Engaged at the Chatsfield (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

M
ARCUS
 
WAS
 
JETLAGGED
 
and hungry and a tension headache was throbbing like a pneumatic drill behind his eyeballs as the cab pulled up outside the Chatsfield in London. He still had some work to do on his proposal for Gene Chatsfield’s luxury yacht before he presented it on Monday morning. He was one of three naval architects shortlisted to pitch for the multimillion-pound contract. It would be a career coup if he pulled it off, especially on the back of his success with the Dubai deal. He figured staying in-house might give him the edge on his competitors. It would demonstrate his commitment and dedication to the Chatsfield brand. He had heard the newly appointed CEO, Christos Giantrakos, was a stickler for that sort of thing.

Marcus paid the driver and turned to enter the hotel just as a small figure came bolting down the brass steps from the other direction. Her shiny brown-haired head was bent down as she glanced at her watch, a little pleat of a frown was pulling at her brow and her teeth were savaging her lower lip.

‘Juliet?’

It was as if an invisible wall had come down in front of her. She stopped dead. Froze. Then she slowly turned to face him. For a moment her face was as white as the polka dots on her cute retro dress, but then her cheeks went as cherry-red as the background fabric. ‘M-Marcus?’ Her voice came out like a squeak.

‘You’re staying here?’ he asked.

The tip of her tongue swept over her lips in a darting movement. ‘Erm...yes.’ Her throat moved up and down. ‘Y-you?’

He gave her a self-deprecating smile. ‘I just flew in from Dubai. Can’t you tell?’

Her toffee-brown eyes moved over his rumpled clothes and unshaven jaw before meshing with his gaze. She seemed to be having trouble speaking. Her creamy throat kept moving up and down as if something was lodged there.

‘Are you okay?’

‘F-fine.’ She smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘How long are you—’ she gave another tight-looking swallow ‘—staying?’

‘Just for the weekend,’ he said. ‘I have an appointment with Gene Chatsfield, the owner, and his CEO first thing Monday. I’m pitching for a design project. What about you?’

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, the fingers of her right hand fiddling with the strap of her handbag. The afternoon light caught something glittering on her left hand before she tucked it out of sight.

Something grabbed at his chest like a claw. Tightened. Squeezed.

Juliet was engaged?

Why hadn’t Ben given him the heads-up? He didn’t know she’d been seeing anyone. Last Christmas he thought... What had he thought? He
hadn’t
been thinking. He’d acted on impulse. Something he never did. He blamed it on the glasses of wine at lunch, the eggnog and the brandy butter. It must have gone to his head. His chest gave another suffocating spasm. The thought of her dating...
having sex
with some guy made his insides feel hollow and empty, as if they had been scraped out with something sharp.

‘Hen’s party,’ she said.

‘Your own?’

She looked at him blankly for a moment. ‘No...Kendra Ashford’s.’

Marcus had never understood what Juliet saw in the clique of girls who called themselves Kendra’s Clan. A bunch of pampered aristocrats who did nothing but preen and party, usually with the paparazzi around to document it. Not that he could necessarily talk, given his father’s ridiculous wealth, but at least he didn’t brandish it about.
And
he worked for a living. He couldn’t see how Juliet had anything in common with them, but she’d been at boarding school with them, and she was a loyal little thing and wouldn’t hear a bad word said about anyone.

He pointed to the ring on her finger, trying to ignore the painful ache in his chest. ‘Who’s the lucky guy?’

Two spots of colour spread even further over her cheeks making her cute freckles stand out like a dusting of cinnamon sugar on the top of a teacake. ‘Erm...’ She did that foot shuffling, weight shifting thing again, reminding him of when she was ten years old and embarrassed about asking him to help her change the tyre on her pushbike.

Back then the six years difference in their age had seemed like a generation. Even at eighteen she had been far too young—rather memorably demonstrated by her gauche attempt to kiss him in the study the night of her birthday party. He had always made sure he was never alone with her after that, especially if there was alcohol around. She didn’t have much of a head for it. Not that
he
could talk given what almost happened at Christmas.

Now it was...it was a surprise to realise how grown up she was. Grown up enough to get engaged.

His chest seized again.

To get married.

He hadn’t noticed quite
how
grown up she was until last Christmas. In the past she had always been his best mate’s kid sister. He hadn’t seen her as anything else. He hadn’t allowed himself to, especially after the incident in the study. Getting involved with his best friend’s baby sister was breaking a strict code of mateship. If things didn’t work out, it got messy for everyone. He had too much respect for Ben and his mother, Grace—not to mention Juliet herself—to take any risks in that area.

But last Christmas...

Marcus pushed the thought back. Best not to go there. She belonged to someone else now. He tried to ignore the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He hoped it was someone who was worthy of her. She was a decent girl. A sweet and caring soul who could easily get trampled on or taken advantage of because she wasn’t street smart or sophisticated. But that’s what he liked about her. She was intelligent and kind, not shallow and vacuous and self-serving like some of the women her big brother was currently hanging out with in L.A. ‘So, is it anyone I know?’ he asked.

The point of her tongue came out again and moistened her soft Cupid’s bow mouth. Her cheeks were so red now he could have cooked a couple of rounds of toast on them. ‘I didn’t think you’d turn up like this,’ she said. ‘Ben didn’t tell me you were due back...’

‘Yeah, well, I’m lucky to get a word from your brother now he’s so rich and famous,’ he said. ‘Last time I heard from him was about a month ago. He texted me a photo of himself on a red carpet somewhere surrounded by Hollywood starlets.’

She did the lip chew thing again. ‘He’s certainly got an awful lot of friends now....’

Marcus’s gut clenched as if a fist had grabbed at his intestines. Was Juliet involved with some guy who only wanted her for a connection to her famous brother? Some sleazy status-seeker who wanted to fast-track his own career in show business? She was so innocent and guileless she mightn’t see past the superficial charm. Why hadn’t Ben warned her?

‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t Romeo himself.’

Marcus looked up to see Harriet Penhallon, one of Kendra’s Clan, coming towards them with a smirk on her face. ‘Congratulations, Marcus,’ Harriet said, eyeing him up and down like an auctioneer does at a cattle market. ‘Who would have thought?’

Who would have thought what?
Marcus opened his mouth to say it out loud when he heard Juliet make a strangled sound beside him. He glanced down at her with a frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

Her brown eyes had never looked bigger. Wider. The pupils like dark pools of rippling panic. He even heard her take a gulp. ‘I told Harriet...erm...that I...that we...erm...’

‘Told Harriet what?’

‘That you’re engaged,’ Harriet said.

Marcus blinked.
Engaged?
Juliet was pretending she was engaged...
to him?
What was she thinking? What was going on? Why would she do such a thing? He’d been sick with worry that she’d been seduced by some creep, only to find it was all a game of charades. He didn’t have time for such nonsense, damn it. What a waste of angst. He was supposed to be here on business. He wasn’t here to play silly schoolgirl games. His professional reputation was under the spotlight. Not his personal life. Not that he had one right now.

He looked down at her again. Her expression was a mixture of contrition and hope. Hope he wouldn’t blow her cover? Publicly embarrass her by denying it? Was she doing this to get social cache with her so-called friends? Surely she’d known he would find out one way or the other. No one could do or say anything these days without someone tweeting or texting about it. There was no such thing as local gossip these days. The whole planet found out in a matter of seconds.

But if he contradicted her, it would make her look foolish in front of her friends. It might draw even more attention to him than he wanted right now. It wasn’t such a leap to think they might be an item. He’d been a part of her family for years.

Besides, he didn’t care for the narrow-eyed look on Harriet Penhallon’s face.

‘Yes...that’s right, so we are.’ He put an arm around Juliet and brought her close to his body. She felt soft and warm and feminine and smelt of summer flowers—sweet peas with a hint of orange blossom. Exotic and yet old fashioned and touchingly familiar. ‘We were going to keep it a secret for a little while longer, weren’t we, sweetie?’

Juliet looked up at him with a faltering smile. ‘I’m sorry...’

Not as much as you’re going to be,
he thought. What the hell was she playing at?
Engaged?
Hell’s bells. What was Ben going to make of this? ‘It’s fine, darling.’ He mentally ground his teeth. ‘It had to come out sooner or later.’

Harriet put a hand over her mouth in a theatrical manner. ‘Oops. I didn’t realise you hadn’t officially announced it. I just tweeted it to all Kendra’s followers.’ She dropped her hand and smiled broadly. ‘All five hundred and fifty thousand of them.’

CHAPTER THREE

J
ULIET
 
COULDN
’
T
 
LOOK
 
at Marcus. She wanted to die. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole and spit her out on the other side of the world. She wanted to be someone else. Someone who had a
real
fiancé, not a pretend one. She didn’t want to be the last girl Marcus would ever think of being involved with, let alone engaged to.

She could tell he was angry. He was too polite to show it, but she knew him well enough to know he was absolutely furious. She could hear his jaw working and his teeth grinding like a saw. His arm was still around her, a warm band of strength that was as tense as a wire. Even through the layer of her cotton dress she could feel every corded muscle, every lean sinew, all of his latent strength and physical power. His hand was on her right hip, the searing touch of his fingers burning through her body like a brand.

She had never been this close to him before. Close enough to feel the long, tall, athletic frame of him. Close enough to smell his lemon-based aftershave with its grace note of lime. At six foot three, he towered over her but somehow she fit snugly against him. Her body quivered at the contact. She could feel the electric heat coursing through her as if his sensual energy was powering up hers.

‘Gotta run,’ Harriet said as she gave them a fingertip wave. ‘Don’t be late, Juliet. We can’t start tea without you.’

Juliet stepped out of Marcus’s hold as soon as Harriet had disappeared inside the hotel. ‘I can explain—’

‘Mr Bainbridge?’ A person holding a camera with a telephoto lens approached from the other side of Marcus. Other people with cameras and tripods were close behind; moving towards them like a pack of strangely shaped black-and-grey insects.

‘How does it feel to be engaged to Hollywood’s new heartthrob Benedict Montague’s little sister?’ the first journalist asked.

‘Can we have the first official portrait?’ a second photographer asked.

‘Is it true you’ve known Ben since he was eight years old?’ a third asked. ‘That you knew him before he was famous?’

Marcus reached for Juliet’s hand, his fingers closing over hers so firmly she felt her prop engagement ring bite into her flesh. ‘We have no comment to make. Please excuse us. This is a private moment and we wish to be left alone to enjoy it.’

Juliet could just imagine what Marcus was going to say when he got her alone, so she was all up for hanging out with the paparazzi for as long as she could. She smiled at the gathered cameramen and -women. ‘A photo? Of course! Where would you like us to stand? Here?’ She shuffled into position, dragging Marcus with her. ‘Smile, darling. Isn’t this fun? I’ve always wanted to be famous. Just wait till I tell Ben we’ve upstaged him.’

The cameras flashed a few rounds but as soon as a journalist pushed a recording device towards Marcus his rictus smile fell away. ‘That’s it, folks. Time to move on.’

All but marching Juliet into the hotel, Marcus spoke out of the side of his tautly held mouth as if spitting out bitter-tasting pellets. ‘Are you out of your mind? What the hell is going on?’

Juliet kept her smile in place as a cameraman had followed them into the hotel to capture a shot of Lucca Chatsfield, who was heading to the bar with a bevy of beautiful women surrounding him like groupies around a rock star. ‘Look, darling,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think he’s gorgeous? No wonder he’s got all those women trailing after him. I’ve heard he’s really charming, too. Maybe you could introduce me to him since you know his father.’

Marcus glowered at her. ‘Just you wait until I get you alone, young lady.’

Juliet didn’t have to pretend to shiver in anticipation. It was for real. She hadn’t realised how heart-stoppingly handsome he was when he was het up. He was always so cool and in control. So polite and formal and aloof. But underneath that cool reserve was a man with strong feelings and emotions. With hot-blooded passion.

A Chatsfield staff member came over to them with a sycophantic smile. ‘Miss Montague, you should have told us who you were when you checked in,’ he said. ‘We didn’t know you were the sister of a Hollywood movie star. We’ve upgraded you and Mr Bainbridge to one of our deluxe suites specially designed for affianced couples. The champagne is complimentary, of course.’

Juliet could practically hear Marcus’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have done that.’ She tried to disguise a flutter of panic. This was getting so out of hand it was farcical. He was going to
strangle
her for this.

‘Thank you.’ Marcus gripped her hand even tighter. ‘It’s much appreciated.’

Once they had been given their swipe card keys, Marcus led Juliet by the elbow to the bank of elevators. ‘Don’t say a word.’

‘I can ex—’

He pushed a finger against her lips. ‘Not. One. Word.’

Juliet tasted the sweat and salt of his fingertip as she ran her tongue over her lips while the elevator climbed to their floor. She knew he had a right to be a little cross with her, but surely he would understand once she explained? It wasn’t even her fault. Harriet had assumed...

But then she wondered if he was angry because he already had someone in his life.

In his bed.

Her stomach plummeted.

Had he been hooking up with someone here at the hotel?

Had she ruined his rendezvous with a lover? Gate crashed his love life?

Juliet didn’t like thinking of him with other women. She knew he had them. He wasn’t as much of an out-and-out playboy as Lucca Chatsfield, or even her brother, but he had relationships from time to time. Nothing serious as far as she knew. She suspected he was wary of commitment since his parents’ breakup had been so acrimonious and drawn out and so horribly, embarrassingly, horrifyingly public. It was why he loathed the press so much. As a young child he had been dragged into the public brawling match between his parents as they fought for custody.

Marcus would tread very carefully before he selected a wife, if he ever did so. One thing she knew for sure:
it would never be someone like her....

He opened the door of the suite, where her luggage had already been delivered. There was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne with a blue-and-gold satin ribbon around its neck and two silver champagne flutes with the Chatsfield
C
engraved on them. A floral arrangement with two red velvet hearts was on the polished sideboard and the king-size bed had two red long-stem roses lying across the snowy-white feather pillows. The new CEO was certainly cracking a very efficient whip around the Chatsfield, Juliet thought.

The door closed with a
snick
and she turned to face Marcus. ‘Please don’t be cross. I didn’t mean—’

‘Do you have
any
idea of what you’ve done? You’ve caused a freaking media circus out there. Everyone is tweeting about us like we’re reality show celebrities.’ He shoved a hand through his hair and muttered a curse as he started pacing the floor. ‘If I lose this project because of this, I swear to God I’ll—’

‘How was I to know you’d turn up?’

He swung around and glared at her so darkly his dark blue eyes looked almost black. ‘So, now it’s
my
fault, is it? What on earth were you thinking? You’d just let everyone think we were engaged and not tell
me
about it? How were you going to stop it leaking out? Did you think of that?’

She snagged her lower lip again. ‘I didn’t actually
say
we were engaged. Harriet assumed—’

‘You’re wearing a bloody engagement ring, for God’s sake. Even
I
assumed you were engaged. Little did I know it was to me.’

Juliet winced at his savage look. ‘I told her I was seeing someone.’

His brows jammed together. ‘Are you?’

Her cheeks grew warm. ‘No...’

‘So why the charade?’

She fiddled with the clasp on her watch to occupy her hands, otherwise she would have been tempted to wring them in despair. Why was he so disgusted at having his name linked with hers? Was she that much of a toad he couldn’t bear the thought of being associated with her romantically? She knew she wasn’t a stunning beauty or anything, but she hadn’t exactly left a trail of broken mirrors behind her...or at least none that she knew of. ‘I told Harriet I was seeing someone and she assumed it was you.’

His frown deepened. ‘Why would she assume that?’

Juliet moved over to the sideboard to inspect the floral arrangement rather than let him see how much his comment affronted her. ‘I guess because we’ve been friends for years.’

‘There’s a heck of a difference between being friends and being engaged.’

She turned from the flowers to look at him again. ‘She pressed me for details and when I said it was serious—’

‘You told her we were
serious
?’

She raised her chin. ‘I’m sorry if the notion disgusts you.’

He gave her a flustered look. ‘I’m not— I didn’t— Look, don’t take it personally. I’m just not looking for a relationship right now. It’s the last thing on my mind.’

‘I’m not asking you to be in one.’ Juliet tried to squash the spreading sense of disappointment that was making her chest feel tight. ‘I just wanted to get through this weekend without everyone feeling sorry for me or sniggering at me behind my back because I haven’t got a partner. I had no idea Harriet would jump to conclusions so quickly and I certainly had no idea she would send a tweet to all Kendra’s followers.’

He swore again. ‘Just wait until your brother’s followers get wind of it. The whole bloody world will be congratulating us.’

Juliet frowned as she reached for her phone. ‘Maybe I should call Mum...’

‘Wait.’ His hand came down on her arm. The feel of his fingers wrapping around her wrist was like a surge of electricity through her body. She felt it right to her core, to the place his touch had ignited at Christmas. His fingers were warm, broad and strong. She slowly brought her gaze up to his, her stomach dropping like a book toppling off a high shelf as his eyes meshed with hers. ‘We need to think this through,’ he said. ‘We need a plan.’

‘A plan?’

His fingers loosened a fraction but he didn’t release her. His eyes were dark and unreadable as they held hers. ‘Looks like we’re stuck with this till the end of the weekend.’

Stuck with me, you mean
, Juliet thought with another flicker of resentment. Did he have to make it so flipping obvious? She slipped out of his hold and picked up her purse. ‘I have to go to the tea party. We can talk about this later.’

‘You do realise we’ll have to share this room?’

Juliet’s hand froze on the doorknob. She had seen the size of the bed. It was an acre of mattress with a high hedge of pillows. It was big enough to have its own postal code. It was big enough to land a fighter jet on. It was big enough to sleep a football team without any of them touching. Surely she could get through two nights without coming in to contact with him?

She opened the door and sent him her version of a breezy smile. ‘I always sleep on the left side of the bed. I hope that’s not going to be a problem for you?
Ciao
.’