‘Charlie, what are you doing?’ Abigail took her arm.
‘What?’ she asked, dodging around a camera to find a better view of the back of the studio.
‘The press are here. They’re waiting in reception to interview you.’
‘Send Tim out.’
‘They want you. You’re front-page news again.’
Charlie couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘I just need a minute, okay?’ Charlie pleaded.
‘Sure, sure. I’ll let them know you’ll be out soon.’
‘Where’s Gabe?’ Charlie asked.
‘Oh, he’s gone.’
Charlie stopped dead. ‘What?’
‘Some hot-shot US movie executive watched the show,’ Abigail said excitedly. ‘He’s read Gabe’s script and wants to talk. He’s only in town tonight. Isn’t it great?’
Charlie couldn’t answer. She had to find Gabe. She had to explain.
‘I’ll be back in a sec.’
She retrieved her mobile from her dressing room and called his number. Straight to message bank.
She closed her eyes and remembered.
‘I never want to see you again.’
Chapter Fifteen
Gabe found a corner table in the British Airways first-class lounge and took in the view across the tarmac. At least the weather had cleared so it’d be a smooth take-off. He noticed an open magazine on the table. An old image of Charlie stared up at him. The show had wrapped two weeks ago and still the nation’s fascination with her hadn’t waned.
‘Drink, sir?’ a uniformed waiter asked.
‘No thanks,’ Gabe replied.
He eased back in his chair. An American network had already talked about Emmy chances.
‘Oh, darling, fancy seeing you here.’
Gabe’s expression hardened. Sophie – the last person he wanted to see. He threw her a look that could kill, but, as was her style, she ignored it and took a seat opposite him. Her short, skin-tight dress rode up her thighs.
‘I see you’re already trading on your new success,’ she said, crossing her legs. ‘I’m off shopping in New York. Where are you off to, darling?’
Without a word, he picked up the broadsheet newspaper from the coffee table, flicked out the pages and held it high, blocking Sophie from view.
‘Now, that’s just not nice,’ she said, tapping the top of the paper, her red nails flashing. ‘Particularly after everything I did for you.’
He let the paper drop. ‘What in hell’s name are you talking about?’
‘If Charlie hadn’t been unmasked, do you think your little cooking show would now be in such demand?’
‘What do you mean, unmasked?’
‘Funny,’ she said, ignoring his question, ‘if I’d achieved such notoriety, I’d have ensured I was front-page news for weeks and definitely negotiated a spread in Hello. Instead, what does that moron do? Disappear.’
Gabe bristled at Sophie’s derogatory reference to Charlie.
‘If she thinks playing hard to get is the way to go, she is hopelessly ill-informed,’ Sophie said. ‘Hope you’re not the one advising her.’
‘I haven’t seen her since the grand final.’ At first Charlie had called his mobile obsessively, but after a few days, nothing. Sophie was right, Charlie was gone.
The press had been inundating his office with interview requests and other television offers for Charlie had been pouring in.
‘I mean,’ Sophie went on, ignoring the fact Gabe had even spoken, ‘she hasn’t been on any of the morning shows or talk shows. I read somewhere she decided to leave England and go back to where she’d been happy, or some such nonsense.’
She flicked her hand to emphasise her point.
‘So, your talent was wasted on that girl,’ she said. ‘If she doesn’t act soon, she’ll miss her chance. I’d never let that happen.’
‘Did you ever consider that Charlie might be different from you?’
‘Well, you’ve got that right, darling. I’d never let an opportunity like this go without exploiting it.’
Gabe looked at Sophie’s picture-perfect face: expertly plucked eyebrows and immaculate make-up framed with salon-pampered hair.
‘You’re right,’ he murmured. Charlie’s nothing like you. He’d been so angry he’d never thought about it before. Sophie chattered on, but he wasn’t listening.
If Charlie had wanted fame, she’d be here in Britain on every talk show in the country. Instead, she’d simply vanished.
He stood up. An uncomfortable feeling crept up his spine.
Sophie’s voice filtered back.
‘So, if I hadn’t called Paul Forsyth, he’d never have turned up for the final and you wouldn’t have the hit that you do.’
‘What did you say?’
She looked at him in surprise as if she were suddenly aware she was actually in a conversation with someone. ‘I called Paul Forsyth. I thought Charlotte had had you all to herself for far too long.’
‘It was you?’ A number of people glanced in their direction as his voice carried across the lounge.
Sophie look affronted. ‘Of course, darling.’ But her voice had lost some of its gloating quality. ‘I wanted to protect you.’
It was as if a fog had been lifted and he could see things clearly for the first time.
‘You mean, Charlie had what you wanted and you couldn’t stand it.’ His voice simmered with barely checked rage. ‘So you decided to destroy her.’ He shook his head. ‘Destroy us,’ he said, more to himself. Anger boiled inside him. Sophie had done it again. Manipulated him and he’d played right into her hands.
He thought of the words he’d thrown at Charlie before she’d walked onto live national television. He rubbed his brow and shame washed over him.
And after all that abuse, what had she done? Appeared on live television and confessed everything. She’d sacrificed herself for what? The show? She could have walked out the studio door any time and avoided the whole ordeal.
‘For goodness’ sake. Don’t be so melodramatic,’ Sophie said, clearly embarrassed at the scene Gabe was making. ‘Everyone’s just out to get what they can. Charlotte’s no different.’
But she was. What had Paul said? If she walked onto that set, she would lose everything? She’d turned her back on all that money for him and what had he done in return?
He folded the newspaper and thrust it into Sophie’s chest. ‘Here, read this. It might be the last time you read a paper without your name being dragged through the mud.’
‘Gabe!’ Sophie spluttered.
He picked up his hand luggage and headed for the exit. He’d rather sit in the crowded departures hall than share a room with that woman.
‘Ladies and gentlemen BA0238 departing Heathrow for Los Angeles is now ready for boarding through gate A7.’
Gabe headed for gate A7. He stopped and expelled a long slow breath. What was he doing? Why was he going to America? The chance to make this movie was a long shot. A very long shot. Years of work and it could still come to nothing.
He looked down the hall towards the gate. Passengers handed over their boarding passes and disappeared down the gangway.
All this time he’d been striving for this – why? Something clicked in his mind. His father had always made him feel like his work was second-rate. Inferior. But he was proud of his shows. He loved making reality TV. This movie was all about impressing his father. Trying to scrape a couple of emotional crumbs from a man who thought his work was distasteful rubbish.
He turned and dashed through the terminal. He’d made a terrible mistake. Would he be too late?
Charlie shivered. The rain came in slowly over the Mediterranean, sheets of drizzle coming closer.
The grey, choppy sea splashed erratically on the shore of the deserted Nervi beach. The cold sand chilled her skin though her trousers and she hugged her knees to her chest. She knew she should find shelter before the rain hit, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to move.
It had only been a few months since she’d last seen this beach, but the scene couldn’t have been more different. All the joy and sunshine had dissipated, just as it had gone from her life. Sadness consumed her. She couldn’t even be bothered to pull the hood over her head when the first patter of rain landed.
Nothing that you don’t deserve.
The vision of Gabe’s shocked and angry face never left her. That look of disdain when he’d discovered her identity, and what she had done. Day and night, it haunted her.
But what did she expect? He’d trusted her and she’d lied to him. She couldn’t blame him for despising her, for never wanting to see her again.
Hot tears mingled with the droplets of icy rain.
At least here there wasn’t a horde of reporters following her every move. Instinctively, she looked up and down the beach. It’d be just her luck to discover the paparazzi had managed to track her down.
A lone figure walked up the beach towards her, buffeted by the strong winds. He had something in his hand but it didn’t look like a camera.
She returned her gaze to the sea. The gusts swept the grey and white foam from the tops of the waves. She crossed her arms and rested her forehead on her knees. The scene was too depressing to look at any longer.
‘Beautiful day.’
Charlie jerked her head up. She blinked raindrops from her eyes, but her ears did not deceive her.
‘Gabe?’
‘Yes, my beautiful girl.’
He sat down next to her and placed a bottle of prosecco and two glasses between his feet. He placed his arm around her shoulders.
‘Gabe, I’m so sorry . . .’ she started. She had to swallow hard to stop the wracking sobs she’d held in check so long.
He gently rubbed her arm. ‘You have nothing to apologise for. I understand now. I understand everything. I just hope it’s not too late. Can you forgive me?’
She looked into his eyes. ‘Forgive you? What did you ever do except support me, encourage me and show me how to live?’ She wiped her eyes. ‘And what did I do in return but deceive you every single day?’
‘That’s over now. I understand why you did it and you were right. I would have treated you differently if I’d known who you really were.’ He pulled her closer. ‘Fifty million dollars is a little intimidating for any normal person.’
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ve been disinherited. So, if I were you, I’d run a mile. I’ve got absolutely nothing.’
He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head towards him. ‘You have me.’
‘Oh, Gabe—’
He smothered her words with his lips – the sweetest kiss of her life. He held her for what seemed a lifetime. The rain poured down in heavy sheets and still she didn’t want to move. To break the moment.
‘Come on,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘Let’s get off this miserable beach and have a drink. I’ve a few things to discuss with you.’
He led her up the beach towards the town.
‘First, there’s the offer of hosting your own national cooking show in prime time on Channel Four.’
Charlotte froze. ‘Really?’
‘Second, there’s another on my desk to host a regular cooking segment on Good Morning Britain.’
Charlotte’s pulse raced. ‘I can’t believe it. Doesn’t everyone in Britain hate me?’
‘Hate you? Charlie, you’re the hottest media personality in the country right now. The amount being offered for an exclusive TV interview is going up by ten thousand a day. I need to get you home and have you look at some of these offers.’
Charlie shook her head in amazement.
‘But I think it’s this proposal you should really accept,’ he said. Gabe took both her hands and dropped to one knee in the sand.
‘Charlie, will you marry me? Then we can be absolutely certain of your identity. Charlie Grenville. Has a lovely ring to it, don’t you think?’
Charlotte fell to her knees beside him and threw her arms around his neck.
‘Yes. Yes. Yes!’
Gabe held her close and Charlotte knew she had discovered her place in the world.
By Gabe’s side.
Forever.
Acknowledgements
First I would like to thank my Mother and David, this book wouldn’t have been possible without your help – thank you a thousand times. Finn and Freya, thank you for being generally fabulous and Dad, your admin assistance has been fantastic.
I’ve had so much generous support from so many members of Romance Writers Australia, it’s impossible to list everyone, But a special thank you to my critique partner, Joanne Dannon.
Thanks must go also to my Bryon Bay friends, in particular Lee Purdie and Emma Hoole, for your ongoing encourage and help. And to the staff of the many Byron Bay cafés I use as my office, in particular One, One, One and Mary Ryan’s, I thank you letting me stay for so many hours!
A big shout out to my lovely editors, Carol George and Sarah Fairhall. I’m so incredibly grateful to you for making my writing dreams come true.
And as always, to Rose, you are and always will be my writing inspiration.
About the Author
Jennifer is the author of contemporary romance novels often set in exotic destinations. She grew up in the suburbs of Brisbane surrounded by bush. When she was 11, her family moved to South America, an adventure that gave Jennifer a lifetime love of travel and exotic international locations.
Married with two children, Jennifer has a graduate business degree and completed an MBA where she was presented with the Rupert Murdoch Fellowship.
Jennifer spent the first 20 years of her career in corporate marketing and management consulting roles, but began writing romance when she moved with her family to Byron Bay in Northern NSW, three years ago.
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ISBN: 978-1-74253-649-1
Chapter One
From her first-floor office window, Sienna De Luca stared out at the hotel’s circular drive, watching a young man from maintenance clear the soggy autumn leaves from the entr
ance. When he tripped over a crack in the stonework, she heard him curse aloud before he grudgingly got back to work. She wondered if he’d still have a job at the end of the day. She wouldn’t. Broken driveways, fraying upholstery, the dull paintwork and the ageing technology – they were all her responsibility. Her fault.
Once, the Plaza had been the jewel of Melbourne, one of Australia’s top hotels. Royalty, celebrities, the rich and famous all enjoyed the extravagant penthouse suites. After three years under her management, the hotel barely clung to its five-star rating.
Sienna shook her head but the shame remained. No matter which way she looked at it, she couldn’t understand why the hotel continued to lose money. Haemorrhage money. Sure, the place looked shabby so the wealthier clients preferred the newly opened Centro Hotel and the global financial crisis had hit hard, but that didn’t explain the extent of the losses. Her cost-cutting program was proving effective, but it wasn’t enough.
A flash of black drew her gaze back to the drive as a sleek limousine pulled to a halt. A moment later, the driver opened a back door and an imposing figure stepped from the car. The striking features, the olive glow and the aura of confidence were all unmistakable.
Antonio Moretti.
A cold sweat broke out across her neck despite the warm air flowing from the vent above her head.
As though drawn by an invisible force, Sienna leant against the cold glass to get a closer look at the man who graced the social pages almost daily. Even today he’d featured on the front page of The Australian, having flown in from Italy for the premiere of his girlfriend’s latest blockbuster. That, and to take possession of the Plaza, the hotel that had been in her family for over a hundred years.
He looked every bit the suave, ruthless billionaire. Cropped dark hair framed his strong, clean-shaven face. His movie-star looks meant he could easily have co-starred with his girlfriend. Sienna was wary of good-looking men – they always seemed to have a sense of entitlement that annoyed her. She pressed her lips together. A man with Antonio’s features probably thought he was entitled to the world, the moon, the stars and anything yet to be discovered.
Seducing the Secret Heiress Page 16