Читать книгу Marriage Bargain With His Innocent - Кэтти Уильямс, CATHY WILLIAMS, Cathy Williams - Страница 8

GEORGINA LOOKED UP at the imposing Georgian mansion in front of which she was standing. Well, she would have expected nothing less.

She raised her hand to the doorbell. Her brain was saying Might as well get it over and done with while her feet were yelling Hang on just a minute...let’s think about this.

She went with the brain and pressed the buzzer before her feet could start winning the argument.

She was here now. She’d travelled hours to be here and she wasn’t going to slink away without telling the owner of this over-the-top mansion in Kensington—a man she had known since childhood, a man on whom she had had a very inconvenient crush when she’d been a kid of sixteen, that, Hey...guess what...? I bet you never thought that you and I would be in a relationship after all!

Matias had no idea who could be ringing his doorbell, but whoever it was deserved a Medal of Honour for the most timely interruption in history.

The icy blonde perched on his white leather sofa hadn’t stopped screaming for the past thirty-five minutes. She carried on screaming now, as she followed him out of the vast sitting room towards the front door.

‘I refuse to let you break up with me! I’ve told everyone that you’ll be coming to the anniversary party next weekend! I’ve bought a dress! There’s someone else, isn’t there? Who is she? Do I know her? How could you do this to me? I love you! I thought you loved me!’

Matias had stopped answering her questions ten minutes ago and he wasn’t going to start again now.

He pulled open the door and stopped short.

‘Matias.’ Georgina peered around him to the source of the high-pitched screaming. ‘I’m guessing I’ve come at a bad time?’

The feet were desperate to take to the hills, but she wasn’t quitting now that she was here. That said, she wanted to do nothing more than run away, because it didn’t matter how much she braced herself for Matias’s ridiculously stupendous good looks, every single time she saw him she was floored all over again.

Dry mouth, thudding heart, clogged brain...and a crashing reminder of what it had felt like to be an adolescent, with her hormones wildly out of control, in thrall to a guy who had never been short of his own personal fan club full of adoring hot babes from the age of thirteen. She’d kept her idiotic crush under wraps, but she could still burn with shame at the memory of it because she’d always been the last sort of girl he would ever have looked at.

‘Georgie, what the hell are you doing here?’

‘That’s not a very nice way to greet an old friend, is it? I’d rather not come back, Matias. I’ve spent hours on a train and I’m hot and tired and my feet need to rest.’ Or to take flight, she thought, willing her nerves to go away and thinking, yet again, how much she disliked the man. So stupidly sexy, and yet with a set of values that so got on her nerves.

‘Is my mother all right?’ Matias demanded.

‘Who are you?’

A blonde had materialised next to him and Georgina wondered whether Matias ever got bored of dating women who were clones of one another. Towering blondes with catwalk figures and a racy sense of fashion that was based on wearing as little as possible even in the depths of winter.

This particular blonde was wearing a tiny red mini-skirt and a tiny red top and some very high sandals because it was the height of summer.

‘Time for you to go, Ava.’

‘We could still make this work, Matias!’

Matias cast a sideways look at Georgina and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘No chance,’ he said grimly, rescuing her tiny tan designer bag from the table in the hall and handing it to her while channelling her towards the doorway. ‘You deserve better than me.’

Georgina rolled her eyes. She stood aside while the blonde walked past her, at least eight inches taller in her heels and as skinny as a runner bean.

‘That was considerate of you, Matias—softening the blow by telling her that she could do better than you,’ Georgina remarked, stepping inside the mansion and getting a glimpse of his departing back as he headed towards some other part of the house—probably the kitchen, because he looked as if he could use a stiff drink.

Charming, she thought, walking briskly behind him. What on earth did all those women see in him? Yes, he was rich. Yes, he was good-looking. But beyond that... There was nothing that appealed on any level. Which made it quite ironic, considering she was here to tell him that they had secretly been seeing one another, falling in love and getting embroiled in a hot and heavy relationship that was destined to lead...who knew where?

She felt queasy at the revelations about to be put on the table.

‘Well?’

Matias didn’t bother looking at her. He went straight to a cupboard, pulled out a bottle of whisky and poured himself a glass, offering her one as an afterthought, but obviously not really expecting her to take him up on the offer.

‘Your mother is fine. In a manner of speaking.’

‘I’ve had a hellish day, Georgie, so spare me the riddles. Not that it’s like you to beat about the bush. Bludgeon it into the ground is far more your style.’ He raised his eyebrows and didn’t look away when their eyes tangled. ‘I spoke to my mother two days ago and she sounded well, so what’s the matter with her?’

‘Nothing. Her health hasn’t deteriorated. I mean, she’s still weak after the stroke, and her speech isn’t quite back to normal, but she’s doing all the exercises the doctor recommended.’

‘Good.’

‘You have a wonderful house, Matias.’ She didn’t feel that the subject waiting to be broached could be broached quite yet. She needed to feel a bit more comfortable. Right now, her nerves were at breaking point. ‘And I will have that drink you offered, actually.’

‘Whisky?’

‘Wine, if you have any. Thank you.’

‘I’m warning you it’s not organic. It’s incredibly expensive, though, so please think twice about pouring it down the sink because it fails to meet your high standards.’

Matias strolled towards the fridge and withdrew a bottle of Chablis. He looked at her over his shoulder. She was dressed as she was always dressed, in some sort of flowery concoction that was designed to do absolutely nothing whatsoever for the female form. Long skirt, loose top... A veritable riot of colours, none of which flattered a woman who was small, round and had bright red hair.

Was it so hard to make an effort? he wondered.

‘Very funny, Matias.’

‘We both know how much you like to bang the drum for organic farming. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your social conscience.’

‘You can be really horrible, do you know that?’ she asked. But her voice was neutral, because she was busy looking round the spectacular kitchen with its shiny gadgets and space-age feel.

‘You’d miss it if I wasn’t,’ Matias murmured without batting an eye, and he held her gaze for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before lowering his eyes, letting his lush dark lashes shield his expression. ‘What would you do with a nice, polite Matias?’

Georgina blushed—much to her annoyance—and glared. ‘I’ve spent hours travelling here to see you. The least you could do is to be nice to me.’

‘Yes, you have,’ Matias said thoughtfully, ‘and I’m wondering why. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m burning up with curiosity. I don’t think you’ve ever come to this house, have you?’

‘You know I haven’t.’

‘In fact, I didn’t think you ever got out of deepest, darkest Cornwall.’

‘You’ve always been so scathing about Cornwall! Don’t you have any loyalty to the place where you were brought up?’

‘No. So, moving on, Georgie...’ He circled her the way a shark might circle a minnow, slowly, thoroughly, and with keen, watchful interest. ‘If you’re not here to talk about my mother, then what exactly are you doing here? Not that your arrival wasn’t opportune.’

He sat on the chair facing her and tugged another chair towards him so that he could stretch out his long legs.

Georgina opened her voice to give him a piece of her mind. His mother despaired of him. His women came and went with barely a pause for breath in between, because Matias Silva had the attention span of a toddler in a candy shop when it came to women.

She caught the veiled amused expression in his dark eyes and abruptly shut her mouth. He wanted to get a rise out of her and that was the last thing she needed.

Instead, she met his gaze steadily and coolly. It took willpower, because he was, without doubt, the most drop-dead gorgeous man she had ever seen. Blessed with the exotic genes of his Argentinian father and the spectacular beauty of his English mother, Matias had emerged into the world with the sort of physical advantages that made people stare and then turn around for a second look, because surely no one could be quite so spectacular.

She had long ago forgiven herself for her girlish crush. She just wished that her disobedient eyes could stop drinking him in the way they were doing right now.

His features were chiselled to perfection, but his bronzed colouring and raven-dark hair, which he always kept slightly too long, rescued him from being just another good-looking guy.

‘I am here to talk to you about your mother,’ Georgina said into the lengthening silence. ‘But could I just unwind for a bit? I’m exhausted.’

‘It’s seven o’clock. Have you eaten?’

‘I had some sandwiches on the train.’

‘I’ll take you out to dinner.’

‘I doubt I’m dressed for the sort of restaurants you’re likely to patronise,’ Georgina said wryly.

‘How would you know what sort of restaurants I’d be likely to patronise?’ he asked.

But he was smiling crookedly at her, reminding her that beneath their obvious, glaring and insurmountable differences, there were times when they were eerily tuned in to one another. Longevity and history, she presumed.

‘Because I’m smart like that.’ She was beginning to feel overheated. ‘Thank you. It’s very nice of you. But...er...no, thank you. Why don’t you show me round your lovely house? I’d far rather that.’

The plan Georgina had sketched out had been a hurried one—a response to circumstances, formulated on impulse and put on the table before she’d had time to think through the details and, more to the point, the glaring, inescapable downsides. By the time she’d sat back and thought about it, it had been too late to take it all back.

Rose Silva believed that her son was finally on the verge of settling down, if not with the girl of his dreams, then certainly the girl of hers. She adored Georgina.

She finally had something to live for. She would have a daughter-in-law she loved. Her son would be settled, as he should be, with no more of his silly cavorting with women who weren’t suited to him at all. There would be grandchildren. All would be right in the world.

In the space of five minutes, Georgie’s suggestion of a relationship with Matias had turned into a full-blown when-shall-I-start-looking-for-a-hat? response. Georgie had squashed that enormous leap as firmly as she could, but here she was, supposedly having a serious relationship with the guy looking at her now with those fabulous dark, dark eyes.

What had begun as an ill-thought-out but well-intentioned little white lie had taken on a life of its own faster than a rocket soaring into space. An entire future had been planned before Georgina had had time to draw breath—and now here she was.

‘Please don’t say a word to Matias,’ she had begged Rose, horrified at the thought of a congratulatory phone call to a guy who would have no idea what his mother was going on about. ‘We...er...planned on breaking it to you together... Just that we’re going out, Rose... Who knows where that will lead...?’

The feeble utterances had actually brought her out in a cold sweat and prompted her immediate departure to London. As his newly acquired girlfriend, didn’t she need to know the layout of his house? She still felt queasy.

‘You want to see my house? Why?’

‘You’re so scornful whenever you come down to Cornwall... I want to see what you have here that’s so superior.’

Matias tilted his head to one side and looked at her carefully. ‘Why am I getting the feeling that something’s going on here that I don’t know about?’

‘You don’t have to show me around if you don’t want to.’

‘Bring your drink. Maybe after a bit of alcohol you’ll tell me exactly what’s going on, Georgie.’

‘Why are you so suspicious?’

‘Because I wasn’t born yesterday. I also know you. Some might say better than I’ve ever known any woman. You’re here for a reason, and if it’s not because my mother needs me to come down to Cornwall for health reasons, then you’re here for something else and you’re too scared to come right out and tell me. Is it money?’

On his way to the sitting room to begin the grand tour, Matias stopped abruptly and looked at Georgina through narrowed eyes. He positioned himself so close to her that she could pick up the faint whiff of whatever expensive aftershave he wore. She automatically edged back.

‘You think I’m here to...to ask you for money? And you claim to know me?’

‘It’s not that far-fetched.’ Matias shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how many people come crawling out of the woodwork to ask for money when they find out that I’m in a position to bestow it upon them.’

‘Why would I have to ask you for money, Matias? I have a job! I’m a food photographer! By your lofty standards it may not pay much, but it’s more than enough for me to live on! So why on earth would I have to come to you for a loan?’

‘No idea. Who knows what sort of financial trouble you might have got yourself into?’

He spun round and Georgina stared at him with outrage. No one had ever been able to rile her as much as Matias Silva. Or challenge her. Or generally send her nervous system into frantic overdrive. He was right. They knew one another—whether she cared to admit it or not.

From the side-lines she had watched the way he had turned into a forbidding and coolly remote adolescent after he had won a scholarship to a boarding school in Winchester. All pretence of having any interest in his parents’ organic farm had been dumped. Ambition had become his constant companion.

It was little wonder that he was now wondering whether she had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue because she needed a hand-out. For Matias, money was the only thing that made any sense. He’d never had much growing up, and he’d made it his life’s work to compensate for the lack.

Was it any wonder that they rubbed one another up the wrong way when they were as different as chalk and cheese? She was argumentative. He was intransigent. She was uninterested in money. Money was all he cared about. She loved where she lived. He hadn’t been able to wait to escape from it. She admired his parents. He privately scorned them.

‘Well? Spit it out, Georgie. Do you need a loan?’

He looked her up and down, head inclined to one side, his dark eyes coolly speculative. She didn’t think there was a man alive who got on her nerves more.

‘Have you been living beyond your means?’ he murmured with exaggerated interest. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of. Oh, wait... I can see why you might be ashamed, bearing in mind your holier-than-thou outlook on life which you’ve spent the past ten years droning on about.’

Georgina gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists. ‘I’m not here to ask you for money, Matias.’

‘Didn’t think you were.’ He moved off to begin their tour, pushing open doors without bothering to explain which room was used for what.

‘Why’s that?’ she asked.

All white. Minimalist. Big, expensive abstract art on the walls. A lot of chrome. The best money could buy. Again, no surprise there. Matias had gone to university a year early, studied Maths and Economics, and left with a job at an investment bank in his hand. Within five years he had made his first million and then he had started flying solo, buying up sick companies and turning them around. He’d invested in property on the side. By thirty he’d had an empire under his belt and more money than anyone could use in a lifetime. Every room she glimpsed bore witness to how rich he was.

No wonder Rose was intimidated by her billionaire only child.

‘He’s always been something of a genius,’ she’d once confided wistfully. ‘That’s why he’s never liked the simple life. It isn’t enough for him.’

‘Georgie,’ Matias was saying now, ‘it doesn’t take a genius, looking at you, to realise that you have no interest in anything that could possibly get someone into debt.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You’re not the typical picture of someone leading a raunchy life beyond her means. If you have a predilection for designer clothes, fast cars and jewellery then you’re doing a damn good job of keeping it under wraps. Besides...I remember you showing me your piggy bank when you a kid. You were very proud of the eight pounds sixty you’d managed to stockpile over six weeks. It would beggar belief that you’d go from parsimonious and proud saver to wildly extravagant spender. Now, do you want the tour to carry on upstairs?’

He looked at her and she wondered whether he realised just how offensive he could be.

‘Or have you relaxed sufficiently to tell me why you’re here? You may have had sandwiches on the train, but I’m hungry. I’ll get some food delivered. Let me know if you want to see the rest of the house and I’ll order when the tour is done.’

‘No—no need to go upstairs.’

She thought bedrooms and backed away from the thought fast. Despite loathing the man, it had always been way too easy to associate him with bedrooms—partly because he was so sexy, and partly because, even though time had moved on from that girlish infatuation, age had failed to completely extinguish the remnants of her crush. She still occasionally caught herself daydreaming about him. Fortunately she’d learnt how to avoid getting too embroiled in that kind of pointless fantasy.

‘Good.’ He headed back towards the kitchen, phoning for food on the way. ‘Where were you planning on spending the night?’

He looked at the battered khaki backpack which she had dumped on the ground in the kitchen.

‘B&B.’

Matias frowned. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he said shortly. ‘Didn’t you consider staying here? Don’t you think I’m not appreciative for everything you do for my mother and have done over the years? A night in my house is the least I could offer in return.’

Georgina flushed. ‘I shouldn’t be the one doing stuff for your mother, though, should I?’ she muttered, fidgeting.

‘When it comes to that old chestnut—been there, done that. I’ve heard every variation of criticism from you over the years, so let’s drop the topic and move on.’

Matias felt a flash of guilt dart through him like quicksilver. He had no reason to feel guilty. None at all. He supported his mother financially, made sure she wanted for nothing. It took hard work to make the sort of money that he did, and without his money life would not be nearly so rosy for his mother. When things went wrong in her house he made sure to replace them with top-of-the-range equivalents. Over time, her kitchen had been so expensively kitted out that any professional chef would have been happy to ply his trade there. And as for the farm...

The organic farm she’d insisted on hanging on to brought in peanuts and she couldn’t have begun to handle it without his help. He made sure that everyone who worked there reported to him—just as he made sure that any headaches were sorted before they became full-blown.

And organic farming—as he had discovered years ago—was nothing but one long, grinding headache. Crops had a nasty habit of falling victim to the wrong type of insect. The chickens, which had made a brief and optimistic appearance for a year and a half, had fallen prey to foxes or else wandered off hither and thither to lay eggs that couldn’t be located and therefore never made it to the shelves at the local greengrocer.

Although, in fairness, it was better than the Reiki treatment, the donkey sanctuary, the creative workshops and the gem-selling crackpot ideas that had preceded the farm when he’d been a kid.

So guilt? No, he had nothing to feel guilty about. He and his mother might not be close, but how many relationships between children and their parents were trouble-free? He was a responsible and dutiful son, and if his mother thought that he came up short in the personal stakes then he could live with that.

He shook his head free of inconvenient introspection and surfaced to find Georgie apologising.

‘Sorry?’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re sorry about criticising?’ He grinned. ‘Now I’m really getting worried. Since when have you ever made apologies for getting under my skin?’

He watched as she noticeably didn’t answer but instead devoted her attention to inspecting the rooms they had previously walked past.

Just when he was about to break the ever-lengthening silence the doorbell went. When Matias returned, it was with a spread of food from a top London restaurant.

‘I’ve ordered enough for two,’ he said, dumping the lot on the table and hunting down two plates and some cutlery. He poured them both wine and sat facing her.

‘Most people have Indian or Chinese take-out,’ Georgina remarked.

She shouldn’t eat. She had had those sandwiches and she could do with shedding a few pounds. But her mouth watered at the sight of fluffy white rice, beef in wine, vegetables...

‘Dig in,’ Matias encouraged drily. ‘But save room for the chocolate fondant.’

‘My favourite.’

‘I know. I recall going to that restaurant by the sea years ago, with my parents and your family, and you made them bring you three. Eat—and tell me exactly what you’re doing here. I’m bored with going round the houses.’

‘It’s about your mother, but not about her health as such. Like I said, she’s doing as well as can be expected, and I know you’ve paid for the best consultants, the best hospital, the best of everything... But health isn’t just a physical thing. It’s also a frame of mind, and your mum’s been depressed for quite a while.’

‘Depressed?’ Matias frowned. ‘Why would she be depressed when she’s on the mend? She didn’t sound depressed when I spoke to her last.’

‘She wouldn’t have wanted to worry you, Matias,’ Georgina said impatiently. ‘She’s been making noises about her mortality. She’s waiting for some test results—perhaps that’s been preying on her mind—but she could be in a mental slump.’

‘Test results? What test results? At any rate, they can’t be important or the consultant would have mentioned them to me. And thoughts of her mortality? She’s not even in her mid-sixties!’

He relaxed. If this was a simple case of hypochondria then an informal chat with her consultant would soon make her see sense. She was on the road to recovery. Mortality thoughts were only appropriate for people in their eighties and nineties, anyway.

He had a couple of big deals on the go, but as soon as he was through with those he would go down to Cornwall. He might even consider staying longer than a weekend. It could work... He had had the fastest possible broadband installed in his mother’s house years previously, because he couldn’t function without the Internet. In short, he could spare a little time down there without it affecting his work schedule.

‘She’s got another thirty years in her,’ he said, noting that for someone who had refused the offer of a meal out Georgie had certainly done justice to the food on her plate. No one could ever accuse Georgina White of having a feeble appetite. It was a refreshing change, in actual fact.

‘She doesn’t see it that way.’

‘She doesn’t have a medical background. The consultant has no worries about her health or I would know about it. That’s what he’s paid to do—keep me in the loop. It’s just a question of convincing her of that. If she’s concerned that there’s a risk of this thing happening again, then I can get Chivers to show her the charts and scans.’

‘It’s not just a question of that, Matias. She feels...’ Georgina sighed and gazed at him, then wished she hadn’t because she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. He was so ridiculously good-looking. ‘She feels that she’s been a failure as a mother. She feels that there’s a chasm between you two and it’s one that will never be breached. All she wants, she tells me, is for you to settle down...have a wife and kids. She tells me that she’s always wanted to be a grandmother and that she feels there’s nothing to look forward to. When I say that she’s depressed, it isn’t because she thinks she might be pushing up the daisies in six months’ time. It’s because she’s been looking back on her past and questioning where she is right now—in the present. I’ve had a word with Mr Chivers... I hope you don’t mind.’

‘It wouldn’t make any difference if I said I did, would it? Considering you’ve already contacted him.’

Matias scowled. The guilt was back and with a vengeance. It seemed it had been buried in a very shallow grave. His mother had never been impressed with his lifestyle or his money. Nor had his father, when he had been alive. Neither had ever said anything, but their silence on the subject had spoken volumes.

‘What did he say?’

‘He says that under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be worried. Rose is young. But because of her anxieties, and the subsequent stress, there’s a chance that her health might be jeopardised. She’s lost interest in all the things that used to occupy her. She doesn’t seem to care about the farm any more. She’s not going to the gardening club. Like I said, she’s talking about having nothing to live for.’

‘You could have just called to fill me in on all this. Leave it with me. I’ll have a word with Chivers. I’m paying the man a small fortune. He should be able to do something. There might be a course of medication my mother could go on...there are tablets for that sort of thing.’

‘Forget it. It won’t work,’ Georgina told him bluntly.

Matias frowned, his brooding dark eyes betraying the puzzlement of someone trying to join dots that weren’t quite forming a pattern.

‘Then what will?’ he asked, with an elaborate show of patience that got on her nerves.

‘You’ll probably need something stiffer than a glass of expensive white wine before I tell you my solution.’

‘Spit it out. I can’t bear the suspense.’

‘I may have told her a couple of tiny white lies...’ Georgina stuck out her chin at a pugnacious angle—an angle that said that she was a woman about to dig her heels in and was ready for a fight if he wanted to have one.

Now that they were getting to the heart of the matter, her nerves were kicking in big time.

‘You may have told her a couple of tiny white lies...? Now, why does that admission send a shiver of apprehension racing down my spine?’

‘I love your mother. I’ve always been close to her, as you well know, and more especially now, since my parents decamped to Melbourne for my dad’s three-year secondment to the university there. I’ve been with her throughout this awful business, and you can trust me when I tell you that her spirits are sinking lower and lower by the day. Who knows what could happen?’

‘Yes, I’m getting the picture. You’ve known my mother since the dawn of time and you’re worried about her, despite hard evidence from the experts that everything’s ticking along nicely. So, Georgie, just say what you have to say—because my apprehension is still there. Why don’t we dump this meandering, getting-nowhere-fast route and stick to the main road? In fact, why don’t we just return to those little white lies of yours?’

‘Okay, Matias... I may have encouraged your mother to feel that she has every right to look forward to the future...’

‘Bracing advice.’

‘Because you’re involved with someone, and happily it’s not one of those women your mother disapproves of.’

‘The more I hear, the more I ask myself whether you and my mother have any topic of conversation aside from me.’

‘We never talk about you!’ Georgina snapped, momentarily distracted by the sheer egotism of the man. ‘It’s only because of the situation that she’s taken to confiding in me... Naturally I’m not going to tell her to keep her worries and fears to herself... Trust me when I tell you that I don’t encourage her to talk about you!’

‘Let’s leave that to one side for the while. So, I’m involved with someone my mother approves of? I suppose, as fairy stories go, that one could work—provided I’m not called upon to introduce this paragon to her. Because if I am, then it’s going to take a lot more than creative spin to cover up the cracks in your plan.’

‘Well, you see, this is where it may be less difficult than you imagine...’

She cleared her throat. She couldn’t carry on—especially when he was staring at her narrowly, his clever brain whirring away to make sense of what she’d just said. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that this was why she was here—this was why she had made this inconvenient trip to London to see a man who had always managed to rub her up the wrong way.

She was here to do a job, so to speak.

Yes, she had acted on impulse—but impulse was not a dangerous thing because it was a good thing. All she had to do was look ahead to the good that could come out of it. And not be deterred by those bitter-chocolate-dark eyes staring at her with off-putting intensity.

‘I’m all ears.’

‘I’ve told your mother that you and I are an item,’ she said in a challenging voice.

It came out in a rush and left behind a silence that was thick and dense and so uncomfortable that she could only stare down at her sandals while wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Oh, how different the whole thing had seemed when she had told Rose. She had watched how the older woman’s thin face had lit up. Rose had actually clapped her hands with delight, and Georgina had had a wonderful moment of basking in the warm glow of having made someone she loved very happy.

Before common sense had set in. By which time it had been too late to retract what she had said and the warm glow had been replaced by an icy, clammy dread.

Right now, right here, she wondered what had possessed her. How on earth could she have thought that this might be a good idea? She had travelled up to London prepared to stand her ground and fight her corner, but she had forgotten how intimidating Matias could be.

Why had impulse galloped ahead of common sense?

‘Sorry?’ Matias inclined his head with an expression of rampant disbelief. ‘I think I may have misheard what you just said...’