by Faye Avalon
CHAPTER SIX
‘WHY ARE YOU so determined to be difficult?’
Lola had spent the past twenty minutes video-calling her brother and pleading her case but Damian hadn’t budged. She’d outlined her business plan, given him detailed figures and targets, walked through the accounts she’d kept for the last year while she’d been teaching yoga part-time—but he hadn’t been swayed.
Frustrated beyond measure, Lola had then threatened to instigate proceedings to contest her late uncle’s legal ownership of the property, citing how it had essentially been stolen from their mother. Damian had quickly poured cold water on that, reminding her that it had been contested at the time and that, since her mother had been considered of sound mind when she’d signed over the property, it had been deemed a lawful, if not moral, transaction.
Their father had been angry, although not particularly sympathetic. He’d blamed his wife for not having taken proper care of her assets and allowing the property to fall into her brother’s hands. He hadn’t been in the least bothered that the property meant far more to her mother than its financial value. That she’d intended it to provide a studio for health and wellbeing, a place where people could escape the increasing frenzy of city life.
Not only had her mother suffered the heartbreak of being duped by her only brother, whom she’d trusted and adored, she’d also lost what was to have been Lola’s inheritance. Witnessing her mother’s distress, Lola had vowed to one day make her mother’s dream come true and open a fitness studio in the Cabacal property. Sadly, she’d lost her mother soon after making the vow, but her determination to fulfil her promise had never wavered.
‘This property has done nothing but cause problems for this family,’ Damian said. ‘It caused a huge rift between us and Uncle Guy’s family that I can’t ever see healing, especially now Caroline has been released and has decided to move to Dubai.’
Lola couldn’t find any compassion for her. She’d never liked her cousin and thought her spoiled and mean-spirited. Caroline had always protested her innocence in the embezzlement charges, but Lola didn’t believe that claim for a second, and neither had the judge who had sentenced her to four years in prison.
‘I don’t want the rift healed,’ Lola said. ‘I’ll never forgive Uncle Guy for what he did to Mum, and I’ll never understand how you could accept the role of executor of his will.’
‘Because there’s nobody else,’ Damian said, running a hand through his short, dark hair. ‘Do you think it’s been easy handling his affairs? He’s left a mountain of debt, and the only real asset available for me to work with is the Cabacal.’
Lola could see the turmoil in his green eyes, and she knew that for the past six months since their uncle had died, he’d worked hard to negotiate the estate, and if her brother was finding it problematic then it really was complicated. Damian might be controlling and a bloody pain in her backside but he was one of the most astute businessmen she knew.
‘Which is why my offer to purchase the property makes sense. You can have my trust fund, which basically makes me a cash buyer. There aren’t too many of those around. Any other buyer and you’ll have to wait for loans and mortgages to come through before you get an injection of cash.’
‘I promised Dad that I’d take care of you,’ he said in a tone that indicated he was fast losing his patience. ‘That means not letting you waste your trust fund on some venture that’ll see you broke before you even blink.’
‘How can you say that? Along with my business degrees, I’m a specialist in therapeutic yoga and relaxation techniques. That puts me in a solid position to make my plans work.’
‘New health clubs come and go so fast, it’s hard to keep track,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘The demand for gym classes might be high, but there are far too many establishments offering them already.’
Lola wanted to scream. Gym classes. Gym classes. Her brother really hadn’t been listening to a word she’d said. She wanted so much more for her clients than a good workout. She wanted a place they could unwind from the stresses of life. A soft place to fall when life became overwhelming.
Lola held fast to her own patience. ‘When are you back in London?’ she asked, undaunted by Damian’s persistent refusal to be reasonable. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything concrete until I can go through all my projections with you face to face. You’ll see how thorough they are, and how serious I am about this.’
‘Fitzpatrick is offering over the asking price, and the estate needs every penny it can get.’
‘It shouldn’t even form part of Uncle Guy’s estate. It wasn’t his to own. You can’t feel good about this.’
‘What I feel isn’t the issue,’ Damian said with a sigh, leaning back in that way of his that signalled he was done with the current topic of conversation. ‘Mum signed away the property without telling Dad or even seeking legal advice. Nobody does that.’
‘And nobody expects their brother, their own flesh and blood, to steal from them either.’
‘Look, Louise. The sale of the Cabacal’s a done deal. Connor Fitzpatrick wants the property and he’s in a position to buy it. I spoke with him crack of dawn this morning and we agreed final details. Apart from his signature on the contract, and the transfer of his funds into the estate, it’s in the bag.’
‘You spoke to him this morning?’
When had that happened? She and Connor had been active pretty much all through the night and they’d shared breakfast. The only time they’d been apart was when she’d taken a shower.
Her heart took a major dive. Not just because her plans to obtain the Cabacal first-hand were fading into oblivion, but now she’d slept with Connor. If her only option was reverting to Plan A, and getting him to sell to her when she was in a position to buy, she’d have to tell him who she was. Now he’d think she’d used him and would likely tell her to go take a hike, or something much worse!
Her chest tightened as her breath hitched beneath her ribcage. She didn’t want him to think her a liar, a manipulator, a cheat, but he would, and that made her feel hollow inside.
She called on her yoga background, reminding herself that the ancient practice taught calmness even in the midst of challenging situations. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth as she mentally counted to six.
She couldn’t believe that Damian had gone ahead with the sale to Connor, and it hurt so much to think that he wouldn’t even consider her plans for the property. But since it was fruitless arguing with Damian any longer, she ended the call.
With a huge sigh of frustration, she sat back and thought about what Damian had told her about Connor. He’d said Connor was owed the property, and despite feeling she was owed too, this intrigued her. What exactly had gone on between Connor and her uncle that Connor would offer above market value to purchase the Cabacal? Why would he want any reminders of his past there? Why would he want anything more to do with it?
If she’d been falsely accused of embezzlement, she would want to erase the whole sorry episode from her mind.
But then it wasn’t really her business. Her business was to work out her next steps.
She sipped her coffee, considering. She could go ahead with her original plan, and ask Connor to sell the Cabacal to her, or she could start looking at other properties.
No. The latter wasn’t an option. If she gave up on the Cabacal it would be like letting her mother down.
Her mother had been a gentle soul, less interested in profit and loss than she was in helping people and making them happy. Having her soft heart used against her by a money-grabbing brother, who’d known his sister wouldn’t question whether he had anything other than good intentions, had been unconscionable.
Furious, Lola shoved the coffee away. The fight wasn’t over yet. There was no way she was backing off. One way or another, she was getting her mother’s property back.
Which meant there was only one thing for it.
Plan A was back on the table.
Connor would think she’d had sex with him in an attempt to seduce him into selling to her. He’d never believe she’d slept with him because she wanted to, because she was attracted to him, because she liked him.
She had to make him understand why she needed the Cabacal so much, and convince him that she’d only given in to the attraction between them once she’d believed she could convince Damian to sell her the property outright. The fact her plan had gone belly-up had now left her in a precarious position.
Speaking of precarious positions... Her mind skipped back to last night. The sex had been hot, no arguing with that, but being with Connor had been...fun. Despite the blip when she’d glimpsed that edgy side to him—something locked down, unfathomable, untouchable, controlling—she’d really loved his quick wit, his playful manner. He was exciting, adventurous. He’d made sex fun as well as wickedly erotic.
She hadn’t experienced that before.
Her first time had been with a fellow undergrad who had been studying applied mathematics and had done everything, including sex, with precision and measured skill. It hadn’t been the most exciting way to lose her virginity, but at least he was thorough.
Her second lover had been a guy she’d met while doing her MBA. He’d been studying for a doctorate and she’d had a feeling he’d enjoyed their conversations more than the sex, although when he had applied himself the sex generally had been satisfactory.
At least, that was what she’d thought until last night.
From now on, considering her plans, she’d have to keep any future interaction with Connor on a hands-off basis.
Regardless of anything else, she had to come clean.
She went into her tiny bedroom and started dressing for her midday yoga class, knowing that afterwards she’d have to contact Connor. She wasn’t certain what concerned her the most. Facing his hostility when she told him the truth, or hurting him by doing so.
Whatever it was, she’d just have to deal with it.
* * *
Connor left his brother Logan’s law office satisfied that the paperwork Damian McBride had emailed over to him was in order. Even though he liked Damian, and knew that the man was not a great fan of his late uncle or his business methods, Connor wasn’t taking any chances, which was why he’d asked his brother to take a look at the contract.
While Logan specialised in family law, he’d worked for major players in the world of politics and commerce and for A-list celebs. Connor was satisfied that, if his brother gave the okay, all was solid and above board.
He thought about celebrating his win by heading across London to view his soon-to-be acquisition. He could stand and stare at the place, imagine it being bulldozed. At first Connor had thought about renovating; the place hadn’t been empty long enough that it couldn’t be rescued. But the thought of tearing it down was just too satisfying to dismiss.
Maybe he’d ask to operate the wrecking ball, take the first swing to demolish concrete and stone. How satisfying would that be? Perhaps, as the first brick crumbled, as the first wall fell, he would gain that elusive sense of liberation from his past. Feel his anger and frustration fade as the building leveled.
He’d rebuild, of course. No sense buying prime real estate in the capital and doing nothing with it. Apartments, perhaps. Something far removed from what it had been five years ago—an outwardly high-end casino which, he’d painfully discovered, had been used for nefarious purposes.
His hands fisted, chest tightening. He wanted that damn place. He wanted every last piece of what it had been and what it represented obliterated from the face of the earth.
Images came unbidden, filling his head with old and painful memories. Caroline standing beside the baccarat table, her green eyes lit with the knowledge that she’d successfully primed him to take the fall for her father’s and her duplicity. The realisation that she’d professed to love him only to stab him in the back. The cops arriving to read him his rights...
Deliberately, he uncurled his fingers and took a deep breath. No point looking back. Everything was set to move forward to his satisfaction. Which made today a fucking good day.
He considered walking to the nearest of his clubs. His back was acting up this morning and a walk usually eased it. He could use the time to finalise details of Logan’s stag party, make sure everything would be on point for his brother’s last shot at freedom. Why the hell he wanted to tie himself down, Connor had no idea. Okay, Connor liked April well enough, and his future sister-in-law seemed like a good person. Most importantly, she made his brother happy.
Logan was a hero in Connor’s book. His oldest brother had done everything in his power to keep their family together when their parents had taken off, leaving five children to fend for themselves. That, and the fact that Logan had saved him from the lash of his father’s belt too many times to remember.
His brother was the only person Connor trusted.
He hailed a cab, sat back, and closed his eyes. The sun played across his lids, helping his muscles relax. He fought the pull of sleep as the cab trundled through the busy traffic, his drugged thoughts rolling back to the previous night and the reason for his current fatigue.
Lola.
Shit, but that woman was something else. Hot. Adventurous. Inexhaustible.
And fuck was she flexible, he thought with a grin. Bending her body with effortless ease and making him lose his damn mind as she took him to paradise...
Paradise? When had he ever used words like that? It was sex. That was all it was. Good, dirty, passionate, energetic sex.
His cock strained against his zipper and he shifted. He’d known he wouldn’t be disappointed. When she’d left that morning, she’d made absolutely no demands to see him again. No hints that, although they’d agreed only to one night, maybe there could be more. No suggestions that they could hook up again some time if they were both at a loose end.
None of that. They’d shared breakfast. She’d kissed him, tossed him a smile and left his apartment. She was a female version of him. For some reason, that pissed him off.
He’d fought against her wanting to direct proceedings, yet he really shouldn’t have concerned himself. She’d shown a determination to satisfy them both. The problem he’d had was more to do with her inherent softness, and he was suspicious of that. Who could blame him? He’d promised himself he’d never again be taken in by face value attributes. Yet Lola seemed genuine, which in itself rang warning bells and cautioned him to keep his instincts sharpened.
While she shot from the hip, she had conflicting layers: strength, gentleness, wildness, caution. All part of the fascination that made her so damn sexy, but which confused the hell out of him. Not that he should concern himself with that, either. They’d both understood it was temporary and no-strings sex.
Yeah...so why was he leaning forward and tapping the glass to direct the driver to her place? Except he didn’t know exactly where her place was, apart from what he’d overheard her tell the driver last night which was basically just the street and general location. What the hell was he going to do? Knock on every door until he found out where she lived?
Part of him warned he was pushing things, crossing a line by trying to track her down. The thing was, he wanted to see her again. Really wanted to see her again. Now that he had her in his head, he couldn’t resist the opportunity for another meet. He wanted more of those conflicting layers, another chance to get a handle on who she really was.
More fool him.
Fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled up outside one of several tall terraced houses in a long row of similar residences. Connor paid the fare and got out.
As the taxi sped away, he stood on the pavement and surveyed the nearest building, wishing he’d thought to grab her mobile number so he would
n’t be standing like an idiot on a busy London street in the middle of the goddamn day, wondering what the devil his next step was.
But asking for her number would have suggested he wanted more. Would have given her the impression he was interested in seeing her again.
Yeah, and standing outside her place isn’t doing that at all, is it, Einstein?
Connor pushed back his jacket and slid his hands into his trouser pockets, looking up at the property like some kind of demented estate agent, hoping it housed Lola’s place.
With no real plan, he strolled up the half-dozen stone steps and glanced at the panel by the side of the door. He scanned the list of names but didn’t see Lola’s.
So, what did he do? Press every bell and ask for her? How the heck would that sound, some stranger pressing bells and requesting a woman in the middle of the day? Not suspicious at all.
Ten minutes later, he was sure that someone had probably already called the police. He’d tried to use his best appeasing tone and had been surprised at the trusting nature of several occupants he’d already tried. Other occupants seemed less unsuspecting.
One woman had demanded his name, his mobile number and the exact nature of his business before telling him to get lost when he’d said he was looking for a woman called Lola.
By the time he hit pay dirt, he was sure that he’d be hauled away in a wailing cop car any moment and would spend the night in the nearest nick. As he pressed what he decided would probably be the last button before he called it quits, memories hit him. A cold cell, echoing walls, drunken shouts of innocence from his neighbours.
He remembered the icy slab he’d slept on, the numerous questions, the looks of suspicion aimed at him from police officers, until Connor had finally caved and asked for his lawyer.
It had seemed like hours before Connor even knew what he’d been charged with—longer still until Logan had arrived and demanded to know what the hell was going on.
