Seducing the Secret Heiress

by Seducing the Secret Heiress (epub)

  ‘Get him to the restaurant at one or I’ll make that call,’ she said, inspecting her neatly manicured nails. ‘You’ve obviously done a perfect job deceiving him so far, so I’m sure you’ll have no trouble convincing him to take an hour off from his busy schedule tomorrow.’

  The rancid taste of bile rose in Charlie’s throat. What could she say to defend herself? Everything this evil woman said was true.

  Charlie stood and walked to the door of the living room. She waited for Sophie to take the hint. The woman took her time moving from the sofa.

  ‘Oh and by the way,’ Sophie added as she glided past on her sky-high heels, her perfume heavy and spicy, ‘I saw the Rare Pink collection featured in Vogue the other day. I wouldn’t mind the oval pendant,’ she said, stroking her throat. ‘And the matching earrings. So, after you’ve delivered Gabe, you can have them delivered too.’ She gave Charlie a little tap on the cheek. ‘Good girl.’

  Charlie stood powerless as Sophie swept through the front door. She closed her eyes as a nasty throbbing attacked her frontal lobes. What had she done?

  When she’d first uttered the name Brown, it had seemed completely harmless. She’d just wanted a few more days of being incognito. But the situation had spiralled out of control so quickly. Gabe’s career and reputation was under threat and it was all her fault.

  Sophie’s words horrified her. We would have been engaged. Could Gabe love Sophie Eddington-Smythe? Was there some simple misunderstanding?

  Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. What the hell was she getting upset about? It wasn’t as if she and Gabe had anything going. She sniffed. But she wouldn’t let Sophie destroy him.

  She had to silence the woman, at least until the end of the show.

  She had to convince Gabe to visit the Oakley Court Hotel.

  Charlie sat in her small dressing room at the studio. A vase of fresh flowers stood on the table, the unusual mix of gerberas, roses and lilies filling the air with a sickly scent. The smell turned her stomach.

  Three weeks had passed and she hadn’t heard a word from Sophie. She nibbled at her fingernails, but had already chewed them to oblivion as the stress built with each passing day. What was the woman up to?

  She stared into the light bulb-edged mirror, just like in the movies. The brightly lit surface reflected her hollow-eyed pallor. Picking up the powder compact, she tried in vain to cover the dark circles under her eyes. She’d only snatched about two hours’ sleep between her anxious pacing and ferocious nightmares. The make-up department had failed its job this morning!

  How would she counter Sophie’s blackmail plan? She asked herself that question a hundred times but not one single solution she came up with would save Gabe from the impact of her thoughtless actions.

  No, she’d be forced to play Sophie’s game.

  She flinched at the sharp knock at the door.

  ‘Fifteen minutes, Charlie,’ Abigail called.

  ‘Okay.’ She slumped in her chair. Since Sophie’s visit her scores in First-Class Chef had slipped each week. The mounting tension messed with her mind and her ability to cook creatively. Sophie had stripped her of her confidence.

  ‘Do you mind if I come in for a moment?’ Abigail asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  Abigail sailed into the room, her face shining. But the cheery glow evaporated immediately.

  ‘Charlie! Are you all right?’ Abigail placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘Sorry, but you look terrible.’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know a plastic surgeon who can fix this in the next five minutes?’ Charlie pointed to her reflection.

  ‘No, but I’ll get Tracey from make-up to come down.’

  ‘Don’t bother, this is after make-up.’

  Abigail pulled her head mike to her lips. ‘Tracey, could you come to Charlie’s dressing room for a moment?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Tracey’s our best make-up artist. You’ll be looking like a supermodel in no time.’

  ‘Great.’ But Charlie couldn’t summon any enthusiasm.

  ‘Why are you so worried? You should be ecstatic. So the last couple of judges’ scores have been a bit off. So what. You’re still number one with the public.’

  Charlie nodded without conviction.

  ‘Come on, Charlie. Just get out there and give us that magic we saw in those first few episodes. You’ll be fine. Okay?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Ah, Tracey,’ Abigail exclaimed as a very cool-looking young woman appeared. ‘Charlie, meet the woman who can make your dreams come true.’

  Charlie smiled weakly.

  I’d settle for banishing the nightmares.

  Tracey’s touch-ups made her slightly more presentable.

  She picked up her apron and walked to the door. The dressing room phone buzzed. She checked her watch. She still had a few minutes.

  She snatched up the receiver. ‘Hi, Charlie speaking.’

  ‘Today,’ an icy voice announced in her ear.

  A black chill encircled Charlie’s heart. She swallowed with difficulty.

  ‘It’s impossible,’ Charlie stammered. ‘We’re filming the semi-final.’

  ‘Get him there today,’ Sophie demanded. ‘Or it’s bye bye to Gabe’s reputation. And I can’t wait until the media throws you to the dogs.’

  The line went dead. Charlie dropped the phone and leaned heavily on her dressing table. She fought the hysteria building in her chest.

  ‘It’s time, Charlie,’ Abigail called through the door.

  What on earth was she going to do?

  ‘Sorry, Charlie, but you’ve really let yourself down this week.’

  Gabe sat back in dismay as Jasper delivered his verdict on Charlie’s chicken, lime and coconut parcels.

  He pulled at his collar. The cool control room suddenly felt hot and stuffy. He’d never considered that Charlie might not make it through the semi-finals. The public loved her. Couldn’t get enough of her. She’d appeared in just about every women’s magazine in the country. But, without the judges giving her at least an average score, she’d be out this round.

  Back on set, Jasper shook his head. ‘The chilli overpowered the lime, your rice is gluggy and the snow peas are over-cooked,’ the chef said.

  Gabe’s heart lurched as Charlie’s eyes glistened.

  ‘We’ve come to expect so much more from you,’ Jasper said. ‘What’s happened?’

  Charlie mumbled an apology. Gabe could see she was battling for composure: she stood rigid and pressed her lips together over and over. Gabe balled his hands into fists. Every instinct shouted for him to rush down on set and comfort her, but he was powerless to intervene.

  It looked like Charlie would bomb out in the semi-finals. This was not good. The web statistics showed her profile on the show’s site was by far the most visited and the media had already picked her as the horse to back.

  ‘The show will take a dive if Charlie’s voted out,’ Abigail said, as if reading his mind.

  Gabe nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the set.

  Jasper’s fork clattered on the plate. ‘Let’s hope your dessert is better. I’m sorry, Charlie, but you could find yourself at the bottom of the tally this week.’

  Charlie brushed at her eyes and lowered her head. Gabe wanted to run down and hug her, soothe her. All the energy and creativity appeared to have deserted her. What the hell had happened?

  Gabe could barely concentrate as he directed the rest of the morning’s shoot. When they broke for lunch, he walked quickly to Charlie’s dressing room. He told himself it was his concern for the show and its ratings, but he knew it was more.

  He knocked on her door.

  ‘Come in.’

  At once he knew she’d been crying. His heart clenched painfully. He pulled her from the chair and enveloped her in his arms. She stifled a sob.

  ‘What happened?’

  She sniffed, pulled away and too
k a tissue from the box. ‘Gabe, I’m so sorry. I was dreadful. I’m ruining the show.’

  He sat her down and took a seat opposite. ‘Look, as horrible as this sounds, it’s going to make great television,’ he said. ‘But I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you.’

  He pulled his chair up close to hers.

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

  The obvious distress on Gabe’s face tempted Charlie to confess everything.

  But Sophie was right. It would be the ruin of all Gabe’s hard work. The deception would have to stay in place for now. She swallowed hard and another lie formed.

  ‘I think I just need to get away for a bit. Could we go for lunch, in the country? Not far.’ Every word she spoke tasted of pure poison. ‘There’s this lovely old place near Windsor,’ she said. ‘It’s only about fifteen minutes from here.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Filming doesn’t start again until two . . .’

  She had less than half an hour to have Gabe at that hotel.

  Gabe looked at his watch. She knew she was asking a lot to get him to leave in the middle of filming. Every muscle was rigid with anticipation.

  ‘Ah . . .’ Gabe hesitated

  ‘Please.’ Her pleading grated in her ears.

  ‘Sure.’ He took her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

  Gabe obviously knew the route well. He navigated expertly through a maze of little back roads and lanes. They drove past field after field of golden-topped maize blowing in the breeze but the beauty of the English countryside did nothing to dislodge the tight knot in her stomach.

  ‘So, which place did you have in mind?’ Gabe asked. ‘There are lots of lovely pubs on the river.’

  ‘Um . . . I found an amazing place online . . . What was it called? The Oakley Court something?’

  Gabe’s eyes flashed to her face. ‘Why do you want to go there?’ The sharpness in his voice surprised her.

  ‘Ah . . . It looked pretty and they apparently make incredible French desserts. I just wanted a little inspiration after today’s disaster.’

  ‘The Oakley and I have a lot of history,’ he said finally.

  What should she do now? Insist he revisit a place he clearly loathed?

  ‘That’s a shame,’ she said in the lightest voice she could muster. She waited, hoping Gabe would elaborate.

  He didn’t.

  ‘I haven’t been to an old manor house before.’ She injected disappointment into her voice. She must get Gabe to that hotel. She risked a glance at his profile. His mouth was set in a thin line.

  ‘We could go and maybe make some new history while I look over their desserts?’

  She held her breath as she waited for him to reply.

  He relaxed in his seat. ‘Why not? It wasn’t the place that was the problem.’

  She wondered what he meant but now she was getting him there, she didn’t want to rock the boat.

  ‘Sorry about this morning,’ she said, deliberately changing the topic of conversation.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Much better. I think I’ve just been in the kitchen too long.’

  A large sign advertising the entrance to the hotel loomed ahead. Gabe pulled into the long drive.

  ‘Well, we’ll organise a table on the terrace and you can catch the last of the English sunshine for the year.’

  The photos on the web hadn’t captured the magnificence of The Oakley Court Hotel. The Victorian gothic-style mansion sat proudly in manicured gardens which sloped gently down to the Thames. But the building also possessed a sinister air. Her already jangled nerves began to get the better of her. She hopped out of the car, but hesitated. What was Sophie going to do?

  ‘Inside’s better,’ Gabe said, taking her hand, obviously mistaking her immobility for awe.

  But the shadowy interior did nothing to ease the tension. ‘It’s a little eerie,’ she whispered, as they walked through to the restaurant.

  Gabe grinned. Even with all the trepidation, his smile still sent a warmth through her body.

  ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show was filmed here.’

  ‘I’ve never seen it.’

  Gabe stopped short. ‘You’ve never seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?’ He made it sound as if it were a crime against humanity. ‘It’s a cult classic.’

  There were plenty of movies she’d never seen.

  Too vulgar. Too common. Her mother’s assessments echoed in her head. Instead of growing up going to movies, she’d had to endure endless hours of opera and theatre. The theatre was wonderful, but opera . . . She didn’t believe her mother enjoyed opera either, but she certainly relished appearing regularly in the VIP box.

  ‘Perhaps we can rent it on video,’ she suggested.

  ‘Not necessary. I have it at home. The collector’s edition.’

  They approached the maître d’s station. A smartly dressed man wrote in a reservations book and didn’t look up.

  ‘Table for two please? On the terrace if possible,’ Gabe said to the top of the man’s head.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. We’re full,’ the maître d’ said, finally looking up and giving them a smile that said ‘I’m too important and busy to deal with you’.

  His eyes widened.

  ‘Charlie Brown.’

  Charlie smiled and nodded.

  ‘You were excellent last week,’ he said, stepping around from his podium. ‘Of course we have a table for you. Just a moment, please.’

  The man disappeared into the restaurant.

  The maître d’ returned a few minutes later. ‘Come this way, please.’ He walked slowly and Charlie could see three waiters busily resetting a table on the terrace.

  She had just taken her seat when a bottle of champagne in an elegant ice bucket appeared next to the table.

  ‘Compliments of the house,’ the waiter said, giving her a huge smile. He popped the cork and poured the bubbles.

  Charlie eyed the golden liquid. ‘I have to work this afternoon,’ she whispered.

  ‘Just have a few sips. Might help you relax,’ Gabe said.

  She looked around the room. People were staring. Some even took photos on their mobiles. She hid her face behind the enormous menu.

  An elderly couple walked tentatively up to the table.

  ‘We are so sorry to interrupt, but we just wanted to say how much we love your show,’ the gentleman said.

  ‘Your dishes are lovely,’ added the lady on his arm. ‘You’re quite an inspiration. I haven’t cooked properly for years, but the other day, we baked your fabulous chocolate and macadamia nut biscuits. We sat out in the garden all afternoon eating them, didn’t we, Harry?’

  The man nodded and smiled at his wife.

  ‘I’m glad you like the show,’ Charlie said.

  ‘You’ll win for sure,’ the man said, patting Charlie’s shoulder. He turned to Gabe. ‘You’re a very lucky young man.’

  ‘Thank you. I know,’ he said. The smile he shot Charlie made her dizzy. Gabe reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently.

  The grey-haired couple smiled and drifted away.

  Gabe kept her hand in his. A sensual energy radiated between them. ‘When the show is finished—’

  ‘Darling, fancy meeting you here.’ The affected voice shattered the moment. Charlie’s heart lurched. She sucked in a sharp breath. Gabe pulled his hand away as his whole body stiffened. The blackmailer loomed over the table in her ridiculously high heels.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Gabe asked harshly.

  ‘Having lunch with you, darling,’ she purred in her silky voice. ‘Give us a moment, will you, Charlotte?’

  Charlie stood up.

  ‘The hell you are. Sit down, Charlie,’ Gabe hissed.

  But Charlie stood aside and let Sophie take her place.

  ‘Thank you, Charlotte.’ Sophie pronounced her name slowly and with great emphasis.

  Gabe leapt to his feet, signalling the waiter.

  ‘It’s going to give me great pl
easure to have you thrown out of here,’ he said between his teeth.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen,’ Sophie said, scooping up Charlie’s champagne glass and taking a casual sip. ‘After all our good times here, I asked Daddy to buy the place. It’s mine, darling.’

  She leaned back in her chair. Gabe stared at her, horror etched all over his face.

  ‘And Charlotte was just leaving,’ Sophie drawled. ‘Weren’t you, Charlotte?’ Sophie said with a dismissive flick of her hand.

  Charlie’s heart thundered. ‘I should go,’ she said.

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Gabe’s face twisted with fury.

  ‘Gabe, it’s obvious there are things to work out with Sophie,’ Charlie insisted.

  Gabe snapped his eyes to hers, his anger melting to confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’ll see you at the studio.’

  Not daring to look back, Charlie walked quickly from the restaurant and out onto the drive. A couple stepped from a black taxi idling in the drive. She leaped into the back.

  ‘Pinewood Studios, please.’

  As the taxi pulled away. Charlie looked back, hoping Gabe had followed her. He hadn’t. Fear gripped her heart and her mouth turned dry. What if Sophie told him everything?

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlie leaned in close to the dressing-room mirror. Tears wreaked havoc with her make-up and she only had ten minutes before she had to be back on set.

  The door crashed open. Gabe strode in, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘What in hell’s name was that all about?’

  Charlie’s heart leaped into fifth gear as she jumped from her chair. She stepped back, trembling.

  ‘Are you and Sophie in this together?’ He shook with rage. Anger flared in his eyes.

  ‘She told me . . .’A knot formed in her throat. ‘She said you were still in love with her. That there’d been a misunderstanding.’

  Her statement wiped the fury from his face as he stared at her in utter disbelief.

  ‘In love? With her? Are you mad?’ he said, throwing up his hands. ‘Sophie’s spent the past year trying to sue me for the international syndication rights to Billionaire Angels. I’ve been in and out of court fighting to keep the rights to my own show.’