by Mia Caldwell
“I’ll take you there. It’s no bother.” Colin gestured down the hall. Noting her surprised expression, he added, “I do know where the kitchen is.”
“Of course. Didn’t think otherwise,” she lied. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking he wasn’t the type of guy who needed to know where the kitchen was.
“When I first moved in, I spent quite a bit of time with Marie in the kitchen. She’s quite the chef,” he said.
He motioned to her to follow him. She reluctantly moved to his side and fell in step beside him.
“I wouldn’t figure you for the type of guy who would hang out in kitchens.” There was a part of her that thought she shouldn’t poke at him, but on the other hand, if he found her company disagreeable, maybe he’d send her home.
“I do know my way around a kitchen. I enjoy cooking when I have time. It’s relaxing.”
“I once burned water,” she admitted with a small sigh.
Colin laughed. The sound was deep and infectious. “How did that happen?”
“It’s kind of like my broken leg dart board story,” she admitted. “Way too embarrassing to share it, but trust me, don’t leave me unattended in a kitchen.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I ran into you when I did, then.”
The charming side of Colin was back in full force, which flustered Sabela. Tongue-tied, she remained silent. If only he were this nice all the time, she might not mind staying at Haberlin Chalet.
Chapter Sixteen
SABELA MARVELED AT THE GORGEOUS chalet while Colin led her to the kitchen. After a short walk, they stopped in front of a set of swinging doors. He held one open for her. Inside was an expansive kitchen that could have belonged in any fine restaurant.
Nothing was small inside the chalet.
On the other side of a massive kitchen island, Marie was spinning something in a colander. She looked up as they entered.
“I found her, Marie. See? I didn’t lock her away somewhere and tell her she couldn’t eat,” Colin said.
Sabela couldn’t help but laugh.
Colin had disarmed her so easily she hadn’t even noticed him do it.
“If you listen to Marie, you’d think I’m some kind of ogre,” he said. “I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to make sure that you don’t starve. Marie is afraid you’re going to waste away to nothing.”
No doubt, Marie had seen how little she’d eaten for breakfast. Sabela smiled at her, touched by her concern. “I appreciate it, Marie. You’re too kind.”
“No one ever leaves Haberlin without gaining a pound or two,” Marie said. “I make it my personal mission.”
Her accent was lovely. Sabela thought that she could listen to it all day.
There was definitely something maternal about Marie that she liked. She also liked that Marie wasn’t as intimidated by Colin as others were.
“You’re both just in time. I’m just finishing up some ratatouille.”
The previous evening had been a selection of Swiss delicacies. Now Marie had moved on to French ones. Sabela had heard mention of ratatouille before, but she’d never eaten it. Marie waved to them to sit down at the seats at the island.
More informal than the dining room the evening before, the kitchen put Sabela at ease. Not only that, but wearing simple jeans and a blouse made her feel more like herself.
Sabela ate the delicious stew while Marie chatted amiably with her and Colin. For the first time since she had arrived at the chalet, Sabela felt relaxed and even a bit at home. The chalet was starting to grow on her.
Eating in the kitchen made the meal more relaxed and casual. The bonus was that with Marie to buffer the conversation, the looming issue of Sabela’s debt was forgotten.
Marie had been married for forty years, and she and her husband had three grown children. She had lived in the village of Andermatt that was just down the mountain slope from the chalet for her entire life. It seemed crazy on one hand that she had never left, but then again Sabela had never been far from her city until now, either.
It was clear from different things that Colin shared that he had traveled all over the world. Sabela found that she was curious about him and where he came from. She wondered if he’d grown up wealthy.
From the way he spoke about his travels with such enthusiasm, she didn’t think so. Someone who was rich from birth would take travel for granted, wouldn’t they?
Sabela wanted to ask about his upbringing, but couldn’t quite find the right time to ask her questions. She’d have to wait.
When the meal was over, Sabela offered to help Marie with the dishes.
Of course, Marie declined.
“Oh no. Please, we have plenty of help for that.” She’d already swept all the dishes up into a stack. “You go and enjoy yourself.”
Sabela shuffled, uncomfortable, glancing shyly away from Colin.
“Have a drink in Mr. Morgan’s lounge and relax by the fire, you two,” Marie suggested. “I know Bruno has just brought up Mr. Morgan’s favorite bottle of scotch.”
The dishes clattered into the sink, and Marie looked over her shoulder to wink at them. She didn’t hide the fact that she was pushing them together. If only she knew.
“That’s an offer that sounds too good to refuse. And nothing goes finer with scotch than a beautiful guest to share it with.” Colin offered his arm to Sabela. “Shall we?”
The warmth and easiness of conversation at dinner had started to grow into something more. It was odd that just an hour ago, she had been thinking how much she detested him, and now, having seen him act like a regular human being, her perspective had changed.
She accepted his arm and tried to ignore the spark that struck between them when they touched.
“Do you enjoy scotch?” he asked as they left the kitchen.
Sabela shrugged. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Probably best, because after this you’d swear off any other scotch altogether. This scotch is that good.”
He led her into a room that she had not been in before, one near the front room, Colin’s personal lounge. Everything about the room was sleek and sophisticated, and the view from its broad windows was superb, like most every other room in the chalet. But then, the place was surrounded by spectacular nature, so any angle would be exquisite.
“I never understood the draw of expensive alcohol,” she said as she settled onto one of the long couches. “Or any alcohol. My father had a drinking problem.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you prefer we not drink?”
It was kind of him to ask, and Sabela appreciated his consideration. “Thank you, but no. I’ve learned to be at peace with it. I can’t let my father’s mistakes control my life.”
“Admirable. You’re wise beyond your years, Sabela. I hope you know it.”
Sabela flushed at the compliment and met his gaze, trying to ascertain if he was being genuine. She believed he was.
As much as she tried to convince herself that he was a beast who had no feelings, there was something magnetic about him. She was drawn to him and becoming more curious about him.
In order to mask how pleased she was by his praise, Sabela twisted on the couch so her head was turned away from him. How bizarre it was, to be drinking scotch in Switzerland with a man who held her future in his hands. She could hardly believe the turn her life had taken.
Colin crossed the room to the decanter, and while he was gone, Sabela reached out to touch a gorgeous crystal bowl set on its own, slender stand. The crystal was hard and cold, cut in an intricate design.
Inside the shallow bowl was an object she thought she recognized.
Her fingertips traced across it as if trying to make certain that it was real, then snatched it up and held it against her palm. Had she been in this room before and forgotten it here? Sabela knew that she hadn’t.
What was a matchbook for Pinkie’s Diner’s 30th anniversary doing in a crystal bowl in the middle of the Swiss Alps?
The
matchbooks had only been given out on one special day, and it was a day Sabela would never forget, could never forget.
By how worn the matchbook was, it appeared to have been rubbed repeatedly, like a worry stone or something similar. Who would do such a thing? And who would have it here, in a wealthy man’s chalet?
She turned her head and looked at Colin. He was pouring the scotch into two neat glasses. She willed herself to look beyond the trappings of wealth and privilege, to see the man underneath the shiny exterior.
The realization struck her like a blast of the cold, Alpine air. She shivered. She had indeed seen this man before. His hair had been longer, and he’d been dressed casually. He’d had some scruff on his jaw, and a baseball hat angled low over his eyes.
She hadn’t waited on him, but she’d noticed him because he sat at a booth, alone, and she’d wished he’d sat at the counter, where singles usually sat. Pinkie’s had a policy about keeping booths free for larger groups. She’d debated asking him to move, but had decided against it since the diner wasn’t busy.
Something about him had drawn her interest. She remembered thinking he looked shifty, or maybe sad, the way he kept staring out the front window. Maybe both.
So. Oh, yes. She’d definitely seen Colin Morgan before; she’d seen him at Pinkie’s, sitting in the front corner booth. He’d been there that terrible, terrible day when Sabela had foolishly put all her hopes in a stupid lottery drawing. The day she lost the last of her innocence … she’d thought.
Colin had been there. Had he seen her crying in Diana’s arms?
Something was going on, and Sabela’s mind whirled with possibilities. She shivered again. This wasn’t right. Everything was wrong.
And somehow, she needed to find out what game Colin Morgan was playing.
Chapter Seventeen
THE HEAT THAT SPREAD THROUGH his chest and left him feeling alive wasn’t because of the scotch. Colin hadn’t had a drop of it yet. All of it was because of Sabela and how well their meal had gone.
For a while, he’d been so enthralled he’d actually forgotten about the plan.
Who knew that a dinner eaten in the kitchen would be enjoyable? The only times he’d been in the kitchen were to consult with Marie about dinner preparations, and even then his visits had been brief at best.
It had been spontaneous, and a good time. Maybe forcing Sabela into doing the activities he enjoyed was the wrong way to go about things. She seemed so much happier tonight than she had at any other time while in the chalet, and Colin wanted to foster that joy for as long as he could.
As loosened up and at ease with each other as they now were, he found himself in an excellent position to take advantage of the situation and really advance his personal agenda.
But Colin found he wasn’t as interested in exploiting her anymore.
Sabela was a bright and talented young woman. In many ways, she was superior to Blanca, and he felt guilty for making such a comparison. He couldn’t stop himself, though. Blanca had been sweet and innocent. There’d been no challenge in her. Sabela on the other hand …
Maybe his plans could be modified so no harm was done to Sabela. After all, it wasn’t her that Colin wanted to destroy.
Liquor would soothe his nerves and shake the shackles of what had been. Liquor always helped, and the scotch was as good as he had bragged it would be. What he didn’t tell Sabela was that this brand of scotch, Yamazaki 35-year old scotch, cost more than twenty-five thousand dollars. He looked forward to her reaction when she tasted it.
What else could he expose Sabela to that she’d never experienced before? She’d led such a narrow life in Brent Grove. The possibilities were limitless.
How many of them would make her smile like she smiled for him tonight?
Colin turned to hand Sabela a glass. She was no longer smiling. Instead, she glared at him, seated primly on the couch, hands clenched in her lap, lips pressed thin and brow knitted.
Then he saw the pink matchbook in her hand and realized what he’d done. The bottom fell out of his stomach.
“You were there,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
How could he have overlooked such an incriminating detail? Colin’s back went rigid, and he set the glasses of scotch back down upon the table, buying himself a second to think.
He’d committed another blunder. A stupid oversight. He’d been so pleased to share the evening with Sabela that he hadn’t remembered he’d left the matchbook in the lounge the previous day.
The plan was starting to unravel by its seams. His mind worked frantically.
Was it time to talk his way out, or was it time to let the game end without the victory he’d anticipated? He’d try the first and accept the second if absolutely necessary. Failure would be a bitter pill to swallow, though.
“I was,” he replied, keeping it simple, not certain of which day she meant.
The line between her brows grew deeper. ”Why didn’t you tell me that already?”
“I was there.” He could give up part of the truth. What he didn’t tell her would be the key to salvaging the plan.
Sabela’s fiercely calm tone drew him back to her. “So you saw what happened.”
She didn’t say anything else, but he now knew which day she was referencing. Crowded around the dinky television screen in the diner, Sabela had dissolved into tears, and Colin had watched her do it.
As strong as she’d been at the Haberlin Chalet, he’d come to understand that she didn’t like exposing weaknesses. The fact that he had witnessed her breakdown likely made her feel vulnerable. He couldn’t blame her.
“I saw a young woman in distress after the lottery numbers were announced. All I did was ask one of the other waitresses what was wrong, and she told me that you had everything riding on that one ticket, and that you weren’t sure how you were going to make ends meet without hitting it big.”
Sabela’s face fell, her anger fading away. “It was so stupid to think I had a shot at winning, but it was all I could hope for. There wasn’t any other way I was going to get out of debt unless the stars lined up just right, and … do you understand what your assistance has meant to me and my brother?”
Colin had been prepared to be hardened against her response, expecting her to yell and scream at him for intruding in her life. He wasn’t expecting her to soften so soon.
“We’ve all encountered rough times. I was happy to help,” he said, falling back on old, trite platitudes.
“Why me?” she asked, her sparkling eyes gazing up at him.
The question hung in the air between them.
Colin stuck his hand into his pocket and picked up one of the glasses of scotch with the other. The amber liquid swirled against the glass, an excuse to look away from her.
The way she opened up to him, honest and sincere, made him ache. How could he plot against a woman like Sabela? She’d been doing her best with a bad situation, and he wasn’t going to make it any easier.
But he still couldn’t tell her the truth. The past hurt too much.
“Would you believe me if I said I don’t like seeing a beautiful woman cry?”
The glass of scotch clinked as he set it back on the table. He turned back to Sabela, swallowed the lump in his throat and took a few hesitant steps forward.
Sabela watched him approach, patient … trusting? How could that be when he’d done nothing but lie to her?
When he stopped before her, he gently ran the back of his hand down her velvety cheek. “There was something about seeing you in distress that day that struck a chord inside of me. I wanted to help you.”
The dark browns of her eyes shimmered. There were tears in them, he realized. Even when she was in pain, she looked stunning.
“All of this has gone wrong from the start,” he said. “I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but I have a heart and I have feelings just like anyone else.”
Sabela remained silent, but her expression softened.
> “Will you give me a second chance?” he asked. “We can get to know each other all over again, and this time I’ll do my best not to stick my foot in my mouth. I’ll treat you with the respect you deserve.”
The tears grew fatter in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them away. At last, she nodded.
Colin dropped his hand and sank down onto the couch beside her.
What would she think if she knew he had returned to Pinkie’s on that same day for the past four years? Sabela wasn’t dumb. He knew that she’d start to put the pieces together. She’d only begun to ask questions. Of that, he was certain.
He’d have to think fast to keep the plan moving forward.
There was a chance that he could see the game through to completion, but the prospect of winning didn’t feel so satisfying anymore.
Chapter Eighteen
SABELA SAT BESIDE COLIN, WANTING to start over, but not knowing if she could. How could she forgive a man who’d taken her from her home unannounced, treated her like he owned her, and had hidden the fact that he’d orchestrated a financial aid application?
Until she found the Pinkie’s matchbook, every moment with this man had been a lie. Was he lying still?
Outside, the snow had started to fall again. Big, puffy flakes hit the windows and slid down in wet streaks. Inside, the warmth from the fireplace soothed her.
The revelation that Colin was at Pinkie’s that night was shocking, but it also connected pieces of the story that hadn’t made sense to her before. It wasn’t her out of thousands of other applicants he’d selected to come play escort – he was helping her and her alone, and out of any other woman. And it was all because he’d seen her lose her composure at the diner.
Everything was overly complicated, though, and it didn’t all make sense, not yet anyway. She had plenty of questions that still needed answered.
Sabela wasn’t pleased with the choices Colin had made to get to where they were, but she felt less like an object and more like an individual now that the truth had come to light.