Unlocking the Tycoon's Heart

by Ella Hayes

  With Marta keeping tabs on Bram, he’d started allowing himself to hope, but he couldn’t let his guard down. Bram was as fragile as a tower of cards. The slightest breath of an adverse wind could trigger a total collapse.

  And so, no matter how he longed to open himself up to Mia, he couldn’t risk loosening his grip, couldn’t risk taking an arrow to the heel. But holding out on her was making his heart ache because she deserved better. She deserved trust, loyalty, love and happiness. More than anything, he wanted to give her those things, but it was going to take time and the one thing he hadn’t taken was time. He’d lost control, jumped on the accelerator like a total idiot. And now the intimacy they’d shared had sharpened the edges of his confusion. He was in a tangle: thinking about her all the time; missing her; burning with desire for her sweet body, her touch, the taste of her lips. It was ironic. He’d spent his whole life avoiding alcohol, even prescription drugs, but now he was in the grip of an unforeseen addiction and he had no idea how he was going to conquer it.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve been reading your blog.’

  ‘Why? You’re in Paris. You’ve got the Louvre, the Moulin Rouge...’

  ‘It’s impressive, Mia.’

  Little pause. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ He pulled his computer onto his lap and opened the pages he’d bookmarked.

  ‘I’m especially taken with your essays. I’ve never read anything like these before.’

  ‘They’re just half-formed ideas...meandering thoughts...’ There was shyness in her voice.

  ‘But there’s a thread that ties everything together. They’re not random.’

  He’d been mulling over his Mia ‘addiction’ when he’d remembered that she had a website. Two clicks later he’d found himself in her professional world. Pacey articles, deft observations, sharp humour and boundless humanity. Her blog space was devoted to work of a different slant. The writing was almost experimental. Lyrical, captivating...personal. One item had caught and held his attention.

  ‘I really liked your latest post: Empty Rooms.’

  ‘Oh.’ A moment unfurled slowly. ‘What can I say? I found your house inspiring...’

  He’d read the piece over and over again, felt moved by it. ‘I love the phrase “dust aches between floors”. I don’t know anything about poetry, but your writing is poetic; beautiful.’

  ‘I’m blushing.’

  ‘I wish I could see that.’

  ‘I’m glad you can’t! Beetroot doesn’t suit me. How’s Paris?’

  Changing the subject. Maybe she was as spooked by the suddenness of their togetherness as he was. He glanced through the window and saw a piece of sun sinking between the rooftops, a section of the Eiffel Tower stretching skywards. ‘I haven’t really seen it. I’ve been in meetings all day and now I’m at the hotel—in my room.’ His eyes slid to the empty pillow beside him. ‘I should have brought you with me. We could have found something to do...’

  ‘Like what?’ Her tone was teasing.

  How easy it was to slip into the froth of casual flirting. It was their safe place; their comfort blanket. ‘We could have walked romantically by the Seine.’

  She laughed. ‘How do you walk “romantically”? You can walk quickly, or slowly, but I’m struggling to picture romantic walking.’

  He chuckled. ‘Well, I’d put my arm around your shoulders, and you’d put your arm around my waist, and then we’d walk very slowly, and of course we’d have to keep stopping...’

  ‘To...?’

  He grinned. ‘To feed the ducks!’

  ‘I’ve been to Paris and I don’t remember ducks on the Seine.’

  ‘They’re part-time ducks.’

  ‘I see.’ She was chuckling. ‘So, if there weren’t any ducks, would we still keep stopping?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s the law.’

  He imagined her frowning, smiling that squashed little smile that went with it.

  ‘Which law?’

  ‘The one that says that lovers have to kiss every ten metres.’ Silence. ‘Mia?’

  ‘There’s no such law. I just checked online. I always check facts—it’s a writer thing.’

  He turfed the laptop off his legs and settled back against the plush headboard. ‘Okay, so I might have been making it up, but if I was walking along the Seine with you I’d kiss you every ten metres...maybe every five metres.’

  ‘It’d take us a long time to get anywhere.’

  ‘I wouldn’t care. Would you?’

  ‘No...no, I wouldn’t...’

  Her voice trailed off in a whisper.

  Maybe talking about kissing had been a bad idea. It was stirring the wrong pot, especially since they hadn’t really talked about what happened; how they were feeling. The day after their extended lunch date, he’d had to fly to Hamburg, but he’d made sure to retrieve her bicycle and fix the tyre before he left. He’d wanted to show her that he was there for her, that whatever it was they’d embarked upon wasn’t a meaningless thing. He’d told himself that they’d talk later but until now their conversations had been snatched. He’d been on the move, busy with meetings...or maybe that was just an excuse.

  The truth was that he was out of his depth. Perhaps she felt the same. Maybe they both needed something real to hold onto and he knew it was down to him to offer up a piece of himself, as it had been in the restaurant. A simple truth to wipe away the half-truths, to make her understand that he wasn’t playing games. He stared at the darkening Parisian skyline, at the lights glowing from distant windows. ‘I miss you, Mia...’

  He held his breath, heard the tiny catch in hers.

  ‘I’m missing you too...’

  He could feel her smile; he felt warmed by the tiny flame of honesty he’d kindled between them. ‘Are you free tomorrow evening?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  He smiled. ‘The skies are set to be clear. It’s going to be a perfect night for stargazing and... Indonesian food! Do you like nasi goreng?’

  ‘It’s one of my favourites!’

  ‘That’s handy—it’s one of the few things I make quite well.’

  He felt a lightening of spirit. Perhaps this was the way forward—through his actions. He could only deal out little truths until Bram was strong again, but he could show Mia how much he cared through the things he did. His actions would have to do the talking until he could explain everything.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SKY OVER Van Baelerstraat was cobalt blue. Cloudless. It was a wide street, with grand red-brick buildings, so different from the tall narrow houses squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder along the canals. On this street there were lanes for cars, lanes for bicycles, tram tracks and pavements, a feeling of expansiveness. It was why Mia had chosen to walk to Koffiemeester’s instead of cycling. She’d wanted to stretch her eyes to a wider view, fall into the rhythm of her own footsteps, acclimatise to the weightlessness she was feeling.

  I miss you, Mia.

  Something in his tone had derailed her for a moment, then flooded her with happiness. His words had reassured her that what had happened between them wasn’t a casual thing. It had living roots, an onward momentum. And he’d be back tonight...disarming her with his smile, his eyes. She’d feel those strong arms around her, his lips on hers. She tingled, smiling to herself about ‘romantic walking’. If only he knew that his little declaration had her walking on air. Walking on sunshine. Yes, there were things to talk about, things she wanted to know, but right now she was high on feeling, high on anticipation. It almost felt as if she was...

  Her phone vibrated against her hip. She wrangled it out of her pocket, eyeing the screen. ‘Hi, Lotte! How’s it going?’

  ‘Fabulous as always, darling.’ Lotte loved mimicking the drama queens and models she worked w
ith. ‘Where are you? I was passing and thought I’d drop in, but the only one here’s Clueless.’

  Poor Cleuso. One day he’d prove them all wrong. ‘I popped out to buy coffee, but I’ll back in a jiffy...if you can hold on.’

  ‘I can...but get your skates on because I’ve got something exciting to tell you.’

  * * *

  Lotte stopped scrolling and looked at her. ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘They’re certainly different!’ The footwear Lotte was showing her on the laptop was made from recycled plastics and fabrics. Bright. Innovative. Interesting. ‘I love them. I’d wear them.’

  Lotte arched an eyebrow. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  Lotte was always being given clothes and accessories after her photo shoots, quite a lot of which came her way because Lotte’s own tastes were very particular. For one thing, Lotte didn’t do dresses. That was how she’d ended up with the gorgeous dress that Theo had liked.

  ‘So...? What’s the story?’

  Lotte kicked off her shoes, crossed her legs and dropped her knees out Buddha-style. ‘Okay, so the designer’s called Kris Haynes. He’s one of the designers taking part in a showcase of—’ she scratched quotes into the air ‘—fashion with a conscience. They’re calling the event Watch your Footprint, and it’s going to be held at Tobacco on the fifteenth of September...proceeds going to charity.’

  ‘So you’ll be photographing the show...?’

  Lotte nodded. ‘And I’m doing publicity photos for the designers ahead of the event. There’s going to be a social media push and a printed programme—on recycled paper, of course!’

  ‘That’s great! You’re nailing it, and rightly so. Your work is amazing.’

  Lotte waved her hands dismissively. ‘Thanks, but yada yada...’ She grinned. ‘I wanted to give you the full brief because I’ve told them you’ll write the copy for the programme.’

  It took a moment for Lotte’s words to sink in. ‘Me?’

  ‘Hell yeah! I pointed them to your Dilly and Daisy write up, and they loved it. They want a similar approach: some background on the designers, something about ethical fashion, the move away from fast fashion et cetera... You can expect a call from the organiser very soon.’

  Her heart ballooned. ‘Aww, Lotte...thanks so much.’ She leaned across the sofa and gave her friend a hug. ‘You’re so sweet.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with being sweet. You’re a fabulous writer and you’re the perfect fit for the gig. You’ll love doing it and you’ll make some great contacts.’

  ‘Contacts are always useful.’

  Lotte rocked forward, an impish grin on her face. ‘Which brings me to the best bit.’ Her eyes danced. ‘The organiser is Eline de Vries!’

  Mia’s lungs collapsed. ‘As in the super—?’

  ‘Yep!’

  A boat chugged past, its vibrations filling the air. A welcome moment of respite. She swallowed hard, trying to look thrilled. ‘Wow! That’s such a...’ The words got stuck so she forced a wide smile onto her lips. ‘That’s so great!’

  Lotte beamed. ‘Isn’t it? I mean, Eline freaking de Vries! That’s got to open some doors—for both of us.’ She folded her laptop, poked it into her bag then stood up, sliding her feet back into her shoes. ‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to go...’ She adjusted the bag strap across her shoulder, then she looked up, eyes narrowing. ‘Are you okay, Mia? You’ve gone pale.’

  She wasn’t okay, but it wasn’t Lotte’s fault. She’d been all over the place after her lunch date with Theo, so she’d only given Lotte a tightly edited version. Lotte had no idea that Eline was Theo’s ex.

  She got to her feet and managed a shaky smile. ‘I’m shell-shocked, that’s all. As you said, Eline freaking de Vries!’

  * * *

  It was warm and sunny on the deck. She didn’t usually sit out in the afternoon, because there were too many people going past, too many curious eyes, but Lotte’s news had thrown her into a flat spin and she’d needed some air. Cleuso had wasted no time in joining her in the old wicker chair, and now he was sitting on her knee purring, his eyes closing.

  ‘You can’t go to sleep.’ She rubbed his throat, tilting his face upward, but his lids determinedly stayed shut. She released his chin and stroked his head. ‘I was hoping for some advice...’ He shifted, turned a slow circle then curled into a neat furry bundle; a warm, soft weight in her lap. She slumped backwards, stretching to reach her cup of camomile tea from the base of an upturned plant pot. Camomile wasn’t her thing, but her nerve ends were fraying fibre by fibre and she’d thought it might help.

  Eline de Vries!

  Of all the people in the world, Lotte had set her up for a job with Theo’s ex, had inadvertently handed her the mother of all conundrums. To tell him or not...? To take the job, or not....? She sniffed the tea, shuddered and set it down again. If she told him he wouldn’t take it well; she knew that instinctively. It wasn’t unreasonable, she supposed, most people wouldn’t want their current partner meeting their ex, but she had a feeling that Theo’s reaction would go beyond ordinary discomfort.

  There was something he wasn’t telling her about the reasons for Eline’s affair; she was sure of it. What he’d said about them marrying too young, about Eline’s career driving a wedge between them... It had sounded like a cliché and it didn’t tally with the bitterness she’d seen in his eyes when they’d been talking in his kitchen. At the time, she’d felt that his pain was genuine, but she had been wrong about someone before. She’d fallen for Hal’s masquerades, jetted off to Prague believing that the money he was spending was his to spend. Even though it was hard to believe, it wasn’t beyond the possibility that Theo had hurt Eline first...that her affair had been a reaction to something he’d done.

  A small boat puttered up the canal towards her. The helmsman gave her a jaunty wave and she nodded, tried to smile...and failed. She stared at the wake travelling across the water. Hal had broken her heart with his secrets and she couldn’t go through it again. If only Theo would talk to her, really talk to her, but he switched gears whenever things got personal and she was running out of time. Just that morning she’d been walking on air because he’d said he was missing her and there’d been that inkling of recognition...

  She was falling in love with him, but she was scared because he was holding something away from her; something important. Maybe meeting Eline would help in some way...even if it was just allowing her to get a measure of what kind of person Eline was.

  She bit her lip. Lotte had been so thrilled to gift her this job—always trying to pay back for the night of the assault—so there was no way she could turn it down. Besides, refusing to take it would make Lotte look bad with Eline, and there was no way she could do that to her friend.

  A girl cycled past and threw her a cheery smile. She turned away, tears thickening in her throat. She didn’t deserve a stranger’s smile. Keeping this secret from Theo went against everything she believed in. It made her a hypocrite, but what could she do? She was trapped.

  * * *

  The airport lounge was busy. Theo parked his holdall between his feet, leaned his shoulder against the plate-glass window and gazed across the runway. The tinted glass robbed the blue sky of its vibrancy, but it couldn’t dull his excitement. That night he’d be seeing Mia, and he had a surprise for her!

  He took out his phone and read Madelon’s message again.

  Confirming for tonight—seven p.m.!

  He hadn’t expected to see his sister until the following week, but her shoot in Athens had wrapped ahead of schedule. She was back in Amsterdam. They’d had a long talk on the phone that morning. He’d told her about Mia.

  ‘Can I meet her?’ Madelon had asked, and then he’d had an idea—a thing he could do for Mia that would show her how much he was thinking of her. He’d asked Madelon if she’d let Mia do an interview. An exclusive wi
th Madelon Mulder was bound to give Mia’s career a boost. The style of Mia’s writing would lend itself well to the measured, in-depth kind of profile that Madelon’s work and interests merited. She’d be in safe hands with Mia.

  Madelon had agreed readily, but she’d been bemused. ‘You’re in love with this girl, aren’t you?’

  For a second his mouth had gone dry. Madelon knew him better than anyone and without even seeing his face she’d twigged something that he hadn’t quite twigged for himself. He’d been glad of his hectic schedule. Wall-to-wall meetings filled with absorbing discussions about complex issues had kept his thoughts about Mia on the back burner but now, watching planes slowly trundling over the tarmac, the truth of Madelon’s observation broke over him like a warm wave. He was in love with Mia. He’d fallen for her in the lobby of that London hotel. He’d stepped out of the lift, noticed her instantly... Her profile; her upswept hair; her neat, straight nose; milky skin contrasting with the dark stand-up collar of her jacket... When she’d turned, caught him staring, he’d almost lost his balance.

  In the short time he’d known her, she’d brought him joy, the kind of joy he hadn’t expected to feel again. If only he could be the kind of lover she deserved. He wasn’t that man yet, but he aspired to be, would work hard to prove himself until the day came when he’d be able to share his whole story with her. Until then, he’d find a million ways to show her what she meant to him.

  A female voice over the loud speaker announced that the plane was boarding. He called up Mia’s number, quickly tapped out a text:

  Can pick you up tonight if you want. Let me know. Can’t wait to see you! Theo x

  * * *

  Madelon leaned against the stove. ‘If I’d known you were making your famous nasi goreng I’d have accepted your invitation for dinner!’

  He speared a shallot with the point of his knife and held it up. ‘It’s not too late. I can make extra...’