Never Too Late (29 page)

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A light drizzle was falling outside, but the sky was clear enough for the golden rays of the setting sun to cast streaks of blue and pink-purple on the clouds.

The temperature inside the luxurious black Audi was just right though, and she unzipped her parka.

“You are guest at Chateau Blanc?” The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror as they drove through the grand mountain scenery.

She nodded.

Benoit, or Ben as he’d asked her to call him after raising his dark bushy eyebrows at the fact she spoke no French, knew just enough English to keep the pair of them out of trouble. 

“Winter is more for guests. They are less now.” Ben’s smiling eyes met hers in the mirror again.

“They mainly come for the skiing season, don’t they? I read this area is famous for it.”

“Oui! We have the best mountains. The best snow.”

She looked out through the faint spots of rain on the window glass at the vista of looming snow-capped mountains rolling off into the distance. It was colder here than it had been in London, and the air had hit her like that from an opened fridge the moment she’d stepped out of the airport building. 

But now as she stared at the passing scenery from the warm comfort of the car, it was like gazing at an autumn postcard. The land was dotted with jewel-coloured clumps of forest: red, orange, golden-yellow, giving over to hardy evergreens further up. The green grassy carpet faded into grey as the mountains rose to kiss the clouds, their white snowy peaks providing a glimpse of the icy winter to come.

The well maintained road they drove through was eerily peaceful as it snaked its way up a mountainside. There were no houses nearby. Further down the mountain a few small clusters of red-roofed buildings huddled around tall pointy church spires, but none of them were within walking distance of where she was now, and the road was empty except for the rare minivan or four-by-four that passed them.

She sat back, chewing her lip. The sun was low on the horizon and the long shadows were fast darkening. She should have picked up the number of a local taxi firm back at the airport. The last thing she needed was to find herself stranded and at Jake’s mercy. He probably wouldn’t have much mercy to show her. 

She leaned forward. “Ben, did Lilayni arrange for you to take me back to the airport tonight?” she asked the back of his capped head.

His confused gaze met hers in the mirror. “Go back?”

“Later. Tonight.”

“But you are guest, non?”

Not a welcome one, but that was too complicated to explain. “I have to be back at the airport tonight. I have a flight.”

“Ah, oui. I wait.”

She sat back again with an inner sigh of relief. A few minutes. She wouldn’t need more than that. As soon as she found Jake, she’d say what she’d come to say and then leave. Simple, or at least it should be. She rubbed suddenly clammy hands on the silk of her dress. The butterflies in her stomach were going at a hundred miles per hour the closer she came to her destination, and no amount of deep breathing was calming them down. 

“It is here.” 

Ben’s voice had her glancing out the window. The car slowed to a stop in front of heavy looking black iron gates that were flanked by imposing grey stone walls that looked dark-blue in the dusk light. A smaller gate stood to one side of the large ones, with a tiled gatehouse made of the same grey stone behind it. 

A man in olive fatigues and wearing a guard’s cap stepped out of the building and came through the small gate towards the car. She’d half-expected to see a machine gun slung over his shoulder to keep with the grand drama of the gates, but he wasn’t armed, and the only threatening thing he held in his hand was a clipboard.

Ben lowered his window and rattled off in French as the guard bent down to him. She picked out her name and ‘Damon Solarin’ in the flow of words. He was introducing her as Damon’s guest. So that was how Lilayni had arranged everything so quick. 

The guard checked his clipboard and glanced at her, and she sat looking as nonchalant as she could. He nodded and straightening up, spoke into his bluetooth headset, and the large gates lazily swung open. Raising his window, Ben drove them through.

She had to keep her jaw from dropping at the view that hit her eyes past a turn several metres from the gates. Golden lights glowed everywhere like the decorations on a christmas tree, lining the road and dotting the landscape. They were closer to the mountain peak here and patches of evergreen forest sloped up and away into the distance like green streams, thinning off nearer the snowy tops. Lights glimmered from in-between the clumps of trees, where individual chalets most likely stood, because one or two were close enough for her to make out detail, though others were just a twinkle in the distance. 

They drove to what was obviously the central hub of the resort, a multi-storey wood and stone building that stood tall like a modern castle with rounded turrets to all four sides. Its sloped roofs were lined with neon-blue lights that cut through the purple of the late evening sky, and a long sloping roof even covered the driveway. Ben slowed the car beneath it, bringing it to a stop on one side of the stone steps leading up to the glass doors of the lobby.

She remained pressed to the window, staring at what she could see of the opulent looking lobby. A few exquisitely dressed people milled around, and even the staff were dressed smarter than she’d seen anywhere before. She tucked her curls behind her ears. She could only hope to pass muster in this place.

Getting out, Ben opened her door for her, and the blast of cold air made her recoil, shocking her out of her nervousness.

“All fine?” He held a hand out for her.

She pulled up a small smile. “Yes, thank you.” Taking his hand, she stepped out of the car, teetering on her high heels.

He held on to her hand until he was sure she was steady and then went to get her case from the trunk. 

This was it. She took a deep breath. All she had to do was go up to the front desk, ask to see Jake, and then finish this. She could do this.

She took a step forward.

“Ah, non!” Ben came around with her case, frantically shaking his head.

With a frown, she glanced down at where he was pointing to her parka.

“The coat, it is not of the Chateau Blanc.”

A middle-aged couple passed them, going up the stone steps and into the lobby. The man wore a smart dress coat over his black suit and the woman was draped in brown furs and glittered with diamonds. No, her parka was definitely not Chateau Blanc. She slipped it off, wincing as the near ice-cold air bit through the lace and thin silk of her dress. With a grimace, she stuffed her parka into the case Ben held up, just as a red and gold uniformed bellboy came bounding down the stairs.

With a few quick words, Ben handed her case over to the bellboy and introduced her.

The bellboy nodded briskly. “Please, Mademoiselle,” he said, indicating she should follow him.

“Wait for me, won’t you, please?” she said anxiously to Ben. “I won’t be long.”

He smiled and nodded. “Oui, I wait.”

But his promise wasn’t enough to calm the churning foreboding in her stomach as she followed the bellboy up into the lobby.

The white liquid fizzed as it flowed into the glass in the waiter’s hand, and Jake stared at it with more attention than it deserved, blanking out his dinner companion seated opposite.

The waiter placed the glass on the table. “I shall bring the entrée shortly, Madame, Monsieur.”

Jake nodded, sending the man on his way, then picked up his glass, catching Elka’s eye again, and took a small sip of the sparkling wine, barely tasting it.

“It is a good choice, darling.” Elka smiled sweetly, leaning forward so he didn’t miss the beauty of her cleavage framed by the red velvet of her dress and the artful flow of dark hair over one bare shoulder. “Champagne and scallops. My favourite.”

A slight tilt of the corner of his lips was all he could muster to answer her smile. “I remembered.” He placed the glass down, keeping a thin leash on the irritation pricking him. “So you were in Monte Carlo? Tell me what you got up to.”

She didn’t need a second invitation, launching into an animated tale of friends, yacht parties, and shopping trips, that required no reply from him. He sat back and set his responses on practiced autopilot—the occasional nod or smile, being more than enough—and let the restless thoughts rolling in his head have it out. 

What the hell was wrong with him? Why had he come to the seclusion of Chateau Blanc as soon as the Monte Carlo project finished instead of surrounding himself with willing female company in London or New York and lighting up the night?

He cast a quick glance around the restaurant. Its luxurious Italian-influenced cream and dark wood decor was meant to relax inhibitions, with naked gods and nymphs cavorting in the tiled frescos on the walls, and polished dark wood columns framing the tall windows with their romantic view of the snow-capped French mountains outlined against a sapphire-blue evening sky.

Its effect was lost on him tonight, however.

Elka’s lilting voice continued as part of the background noise, a little louder than the clink of cutlery, the murmured conversations, and occasional muted laughter. Tonight, the place wasn’t even half full. His cynical gaze passed over a few of the couples, older men in smart evening wear, their much younger female companions dripping gems of rainbow colours. These were men he knew in the business world, and none were here with their wives. That was the nature of the transaction. The man got a nubile young woman in his bed, and the woman was showered with riches and jewels. A simple understanding, and after Sienna, one he’d planned to stick to.

“You’ve been there, haven’t you darling?”

Elka’s voice registered, forcing his focus back on her. 

“Yes,” he said with some honesty, since he was likely to have been to most places she’d visited, and then took another sip from his glass.

That was enough encouragement for her to continue talking about what he soon worked out was an exclusive nightclub on the French Riviera. He sipped his champagne and studied her. She was beautiful, a woman of the world, and eager. Why not take this to the next level? Wasn’t that why he’d invited her to dinner tonight? 

He was well aware she’d played the waiting game in Monte Carlo, waiting for him to chase her, but he’d avoided her. And when he’d left Monaco yesterday, she’d thrown away the tease double quick and contacted him directly through the Chateau’s front desk.

And now here she was. His guest at the resort. And after an intimate meal of the finest foods and wine, and with plenty of sweet talk to set the mood, of course he’d invite her back to his chalet for a passion-filled night afterwards. Wasn’t that the script? Then why was he in no mood to stick to it?

The waiter reappeared with their seared scallops, and thankfully all attention fell to the delicacy before them for a few seconds until they were alone again.

Elka tried an elegant mouthful. “Mmm, delicious.”

His gaze was drawn to the berry-red of her lips as she dabbed them with the corner of her napkin and then curled them into an inviting smile for him. Her heavy lash-framed eyes ate him alive with naked eagerness. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he said with a polite smile, switching his attention back to his plate.

He should have known this wasn’t going anywhere when he’d declined the waiter’s offer to seat them at one of the more discrete tables by the windows. Instead, he’d ignored Elka’s faint protests and opted to sit close to the entrance, with the glass walls that separated the restaurant from the front lobby within a distance of four strides. 

Damn Lilayni. She was right. He was running.

Maybe it was time he stopped. 

He let his mind linger on thoughts he’d ruthlessly shut out before: Molly, her sweet face, her tender touch, everything they’d shared at Barrowdene. Being with Molly had been like stepping out into sunshine after a lifetime spent in a cave. And now being here without her was like the cave had closed in around him once more. 

But even Molly had proven to be a lie, as false as the opportunistic world he dwelled in. The familiar rage at himself followed and dropping his knife and fork, he reached for his refilled champagne glass. Had he no pride? He’d still return to her after she’d got everything she wanted out of him. Had he learned nothing from Sienna? He needed to purge himself of this crazy lust once and for all. He should go back, see her happy at Barrowdene and most likely back in the arms of that worthless ex of hers.

The image had him slamming the champagne glass back down on the table. The slim stem shattered in his hand, and the pale-gold liquid splashed over his skin on to the pristine white tablecloth.

“Oh!” Elka jumped in her seat, staring at the growing stain with wide eyes.

The waiter was there in an instant, dabbing the stain with his cloth as he cleared the broken glass. “My apologies, Monsieur Hennessy. Are you hurt?”

Jake glanced at his wet hand, faintly glad to see it was still intact. He didn’t need the additional drama in front of Elka. He wiped it with his napkin. “I’m fine. Thank you. It was entirely my fault. If you could replace the glass?”

“Immediately, Monsieur.” The waiter said with a relieved nod.

Elka regarded him with worried eyes once the waiter left. “Jake, you have been so distant. What is wrong?”

He felt like a heel. She’d come here at his invitation and he’d spent the entire time mired in his own mess. He’d sort that soon enough, but right now he needed to be here. 

Reaching across the table, he clasped her hand. “Work. I’m sorry to have brought it to the table tonight. Let’s finish our dinner.”

She smiled, her mind immediately set at ease by the catch-all excuse, and he settled back to finish this dinner as quickly as possible. There would be no tryst for them at the chalet tonight, or ever. Elka would return to her suite, and he’d be on a private jet to England.

* * *

Molly tottered after the bellboy as best she could as he bounded away with her case. The hotel lobby’s polished gold-inlayed marble floor lay before her like a slippery skating rink, and with every step she took, she had to pray her silly heels wouldn’t land her flat on her backside in front of all the well-dressed snooty-looking somebodies milling around.