by Sofia Grey
By lunchtime, they’d done as much as humanly possible. It was now down to the cleaning teams to clear up, and the techs to create a replica datacentre on the second floor, the only level with a decent amount of space. Replacement kit was being carried in, and there was an entire team of communications specialists wiring and establishing internal and external connectivity. Physical security was going out of the window for the moment, and Aiden was looking at increasing the guards.
Marianne and Aiden both looked exhausted. Marcus checked that everyone left was on top of their tasks, and whisked his team upstairs. He made fresh coffee, and they sat down for the first time that morning.
“Well, guys”—he tried to sound cheerful—“we’ve got a party to go to.”
Marianne groaned. “I really don’t feel in a party mood, can’t we cancel? If we work all weekend, we may have a semblance of a working network again by Monday.”
Going back to bed was Marcus’s preferred option, but there was business to attend to. “Part of our weekend away is to brief Jordan. I’m sorry, but we’re still going.”
Marianne and Aiden both yawned and drank the coffee.
Marcus did the same and tried to focus. “We meet at Heathrow for the two twenty shuttle to Manchester. We still have a two- to three-hour drive at the other end.”
Aiden disappeared a few minutes later, leaving Marcus alone with Marianne. He gazed at her. Without makeup, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she looked younger and more vulnerable. Heart-stoppingly beautiful.
She gave him a weary smile. “I need a shower.”
“Me too.” He reached out, took her hand, and examined her fingers one at a time.
“What are you looking for?”
“Huh?” He looked up. “Enjoying the feel of your hand—that’s all.” It had been a long day, and they still had more ahead. “Come on. Let’s head back to my apartment. If I fall asleep in the cab, don’t bother waking me.”
* * * *
Friday had been another late night for Alex, with lots of noisy catching up with the guys. He stopped drinking after a couple of beers, determined to avoid a hangover in the morning, and woke early, while the rest of the house was still quiet.
Another riff nudged at his brain. It eluded him all week, and this time he hoped to capture it before it vanished. He grabbed the PRS and settled in the studio, picking his fingers along the strings. It worked best if he let the music flow by itself, rather than trying to force it.
He heard a sound in the doorway and glanced up, remembering belatedly that he now had a houseful of people. It was Sylvie, and she looked different this morning. It wasn’t just the massive T-shirt that hung to her knees—probably Rico’s—leaving slim brown legs peeping out underneath. A brilliant smile stretched across her face, little dimples showed in her cheeks, and her eyes gleamed. This was a girl in love. Who probably made love all night, judging by that satisfied expression.
His heart ached a little. How would it feel, to have a girl look at him like that?
“I’m going back to bed in a minute,” she said. “I’m making coffee and toast first. You want some?”
“Yeah, please. But hang on a minute.” He closed his eyes and tried to summon the riff again. There it was. He played it a couple of times and opened his eyes to see Sylvie smiling at him.
“I love it. What is it?”
“Dunno. It’s part of my new set.” Alex stretched, put the PRS on its stand, and went to join her. “You make the coffee; I’ll do the toast.”
“Deal.” Her tinkling laugh led him upstairs.
They moved easily around the kitchen together, and Alex asked how she felt about the gig tonight.
“I’m looking forward to it, I think.” She spun to face him. “Alex, do you mind if Rico and I go out this morning, for a little while? Or are we rehearsing again?”
“We’ve got time for a last-minute session after lunch. You’re fine to go out.”
“Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It happened so quickly, he was startled, surprised, and flattered at once. Next thing she’d poured coffee, loaded up a tray with their breakfast, and was gone, back to her lover.
Part III - In the spotlight
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sylvie made the most of her stolen few hours with Rico. After another sparring session in the garden, they went for a drive to explore the area. They found a small and sheltered beach, surrounded by towering rocky cliffs, and walked happily on the sand together. They were the only people out there.
Rico refused to talk about work, and that suited Sylvie.
Back at Alex’s house, she cooked a mountain of bacon and eggs, and served lunch for the band, Rico, and the two Polish roadies. Jan and Andrei both spoke accented English and were unfailingly polite. Mick and Charlie were lively and soon engaged Rico in conversation, while Alex looked pale and withdrawn.
After the final rehearsal that afternoon, the roadies packed up the gear and loaded it into the van. They split up to get changed and ready for the party.
Sylvie’s outfit was easy, since she only had a tiny selection of clothes. She opted for the skin-tight black jeans and spike-heeled boots, with a form-fitting black T-shirt and her much-loved biker jacket. When she let her hair dry naturally, it fell into waves and curls, and that was how she wanted it today.
By four o’clock, it was time to walk over to Jordan’s. In black-tie formal wear, Rico looked as though he was going to a movie premiere, and Sylvie gazed at him in wonder.
Kate and Jordan had a huge wedding tent in their garden, complete with garden heaters, wooden floorboards, and a raised little stage. It looked amazing. Everyone, apart from the roadies and the rest of the band, was dressed up. Party-goers and wait-staff buzzed everywhere, and Sylvie wandered through the crowd, soaking up the atmosphere. In an hour, she’d be playing live with Event Horizon. Her first gig. Nothing could ever top this. She wished her brothers could be there to see her. They’d be so proud. Envious too, but hey—she could live with that.
Charlie waved to her, and she waved back. How was Alex doing? He was so pale earlier, she wondered if he was going to throw up. He refused the lunch she made, and she tried to keep an eye on him, but that was impossible.
Rico was busy talking with Jordan, so she set off to find Alex. Charlie and Mick last saw him at the house. Kate hadn’t seen him at all, and she greeted everyone who arrived.
Where was he?
Anxiety churned in Sylvie’s stomach. Something was wrong; she knew it.
She ran back to Alex’s house and checked there. The place was empty. He wasn’t in the garden and didn’t have a car, so he couldn’t have driven anywhere. She racked her brains... Surely not.
Worry beat a rhythm in her blood. She had to find him. She removed her boots and socks, rolled up her jeans to mid-calf, and followed the path to the bottom of Alex’s garden—over the wall, up and down the sand dune, and onto the beach. She was glad she took off her boots. They’d be impossible on sand. She searched the deserted beach for any sight of him, and there he was, a solitary figure standing at the water’s edge in the rapidly fading light.
She found him. Relief made her giddy. She jogged over the sand to his side and darted out in front of him, to get his attention.
“—the fuck?” Eyes wide and startled, he looked as though he’d seen a ghost.
“Alex?” Sylvie reached out to hold his arm. “What happened? Are you okay?”
He stared at the grey and choppy sea. “I can’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Play.” His gaze was fixed on the horizon.
The sea breeze whipped Sylvie’s hair into knots, and she held it back from her face. “What are you talking about? We’re going to be late. Come on.”
He finally turned to face her. “You’ve nothing on your feet.”
“My boots ain’t made for walking on sand. Alex, what’s the matter? Tell me.”
He made a dismissive ge
sture with his hands. “It’s your first gig. How come you aren’t nervous?”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m too excited to be nervous.”
“Cute.” His lips curved in a hint of a smile, but it slid off again.
Sylvie remembered him saying how stressful he found it before a concert, but this looked more than pre-performance nerves. She couldn’t walk away and leave him; it wasn’t right. There was only one thing she could try, and that might backfire.
She slipped her arm through his and gave him a little squeeze. “Alex, do you remember that little speech you gave me? The one about not letting Kate and Jordan down?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, I’m not letting you spoil things for them.”
He shook himself free, a flash of anger across his face. “How can you say that? What gives you the right to...” He hesitated, and she jumped in.
“To remind you of your responsibilities?”
“You don’t understand.” His voice was etched in pain.
Sylvie had to swallow around the lump in her throat. She knew this lovely, generous man who’d been so kind to her was hurting. “Please tell me.”
“I’ve never performed without Sam. He was my baby brother. It was my job to look out for him, and I couldn’t even do that.”
She gave up trying to restrain her hair, and let it fly free. There were worse things in life than tangled hair. She wanted to keep Alex talking. Keep the communication going. “I’m sorry.” She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “So sorry. And I can’t take his place—please don’t think I’m trying to do that. Why don’t we dedicate tonight’s performance to Sam? Play in his memory?”
He didn’t jerk away from her touch this time and seemed to consider her suggestion.
Sylvie shivered. She was two breaths away from her teeth chattering. “We are going to play for Kate and Jordan, and we are not going to let them down. Do you hear me?”
His dark eyes searched her face, and she gave into instinct. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him for a moment. “We can do this. We’ll do it for Sam.” The embrace felt natural.
Alex held her tight, his breath warm on her chilled neck, then released her. His face serious, he rubbed at his chin and let out a shuddering breath. He opened his mouth, as though to speak, but clamped it shut again. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Okay.”
It was official—she couldn’t feel her toes. Frostbite was probably imminent, but Sylvie wasn’t moving until Alex did. Her heart in her mouth, she waited and watched the expressions flying across his face. Doubt, pain, and sadness. She’d never dealt with that kind of grief; she couldn’t imagine how it would feel to lose one of her brothers. They were giant pains in the ass, but she loved them.
Alex shivered and seemed to snap out of his stupor, and Sylvie threaded her arm through his again.
“We going?” she asked, and he nodded.
They only walked a couple of steps before he stopped. She looked up at him.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
It felt like the sun coming out.
* * * *
Marcus pretended to sleep on the short flight to Manchester, only half listening to Marianne chatting with Aiden. He wanted a little time to himself, to order his thoughts before he saw Louisa.
Sitting beside Marianne, having the scent of her perfume wrapped around him, but being unable to touch her, was torture of the most exquisite kind. If Marcus wanted her—to have a real relationship with her—he needed to make it clear. Make sure Marianne had no doubt of his intentions.
To do that, he had to finish things with Louisa.
Marcus tried to be objective—to sift through the possibilities in an analytical fashion. If he took emotions out of the equation, it worked. He would ask for a divorce, negotiate visiting rights for Ted, and be generous with the settlement. He had some savings. Not a fortune, but enough to smooth things over.
Ted. Fuck, he was going to miss his little boy. He’d never imagined how amazing it could feel to have his son run towards him, face alight, like Marcus was the most important person in the universe. Would Ted understand? Hell no. But he was young. The best age to adapt to a breakup.
Should he tell Louisa this weekend? Not when they were celebrating Jon and Anita’s wedding. Next weekend? It was Thanksgiving soon, and they’d agreed to spend the holiday weekend with Jordan and Kate. Announcing a separation would put a downer on that. Maybe the weekend after that? He had to tell her face to face. He might be an unfaithful piece of shit, but he couldn’t dump his wife by email.
Marcus sorted out a rental car at the airport, and they set off for Rhosneigr. If the traffic was light, they might get there around six, with the bulk of the evening ahead. There should be time to freshen up and get changed.
It was pitch dark before they arrived, but he’d driven these roads plenty of times and knew where he was going. The closer they came, the darker his thoughts. Louisa had to notice he was different. Was he capable of lying to her face? He needed to tell Marianne of his plans. His timeline. He wished Aiden wasn’t there, so Marcus could talk freely to his lover.
Was Marianne on the same page as him? She hadn’t mentioned the ex again, but she’d been specific about meeting him next week. Clear about finishing with Marcus.
Why didn’t he push the issue about her ex, when he had the chance?
He dragged his thoughts back to work, and more stress crept in. Marcus needed Jordan to come back and had to figure out the best way to pitch that idea. Lying to Jordan was another tick in the asshole column for him. Mutual honesty was the cornerstone of their long-standing friendship. Or at least, it had been.
Marcus did a double-take when he saw Jordan’s house and garden. They were transformed. A giant white tent filled the front garden, lit up from within and with twinkling lights draped around the outside. People spilled across the path, walking in and out of the house. All the windows blazed light, wait staff bustled around with trays of food and drinks, and what sounded like live music was being played.
He parked in one of the few remaining gaps on the driveway, and they disembarked.
He gave Marianne’s hand a squeeze, and she smiled at him. “We’ll make time to talk,” he said in a low voice, “but it may not be until we’re back in London.”
She nodded, but it did little to quiet the storm of nerves churning in his gut. God, how he wanted this weekend to be over.
He saw Kate as they walked into the house. She squealed with delight and came over for a hug. “You made it at last. I was scared you’d miss the band.”
“Sounds like they’ve started.” He managed a smile.
“They’re the warm-up act; we’ve another band playing later. They’ll be on in around twenty minutes. You’re going to love them.”
Marcus did the introductions, and then Kate took charge. “I’ll show Marianne to our en-suite. Marcus, you and Aiden use the upstairs bathroom and your bedroom for changing, but do be quick. Jordan’s got a few words to say. I’ll tell him you’re here, and he’ll hang on until you come down.”
She beamed at him, and Marcus had never seen her so animated before. “Louisa is in the tent somewhere,” she continued. “I’ll tell her you’ve arrived.”
He was relieved she didn’t seem to need an answer.
Come on, he told himself as he changed into his tux. He needed his game face on.
Marianne lurked in the hallway when he and Aiden came out. “I didn’t like to go in on my own.” She smiled at them both, and Marcus felt his mouth go dry. Christ and all the saints, she was stunning in eveningwear.
She wore a long, black, sleeveless dress, with a rounded neckline and a swirling skirt. It hugged her every curve while looking severe, but then she spun on her toes and showed them the view from behind. A lace panel ran down to the small of her back—no bra on tonight—and the waist section was ruched and gathered, with a second lace panel running from the top of her thighs into a fishtail near the floor. Holy f
uck, she couldn’t have any panties on. No lines were visible.
Aiden let out a low whistle of admiration, while Marcus made a strangled noise that he tried to turn into a cough.
Damn. He was hard at the thought of peeling that dress off her. How the fuck would he last the night and then go to bed with Louisa and pretend everything was still okay?
* * * *
Marianne gazed around the inside of the tent. What a fabulous idea for a winter party. Whoever planned it made it feel like summer, down to the giant barbecues outside, busy grilling steaks and chicken wings. Her stomach rumbled at the food smells.
Aiden chuckled by her side. “Not what I was expecting,” he said, raising his voice above the band on stage.
She flashed him a smile. “Me either. Dance with me later?” She’d pretend Aiden was her date tonight. He was a nice guy, and they got on okay. He was good for a few dances and to chat with over drinks. Nothing more.
Tonight was step one of the weaning-herself-off-Marcus programme. It didn’t help that he kept accidentally-on-purpose brushing against her. Every little touch sent her pulse skyrocketing.
Live music would help buoy her flagging spirits. The young guys on the tiny stage were winding up a good rendition of a Beatles number, and people were dancing. She’d lose herself in the music, and before she knew it, she’d be meeting up with AJ again.
“There’s Jordan.” Marcus spoke into her ear, his breath teasing her neck. It made her think of the night before and the way he played with her. Fuck. She’d loved every second of that.
No more Marcus.
She dragged back her attention. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Jordan. Have you met him yet?”
“No.”
“Looks like he’s doing his speech now. I’ll introduce you later.” Marcus slid his fingers over her hand, and she gritted her teeth. Did he know what he was doing to her? Probably. He could read her like a book. One with giant print and illustrations—big arrows that said touch me here and don’t stop.
