‘Watch your tongue, boy,’ the Earl snarled.
Lukas stood his ground. The old man might intimidate most people—even himself as a twelve-year-old boy carrying a message from his dying mother, only to be thrown, quite literally, from the Earl’s home—but Lukas had long since learned how to stand up to bullies.
‘One of your offspring is in prison for tax evasion, one can barely run his trust fund let alone a company, and the third has a reputation for plying young socialites with alcohol and drugs and then taking advantage.’
‘Anyone who believes that will be made to pay,’ the Earl hissed, as Lukas gave a bark of hollow laughter.
‘Because you’re a master at manipulating the truth, and getting people to lie for you? Just as my new wife’s father lied for you when it came to the truth about my mother, and my parentage, all those years ago?’ Lukas bunched his fists into his pockets as though that might control the grief and resentment that was rising inside his chest.
The older man sneered. ‘Your new wife is as feeble and inadequate as your mother was. Another waste of a life.’
Lukas clenched his jaw so tight that he thought it might break. He had spent so many years resenting the fact that he’d had to look after his mother when, by rights, she should have been the one looking after him. Resenting her. Hating her, even. But he’d be damned if this oxygen thief standing in front of him needed to know that.
‘You drove her to her grave,’ Lukas managed. ‘She told me how you tried to get her to terminate the pregnancy when you found out, then ensured she was left homeless and jobless when she refused.’
He might have known the Earl could sniff out any hint of weakness. The old man’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then glinted.
‘You think you know it all, don’t you?’ His smile was nothing short of brutal. ‘But you don’t know a thing, boy. You think she had morals, defying me to have you? You weren’t her first baby. You’re just the one that survived a failed attempt to get rid of you.’
‘That’s a lie.’ The denial was out before Lukas could stop it. Before his brain could kick in and warn him that this was exactly the reaction the man standing in front of him had wanted. Even now, the old man’s eyes gleamed with victory.
‘Oh, no lie.’ He grinned, a cold, cruel baring of teeth. ‘Your mother didn’t want you any more than I did. She tried to rid herself of you, like I told her to. She always did what I told her to do. She never loved you, because there wasn’t room in that weak, pathetic heart of hers for anyone but me. But, then, you already knew that, didn’t you, boy?’
Lukas had no idea how he managed to hold himself together, let alone stopped himself from dropping the sorry excuse for a man to the ground. But he’d long ago learned to control that frustrated, angry streak that seemed to run through him and he wasn’t about to give in to it now.
‘I know that whatever she did was because you pushed her. You took advantage of a woman who loved you, so who was weaker and more pathetic? All you ever did was use her.’
The old man snorted in disdain. ‘Love? You talk of love, yet here I am, attending the wedding of my oldest friend’s daughter and some upstart.’ The Earl waved a gnarled hand at him. ‘Not because you love her—you don’t even know her—but because you wanted to steal their company from my grasp.’
‘Octavia knew the deal from the start,’ Lukas scorned. He had no intention of letting the old man know that the marriage part of the deal wasn’t exactly concerned with the business side. ‘I didn’t make her believe I cared, only to then use her. Unlike the way you treated my mother, my new bride knew the circumstances of the agreement all along.’
But still it didn’t stop those cold fingers of apprehension from slinking down his spine. The image of her walking down the aisle in her father’s grip.
‘You tell yourself that so that you can believe you’re better than me. But you’ll ruin her all the same. You don’t have it in you not to do so. You’re no better than a mangy dog from the gutter.’
‘You’re mellowing in your old age,’ Lukas mocked. ‘You managed far crueller put-downs when I was a kid. You, the bully who took such delight in mocking a twelve-year-old boy—telling me that I should stay in the gutter, where I belonged, that I would never amount to anything. I’ve no doubt you comfort yourself daily with the notion that landed gentry isn’t true nobility.’
‘And if I hadn’t mocked you, would you have been so driven to get to where you are today? That dirty, worthless kid would never have had it in him to make it this far. Perhaps you should be thanking me for giving you the drive that you so sorely needed back then.’
The Earl stopped thoughtfully as some of the contempt faded from his expression. ‘You’re focused and ruthless, just like me. Perhaps the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all.’
Loathing coursed through Lukas. ‘I’m nothing like you,’ he ground out, appalled.
He hated that that only seemed to make the Earl all the more exultant.
‘You’re more like me than you might think. And, as much as you might hate me, I have no doubt that one day it will be you standing where I am, and some bastard kid of yours standing where you are, staring at you with the same deep loathing.’
‘I will never have kids,’ Lukas refuted. ‘No child deserves to have your tainted blood running through its veins.’
‘You have fire, boy. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to throw you out of my house all those years ago. Maybe you’re worthy of the Rockman name and title after all.’
‘I don’t need your title.’ Lukas gritted his teeth. ‘I have my own. What’s more, I worked for mine. You don’t get to claim credit for it.’
The Earl curled his lip. ‘You have a knighthood. As quaint as that is, it’s no peerage. And I blocked you in that when I refused to acknowledge your mother.’
‘Which is the only thing you recognise, isn’t it?’ Lukas disparaged. ‘Have you ever considered that one day I might find a way to prove you lied all those years ago?’
Lukas couldn’t be sure if it was the mere threat or if the Earl had begun to piece it together, but, either way, the old man looked as though he was about to lose his mind, right there in that anteroom...right up until he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
It was odd how there was no warning. No clutching of his chest. No calling out. One moment the Earl was standing in front of Lukas, and the next moment the man simply toppled to the ground as if his legs had suddenly gone from under him. For a moment Lukas could only look on, stunned. A part of him even suspected it was some new ploy by the old man. But there was just silence.
Not quite believing what was happening, Lukas dropped to his heels and reached out to check the Earl’s pulse.
There wasn’t one.
For a fraction of a second Lukas thought he might actually have considered just walking away. Just leaving this man who had caused him—and his mother, as weak as she had been—so much unnecessary pain. How many times over the years had he wished this man dead?
But then instinct cut in and, with a low curse, Lukas hurried to the door, flung it open and bellowed down the empty corridor for one of the hotel staff. Then, moving quickly back across the room, he dropped onto his knees and began chest compressions.
* * *
Oti was in the Grosvenor Wing, gritting her teeth as she greeted the guests alone, wondering if she’d already been ditched—with a cluster of sombre-looking female Z-list guests who would have loved that to have been the case—when she heard Lukas’s shout, as faint as it was in the main hall.
She wondered what it said about how tuned-in she was to her fake husband, as she slid through the oblivious crowd and hurried along an endless plushly carpeted corridor. She only knew she was heading in the right direction because a couple of members of staff were ducking into a room a little ahead of her.
Sile
ntly lamenting the weight and encumbrance of her dress’s long train, Oti surged after them.
‘Lukas? Did you...? Oh, good grief.’
He glanced up and she wished she could read the expression that flickered in his eyes when he saw her. But then it was gone, and Lukas was all business.
‘Call for an ambulance. He collapsed less than a minute ago—there was no indication.’ Lukas didn’t miss a compression. ‘He isn’t breathing, and he has no pulse.’
Oti didn’t wait to hear any more. Pushing through the dithering hotel staff, she circled the patient—only then realising the man’s identity—and knelt down on the other side to Lukas and carried out her own brief assessment.
‘I’ll do the rescue breathing if you want to continue with compressions.’ She glanced up at the still staring staff, starting with a young man. ‘Right, you go and call an ambulance now and tell them that we’ve begun CPR. Go! And you—does the hotel have a defibrillator?’
As the young man stumbled away, the girl blinked at her.
‘I need you to stop panicking and think.’ Oti kept her tone calm but firm. ‘If you don’t know, then I need you to go straight to your manager and ask. A defibrillator, understand? Also, ask if you keep shots of epinephrine. Got it? Now you need to hurry.’
She jerked her head shakily then turned and hurried out of the room. Oti could only hope that the girl could hold herself together long enough to get what they needed.
Briefly, she wondered what had been so urgent that Lukas and Andrew Rockman had been discussing it alone. Certainly without her father. But she could contemplate that later. Right now, she had to focus on working with Lukas to save the man’s life. Even if a part of her suspected the world would be a better place without the likes of the Earl of Highmount. The current one, or the son who would inherit the title if Andrew were to die.
For the next five minutes she and Lukas worked together, soon establishing a surprisingly efficient rhythm until the girl returned with the defibrillator, and what looked like a manager.
‘The ambulance is on its way, and I’ve sent someone to stand at the entrance to bring them straight here.’
‘Great.’ Oti nodded, her eyes not leaving the patient as she silently counted Lukas’s compressions. ‘Okay, turn the defib on.’
‘I don’t know how to use it.’ The manager shook his head. ‘We only got it last week and training isn’t until next week.’
Bending her head, Oti was unable to answer as she began two short rescue breaths.
‘It’s okay—I know,’ Lukas muttered. ‘Just turn the machine on and follow the instructions on the read-out whilst I complete one more cycle of compressions, then you can hand the defib to me.’
Finishing the rescue breaths, Oti sat up as Lukas began compressions again. When the Earl’s life was on the line, was it right for her to allow Lukas to take charge, just to preserve her own secret?
Watching Lukas working on the older man, Oti weighed up her options. Clearly, he knew what he was doing in terms of the pace and pressure of the chest compressions—and although it was a draining task he made it look deceptively easy—which was good to see, but using the defib could be a different story.
‘...twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.’
As Oti bent her head for another two rescue breaths, she was aware of the manager handing the defib to Lukas, who, having already unbuttoned the Earl’s shirt, removed the sticky pads and began to place them down on the man’s bare chest. A perfect position for the one beneath the right clavicle, but the other one was slightly off. There was nothing else for it.
‘Wait.’ She reached out to stay his hand, fighting off the jolt of awareness that shot through her at the contact.
And it had nothing to do with the defibrillator.
Valiantly trying to ignore it, Oti guided his hand a few centimetres lower and set it down.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She was sure that it wasn’t just her imagination that his voice sounded hoarser.
‘Moving you to a more lateral position.’ She shook her head, struggling to regroup. ‘Even amongst medical professionals, the location of the apical pad can often be too medial.’ She barely recognised her own voice. ‘The result is reduced separation between the pads, causing the current to pass through non-cardiac tissue and potentially reducing the successfulness of the defibrillation.’
He eyed her intently for a brief moment and she thought he was going to say something more. Instead, he merely inclined his head.
‘You sound like you know better than I do.’
She told herself that it was good that he wasn’t so full of his own self-importance that he refused to listen to her, but she shouldn’t feel so ridiculously flattered.
Attaching the pad to the Earl’s chest, she turned her attention back to the machine as it analysed their patient’s heartbeat.
‘Stand clear.’ She glanced at Lukas, but he’d already edged back a little from the man, his hands up to indicate he was no longer in contact. ‘Shocking.’
As the machine delivered a shock, Oti waited long enough to check the read-out before setting it aside and continuing CPR.
Lukas matched her without a word, as if they were in perfect sync. As if he was someone she’d worked with for years. But she didn’t allow herself to consider it any further.
For a couple more minutes they continued CPR, with Oti giving two breaths for every thirty compressions from Lukas. After five cycles she delivered a second shock to the Earl, and more compressions, but still to no effect.
‘Any idea on the ambulance?’ she demanded, turning to the manager, who was on his walkie-talkie and looking rather ashen himself.
‘It’s coming down the lanes now...a minute or so out.’
‘Yes.’ She nodded, though her eyes didn’t leave the patient as Lukas began.
So a good few minutes before they got to the patient. Another cycle and another shock by her and Lukas, and if that wasn’t successful, at least they should be able to administer epinephrine before administering a fourth shock.
And one thought niggled at her. If the Earl should need an IV, given the shape that he was in, her recommendation would have to be an intraosseous infusion for a non-collapsible entry point, since intravenous wouldn’t be feasible. And what if the crew weren’t trained for IO? She could end up having to administer it herself. How many questions would that raise with her new husband?
‘Another set?’ Lukas said grimly, interrupting her thoughts, half a command, half a question.
Blinking, she took a moment to reassess.
‘Yes.’ Oti nodded at last. ‘Another set.’
For the next few minutes they resumed their roles, the time passing all too fast before she administered another shock. Then, abruptly, the old Earl’s heart kicked back in, just as the ambulance crew hurried into the room.
For the next few moments Oti was occupied with handing over in a timely manner, relieved that they accepted what she and Lukas had done as though there were quasi-trained guests, rather than her being a doctor.
And still Oti couldn’t work out whether Lukas was happy that they’d been successful in saving the Earl’s life—or not.
‘What were you talking about in that room, anyway?’ she attempted casually. She might have known Lukas wouldn’t fall for it.
‘Who says we were talking?’
‘He didn’t want me to marry you,’ she commented instead, and she thought it said a lot that he didn’t pretend not to know who she was talking about.
She tried to recall the argument between Andrew Rockman and her father that evening, wishing that she hadn’t dismissed it at the time, but little that her father did interested her. She had even less interest in what the Rockman family did.
Now her brain was beginning to whirl, throwing up snippets of old information that she’d thoug
ht the two older men would long since have forgotten about.
‘They were arguing about the past.’ She bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘A group of hotel chains and luxury boutiques that the Rockman family once owned, until they lost it all in a hostile takeover.’
It had been a successful chain but, instead of trading on the name, by all accounts it had been stripped down methodically and ruthlessly. Andrew Rockman had always claimed that it had been about more than business, that it had been personal. Some young upstart targeting him.
Now she couldn’t stop herself from asking Lukas if he had been that upstart.
‘What else do you remember?’ Lukas demanded, which wasn’t the answer Oti had been expecting, yet it was somehow more of an answer.
‘Not a lot more.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t exactly paying attention. Ten years ago I was that party girl you accused me of still being.’
She eyed him defiantly, but he didn’t offer a put-down this time. Not that it made her feel any less ashamed when she thought back to the way she’d spent her life schlepping from one luxury beach holiday to the next. From a party on some billionaire’s yacht to a celebration in Monaco. Between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, she’d played the part of the airheaded socialite only too shamefully well. She could hardly blame Lukas for thinking she was still that girl. It had been nearly a decade and yet the rest of her so-called social circle had never let her forget it.
‘And ten years ago I was that young upstart,’ Lukas ground out unexpectedly. ‘We both have a past, Octavia. The point now is to make this marriage—this business transaction—work for us. Are you prepared to do that?’
She was still reeling from her new husband’s shock revelation, her brain still trying to piece it together. It was as though she was seeing tiny sections but missing the big picture.
‘I am prepared,’ she offered at length. ‘So what now?’
Tempted by Her Convenient Husband Page 4