by Carrie Elks
‘Because I want to show you off. I want to show them I’m a winner, with a beautiful, intelligent woman by my side.’ Releasing her wrists, he cupped her face in his hands, brushing the softest almost-kiss across her lips. ‘Will you come to the ball, Cinderella?’
His eyes were blinding. She felt herself sinking into him, as though the two of them were made of molten iron. Tough, almost impossible to crack, and yet somehow becoming one.
She thought of the fact she’d be flying home on Sunday morning. About the fact his estranged family would be at the gala, staring at him, hating him, treating him like shit. Her whole body tensed up. Logically, she knew Lachlan MacLeish was more than capable of taking care of himself. The way his muscles flexed beneath her body was enough to prove that. And yet she felt a primal need to protect him – or at least the boy he’d once been. The same urge she felt with her sisters.
Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she nodded, swallowing to alleviate the dryness of her throat. Even still, her voice was croaky when she spoke. ‘Of course I’ll come with you.’
The smile she got back in return was blinding.
He wrapped her in his arms, her back to his front, his biceps strong against her sides. His legs pressed against hers, so that he was mirroring her position, the dessertspoon to her teaspoon. She could feel her chest tighten as the sensation of him holding her, his body almost like a shield to ward away evil.
She wasn’t used to feeling protected. Wasn’t used to being taken care of. But the sensation made her feel warm inside, as though he’d lit a fire inside her that wasn’t ever going out.
She was falling in love with Lachlan MacLeish. She had seen through the persona he showed the world, broken down the skin he used to protect himself, and had glimpsed the man beneath.
Maybe Jenn was wrong. Maybe this time it was different. Because Lucy was in love with him and she had no idea what to do with that thought.
‘Damn, we’re out of coffee.’ Lachlan slammed the cupboard door closed, the crockery inside rattling in protest at his vehemence. ‘This is what happens when I give the housekeeper a week off. My life goes to hell.’
Lucy crossed her bare legs as she sat on his kitchen stool, leaning on the countertop. She was wearing only his white shirt and a pair of panties she’d found at the top of her case. ‘Why did you give her the week off?’
He turned to look at her, his face heated. ‘Because when I’m having sex with you against the back of the sofa, I prefer not to be interrupted.’
She stifled a laugh. ‘I guess we’ll have to go without coffee then.’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘That’s not an option. Without coffee I can’t concentrate. And we have a lot to do today.’
She frowned, swinging her leg back and forth. ‘I thought we were just going dress shopping?’ Not her choice – but she had nothing suitable for the kind of event Saturday would turn out to be.
‘We are,’ he said, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacket. ‘But we’ll both need some sustenance. I have very specific tastes when it comes to clothing.’
‘Me too,’ she said, tipping her head to the side. ‘This could be interesting.’
‘Everything about you is interesting.’ He pressed his lips to hers. ‘Now get back to bed and I’ll bring your coffee in there. We’ve got four hours until our appointment at Bergdorf’s.’
‘And we’ve got work to do, too.’ She couldn’t help but feel guilty at all those emails piling up in her inbox. Even though she was supposed to be on holiday, she still needed to keep things in check. Her career depended on it.
‘It can wait.’ He slid his keys from the counter, stuffing them in his jeans pocket. He looked every inch the rich, casual boyfriend. Hair still wet from the shower, jeans and shirt expensively tailored. He’d shaved the night before, but the smoothness of his jaw had been roughened by a shadow of beard growth. Sometimes she had to pinch herself to realise she wasn’t watching some cologne advert whenever he was around.
But like an advertisement, their time together was all too brief. It was already Wednesday – and it felt as though she’d barely been here any time at all. It would be the weekend within a blink of an eye, and before she knew it she’d be flying back to Edinburgh. Like in The Wizard of Oz, she’d click her red heels to leave the beautiful colourful land to return to a black-and-white life.
Stop it, she told herself. It wasn’t a dull existence. She’d worked hard to get everything she had – a beautiful apartment, a fabulous job, a family she loved more than life itself. And she’d still have Lachlan, just from afar for a while.
She swung down from her perch on the stool, her bare feet padding against the warm, polished wooden floor. She was almost at the bedroom when she heard the sharp trill of a phone.
Lachlan’s phone.
Turning, she saw it lighting up on the counter, the case vibrating against the marble with every ring. He must have forgotten to take with him. Curiosity pulled her closer, until she could read the name printed in black against the lit-up screen.
Grant.
Without thinking it through, she swiped to answer it, lifting the handset to her ear. ‘Lachlan MacLeish’s phone.’
‘Er…’ Grant seemed momentarily nonplussed by her answering. ‘Lucy, is that you?’
‘Hi, Grant. Lachlan went out for a minute. He forgot to take his phone. Can I take a message?’
Grant let out a loud sigh. ‘Damn. Do you know when he’ll be back?’
Alarmed at his tone, Lucy found herself standing up straighter. ‘He won’t be long. Is there a problem?’
‘He’s supposed to be in a meeting. These guys have flown over from Germany especially. I sent him an email last night reminding him.’ Grant’s anger was palpable. She felt goosebumps rise up on her skin.
‘I don’t think he read them.’
‘But he always reads his emails.’ His voice rose up an octave.
‘Okay.’ She didn’t want to argue with him. He was Lachlan’s childhood friend, even if he was being a bit over the top. ‘Well, I’ll get him to call you as soon as he gets back.’
‘Can’t you go find him?’
‘He’s just out buying coffee.’ She ran her finger in the figure of eight around the marble countertop. ‘He’ll be back soon.’
‘Coffee?’ He coughed loudly. ‘Seriously?’
‘He wouldn’t have missed it on purpose. I’ll make sure he calls you the minute he gets back.’
‘I’m sorry, Lucy, I don’t mean to be bitching at you. I just don’t understand it. This company is everything to him, and I don’t want him to mess it up.’ Grant paused for a moment, then gave another long sigh. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure it will be fine. Just ignore me.’
‘He wouldn’t mess it up,’ Lucy said, her voice certain. ‘Success means everything to him.’
The same way it had to her. Or it had used to, before Glencarraig and that stolen night in his bedroom. After that, she’d been in a state, not knowing what was important any more.
And now look at her, staying here with an ex-client even though the gossips back at Robinson and Balfour must have been working overtime. Her heart started to beat faster, as though it was knocking on a door in her ribcage. They were doing the right thing.
Weren’t they?
‘I’ll get him to call you back as soon as he’s here,’ she said, her voice low. Her eyes flicked up to the door, leading from the hallway. It remained stubbornly unmoving. Her stomach, however, was a different matter. It lurched inside her as though she was stepping off a roller coaster, her abdomen contracting as a sense of foreboding came over her.
Lachlan had been neglecting his work for weeks. She had, too, for that matter.
Reality was tapping on the door, and as much as she was trying to ignore the noise, it was only a matter of time before it burst its way into their lives.
27
When sorrows come, they come not single
spies, but in battalions
&n
bsp; – Hamlet
With the floor-length dress bag in one hand, Lucy raised the other to hail a cab. The bright yellow car pulled up to the kerb, and she climbed inside, being careful not to wrinkle the dress. She’d barely fastened her seatbelt before the driver pulled away, weaving his way through the lunchtime traffic. As he took a turn down a side street, joining a line of cars who’d all had the same idea, Lucy stared out of the window at the shop displays. Almost immediately something caught her eye. She leaned closer, trying to see if it was what she thought it was.
‘Hey, can you stay here for a minute?’ she asked.
The driver looked at her warily, sliding his eyes to her newly purchased dress. ‘If you leave that I will. And the meter stays on.’
‘Okay then. I won’t be long.’
Grabbing her purse she ran into the shop, seeking out an assistant as she looked at all the stock lining the shelves. A rapid conversation later, plus a hefty bill on her Visa card, she left carrying her delicate purchase in a cushioned box, climbing back into the cab and nodding for the driver to go on. ‘Thanks for waiting,’ she told him.
He muttered something unintelligible and put his foot on the gas.
They were only a few minutes away from Lachlan’s apartment when her phone rang. She couldn’t hide her smile when she saw his name on her screen. ‘Hello?’
‘How’s the shopping going?’ he asked her.
‘It’s done. I found the right dress.’ She glanced at the long black dress bag; emblazoned with the signature Bergdorf logo. Zipped inside was a strapless gold floor-length gown, ruched at the bust, tight on the waist and then flowing like champagne down to the ground. As soon as she’d tried it on she’d just known it was the one. From the coos of the assistant, he’d thought so too.
‘What’s it like?’ Lachlan asked, his voice distracted. ‘Can you send me a photo?’
‘No. You don’t get to see it until the night. It’s bad luck.’
He laughed. ‘I think you’ll find that’s a wedding dress.’ His voice became muffled, as though he was covering the mouthpiece. ‘Grant, can you book a table for four at Barouche? We’ll eat at seven.’
While Lachlan carried on his conversation with Grant, Lucy watched the world pass by, enjoying the view. She’d come here by subway – in spite of Lachlan’s disapproval – wanting to see if it was just like in the movies. But there was no way she wanted to carry this pretty dress into the depths of the tunnels.
‘Did I tell you how happy I am that you’re coming to the gala?’ he asked her, his conversation with Grant clearly over.
‘You did.’ She smiled at his excitement, remembering how he’d looked at her when she’d said yes. Like a child opening his Christmas presents.
‘It means a lot to me,’ he said softly. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. And what are your plans for the afternoon?’
‘I’ll be in meetings all afternoon,’ Lachlan said. ‘And then we have dinner with my German customers.’
‘We do?’
‘Yes, we do. I won’t make it home before then, but I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up at six thirty.’
‘I don’t need a car. I’ll get there myself, just text me the address.’
‘I’m not having you walk the streets in a sexy dress and heels.’
‘Who said I’m wearing a sexy dress and heels?’ She smiled, toying with him.
‘I did.’
‘I can’t wait to see your face when I turn up in jeans and a sweater.’ An ambulance weaved past, sirens blazing. ‘Sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.’
‘I said my face will look perfectly normal if you turn up in jeans and a sweater. You look beautiful in anything.’
She opened her mouth to reply, but the words remained stubbornly silent. Sometimes he could take her breath away with just a sentence.
‘That sounds like a good place to end the conversation,’ she said, grinning widely. ‘I don’t think you can top that.’
He laughed. ‘I can try. What are your plans for this afternoon? You want me to organise anything?’
She still wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or flattered at the way he always offered to do things for her. It was taking some getting used to.
‘I’m going to do some work,’ she said firmly. ‘If I want a job to go back to that is.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ he said, his voice light. ‘That way I can keep you here for ever.’
‘As tempting as that may sound, I’m not the type to be a kept woman.’ Though the thought of staying with him made her feel warm. She didn’t even want to think about how she’d feel getting on that plane on Sunday. Instead, she tucked it away deep inside her. Something to think about another day.
‘Well, don’t work too hard,’ he told her. ‘And if you get bored, call Grant, and he can arrange for a car to take you anywhere.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘I know you can, but I like to take care of you.’ His voice was as soft as velvet. She closed her eyes, remembering the previous night, how safe she’d felt in his arms. She could almost feel his hard biceps wrapped around her and his lips feathering the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder as she gently drifted to sleep.
God, I love you.
It took her a moment to realise she’d said the words out loud. They hung in the air like a stale odour. Lachlan cleared his throat, but said nothing.
Lucy waited a moment, unsure of what to do. Should she laugh, take it back? The cab pulled up at a stop light, the engine idling as the red light diffused over them, matching the blush on her cheeks.
She was such an idiot.
‘I’ve got to go to a meeting,’ Lachlan said, sounding awkward as hell. ‘Don’t forget the car at six thirty. I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘Okay,’ she replied, still kicking herself for saying those damn words out loud. ‘I’ll see you then.’
Lachlan slid his phone into his pocket, his jaw tight. Did she really just say she loved him? He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, the way it did after he’d finished a ten-mile run. Yes, she’d said it.
So why hadn’t he said it back? As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth he’d been like a scared kid, frozen in place. He hadn’t known what to say at all.
Grant popped his head around the door. ‘Your visitors are back from lunch. I’ve put them in the boardroom. Marcus should be joining you soon.’
Lachlan nodded. ‘I’ll be there in five minutes.’ Finishing his half-empty mug of coffee, he looked out of the window, staring down at the city below.
She was out there and she loved him. And he cared deeply about her, too. He might not have been able to say the words yet – even the thought of it panicked him – but maybe he could show her. And tonight, when they were back at his apartment, he planned to do exactly that.
She wasn’t sure she recognised the girl staring back at her. Her hair was wet, hanging in a damp curtain past her shoulders. Her face was freshly scrubbed, glowing from the shower. She looked healthy, she looked happy.
She looked like somebody she used to know.
Behind her, the steam was still drifting in the air, a leftover effect of her over-long stay in the shower. Her skin could still feel the heated blades of water that had crashed down from the rainfall showerhead, her cells tingling with the tactile memory. She looked around the room – at the expensive ceramic wear, the perfectly laid marble tiles, the beautifully fragrant toiletries that Lachlan had bought for her to use.
Wrapping a towel around her hair and tucking it in, she grabbed a bathrobe and slid her arms inside, blushing when she knotted the belt around her waist. That night in Paris when he’d used a very similar belt to tie her to the bed didn’t seem so long ago. And yet it seemed like forever, too.
She was walking back into the bedroom when her phone rang, buzzing on the dressing table where she’d left it. Smiling, she walked towards it, expecting to see Lachlan’s name flashing o
n the screen.
But instead, it was her sister, Cesca.
Something made her hand freeze in the air as she reached for it. A sense of foreboding, maybe? Whatever it was, her fingers trembled as she finally picked it up, the cellphone almost slipping out of her grasp.
‘Cesca, is everything okay?’
A second’s silence was followed by a sob.
‘Cesca?’ she said again, her chest tightening at her sister’s cries. ‘Are you still in London?’ Just hearing her sister’s gasping breaths was enough to send a shot of ice-cold panic through her veins. ‘Are you with dad? Is he all right?’