One Night to Risk It All

CHAPTER TWELVE


“MORE CANDY, RACH?”

“Yes,” Rachel moaned, holding her hand out to her sister and letting her fill it with little chocolate shoes.

She was lying on the couch in Leah and Ajax’s penthouse in New York, where she’d been staying for almost two weeks trying to heal from a completely shattered heart.

She’d had a rage high for the first week. A total, deep and loathing hatred for Alex that made it impossible to cry over losing him. Made it impossible to think about their last conversation in any detail that went beyond the horrible, awful things he’d said.

She’d let it fuel her, carry her, keep her from collapsing.

In front of the wedding guests, she’d done nothing to take the high road. She’d done nothing to keep them from finding out what a hideous worm he was. She had been angry.

A mother bear, feeling rage for her cub. He’d said he didn’t want to see their baby. His rejection of her was bad enough, but that rejection had opened up a well of maternal emotion she’d never felt before. It had given her a momentary, honest-to-God, deep desire to hurt him. Physically. To hit him with something hard. Repeatedly.

But now the rage had subsided. And parts of their final conversation were replaying, sections she’d tried to forget. His revelations about himself. How he felt about himself. That his mother had killed herself rather than be with him. That the underlying tone of it all was that he was a man who felt unworthy. Of everything. He had hated Ajax, because Ajax had the one thing Alex didn’t think he would ever truly be able to have.

Love.

And for some reason, her love hadn’t been enough. Or, maybe, he was just afraid that her loving him would hurt her somehow.

And that made it harder to rage at him.

Something had happened at the wedding. She was getting surer and surer about it. But until she figured out what to do, until she had the energy to tell Ajax that Alex was his half brother, she was going to lie around and eat more of her sister’s candy.

“You okay?” Leah asked.

“No. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. I think I love him still.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. It’s the worst.”

Ajax walked into the room then, looking handsome, as he always did, in dark slacks and a white shirt. She could see it now that she looked at him—his vague resemblance to Alex. But he didn’t have those eyes. Or that wicked sparkle.

Well, he did a little bit when he looked at Leah. And that made her happy. Because this was, by far, the happiest and most carefree she’d ever seen Ajax.

“What’s the worst?”

“You were,” Leah said. “You know, when we almost got divorced.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his tone overly serious. Typical Ajax. “I was the worst.”

“Hey, Jax,” Rachel said.


“Yes?”

“Did you say anything to Alex at the wedding?”

“No,” he said, frowning. “But you have to know, I never trusted him. I’m sadly not surprised by the outcome.”

“But I am. I spent months with him. I was... He was my lover. We’re having a baby. I felt like I knew him better than that and none of this really makes sense to me. So maybe he was that good of an actor. Or maybe there’s a little more to all of this than it seems. So I thought I would ask.”

“He didn’t say anything. He...looked at me, but unless he has some sort of unrequited longing for me, I don’t see how that’s valid.”

“Yeah, that’s not his problem. Trust me.”

She laid her head back down on the couch.

“Another movie?” Leah asked, her tone pitying. Good. Rachel deserved pity. She was alone. And with child.

“Yes. And cake. Is there cake?”

Ajax gave her a look that mirrored his wife’s. “I’ll get you some.”

She took a deep breath and stared at the TV, not really absorbing what was happening. She was miserable. She was in love with a man who didn’t deserve her love. A man who needed love like a flower in the desert needed water.

Alex was drying up inside. Dying. And he wouldn’t get help. He was determined to embrace all that anger and push everyone who cared about him away.

And yeah, he’d really messed her life up and it felt horrible. But he’d done some good things for her, too. And maybe rather than melting she should try and remember it.

She put her thumbnail in her mouth and started gnawing on it. “You know, Leah, I don’t really want to watch a movie.”

“Do you still want cake?”

“Yes, oh yes, I want cake.”

“Good. Cake you shall have. What do you want to do?”

“Talk maybe?” Rachel asked. “I think...I think we spent too many years not talking.”

“My fault, Rach, really,” Leah said, frowning. “I was lusting after your man. That made things hard.”

Rachel shook her head. “Sure, there’s that. But...if we were closer, wouldn’t I have noticed?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not in the mood to blame you for it. Anyway, Ajax and I worked out. So it’s fine.”

“I was supposed to make sure I wasn’t a bad influence on you, you know.”

Leah laughed. “You? A bad influence on me? You’re so sweet and...sweet. And I’m not. Never have been.”

“Well, I wasn’t for a while.” She thought of drunk nights in clubs. Driving too fast. “I was a pretty big partier for a while. But you were a kid. You wouldn’t remember. Dad was always on hand to cover up for me. Mom was always on hand to disapprove.”

“You had a secret life!” Leah said. “I’m truly impressed.”

“Don’t be. I was an idiot. See, this is why they wouldn’t let me tell you! You’re easily influenced.”

Leah laughed again and Rachel couldn’t help laughing in return, until she was almost breathless with it, the need for something other than sadness and anger taking over and hijacking her emotions until she was almost in hysterics.

Leah followed suit until they’d both slid to the floor, laughing. Over nothing and everything. Rachel wiped her eyes and looked at her sister, another giggle surging through her.

“I guess if I can laugh for a little bit... Hey, it’s a start, right?”

Leah cleared her throat. “Yeah, Rach, it’s a start.”

Rachel smiled, a feeble attempt. Yes, it was a start. But she had a feeling the road to getting over Alex was longer than she could possibly imagine. She had a feeling the wounds would get cut open, raw and fresh again every time she looked at their child.

Especially if that child ended up with those beautiful, wicked blue eyes...

She hoped they wouldn’t. And she hoped they would.

For now she would take a couple hours of distraction. Her broken heart was going to take a long time to heal, but at least she had her sister. She could spend some time with Leah, doing her best to forget her pain.

* * *

Alex hated having to get dressed. Lying around his apartment, drunk and in his underwear, was about his speed lately. But here he was, shaven and showered and wearing a suit. Because he had business to see to.

Business that involved a man who would very likely kill him on sight. But at least then there would be an end to the hell he’d been living in. Death seemed like a pretty serene option, all things considered.

“Mr. Christofides.” A man who was sitting behind a large desk in the ante chamber of Ajax’s office addressed him. “Mr. Kouros will see you now.”

“Oh, good. I don’t suppose you know whether or not he’s in a killing mood.”

“At work, Mr. Kouros usually is.”

“Well,” Alex said. “Damn.” He forced a smile and walked toward Ajax’s office.

“Alexios,” Ajax said when he walked in. “I was surprised when you said you wanted to see me, and you made it necessary for me to dodge my wife’s questions because I didn’t want to upset her.... Anyway, you’ve put me in a bad frame of mind already so if I were you, I would speak quickly. If you’ve come to make some sort of arch villain monologue, you’re wasting your breath. I don’t care.”

“Hardly. I thought you might want an explanation. For everything. For why I was after your company. After you.”

“You were at the compound, weren’t you?” Ajax asked, sounding weary, a tired look in his eyes. Yes, Ajax felt very much like Alex did about the whole business. “In which case I understand why you might have reason to dislike me. However, you should know, and I say this not to try and absolve me of sins past but so you have some closure, I was the key part in having my father’s crime ring brought down.”

“I am happy to know that. To know that you were a part of stopping it. I wish I had been.”

“You’re young,” Ajax said. “It took me time and age to do the right thing.”

“I was at the compound,” Alex said. “But that’s not really the important part of the story. The important part is what I found out after you left.”

“And what is that?”

“Your father had another son.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ajax said, though some of the color had leeched from his face.

“Well, it did me. Knocked me on my ass, in fact.”

“And why,” Ajax asked, his voice rough, “is that?”

“Because it’s me.”

Ajax paused. “You’re sure?”

“He was. Enough to offer me his twisted kingdom when he passed, so I would say he was fairly certain.”

“And that’s why you’ve been after me? And my business?”

“I guess so. I was just blindly angry for the most part. How could you have escaped? And you had this perfect life. A family who loved you. A woman who loved you. And I had nothing. So I wanted to take it from you. Bring you down to the level I felt you should be on. The level I was on. But now I’ve hurt Rachel. And I’m not happy about that. I’ve also had a look at my own bloody self and let me tell you, it’s not pretty. Rachel aside, I needed to speak with you about this. To let you know I’m not going to be pulling any more stupid stunts in the name of revenge. I’m tired. Tired of this. Tired of all the ugliness inside of me. I just want to let it go. And I’ll never be the man she needs, I understand that. But I want to feel something other than...all of this anger.”


Ajax grabbed a cup on his desk and straightened it, his knuckles white, because he was squeezing it too hard. “You understand, though, that because of Rachel, our relationship can’t be...”

“I do. I don’t think I’m the sort of man who has close family ties. At least, I don’t know how.”

Ajax looked down, his expression blank. “I am glad you told me.”

“No more secrets. That old bastard doesn’t get to have any of us anymore. No more power.”

Ajax nodded slowly. “Yes. No more.”

“Thank you for seeing me. This is hardly the kind of news you leave on a voice mail.”

“Indeed not.”

“I’ll see myself out.” He turned his back on Ajax and headed toward the door. Then paused, before turning back around. “Ajax, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How did you do it?”

“What?”

“How did you let it all go? How did you... How did you find it in you to ask a woman to tie herself to you for the rest of your life knowing where you came from? Knowing what’s inside of us...how do you ever truly believe you’ll rise above it? How can you ever believe you...deserve it when... No one has ever loved me. And I figure there’s a reason for that. How do I tell her I want it when I’m afraid it will destroy her?”

Ajax was silent for a long moment, his dark brows drawn together, his focus out the window. Finally he spoke. “Whatever our father said, whatever words he might have used, in my mind there was one thing he never did. One thing that he was missing that, had it ever taken root, would have changed the way he lived his life.”

“And what is that?”

“He didn’t have love, Alex. I think that’s the thing that changes us. It’s the only thing, at least in my experience, that can banish the monster.”

“Love is what made my mother kill herself,” he said, his tone flat.

“What do drugs do to you, Alex?” Ajax asked.

“They’re addicting.”

“They make you feel things,” Ajax said, meeting his eyes now. “They make you need them. But you don’t love them. They ruin you, make you think you can’t live without them. Addiction isn’t love. Which do you think your mother really felt for our father?”

Alex almost choked. “I...I’m not certain.”

“Love is the thing that changed me,” he said. “From Joseph Holt, to Leah, love was what truly healed me. It wasn’t money or power. It wasn’t vengeance. I didn’t deserve it, either, but when I accepted it...that was when I changed. Think about it. Think about what love really is.”

“I will.”

“I hope you do. I really mean that.”

Alex walked out of the office and down the hall, numb as he stepped into the elevator. Love. He was in love. A lot of good it did anyone.

He let out a roar of frustration and hit his fist on the button panel of the elevator, swearing roundly when it lit up several more buttons that signaled he would be taking a few more stops than he wanted on his way down to the lobby.

He leaned back against the wall, his heart pounding so hard he thought he might be having a medical crisis.

Was it so simple? Just loving and trusting that love would make it all right? That it would bring forgiveness for everything that had happened? That it would stay? Could he truly have it, finally? The thing he’d craved his whole life?

Was it so simple to just say, “I love you, and I’m a mess and you deserve better? But please love me anyway”?

Would love light the way and keep him from going back into darkness? Would it make him a man deserving of that perfect, beautiful woman?

He pictured Rachel’s face. Her beautiful smile.

Yes. Dammit. Yes. It would be enough.

He would never be worthy of her. Ever. She deserved a man who was whole. A man who would never dream of seducing a woman to get revenge on an enemy.

He wasn’t that man. But he would let her cry, let her feel, and he would listen to her sing off key. He would hold her close at night and he would change their baby’s diapers, because he wanted to be with her, and to share everything in this new, amazing life that he’d never once imagined he might have.

The elevator stopped. Fifth floor, of all the stupid things.

Then it stopped again.

And again.

Finally he was at the lobby, and by the time he was out on the street, he was sprinting. He was going to get Rachel. And he would beg if he had to.

But he had to take a chance.

Otherwise, all of his houses, his island, every cent of his money, wouldn’t matter. Gaining all the world didn’t matter if he lost the one thing he truly needed.

* * *

“Where is your dang ice cream, Leah Kouros?” Rachel muttered, rummaging through the freezer. “Why does your stupid candy company not make ice cream?” Unfortunately, her sister was down at Leah’s Lollies today and was not in the apartment to hear Rachel cursing her name over her lack of frozen treats.

The front door opened and Rachel straightened. Maybe her angry mutterings had summoned Leah.

“I’m in here! How is it you have all this sugar and no ice cream? Answer me that.”

“I don’t know.”

She turned around and dropped the spoon she was holding. It clattered on the tile floor, the sound ringing through the silence.

“Alex,” she breathed. She felt like she was going to fall over. Felt like she’d been sucker punched. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a month.

She put her hand on her stomach. Five months in and she was definitely looking her condition these days. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes dropped to where her hand was resting, a strange expression on his face. “Your body has changed.”

“I’m pregnant,” she said, “that happens. Especially since things are going well.”

“They are?”

“Yes.”

He let out a long breath. “I am relieved to hear it. Beyond relieved.”

“I didn’t think you cared.”

“I’m a liar,” he said, his words rough. “I care...Rachel, I mourn the changes in your body that I’ve missed. That it happened without me here. I should have been with you all this time. I should have been here. I should have...I should have been your husband.”

“It was your choice not to be,” she said, bending to pick up the spoon. “You were the one who walked back down the aisle and left me to explain why there wasn’t going to be a wedding.” She slammed the spoon onto the counter. “You made that decision. And then you told me it was your plan from the beginning. To use me. Because I was just a pawn to you. A pawn like I’ve been to everyone else. Except this was worse because with you I was honest. I told you how I felt, Alex. I showed you who I was and you took that and you abused it.”

“I lied to you,” he said.

“You what?”

“I lied to you because... Rachel, I got up there and I looked out in the crowd and I saw Ajax sitting there. And I knew...I hated him so much because of who I thought he was, but for some reason being up there and seeing him, my brother, made me see myself clearly for the first time. I hated what I saw. A man who used you. A man who contrived to trap you with him, even when he knew he had no hope of ever being all the things you deserved. A man who would hold you to him using any means, even your love against you. I saw myself in that moment. I saw that I was a man whose own mother couldn’t love him and that she was right not to. I—” He took a deep, shaking breath. “I couldn’t allow you to go through with it. Because everything that happened between us was so manipulated by me. Including your feelings. You say you love me...but that’s because you’re having my baby. Because you spent a few idyllic months on a private island with me.”


She was sure that the room was spinning.

“Alex,” she said, her voice trembling. “Are you telling me that you were acting the whole time we were on your island?”

“No,” he said, “but it was so engineered, all of it. You felt trapped. I made you decide to come with me so quickly I...”

“Do you trust that I’m a smart woman, Alex?”

“Yes.”

“Great. No hesitation even. So do you trust me to know my own heart?”

“Why? I sure as hell didn’t know mine.”

She frowned. “Poor man. Well, I know mine. I loved you. So much. And when you pushed me away...when you told me you never even wanted to see our child? I wanted to hit you with something heavy and blunt.”

“That seems fair.”

“I gave you my love, you...you jerk. I gave you everything. I would have—”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, deep, desperate. And she didn’t push him away. Didn’t fight him. Because she was too hungry for him. Angry, yes, she was angry. But she’d never stopped wanting him. She’d never stopped loving him.

He pushed her back up against the fridge, his hands on her waist as he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her cheeks as she poured all of her hurt, all of her weeks of anguish into the kiss.

“Okay,” she said, gasping for air, “we have to talk and not just have sex. The sex is fine between us. We, on the other hand, have problems.”

“True,” he said, breathing heavy.

“So why are you here?”

“Because I have spent the past month drunk and miserable. Because every time I think about never seeing our baby I want to die. And every time I think about never seeing you again...Rachel, I start praying for death to come quickly.”

“Why?” she asked, her throat tight.

“Because I love you. With every broken, miserable piece of myself. And I realized this weeks ago but I kept thinking it wasn’t fair to ask you to spend the rest of your life with a man like me. But...but I have to be selfish now and ask that you do. That you spend your life with me because if you don’t then I’m not sure what my life means at all.”

“Alex, why do you think you aren’t worthy of me?” she asked. “I am... I’m not perfect. And I’ve fought to get to the place where I could say that and just be okay with it. I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes. And I’ll make more mistakes. I don’t want a perfect man because I could never live up to those standards.”

“I would give you a better man,” he said.

“With all due respect,” she said, “you’re a jackass.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what I need. I know who I am. I don’t need better. There isn’t better for me. For me, there’s you. That’s it. Alex, the moment I saw you I fell in love with you. Is that crazy? I would have thought it was crazy until five months ago when I saw you standing there, on a yacht. And you made me want things I never knew I needed.”

He pulled her to him, crushed her against him, taking a sharp breath. “Me, too. Rachel, that was the moment for me, too. When you were standing there looking at me, so awkward and obviously attracted.”

“Hey.”

“It’s true. You were. But it’s okay, because that was the moment. When I knew that I needed you. I didn’t know then that I needed you forever. I thought an hour. A night. I didn’t know how much it would change me. But it did. And then you kept changing me these last few months. Even when you weren’t there. Even when all that was left of you was how much I missed you.”

“Why did it take you so long?” she asked. “Why did it take this long for you to know you loved me?”

“It was the one thing I’d never had before. I loved my mother, Rachel, but I didn’t know what it was like to have her love me back. Not really. I didn’t understand love as a living thing. As something that could give. She took. I gave. And in the end I was left devastated because...she ended herself rather than be with me, Rachel.”

“Alex...it wasn’t you. She had so many problems, honey, but they weren’t you.”

“I know,” he said. “I do now.”

“I’m glad. I’m so glad.”

“Ajax helped me with that. He...he made me see. I hated him for what he had, without trying to find out why he’d been able to get it. Love. And when he told me that...it all made sense. Love is different than I thought. The love I feel for you has demanded that I change, that I give, that I sacrifice. And it makes me burn. Makes me want. Makes me hurt. Makes me so happy I... It’s happiness like I never thought I could have. I had no idea what to call it, no idea what to do with it. It’s love. And it’s the most terrifying, wonderful thing I’ve ever felt before. And if you feel the same for me, if you want to do this—for the rest of our lives, knowing who I am, where I’ve been—then I can only be grateful. I can only try and become the man I think you deserve.”

“Just be the man you are, Alex. That’s the beginning and end of all I want from you. Because it’s the freedom you gave to me. And it might seem like a small thing but...Alex, don’t you see that you set me free? I feel like I was trapped in someone else’s body, desperately trying to live up to an ideal I didn’t even want to be and afraid I was failing miserably at it. You are... You are amazing. What you’ve given me is amazing. There is no better man to me than the man who simply wants me. As I am.”

“I am that man,” he said, kissing her cheek. “That I promise you. I want all that you are. All that you will be. We’ll both keep changing, but we’ll change together. Whatever life has in store for us, I think we can meet the challenge head on, as long as we’re together.”

“I think so, too.”

“So, when are we getting married?”

“Not for at least six months,” she said.

“What?”

“I need time to plan it. I love you and this is for life. And you love me. This is a real wedding. Also, I don’t dig the pregnant bride look, I’ve decided.”

“You’re going to make me wait, Rachel?”

She smiled, her heart swelling. “For some things, Alex. Not for others.”

* * *

A long time later they lay in her bed, limbs tangled, breathing hard. She was tracing his biceps with her fingertips, a smile on his lips. Yes, she loved this man, more than anything. Their start had been rocky at best, but they had forever ahead of them.

“You know, if we can make it through all of this, I think we can make it through anything,” she said.

“I agree.”

“Just as long as we’re honest, from now on.”

“In the interest of honesty then,” he said, “may I say, I think your breasts have gotten larger. I like it.”

“Wow. Romantic.”

“Maybe not. But honest.”

“Appreciated.”

Suddenly, she flashed back to that evening they’d eaten pizza in a fancy hotel in Cannes. When he’d talked about happy endings. “You got your happy ending,” she whispered.

He kissed her on the cheek and she could have sworn he left a teardrop behind. “It’s not over yet.”

“No,” she said, snuggling closer. “It’s not. And thank God for that.”


“Yes. I get a whole lifetime with you. With ups and downs, with every emotion. But it will be with you.”

She kissed his forearm and held his arms more tightly to her. “That’s much better than any old happy ending.”

He sighed, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I agree, agape. I agree.”





EPILOGUE


“IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL WEDDING,” Leah said.

“And it happened,” Ajax added.

“You’re sensitive as a blunt instrument,” Leah said, beaming at her husband.

Ajax shrugged and turned to face Alex, who was standing there in a tux, his tie undone, his two-month-old son wrapped in a blanket and nestled in his arms. “Am I insensitive, little brother?”

Alex shrugged and looked down at his son. Liam didn’t care that his parents had just gotten married. He was at peace, as he always was, everything in his world right. Alex’s heart swelled with love, with pride. That his son had so much family to love him. That his life would be so much more beautiful than his or Ajax’s had ever been.

That he would never know the harsh criticism of a mother the way that Rachel had. Never feel like he had to rebel or close up completely, rather than being who he wanted. That he would never wonder if he was loved at all. They told him every day.

“Yes, but it’s part of your charm.”

“Don’t encourage him, Alex,” Leah said.

Rachel returned then, on her father’s arm. They had just finished their dance and Rachel was beaming. Her figure was still fuller than it had been before giving birth, her cheeks round. He loved it.

“How nice,” Joseph Holt said, “to have all my children, and my grandson together in one place.”

Alex’s heart tightened as he looked around at his family. “Yes, it is,” he said.

“Do you mind if I steal my grandson for a moment?” Joseph asked. “I’ll trade you your bride for him.”

“A deal.”

He handed Liam to the older man, then took Rachel’s hand, leading her out to the lit dance floor. “This wedding was much more you, wasn’t it?” he asked, looking around at the simple décor. At the bright colors. It exuded joy. Just like his wife.

“Yes,” she said. “But then, with you, I am much more me.”

He kissed her nose. “I’m glad. I’m certainly a better me. It’s amazing what can happen inside you when you start to understand love. When you replace anger with it.”

“I’m glad you did, Alex, because you have so much love to give.”

“I’ve never been as happy as I am today,” he said, his wife in his arms, his son nearby.

“Then we have a new goal,” she said.

“What is that?”

“To find even greater happiness, every day. As long as we live.”

“With you, Rachel, that won’t be hard at all.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from SECRETS OF A RUTHLESS TYCOON by Cathy Williams.









CHAPTER ONE


IN THE DIMINISHING light, Leo Spencer was beginning to question his decision to make this trip. He looked up briefly from the report blinking at him on his laptop and frowned at the sprawling acres of countryside reaching out on either side to distant horizons which had now been swallowed up by the gathering dusk.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his driver to put his foot down, but what would be the point? How much speed would Harry be able to pick up on these winding, unlit country roads, still hazardous from the recent bout of snow which was only now beginning to melt? The last thing he needed was to end up in a ditch somewhere. The last car they had passed had been several miles back. God only knew where the nearest town was.

He concluded that February was, possibly, the very worst month in which to have undertaken this trip to the outer reaches of Ireland. He had failed to foresee the length of time it would take to get to his destination and he now cursed the contorted reasoning that had made him reject the option of flying there on the company plane.

The flight to Dublin had been straightforward enough but, the minute he had met his driver outside the airport, the trip had evolved into a nightmare of traffic, diversions and, as they’d appeared to leave all traces of civilisation behind, a network of bleak, perilous roads made all the more threatening by the constant threat of snow. It hung in the air like a death shroud, biding its time for just the right unsuspecting mug to come along.

Giving up on all hope of getting anything useful done, Leo snapped shut his laptop and stared at the gloomy scenery.

The rolling hills were dark contours rising ominously up from flat fields in which lurked a honeycomb network of lakes, meandering streams and rivers, none of which was visible at this time of the late afternoon. Leo was accustomed to the almost constant artificial light of London. He had never had much time for the joys of the countryside and his indifference to it was rapidly being cemented with each passing mile.

But this was a trip that had to be undertaken.

When he reflected on the narrative of his life, he knew that it was an essential journey. The death of his mother eight months previously—following so shortly after his father’s own unexpected demise from a heart attack whilst, of all things, he had been playing golf with his friends—had left him with no excuses for avoidance. He had to find out where he really came from, who his real birth parents were. He would never have disrespected his adoptive parents when they were alive by searching out his birth family but the time had come.

He closed his eyes and the image of his own life flickered in front of him like an old-fashioned movie reel: adopted at birth by a successful and wealthy couple in their late thirties who had been unable to have children of their own; brought up with all the advantages a solid, middle-class background had to offer; private school and holidays abroad. A brilliant academic career followed by a stint at an investment bank which had been the springboard for a meteoric rise through the financial world until, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, he now had more money than he could ever hope to spend in a lifetime and the freedom to use it in the more creative arena of acquisitions.

He seemed to possess the golden touch. None of his acquisitions to date had failed. Additionally, he had been bequeathed a sizeable fortune by his parents. All told, the only grey area in a life that had been blessed with success was the murky blur of his true heritage. Like a pernicious weed, it had never been completely uprooted. Curiosity had always been there, hovering on the edges of his consciousness, and he knew that it would always be there unless he took active measures to put it to rest once and for all.

Not given to introspection of any sort, there were moments when he suspected that it had left a far-reaching legacy, despite all the advantages his wonderful adoptive parents had given him. His relationships with women had all been short-lived. He enjoyed a varied love life with some of the most beautiful and eligible women on the London scene, yet the thought of committing to any of them had always left him cold. He always used the excuse of being the kind of man whose commitment to work left little fertile ground on which a successful relationship could flourish. But there lurked the nagging suspicion that the notion of his own feckless parents dumping him on whatever passing strangers they could had fostered a deep-seated mistrust of any form of permanence, despite the sterling example his adoptive parents had set for him.


He had known for several years where he could locate his mother. He had no idea if his natural father was still on the scene—quite possibly not. The whereabouts of his mother was information that had sat, untouched, in his locked office drawer until now.

He had taken a week off work, informing his secretary that he would be contactable at all times by email or on his mobile phone. He would find his mother, make his own judgements and he would leave, putting to rest the curiosity that had plagued him over the years. He had a good idea of what he would find but it would be useful having his suspicions confirmed. He wasn’t looking for answers or touching reconciliations. He was looking for closure.

And, naturally, he had no intention of letting her know his identity. He was sinfully rich and there was nothing like money to engender all the wrong responses. There was no way he intended to have some irresponsible deadbeat who had given him up for adoption holding out a begging bowl and suddenly claiming parental love—not to mention whatever half-siblings he had who would feel free to board the gravy train.

His mouth curled derisively at the mere thought of it.

‘Any chance we could actually get this car into fifth gear?’ he asked Harry, who caught his eye in the rear-view mirror and raised his eyebrows.

‘Aren’t you appreciating the wonderful scenery, sir?’

‘You’ve been with me for eight years, Harry. Have I ever given any indication that I like the countryside?’ Harry, strangely, was the only one in whom Leo had confided. They shared an uncommonly strong bond. Leo would have trusted his driver with his life. He certainly trusted him with thoughts he never would have shared with another living soul.

‘There’s always a first, sir,’ Harry suggested calmly. ‘And, no, there is no way I can drive any faster. Not on these roads. And have you noticed the sky?’

‘In passing.’

‘Snow’s on the way, sir.’

‘And I’m hoping that it will delay its arrival until I’m through...doing what I have to do.’ From where he was sitting, it was hard to see where the sky met the open land. It was all just a black, formless density around them. Aside from the sound of the powerful engine of the car, the silence was so complete that, with eyes closed, anyone could be forgiven for thinking that they were suffering sensory deprivation.

‘The weather is seldom obedient, sir. Even for a man like yourself who is accustomed to having his orders obeyed.’

Leo grinned. ‘You talk too much, Harry.’

‘So my better half often tells me, sir. Are you certain you don’t require my services when we reach Ballybay?’

‘Quite certain. You can get a cab driver to deliver the car back to London and the company plane will return you to your better half. I’ve alerted my secretary to have it on standby; she’ll text you where. Make sure you tell my people to have it ready and waiting for when I need to return to London. I have no intention of repeating this journey by car any time soon.’

‘Of course, sir.’

Leo flipped back open the laptop and consigned all wayward thoughts of what he would find when he finally arrived to the furthermost outer reaches of his mind. Losing yourself in pointless speculation was a waste of time.

It was two hours by the time he was informed that they were in Ballybay. Either he had missed the main part of the town or else there was nothing much to it. He could just about make out the vast stillness of a lake and then a scattering of houses and shops nestling amidst the hills and dales.

‘Is this it?’ he asked Harry, who tut-tutted in response.

‘Were you expecting Oxford Street, sir?’

‘I was expecting a little more by way of life. Is there even a hotel?’ He frowned and thought that allowing a week off work might have been over-estimating the time he would need. A couple of days at most should see him conclude his business.

‘There’s a pub, sir.’

Leo followed his driver’s pointing finger and made out an ancient pub that optimistically boasted ‘vacancies’. He wondered what the passing tourist trade could possibly be in a town that time appeared to have forgotten.

‘Drop me off here, Harry, and you can head off.’ He was travelling light: one holdall, suitably battered, into which he now stuffed his slim laptop.

Already, he was making comparisons between what appeared to be this tiny town of splendid isolation and the completely different backdrop to life with his adoptive parents. The busy Surrey village in which he had been brought up buzzed with a veritable treasure trove of trendy gastropubs and designer shops. The landscape was confined and neatly manicured. The commuter links to London were excellent and that was reflected in the high-end property market. Gated mansions were hidden from prying eyes by long drives. On Saturdays, the high street was bursting with expensive people who lived in the expensive houses and drove the expensive cars.

He stepped out of the Range Rover to a gusty wind and freezing cold.

The ancient pub looked decidedly more inviting given the temperatures outside and he strode towards it without hesitation.

* * *

Inside the pub, Brianna Sullivan was nursing an incipient headache. Even in the depths of winter, Friday nights brought in the crowds and, whilst she was grateful for their patronage, she yearned for peace and quiet. Both seemed about as elusive as finding gold dust in the kitchen sink. She had inherited this pub from her father nearly six years ago and there were no allowances made for time out. There was just her, and it was her livelihood. Choice didn’t feature heavily on the menu.

‘Tell Pat he can come and get his own drinks at the bar,’ she hissed to Shannon. ‘We’re busy enough here without you carrying trays of drinks over to him because he broke his leg six months ago. He’s perfectly capable of getting them himself, or else he can send that brother of his over to get them.’ At one end of the bar, Aidan and two of his friends were beginning to sing a rousing love song to grab her attention.

‘I’ll have to chuck you out for unruly behaviour,’ she snapped at Aidan as she slid refills for them along the counter.

‘You know you love me, darling.’

Brianna shot him an exasperated look and told him that he either settled his tab in full, right here and right now, or else that was the last pint he was going to get.

She needed more people behind the bar but what on earth would she do with them on the week days, when the place was less rowdy and busy? How could she justify the expenditure? And yet, she barely had enough time to function properly. Between the bookkeeping, the stock taking, the ordering and the actual standing behind the bar every night, time—the one thing she didn’t have—was galloping past. She was twenty-seven years old and in the blink of an eye she would be thirty, then forty, then fifty, and still doing the things she was doing now, still struggling to kick back. She was young but, hell, she felt old a lot of the time.

Aidan continued to try his banter on her but she blocked him out. Now that she had begun feeling sorry for herself, she was barely aware of what was going on around her.

Surely her years at university had not equipped her to spend the rest of her life running this pub? She loved her friends and the tight-knit community but surely she was entitled to just have some fun? Six months of fun was all she had had when she had finished university, then it had been back here to help look after her father who had managed to drink himself into a premature grave.


Not a day went by when she didn’t miss him. For twelve years after her mother had died it had been just the two of them, and she missed his easy laughter, his support, his corny jokes. She wondered how he would feel if he knew that she was still here, at the pub. He had always wanted her to fly away and develop a career in art, but then little had he known that he would not be around to make that possible.

She only became aware that something was different when, still absorbed in her own thoughts, it dawned on her that the bar had grown silent.

In the act of pulling a pint, she raised her eyes and there, framed in the doorway, was one of the most startlingly beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. Tall, windswept dark hair raked back from a face that was shamefully good-looking. He didn’t seem in the slightest taken aback by the fact that all eyes were on him as he looked around, his midnight-black eyes finally coming to rest on her.

Brianna felt her cheeks burn at the casual inspection, then she returned to what she was doing and so did everyone else. The noise levels once again rose and the jokes resumed; old Connor did his usual and began singing lustily and drunkenly until he was laughed down.

She ignored the stranger, yet was all too aware of his presence, and not at all surprised that when she next glanced up it was to find him standing right in front of her.

‘The sign outside says that there are vacancies.’ Leo practically had to shout to make himself heard above the noise. The entire town seemed to have congregated in this small pub. Most of the green leather stools assembled along the bar were filled, as were the tables. Behind the bar, two girls were trying hard to keep up with the demands—a small, busty brunette and the one in front of whom he was now standing. A tall, slender girl with copper-coloured hair which she had swept up into a rough pony tail and, as she looked at him, the clearest, greenest eyes he had ever seen.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Brianna asked.

His voice matched the rest of him. It was deep and lazy and induced an annoying, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘Why do you think? I need to rent a room and I take it this is the only place in the village that rents rooms...?’

‘Is it not good enough for you?’

‘Where’s the owner?’

‘You’re looking at her.’

He did, much more thoroughly this time. Bare of any make-up, her skin was satin-smooth and creamy white. There was not a freckle in sight, despite the vibrant colour of her hair. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved jumper but neither detracted from her looks.

‘Right. I need a room.’

‘I will show you up to one just as soon as I get a free moment. In the meantime, would you like something to drink?’ What on earth was this man doing here? He certainly wasn’t from around these parts, nor did he know anyone around here. She would know. It was a tiny community; they all knew each other in some way, shape or form.

‘What I’d like is a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.’

‘Both will have to wait, Mr...?’

‘My name is Leo and, if you give me a key and point me in the right direction, I’ll make my own way upstairs. And, by the way, is there anywhere to eat around here?’

Not only was the man a stranger but he was an obnoxious one. Brianna could feel her hackles rising. Memories of another good-looking, well-spoken stranger rose unbidden to the foreground. As learning curves went, she had been taught well what sort of men to avoid.

‘You’ll have to go into Monaghan for that,’ she informed him shortly. ‘I can fix you a sandwich but—’

‘Yes—but I’ll have to wait because you’re too busy behind the bar. Forget the food. If you need a deposit, tell me how much and then you can give me the key.’

Brianna shot him an impatient glance and called over to Aidan. ‘Take the reins,’ she told him. ‘And no free drinks. I’ve got to show this man to a room. I’ll be back down in five minutes, and if I find out that you’ve helped yourself to so much as a thimble of free beer I’ll ban you for a week.’

‘Love you too, Brianna.’

‘How long would you be wanting the room for?’ was the first thing she asked him as soon as they were out of the bar area and heading upstairs. She was very much aware of him following her and she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Had she lived so long in this place that the mere sight of a halfway decent guy was enough to bring her out in a cold sweat?

‘A few days.’ She was as graceful as a dancer and he was tempted to ask why a girl with her looks was running a pub in the middle of nowhere. Certainly not for the stress-free existence. She looked hassled and he could understand that if it was as busy every night of the week.

‘And might I ask what brings you to this lovely part of Ireland?’ She pushed open the door to one of the four rooms she rented out and stood back, allowing him to brush past her.

Leo took his time looking around him. It was small but clean. He would have to be sharp-witted when it came to avoiding the beams but it would do. He turned round to her and began removing his coat which he tossed onto the high-backed wooden chair by the dressing table.

Brianna took a step back. The room was small and he seemed to over-power it with his presence. She was treated to a full view of his muscular body now he was without his coat: black jeans, a black jumper and the sort of olive-brown complexion that told her that, somewhere along the line, there was a strain of exotic blood running through him.

‘You can ask,’ Leo agreed. Billionaire searching for his long-lost, feckless parent wasn’t going to cut it. One hint of that and it would be round the grapevine faster than he could pay her the deposit on the room; of that he was convinced. Checking his mother out was going to be an incognito exercise and he certainly wasn’t going to be ambushed by a pub owner with a loose tongue, however pretty she was.

‘But you’re not going to tell me. Fair enough.’ She shrugged. ‘If you want breakfast, it’s served between seven and eight. I run this place single-handed so I don’t have a great deal of time to wait on guests.’

‘Such a warm welcome.’

Brianna flushed and belatedly remembered that he was a paying guest and not another of the lads downstairs to whom she was allowed to give as good as she got. ‘I apologise if I seem rude, Mr...’

‘Leo.’

‘But I’m rushed off my feet at the moment and not in the best of moods. The bathroom is through there...’ She pointed in the direction of a white-washed door. ‘And there are tea-and coffee-making facilities.’ She backed towards the door, although she was finding it hard to tear her eyes away from his face.

If he brought to mind unhappy memories of Daniel Fluke, then it could be said that he was a decidedly more threatening version: bigger, better looking and without the readily charming patter, and that in itself somehow felt more dangerous. And she still had no idea what he was doing in this part of the world.

‘If you could settle the deposit on the room...’ She cleared her throat and watched in silence as he extracted a wad of notes from his wallet and handed her the required amount.

‘And tell me, what is there to do here?’ he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and tilting his head to one side. ‘I guess you must know everything...and everyone?’


‘You’ve picked a poor time of year for sightseeing, Mr...eh...Leo. I’m afraid walking might be a little challenging, especially as snow is predicted, and you can forget about the fishing.’

‘Perhaps I’ll just explore the town,’ he murmured. Truly amazing eyes, he thought. Eyelashes long and dark and in striking contrast to the paleness of her skin. ‘I hope I’m not making you nervous... Sorry, you didn’t tell me your name, although I gather it’s Brianna...?’

‘We don’t get very many strangers in this part of town, certainly not in the depths of winter.’

‘And now you’re renting a room to one and you don’t know what he does or why he’s here in the first place. Understandable if you feel a little edgy...’ He shot her a crooked smile and waited for it to take effect; waited to see her loosen up, smile back in return, look him up and down covertly; waited for the impact he knew he had on women to register. Nothing. She frowned and looked at him coolly, clearly assessing him.

‘That’s right.’ Brianna folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

‘I...’ He realised that he hadn’t banked on this. He actually hadn’t expected the place to be so small. Whilst he had acknowledged that he couldn’t just show up on his mother’s doorstep and do his character assessment on the spot, he was now realising that the other option of extracting information from random drinkers at some faceless, characterless bar close to where the woman lived was quite likely also out of the question.

‘Yes?’ Brianna continued to look at him. She might be grateful for the money—it wasn’t as though people were falling over themselves to rent a room in the depths of winter—but on the other hand she was a single woman, here on her own, and what if he turned out to be a homicidal maniac?

Granted it was unlikely that a homicidal maniac would announce his intentions because she happened to ask, but if he seemed too shifty, just too untrustworthy, then she would send him on his way, money or not.

‘I’m not proud of this.’ Leo glanced around him. His gaze settled on an exquisite watercolour painting above the bed and moved to the row of books neatly stacked on the shelf just alongside it. ‘But I jacked in a perfectly good job a fortnight ago.’

‘A perfectly good job doing what?’ Brianna knew that she was giving him the third degree; that he was under no obligation to explain himself to her; that she could lose trade should he choose to spread the word that the landlady at the Angler’s Catch was the sort who gave her customers a hard time. She also knew that there was a fair to middling chance that Aidan had already had a couple of free whiskies at her expense, and that Shannon would be running around like a headless chicken trying to fill orders, but her feet refused to budge. She was riveted by the sight of his dark, handsome face, glued to the spot by that lazy, mesmerising drawl.

‘Working at one of those big, soulless companies...’ Which was not, strictly speaking, a complete lie, although it had to be said that his company was less soulless than most. ‘Decided that I would try my luck at something else. I’ve always wanted to...write, so I’m in the process of taking a little time out to try my hand at it; see where that takes me...’ He strolled towards the window and peered out. ‘I thought a good place to start would be Ireland. It’s noted for its inspiring scenery, isn’t it? Thought I would get a flavour of the country...the bits most people don’t see; thought I would set my book here...’

He glanced over his shoulder to her before resuming his thoughtful contemplation of the very little he could actually see in the almost complete, abysmal darkness outside. ‘The weather has knocked my progress off a little, hence—’ he raised his shoulders in a rueful, elegant shrug ‘—here I am.’

A budding author? Surely not. He certainly didn’t look like one, yet why on earth would he lie? The fact that he had held down a conventional job no doubt accounted for that hint of sophistication she was getting; something intangible that emanated from him, an air of unspoken authority that she found difficult to quite define but...

Brianna felt herself thaw. ‘It gets a little quieter towards the end of the evening,’ she offered. ‘If you haven’t fallen asleep, I can make you something to eat.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Leo murmured. The passing guilt he had felt at having to concoct a lie was rationalised, justified and consigned to oblivion. He had responded creatively to an unexpected development.

Getting her onside could also work in his favour. Publicans knew everything about everyone and were seldom averse to a bit of healthy gossip. Doubtless he would be able to extract some background information on his mother and, when he had that information, he would pay her a visit in the guise of someone doing business in the area—maybe interviewing her for the fictitious book he had supposedly jacked his job in for. He would add whatever he learnt to whatever he saw and would get a complete picture of the woman who had abandoned him at birth. He would get his closure. The unfinished mosaic of his life would finally have all the pieces welded together.

‘Right, then...’ Brianna dithered awkwardly. ‘Is there anything you need to know about...the room? How the television works? How you can get an outside line?’

‘I think I can figure both out,’ Leo responded dryly. ‘You can get back to your rowdy crew in the bar.’

‘They are, aren’t they?’ She laughed softly and hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans.

Without warning, Leo felt a jolt of unexpected arousal at the sight. She was very slender. Her figure was almost boyish, not at all like the women he was routinely attracted to, whose assets were always far more prominent and much more aggressively advertised; beautiful, overtly sexy women who had no time for downplaying what they possessed.

He frowned at his body’s unexpected lapse in self-control. ‘You should employ more people to help you out,’ he told her abruptly.

‘Perhaps I should.’ Just like that she felt the change in the atmosphere and she reminded herself that, writer or not, guys who were too sexy for their own good spelled trouble. She reminded herself of how easy it was to be taken in by what was on the outside, only to completely miss the ugly stuff that was buried underneath.

She coolly excused herself and returned to find that, just as expected, Aidan was knocking back a glass of whisky which he hurriedly banged on the counter the second he spotted her approaching.

Shannon appeared to be on the verge of tears and, despite what Brianna had told her, was scuttling over with a tray of drinks to the group of high-spirited men at the corner table, most of whom they had gone to school with, which Brianna thought was no reason for them to think they could get waitress service. Old Connor, with several more drinks inside him, was once again attempting to be a crooner but could scarcely enunciate the words to the song he was trying to belt out.

It was the same old same old, and she felt every day of her twenty-seven years by the time they all began drifting off into an unwelcoming night. Twenty-seven years old and she felt like forty-seven. The snow which had thankfully disappeared for the past week had returned to pay them another visit, and outside the flakes were big and fat under the street lights.


Shannon was the last to leave and Brianna had to chivvy her along. For a young girl of nineteen, she had a highly developed mothering instinct and worried incessantly about her friend living above the pub on her own.

‘Although at least there’s a strapping man there with you tonight!’ She laughed, wrapping her scarf around her neck and winking.

‘From my experience of the opposite sex...’ Brianna grinned back and shouted into the darkness with a wave ‘...they’re the first to dive for cover if there’s any chance of danger—and that includes the strapping ones!’

‘Then you’ve just met the wrong men.’

She spun round to see Leo standing by the bar, arms folded, his dark eyes amused. He had showered and changed and was in a pair of jeans and a cream, thickly knitted jumper which did dramatic things for his colouring.

‘You’ve come for your sandwich.’ She tore her eyes away from him and quickly and efficiently began clearing the tables, getting the brunt of the work done before she had to get up at seven the following morning.

‘I gathered that the crowd was beginning to disperse. The singing had stopped.’ He began giving her a hand.

Clearing tables was a novel experience. When he happened to be in the country, he ate out. On the rare occasions when he chose to eat in, he ate food specially prepared for him by his housekeeper, who was also an excellent chef. She cooked for him, discreetly waited until he was finished and then cleared the table. Once a month, she cooked for both him and Harry and these meals were usually pre-planned to coincide with a football game. They would eat, enjoy a couple of beers and watch the football. It was his most perfect down time.

He wondered when and how that small slice of normality, the normality of clearing a table, had vanished—but then was it so surprising? He ran multi-million-pound companies that stretched across the world. Normality, as most people understood it, was in scarce supply.

‘You really don’t have to help,’ Brianna told him as she began to fetch the components for a sandwich. ‘You’re a paying guest.’

‘With a curious mind. Tell me about the wannabe opera singer...’

He watched as she worked, making him a sandwich that could have fed four, tidying away the beer mugs and glasses into the industrial-sized dishwasher. He listened keenly as she chatted, awkwardly at first, but then fluently, about all the regulars—laughing at their idiosyncrasies; relating little anecdotes of angry wives showing up to drag their other halves back home when they had abused the freedom pass they had been given for a couple of hours.

‘Terrific sandwich, by the way.’ It had been. Surprisingly so, bearing in mind that the sandwiches he occasionally ate were usually ornate affairs with intricate fillings prepared by top chefs in expensive restaurants. He lifted the plate as she wiped clean the counter underneath. ‘I’m guessing that you pretty much know everyone who lives around here...’

‘You guess correctly.’

‘One of the upsides of living in a small place?’ He could think of nothing worse. He thoroughly enjoyed the anonymity of big-city life.

‘It’s nice knowing who your neighbours are. It’s a small population here. ’Course, some of them have gone to live in other parts of Ireland, and a few really daring ones have moved to your part of the world, but on the whole, yes, we all know each other.’

She met his steady gaze and again felt that hectic bloom of colour invade her cheeks. ‘Nearly everyone here tonight were regulars. They’ve been coming here since my dad owned the place.’

‘And your dad is...?’

‘Dead,’ Brianna said shortly. ‘Hence this is now my place.’

‘I’m sorry. Tough work.’

‘I can handle it.’ She took his plate, stuck it into the sink then washed her hands.

‘And, of course, you have all your friends around you for support... Siblings as well? What about your mother?’

‘Why are you asking me all these questions?’

‘Aren’t we always curious about people we’ve never met and places we’ve never seen? As a...writer you could say that I’m more curious than most.’ He stood up and began walking towards the door through which lay the stairs up to his bedroom. ‘If you think I’m being too nosy then tell me.’

Brianna half-opened her mouth with a cool retort, something that would restore the balance between paying guest and landlady, but the temptation to chat to a new face, a new person, someone who didn’t know her from time immemorial, was too persuasive.

A writer! How wonderful to meet someone on the same wavelength as her! What would it hurt to drop her guard for a couple of days and give him the benefit of the doubt? He might be good-looking but he wasn’t Danny Fluke.

‘You’re not nosy.’ She smiled tentatively. ‘I just don’t understand why you’re interested. We’re a pretty run-of-the-mill lot here; I can’t imagine you would get anything useful for your book.’ She couldn’t quite make him out. He was in shadow, lounging indolently against the wall as he looked at her. She squashed the uneasy feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

‘People’s stories interest me.’ He pushed himself away from the wall and smiled. ‘You’d be surprised what you can pick up; what you can find...useful.’ There was something defiant yet vulnerable about her. It was an appealing mix and a refreshing change from the women he normally met.

‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘Point me in the direction of what to do and you can relax. Tell me about the people who live here.’

‘Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. You’re paying for your bed and board and, much as I’d love to swap the room for your labour, I just can’t afford it.’

‘And I wouldn’t dream of asking.’ He wondered how she would react if she knew that he could buy this pub a hundred times over and it would still only be loose change to him. He wondered what she would say if she knew that, in between the stories she had to tell, there would be that vital one he wanted to hear. ‘No, you’d be helping me out, giving me one or two ideas. Plus you look as though you could use a day off...’

The thought of putting her feet up for a couple of hours dangled in front of her like the promise of a banquet to a starving man. ‘I can work and chat at the same time,’ she conceded. ‘And it’ll be nice to have someone lend a hand.’