran off with someone she’d been back in touch with for five minutes. I might not be enough for you.’
Ooh, if she ever got her hands on that woman...
‘You are more than enough for me, Leo,’ she said fervently. ‘More than enough. You’re everything I could ever want. Ever. How can I prove it to you?’
‘You could kiss me and tell me you love me again. That would be a start.’
A second later she was scooting over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and fitting her mouth to his. Kissing him hard and with everything she felt, and with what little of her brain that wasn’t melting thinking that it had been too, too long since they’d done this. It was so lovely, so thrilling, so scorchingly hot, and they were being watched. She could feel it. So she drew back reluctantly and looked deep into his eyes. ‘I love you,’ she said softly. ‘Now, what else?’
‘You could marry me.’
Her breath caught in her throat and her heart swelled. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I am if you promise to be there at the church and stick with me at the altar and beyond.’
‘Oh, I do, I do.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Is that a proposal?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Then yes, it’s a yes.’
‘I love you, Abby,’ he said, putting his hands gently either side of her head and drawing her back to him.
‘And I love you.’
She leaned in for another kiss, and, when the wolf whistles eventually filtered through the dizziness in her head, murmured against his mouth, ‘Want to take this somewhere a bit more private, say my room?’
As his heart leapt beneath her hand and his eyes took on a wicked gleam, he smiled and said softly, ‘I can think of nothing I’d like more.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from RIVAL’S CHALLENGE by Abby Green.
Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.
Austin Treffen has the plan... Hunter has the money... Alex has the power!
Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy,
only from Harlequin Presents:
Avenge Me by Maisey Yates (June 2014)
Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews (July 2014)
Expose Me by Kate Hewitt (August 2014)
And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!
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CHAPTER ONE
ANTONIO CHATSFIELD SENT silent not interested vibes to the lustrous dark-haired beauty sitting at the bar with her breasts displayed to prominent advantage in her low-cut dress, her kohl-enhanced eyes firmly on him.
Everything about her jangled at his sensitive nerve ends. She was too obvious. Too smooth. Too polished. This whole place was too polished. He cast a jaundiced glance around the dark and sensual bar space of his family’s London flagship hotel. For the past decade he’d been used to surroundings that were more likely to be made of rubble and scented with the stench of chaos, death and panic. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Not now.
He’d chosen to come here for the dark corners and dim lighting as opposed to drinking himself into a stupor in the hotel suite which he currently called home. He smiled grimly to himself: at least he could appreciate the functionality of wanting to numb himself while in the presence of other humans. His therapist would undoubtedly approve.
That functionality had been hard fought for but even now the familiar feeling of skin-prickling clamminess was never too far away for him to forget completely—the stomach-churning terror that used to grip him at random moments, sparked by something as minor as a dog barking or a loud noise, wrenching him out of the present and back to the cataclysmic past.
But the drink wasn’t having much of an effect this evening. It was as if the acerbity inside him was diluting the effects. Even the woman lost interest now, turning her attention to another man who had just arrived at the other end of the bar. Antonio saw them exchange glances and saw the man indicate for the bartender to order her another drink.
Mentally he saluted them. He’d had enough encounters like that in his time. He just wasn’t in the mood for one right now. Something spiked in his gut; he hadn’t been in the mood for longer than he cared to admit, preferring to bury himself in work to avoid the gaping chasm inside him that he used to fill with meaningless encounters and high-octane danger.
He’d only been back in London for a couple of months, after years in exile, albeit punctuated by trips home. He was back because his family was in a state of crisis. His father had installed Christos Giatrakos as CEO to take charge of the family business—a worldwide string of eponymous luxury hotels that had been the byword in glamour and luxury since the 1920s.
The crisis was one of reputation and potential damage to the exclusive Chatsfield brand. Antonio’s younger siblings, with the exception of his sister Lucilla, who had begged him to come and help, were all seemingly hell-bent on various forms of self-destruction amidst screaming headlines and lurid paparazzi shots. God knew, Antonio had indulged in his fair share of self-destruction along the way. He’d also left home when a lot of them were on the cusp of adulthood, so he could hardly judge them now.
Antonio had turned his back on his inheritance a long time ago and had had no intention of taking up the reins again, especially not when the autocratic Greek CEO wanted him to utilise his military and business expertise under the position of head of strategy to orchestrate the resurrection and expansion of the Chatsfield brand.
But his closest sibling, Lucilla, had begged him to reconsider, indicating that it would be the perfect position from which to help her topple the CEO. Apparently Giatrakos didn’t know better than to let the enemy in through the front gate. And Lucilla’s entreaties had called to that part of Antonio that still wanted to make things better. He felt that he’d left it too long to step in and offer to help his other brothers and sister, who were all fully fledged adults by now, but Lucilla had expressly asked him to help her. She wanted to prove to Giatrakos that they could restore the somewhat tarnished Chatsfield name by covertly taking over a rival hotel business, the Kennedy Group, before the shareholders’ meeting in August, demonstrating th
at they had no need of an outsider. And if that meant coming back to a place he’d have preferred never to see again, then so be it.
A familiar ache grew in Antonio’s chest to think of his siblings and how none of them, including himself, had ever really had a chance, let down by their parents long ago. He’d done his best for a while, but it hadn’t been enough.
The old wounds of the blazing row he’d had with his father more than ten years ago were still vivid. That was when he’d realised how futile his efforts were and that perhaps the best thing he could do for his family was to walk away and let them get on with it. As his father had reminded him all too succinctly, Antonio wasn’t his brothers’ and sisters’ father and never would be, so he might as well give up trying.
A mirthless smile touched Antonio’s mouth. His sister Lucilla knew him well. She sensed the guilt he felt for having left his family when he had, even though she’d been the one to urge him to go. She also sensed his restlessness, his rootlessness. But perhaps most of all she was counting on his well-ingrained sense of responsibility still being partly intact. They’d been united in a heavy burden the day their mother had left their home, never to be seen from that day to this.
Antonio, despite all of the other mental images he’d accrued over the past decade, each one more horrific than the last, would never be able to erase the image of teenaged Lucilla holding their newborn baby sister in her arms, tears running down her cheeks. Antonio, she’s gone...just left us here. Alone.
Antonio had been too angry and overwhelmed and scared to say anything, so he’d just pulled Lucilla and their baby sister into his arms, vowing to himself that he wouldn’t let the family fall apart. Whatever it took. He was fifteen at the time.
Disgusted to find his thoughts deviating down that unwelcome path, Antonio downed his drink, telling himself he’d be better off in his suite after all and not infecting the clientele with his surly presence. After all, he was trying to help his sister....
