Читать книгу Carrying Her Millionaire's Baby - Sophie Pembroke - Страница 11

SO THEY WERE RUNNING. Right.

Ash gave a sharp nod, then whispered, ‘Stay here.’

Easing himself off the table, he opened the door to the cupboard an inch and peered out. David stood with his back to him, staring down two identical-looking corridors branching off from the main one at the far end of the hall.

Perfect.

Ash slipped through the door and closed it silently behind him. Then he took a few steps forward before calling, ‘David! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

David spun around. ‘Have you seen Zoey? She’s been missing for fifteen whole minutes.’

If he’d sounded less irritated and more concerned, Ash might have felt guiltier about lying to him. Or if David had realised that Zoey had actually been gone for more than half an hour. As it was...

‘That’s why I was looking for you. She had a migraine so went up to her room to lie down.’

‘A migraine? Tonight?’ David pulled an exasperated face. ‘Zoey doesn’t even get migraines!’

Okay, now Ash barely felt guilty at all. ‘She’s had them since she was twelve. She had to take a make-up exam our last year at university when she missed one of her finals because of a migraine.’ How could David not know that about her? Wasn’t he supposed to be in love with her?

‘Well, she’s never had one in the eighteen months I’ve known her!’ David snapped. Then he ran a hand over his hair, looking away. ‘Sorry. I’m just...a little anxious right now.’

‘Wedding eve nerves,’ Ash said sagely. ‘I remember them well. Look, why don’t you go back and tell your guests what’s going on. I’m sure Zoey will feel much better in the morning.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,’ David said, already turning back the way he’d come. Ash smiled to himself. Sometimes, people just wanted someone else to tell them what to do. ‘I could do with an early night, anyway. I’ll go say goodnight then head up and check on Zoey. See if there’s anything she needs.’

Okay, that wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for, but Ash would take it. It bought them a little time, at least.

‘Great. I’ll...see you back in there.’ He waved a hand in what he thought was the direction of the bathrooms and hoped that David would get the hint.

He did. The moment David turned the corner towards the restaurant, Ash slipped back into the cupboard to find Zoey listening anxiously at the door.

‘I definitely told him about the migraines,’ she said indignantly.

‘He forgot an important medical condition; you’re skipping out on your absurdly expensive wedding,’ Ash pointed out. ‘I think you can call it even. And unless you want him following you, we need to go. Now.’

* * *

Getting out of the hotel, it turned out, was the easy part. Leaving behind the store cupboard and the too-small window, Ash guided them out through the kitchens instead. He’d spent enough of his formative years in hotels, when his father took him along on business trips, to know the ins and outs of most of them. And as a growing teenage boy he’d always, always found the kitchen first.

‘Why didn’t I think of this?’ Zoey said as they weaved their way through the busy kitchens, apologising to the sous chefs and kitchen underlings as they went.

‘Because you’re only used to seeing hotels as a guest,’ Ash pointed out. ‘When you’re staying somewhere as luxurious as this, people tend to forget that there’s a whole world behind the scenes, working hard to make your holiday happen.’

‘But not you?’ Zoey’s eyebrows were raised and Ash recognised that expression all too well. That You’re a rich kid and you’re lecturing me on how the other half live? look.

‘I spent a lot of time in hotels growing up,’ he said. ‘I got to know how they operate pretty well. And that was before I started working in the kitchens of one at the age of fifteen.’

Zoey stared at him incredulously as they burst through the final set of doors and into the only slighter cooler night air of the island. ‘You? Ash Carmichael, heir to the Carmichael millions, worked as a hotel cook?’

‘It’s billions, actually. Or will be soon, if my father gets his way. And I was deputy washer-upper for three months before I was allowed anywhere near the food.’ Ash scouted around the back of the hotel, making sure there were no loitering guests to see them run. ‘My father is a firm believer in earning your place—even if you’re born into it. I worked in every part of a hotel in the three years before I went to university, and after that I worked my way up through every department of Carmichael Luxury Travel before I was allowed anywhere near the top offices.’

‘Huh. Grace always said you worked hard, but she never mentioned all that.’

Ash shrugged. ‘Why would she? It was just a job.’

And his job—and his money, for that matter—had always been the least interesting thing about him to Grace. Which was one of the reasons he’d fallen so hard and so fast for her. She’d loved him in spite of his name, not because of it.

‘So, where do we go now?’ Zoey looked out at the darkening skies, a nervous line marring the skin between her eyes.

A gnawing feeling of doubt settled in Ash’s stomach. Was he doing the right thing, taking her away from this wedding? He’d promised her just two weeks ago that he’d make sure she went through with it. But even then he’d not felt entirely comfortable making that promise.

Watching her with David, he’d been worried. Or unsettled, perhaps. Nothing Ash could put a finger on, but just a sense of wrongness. Maybe it was the way that David’s eyes never left her, especially when she was talking to other people. Or perhaps the way that they only ever said yes to engagements he wanted to go to, and arrived and left on his clock, not Zoey’s.

Or maybe it was just that Ash didn’t like him much.

Whatever it was, Ash had to admit that he was glad Zoey wasn’t marrying him. If she’d gone through with it, there was an interminable future of boring dinners listening to David talking about how important he was, and how magnanimous, supporting Zoey in her little job at the gallery.

Yeah, he was definitely doing the right thing.

‘The company has a villa on a private island, not far from this one. Freshly refurbished and awaiting inspection by yours truly next week. I even know where the spare key is hidden. We could borrow one of your guest’s boats and be there before bedtime.’ He nodded to the array of boats moored up at the hotel, ranging from small speedboats to large private yachts. Many of the wedding guests had decided to make a longer trip of the event and hired boats for the occasion to tour the region—relishing the excitement of island-hopping in the tropics instead of yachting around the Med for a change. Ash had been hoping for a chance to take a trip out on one of the boats anyway, so really he was killing two birds with one stone.

Actually, this all sounded like a pretty good plan for one he’d just come up with on the spur of the moment. Hopefully the villa had an equally luxurious drinks cabinet, and he and Zoey could wait out the wedding sipping cocktails by the pool before they headed back to face the music.

‘Borrow a boat from somebody?’ Zoey asked, sounding less enamoured of his plan. ‘Doesn’t that mean going back into the hotel we just escaped from and telling one of my guests that we’re leaving? Kind of defeats the object, don’t you think?’

‘Well, I wasn’t exactly going to ask,’ Ash admitted. He’d always found it better to seek forgiveness rather than permission in situations like these.

‘So you want to steal a boat. From one of David’s friends and family? Because I can’t see that making me any more popular with them.’ As if she thought running out on her own wedding wasn’t going to achieve that on its own. Sometimes Zoey had no sense of priorities.

‘No,’ Ash explained patiently. ‘We’ll bring it back tomorrow. After the wedding that won’t be. And we’ll only borrow a small one, anyway. They probably won’t even notice it’s gone.’

‘I’m not sure—’ Zoey broke off abruptly as another voice filled the air. David’s.

‘Zoey? Are you out here?’

‘Boat?’ Ash whispered.

Zoey nodded. ‘Boat.’

And then they ran.

* * *

As if she wasn’t feeling guilty enough already, now she had boat theft to add to her weighty conscience.

Ash had commandeered a small yacht with surprisingly little trouble—one that had been hired, she had a feeling, by David’s boss—which made Zoey wonder if he’d actually done this before. Funny, if she’d been asked this morning she’d have said that she knew everything there was to know about Ash Carmichael. After all, Grace had talked about him incessantly since the moment they met, so it was hard not to. And that was even before Grace died, and suddenly all they had was each other.

A tragedy like that brought people together. Made them close. Helped them know and understand each other in a way they never would have done, otherwise.

But somehow she still hadn’t known that he’d worked in a hotel kitchen, or that he knew how to hotwire a boat, or whatever it was he’d done to steal this one.

It was a nice boat, Zoey decided, standing by the rail looking out at the rapidly receding island hotel where she wouldn’t be getting married tomorrow. Stretching out from the main island itself was the long wooden bridge out over the water that led to twenty or so individual hotel suites on stilts, looking as if they almost floated on the waves.

It was an incredible place, Zoey had to admit. Under other circumstances, she’d be sorry to leave.

As it was...

She sighed and turned away, back to where Ash was steering the boat. And frowning. A lot.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, drawing closer. ‘Having second thoughts?’

He flashed her a smile. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be asking you that.’

Zoey considered, taking a reading on her internal feelings. A lot of guilt, as usual—and, really, who had a ‘usual’ for a situation like this?—but no regrets. No second thoughts.

She might regret letting her relationship with David reach this point, but not walking away. Her whole body sang with the rightness of that decision.

But that didn’t explain Ash’s frown.

‘I’m absolutely fine. What’s up with you?’

‘Not me,’ Ash said shortly. ‘The weather.’

Zoey looked up and saw the sky ahead was a different colour to the sky behind. And, from Ash’s expression, it wasn’t just the usual gradients of colour of sunset in paradise.

‘A storm?’ she asked.

He gave a short nod. ‘A squall, at least. Basically, out of the frying pan...’

‘Into the dangerous weather systems.’ Hadn’t someone at the hotel said something about incoming weather that morning? Yes! They’d been talking about possibly having to bring the ceremony in from the beach into the hotel itself. David had been furious. She’d been so caught up in her own doubts and concerns she hadn’t listened. She’d tuned out the way she always did when David was rude to someone he considered less important than himself. Which was basically everyone except his father. And her own parents, actually, which was probably why they liked him.

For someone who could be so sweet when it was just the two of them, he didn’t go over so well with other people. Something else she should have considered sooner.

Maybe she was just an incredibly lousy judge of character. That would explain a lot.

But personal revelations didn’t change the past. Or the squall in their future.

‘I knew it was coming,’ Zoey berated herself. ‘I had a conversation with the wedding planner about it this morning—well, David did. But I was there. I should have remembered.’

‘You’ve had a lot on your mind,’ Ash said drily, but Zoey could feel the wind lifting her hair, and saw the way Ash gripped the boat’s controls.

It was coming.

Looking over the side, Zoey could see the waves rising higher, crashing against the side of their boat. How on earth was she going to explain to David that she’d not only run out on their wedding but also destroyed his boss’s boat in the process?

Maybe this was divine retribution. Fate taking its revenge for her messing up other people’s lives and plans one time too many; taking control of her future for her, since she couldn’t ever seem to stick to any of the decisions she made herself.

Maybe she deserved it.

‘I should have checked the forecast before bringing you out here.’ Ash’s knuckles were white, Zoey realised, and his face pinched. Strain, fear or both? ‘You should get down in the cabin. There’s not much space down there, but it’s a lot safer than up on deck.’

Or maybe fate was a load of bunk, and the future was hers to control.

‘I’ll stay here with you.’ Zoey grabbed a hold of the railing beside Ash, planting her feet firmly on the deck. ‘I mean, I have no idea how to drive a boat, so you’ll have to tell me what to do so I can actually help you. But it’s my fault we’re out here. I’m not leaving you up here alone.’

Ash looked at her, his gaze steady despite whatever fear he was feeling. Zoey gazed back just as evenly, so he’d know she meant it.

Then the wind kicked up again and a wave crashed into their side, making them both stumble a little.

‘Okay,’ Ash said, his eyes back on the water, his hands firm on the controls. ‘We’re not far from the island. Let’s see if we can get there before this storm gets any worse.’

‘We’ll get there,’ Zoey said with a confidence she wasn’t sure she truly felt.

Fate could go hang.

* * *

What kind of idiot took a random boat out in these waters at night without checking the forecast? Ash berated himself mentally as he clung to his tenuous control of the boat. The waves crashed against the sides and Ash tried desperately to focus on the task in hand and not get distracted by images of his late wife giving him hell in the afterlife for getting her best friend killed.

With Grace gone, he was responsible for Zoey. It wasn’t as if her parents had ever been able to let their own issues go long enough to care about her, and since the odds of her actually finding true love and settling down—at least long enough to get through a wedding reception—seemed to be getting slimmer, he was it. He was all the support she had left—and he was doing a lousy job of it so far.

The sky was growing blacker, the kind of doomed darkness that foretold of disaster to come. Maybe he should just have let her marry David after all. Sure, he’d probably have been throwing her a divorce party within six months, but at least she’d be alive to celebrate it, instead of dead at the bottom of the ocean.

He glanced to his left. Zoey was holding on tight to the rail beside him, obviously determined to stand by him—as much as he wished she’d just get to safety below. The waves weren’t too big yet, but they were going to get bigger...

Then, suddenly, he got a glimpse of what he was looking for. Refuge. Safety. A fully stocked drinks cabinet, he hoped.

‘There!’ He risked raising one hand from the controls to point. ‘Do you see that?’

Zoey leant forward over the rail, squinting into the distance and almost giving Ash a heart attack at the same time. ‘Is that the island?’

‘I hope so.’ Ash braced himself and started to turn the boat. He’d studied the online maps and satellite footage well enough to know that the new acquisition was the nearest island to the one he’d recommended to David for the wedding. It had to be the right one. Hopefully. ‘And if all else fails, it’s an island.’ Dry land had to be better than water right now.

As they grew closer, Ash could make out the outline of a wooden villa at the water’s edge, the traditional stilts meaning it was half over the ocean and half on land. The roof looked to be the usual thatch, and he recognised the terrace layout from the photos of the recently acquired property he’d been looking at a few days before. This was the place they’d been searching for.

Best of all, there was even a mooring point for the boat. Ash just hoped it would hold overnight.

Once the wedding was over, Zoey was going to want to leave again, after all. Well, eventually, anyway.

Getting the boat moored securely was a battle in itself as the threatened rain began to fall.

‘Run up to the house,’ he yelled at Zoey, his throat sore with the effort of getting her to hear over the storm. But Zoey shook her head, her wet hair whipping around her as she held on tight to one of the stern lines as he crossed them to tie up.

Stubborn. Just like Grace. No wonder they’d been such good friends.

Finally, finally, the yacht was as secure as he could make it. He’d just have to hope that was as secure as it needed to be. It was too late to do any more. The wind that had been steadily rising had reached a screaming pitch now, whistling and screeching through the trees and across the water. Looking back out to sea, Ash couldn’t tell where the rain stopped and the waves started.

‘Come on.’ Grabbing Zoey’s hand, he dragged her up from the small jetty towards the front door of the villa, already dreaming of what they’d find inside as he fumbled for the hidden key and tried to recall the security code he’d saved on his phone.

This place was perfect. Ash had read all the specs on the flight out. The villa was the newest jewel in his father’s property crown, freshly refurbished to Arthur Carmichael’s exacting standards. If a person had to take refuge from a storm and a potentially furious bridegroom, this was the spot.

He flung open the doors.

Zoey crashed into his back as he stopped, still on the threshold, and stared in.

Okay. So this place would be perfect. Once the renovation was actually finished.

‘Can we get inside already?’ Zoey asked. Ash could feel her shaking, shivering with cold as she pressed against him.

The storm was on them. There was no going back.

‘You might wish you’d stayed and married David,’ he muttered as he moved aside to let her in.

Zoey pushed past him, then stopped in the middle of what Ash assumed would be the lounge. Eventually.

‘So, when you said that this place had just been refurbished...’ She turned around slowly, taking in the room. Ash winced. Even in the darkness of the storm raging outside, he knew this didn’t look good.

‘I might have been a little optimistic.’

He tried to see the villa through her eyes. The half-built kitchen area off to one side. The random pieces of wood stacked up against the far wall. The windows still covered in tape but no blinds. The complete lack of furniture.

Zoey sighed. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope for a fully stocked drinks cabinet, then?’