by Heidi Rice
They talked for a few moments more, Bronte only managing to effectively process about half of the information. Her eyes stung as she replaced the phone in its stand.
Nico’s dark head bent next to Maureen’s grey hair as he concentrated on cutting dinosaur shapes out of the cookie dough. Autumn sunshine streamed through the windows, giving his chestnut curls a healthy glow.
Bronte blinked furiously to stop the happy tears from falling. Everything had been going so well, but this... This was freedom. It was a new start. A future.
‘Can I eat the dough?’ Nico pestered Maureen, gloriously oblivious to the enormity of the news they had just received, while the older woman placed the cookies in the oven.
‘No dough, sweetheart—it has raw egg in it. Why don’t you help me clean up the mess?’ Maureen said.
Nico bobbed his head enthusiastically, then set about making more mess than he was actually clearing up—while Maureen spoke to Bronte in a hushed tone. ‘Good news?’
‘The best.’ Bronte’s eyes welled again, and Maureen walked over to wrap a warm arm round her shoulders. She handed Bronte a tissue.
‘Why don’t you take a moment, dear? I can get Nico fed and bathed and into bed tonight.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bronte said, blowing her nose.
‘Of course I’m sure. You’ve been with him all day—you’re entitled to a break too, you know?’
Brushing the specks of flour off her jeans, Bronte stood up.
‘Okay, thanks,’ she said, feeling way too tearful. She didn’t want Nico to see her being over-emotional. She had been striving for as normal an environment as possible over the last two months since he’d returned home. Well, as normal as she could be when they were living in a twenty-eight-and-a-half-million-pound palace in Regent’s Park.
‘I should probably contact Lisa to let her know the news,’ Bronte added.
So Lisa could relay it to the man who would not speak to them, she thought as she gave Nico a quick cuddle, which made him giggle.
Leaving the room, she headed up the kitchen stairs to the mansion’s ground floor.
She entered the huge double-height reception room which she and Maureen had transformed into a cosy yet airy play area and family living space.
She loved this room. With two big comfy sofas, a child-sized desk and chair and Nico’s favourite toys and games and a range of art supplies piled onto shelves built into the room’s alcoves plus a fireplace with a childproof guard, it was the perfect space for her and Nico to hang out each afternoon when she collected him from the private nursery he attended around the corner.
She pulled out her mobile and keyed in Lisa’s number but, as her thumb hovered over the call button, Bronte’s heart thudded painfully and the conversation she would have with the personal assistant played through her mind. She would give Lisa her news, the woman would promise to pass it on to Lukas and try to get him to return her call in person—which they both knew he wouldn’t do.
You’re just as much of a coward as he is, Bronte O’Hara.
Wasn’t she facilitating his non-involvement in Nico’s life, by agreeing to relay all the essential information through Lisa? Lisa had told her a week ago Lukas was based in London at the moment, using the Blackstone Park Lane as his home base while he toured Blackstone’s European properties. Lisa had, of course, attempted to persuade him to visit them in Regent’s Park—but no such visit had been forthcoming. Bronte had no doubt at all that Lisa had tried, but as Lukas’s employee it was hardly her job to persuade her billionaire boss to do something he didn’t want to do.
Bronte’s insides turned over as she switched off the phone and stuffed it back into her pocket.
This was ridiculous. She had incredible news. News that Lukas Blackstone was mostly responsible for. She had to stop letting him use Lisa as a buffer. And she had to stop using Lisa as a buffer herself.
It was time for her to man up and face her own demons. So what if she’d had that silly emotional blip—and all but melted into a puddle of unrequited need—the last time she’d been alone in a room with the man face to face. She’d been stressed beyond belief at the time and overwhelmed by the sudden twists and turns that his presence in her and Nico’s lives represented.
But she was over that now. Nico was well again, and they were settled and happy in the house Lukas had purchased for them. He needed to hear how his nephew was doing from her—and he needed to man up too and be told in no uncertain terms that Nico needed him to be so much more than just a bottomless bank account.
If Lukas Blackstone still wanted to blank them both after that, then so be it. She couldn’t force him to be present in Nico’s life. But, for all their sakes, she had to at least try.
Texting Dave, their chauffeur, she headed out of the family room and grabbed her jacket.
Time’s up, Lukas Blackstone. I’m not scared of you or my reaction to you any more.
Or not much, she thought, as she planted her bottom on the Mercedes’ soft leather seat and the hot brick in her stomach became wedged in her throat.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I DON’T GIVE a damn how my dating life is going to play with the family demographic, Dex. Your job is to make sure it’s not an issue.’ Lukas balanced the phone between his collarbone and his chin and undid the cuffs of his shirt.
He’d flown in from Paris an hour ago in the company helicopter and he needed a shower. He was supposed to be attending a function tonight in the ballroom downstairs to launch the new branding for Blackstone’s Deluxe Family Resorts. The build in the Maldives on the first resort was finally finished, but they had only a couple of months till the opening and there were still a ton of problems with the PR campaign. The top one of which was that his publicity guru Dex Garvey thought he could butt into Lukas’s personal life to find a great angle to push their social media outreach.
‘What about the pretty little thing you kissed at the Ball months ago?’ Garvey jumped right back in, not deterred in the least by Lukas’s sharp tone. ‘She’s your nephew’s aunt, right? That Cinderella story has legs, Lukas. The press are still gagging for stories about the girl and the kid. And the speculation about what’s going on between the two of you hasn’t died down either. I heard the boy’s out of hospital and home now in the place you bought for them. Why the heck don’t you take her and the kid with you to the resort before it launches? We could get a photographer out there to document the whole thing. The press will lap it up and the social media buzz we could generate would be priceless.’
‘I don’t need priceless social media buzz. I need you to do your job and stop bugging me with this stuff.’
He hadn’t seen Bronte O’Hara or his nephew since the day he’d brought her back to the UK from Manhattan. Had made a point of not having any contact with her or the boy. The fact that his thoughts often strayed to the memory of the child’s hands wrapped around his waist during their one brief meeting, or that he still woke up most nights, his body hard and aching, with the memory of Bronte’s taste lingering on his tongue was not significant. And certainly not something he planned to encourage.
The kid had gotten to him momentarily, because it had been a tough situation and the boy looked uncannily like his twin brother. The brother he’d never had the time or the inclination to grieve. Those dumb feelings of protectiveness towards the boy’s aunt, the desire to make sure she was well cared for, had to be a result of that jolt too. And maybe transference. Somehow during their argument he’d mixed up his responsibilities for the welfare of Alexei’s son with a responsibility he didn’t even have for Bronte’s welfare. His weird erotic obsession with the woman was even easier to explain. He hadn’t gotten laid in months, and certainly not since he’d faced off with Bronte in the hospital waiting room. Maybe he’d find a willing woman at tonight’s event and end the drought. Problem solved.
He shrugged out of his sh
irt.
‘I’m just saying,’ Garvey put on his wheedling voice, the one that had helped win him accolades all over the globe for his media campaigns, and made him someone Blackstone’s had spent a fortune head-hunting two years ago—something Lukas was starting to regret.
‘I’m not gonna lie to you, Lukas. Your rep and the company’s image took a hit when you decided not to get cosy with your new nephew. And his surrogate mommy.’
‘I’m not the family man type, Garvey.’ And he never would be. Families, how they operated, what they had to offer, didn’t interest him. The bankrupt way his own family had operated had proved that to him years ago. ‘Get over it and find another way to promote the new brand.’
‘But you are the Blackstone brand.’ Garvey whined some more. ‘I still don’t get why you wouldn’t at least let me tell the media you’re the anonymous donor that made the kid’s treatment a success.’
‘Because it’s nobody’s business.’ And it would make him feel like a fraud. His involvement in Nico’s treatment was just a trick of genetics. He sure as heck wasn’t about to get business capital out of his arbitrary role in saving the boy’s life. ‘I’ll see you in the ballroom in an hour—and I don’t want to hear another word about this, or I’m going to reconsider the six-figure salary we’re paying you.’
The heavy sigh down the line made Lukas bristle. But then Dex murmured, ‘Yes, boss.’
Switching off the phone, Lukas finished undressing then stepped into the shower cubicle and turned the water jets to frigid. Just the mention of Bronte had had a predictable effect. Taking the erection in hand, he did what he’d been doing far too often of late. The perfunctory pleasure washed through him—but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the craving for long.
Whatever she’d done to him he needed to undo, tonight—or he was liable to lose his mind completely.
And if Dex brought up her name again, Blackstone’s was finding a new PR guru.
* * *
‘I need to see him, Lisa. I know you’ve done your best but he seems determined not to even acknowledge Nico’s existence. Could you get me into his office?’
Lisa nodded. ‘I understand, but he’s not in his office.’
‘He’s not? Where is he?’
‘In his suite on the top floor of the hotel, getting ready for tonight’s launch for the new Blackstone Family Resort in the Maldives.’
‘Oh.’ Bronte’s chest imploded like a burst balloon. ‘I see.’ She couldn’t confront him in his private apartment—even the thought of it had the hot brick in her stomach sinking deeper into her abdomen. ‘I guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow.’ And work herself up all over again. Somehow. ‘Will he still be in London?’
‘I think he’s due to fly out to the Maldives tomorrow afternoon,’ Lisa said, the sympathy in her eyes making Bronte feel like even more of a dope—for charging into the woman’s office at six o’clock with no clear plan and no real clue. She should have made an appointment.
‘Is everything okay with Nico?’ Lisa asked.
‘Yes, everything’s really good. That’s what I wanted to talk to Lukas about. Nico just got the all-clear from the hospital.’
‘But that’s wonderful news.’ Lisa got up and walked round her desk.
Dressed in a red satin sheath dress, she looked immaculate, her hair and make-up suggesting she had been about to leave for the press launch herself when Bronte had stormed into her office.
Bronte winced at the flour stains on her T-shirt and the mud on her jeans from where she’d been playing in the park with Nico that afternoon.
‘I should go. I’m sorry to have bothered you,’ Bronte said, her confidence and determination seeping away. ‘Could you tell him I was here and give him the news?’
‘Bronte—wait.’ Lisa touched Bronte’s arm as she turned to leave. ‘I think you should tell him.’
‘I know, but he’s not here.’ And the last of her confidence had already sunk into the toes of her muddy boots. However well she might have settled into the house in Regent’s Park, however confident she felt in her role as Nico’s guardian, she didn’t belong in Lukas Blackstone’s world and she never would. Nico would have to one day, and she’d do her best to prepare him for that, when the time came. But the time did not have to be now.
‘Nonsense, he’s right upstairs,’ Lisa said, looking determined as she steered Bronte out of her office towards a bank of lifts. With night falling over Hyde Park, the suite of offices was virtually empty. Lisa led her up a small flight of stairs to a separate lift with a bronze plaque above it marked ‘Penthouse only’. ‘He’s not due at the event for at least thirty minutes, which gives you plenty of time to talk to him alone and uninterrupted.’
Lisa whisked a small card out of the jewelled clutch purse which matched her sleek outfit and swiped it through a sensor on the lift panel. A bell dinged and the lift doors opened with an efficient swish.
‘This is your chance. To talk to him about Nico.’ She gave Bronte a gentle shove into the mirrored interior of the penthouse elevator. ‘And stop him from avoiding you both. He’s more interested in you two than he wants to let on,’ Lisa added.
‘What makes you think that?’ Bronte asked, her thighs starting to tremble. Was she really ready to meet Lukas Blackstone in the flesh again? To have another confrontation with him? Especially unaccompanied? In his penthouse? Could she trust all those unbidden thoughts and desires from their meeting months ago in the hospital waiting room not to burst out of hiding?
‘Because he never misses an opportunity to ask after you both and he always listens intently to everything I tell him, not just about Nico but also about you,’ Lisa said, the sympathy and understanding in her voice disturbing Bronte even more.
She didn’t want Lukas to have an interest in her.
The surge of something hot and fluid made the earthquake in her knees hit nine point five on the Richter Scale and her heart kick her ribs in hard heavy thuds, calling her a liar.
‘After working with him for five years,’ Lisa continued, ‘I can tell you he’s a man who keeps his thoughts and feelings better guarded than Fort Knox. But I think he cares for you two. Or he would, if he gave himself a chance.’
‘I’m really not sure this is a good idea,’ Bronte said limply, wanting to step off the lift and run like hell, but unable to make her shaking legs move.
Leaning into the lift, Lisa used the card again and stabbed a button marked ‘Private’.
‘I get that,’ Lisa said as she stepped back. ‘But I’m ready to stake my job on being right.’ A smile flickered across her face. ‘And I’m sick to death of him using me as a go-between. Good luck.’
The doors swished closed, trapping Bronte in the lift alone.
Thirty seconds later, she stepped out into the palatial lobby area of a stunning penthouse apartment, completely convinced she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
Floor-to-ceiling glass panelling afforded a stunning view of Hyde Park as night drew in, floodlights illuminating Marble Arch in the distance through the trees. Muted lighting gave the flooring a mirrored sheen. A newsreader’s voice droned as financial statistics scrolled over the flat-screen TV on the far wall.
‘Hello? Lukas?’ she called out in a tremulous whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again, glancing up the staircase leading to a mezzanine level.
‘Bronte...?’ Her head swung round so fast at the gruff enquiry from behind her she was lucky not to get whiplash.
Heat roared up from her core to incinerate every one of her pulse points at the sight before her.
Lukas Blackstone was naked, apart from a damp towel wrapped around his hips. He stood staring at her, his long hair-dusted legs apart, guarding a doorway that led into the dimly lit interior of a bedroom suite. Her gaze devoured the sleek musculature of his chest. Each bulge glistened with d
roplets of water, drawing her gaze down to the even more perilous territory of his hips. The man had a V so magnificent every drop of moisture in her mouth dried to dust. Magic fairy dust that made her tongue tickle with the urge to lick the water off those spectacular abs and delve down to...
She gulped audibly, becoming light-headed as every molecule of blood in her head plunged south.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said, his voice so husky it seemed to reverberate against her aching clitoris. ‘Is there a problem with Nico?’
Nico. Yes, Nico. Nico is why I’m here. Isn’t it?
The thought skittered across her mind but, as she tried to grab hold of it and cling on, her gaze roamed up to his face and another blast of heat surged south.
‘Nico’s good,’ she said. ‘He’s wonderful.’ She had something specific to tell him about Nico but, whatever it was, it had been incinerated in the inferno now blazing through her body, leaving her mind clinging on to one thought, and one thought only.
I want to explore the ridged muscles of that eight pack with my tongue.
She forced her gaze to remain on his face, her breathing becoming rapid and uneven as she saw the same burning desire reflected back at her—in the rigid flex of the scar tissue tightening over his jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the growing bulge lifting the towelling.
She stood frozen, crippled by her own yearning as he crossed the room. And cursed under his breath.
‘You shouldn’t have come,’ he said, the words ripped from his throat.
Knowledge arched between them. Dark, driven and unstoppable. And she knew no force on earth would be able to stop her from giving into the need pounding hard enough to hurt in her sex.
‘I know,’ she said, her gaze fixed on his as his fingers curled around her upper arm and he drew her against naked flesh.