The Socialite's Secret

Luke had learnt a long time ago to push emotions aside—with patients and their relatives, with his own relatives too.

He had just never quite mastered objectivity when Scarlet was around.

It was something he knew he had better start working on.

Just not today.

Now the very last thing Scarlet needed was calm, professional and detached, but more to the point the impact of actually seeing her again meant that Luke could be none of those things.

Just yet.

As he pulled her into his arms, the embrace was as necessary for Luke as it was for Scarlet. There was so much anger and pain inside both of them. Their traumatic past was perhaps insurmountable but he dealt with the present now.

She was here. Not by the method he would have preferred—Luke had hoped Scarlet would contact him before she’d left for America today—but, yes, she was here, and so Luke held her in his arms and smelt again her hair, fighting not to kiss her salty tears away.

How messed up was that? Luke thought to himself.

He’d had a few months to prepare for the possibility of seeing her again. Since Anya’s UK tour had been announced late last year, the thought that their paths might cross had been constantly on his mind. Since Anya and her entourage had touched down in England he had been wondering if Scarlet would call, if their history meant as much to Scarlet as it did to him. And, since seven this morning, when the news had broken that Anya was in an ambulance, being blue-lighted towards the Royal, he had dealt with the knowledge that he’d face Scarlet today.

Every preconceived response to her that he’d had crumbled.

Yes, there was an awful lot that needed to be discussed but Luke knew that Anya wasn’t the only vulnerable, critical casualty that had been bought into his department today. Scarlet was another and, at a very personal level, he cared about her so very much more. Luke didn’t want to let her go because, when he did so, back to her world Scarlet would return and so Luke took another moment to hold her.

Scarlet held him too.

She didn’t just lean on him, she had slipped her hands into his jacket and wrapped her arms around his solid waist and just breathed in the delicious scent of him. Tangy, musky, male. It was a scent that she had yearned for and never forgotten and one that had been made familiar again now.

How could it be that he felt the same to her hands?

After all that had gone on, how, on this day, could Luke’s arms be the ones that were holding her up?

As she was in England she had hoped that they might meet, but she had expected harsh, accusing words to be hurled at her. Words that he had every right to deliver, but instead of that he held her and made the horrible world go away for a moment.

As she had sat in the staffroom, waiting for news, Scarlet had blocked out the sounds of the people around her. Vince had been trying to speak with her, telling her what to say, insisting that her version of events wasn’t quite correct. Her mother’s manager, Sonia, had demanded to know where Scarlet had got to yesterday and why she hadn’t been there to see her mother go on stage.

None of them knew about the row she’d had with her mother in the early hours and Scarlet had sat revisiting that as she’d done the best to block everyone else out.

And then in the midst of the madness she had heard the calm deepness of Luke’s voice.

Her frantic heart seemed to have stopped beating for a second.

Oh, she had known that Luke was a doctor but she hadn’t known he worked in London. When they had met he had been here for an interview but had been unsure if he’d take the job.

It had never entered her head that Luke might be here in the hospital and be the doctor fighting to save her mother’s life.

Yet he was.

When Scarlet had looked up she had felt the very same jolt that had run through her the night he had walked into the club and their worlds had changed for ever.

He’d been wearing a suit that night and he was wearing one now.

It was the little things she noticed and remembered.

The other stuff was way too insurmountable for now.

And, as Luke had the first night they had met, when she clung to him he pulled back.

‘Tell me.’ Scarlet held him tighter, not ready to let go. If the news was bad, and given the morning’s events she expected it to be, it was like this she wanted to hear it.

‘She’s doing better.’

Scarlet held her breath.

‘Your mother briefly opened her eyes,’ Luke explained. ‘And she was fighting the breathing tube. That’s good. For now she’s been placed in an induced coma.’

‘Is she going to die?’ Scarlet asked.

‘I don’t think so but she came very close.’

‘I know,’ Scarlet said. ‘I called an ambulance.’

‘That’s good.’

‘You told me the number.’

She took a splinter of their time and they both examined it for a moment. A little shard of conversation that, had it come from another, would have been swept away, never to be examined again, but both now recalled that tiny memory with absolute clarity.

Scarlet looked up but not into his eyes.

Never again, Scarlet knew, would she be able to meet that deep, chocolate-brown gaze. There was just too much regret and shame for that. Instead, she looked at that lovely unshaven jaw and the deep red of his mouth that had once delivered paradise.

And Luke, feeling her eyes scan his mouth, despite the circumstance of this meeting, wanted to lower his to meet hers.

It was as simple as that.

But those days were gone and so, because he had to, he let her go. ‘Have a seat,’ Luke said in his best doctor’s voice.

Calm, professional, detached.

If he was going to do this properly then he could be no other way.

Scarlet remained standing as Luke took off his jacket, threw it onto a chair and then went around the desk and sat down, waiting for her to do the same.

‘Tell me what happened.’ Luke kicked the interview off.

‘I told you,’ Scarlet said. ‘I called an ambulance. Vince had called for backup but they were taking for ever and—’

‘Scarlet,’ Luke interrupted, ‘we need to start at the beginning. Before this morning when did you last see your mother?’

‘Last night,’ Scarlet said, and watched as Luke picked up a pen and jotted something down. ‘There was a party to celebrate the end of her tour and …’ Scarlet shrugged but didn’t finish.

‘And how was she?’ Luke asked.

‘I didn’t make it to the party,’ Scarlet said. ‘I saw her back at the hotel.’

‘What time was that?’

‘About midnight.’

‘And how was she?’

‘Tired.’

‘Who was the last person to see her?’

‘Me,’ Scarlet said. ‘I think.’

‘Around midnight?’

‘Around one. Can you stop taking notes?’ Scarlet asked. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re writing things down.’

‘Scarlet, these details are important,’ Luke said, but he did put down his pen.

He’d been using it as a distraction.

Not a word of this conversation would he ever forget.

‘You found her?’ Luke checked, and Scarlet gave a tense nod.

‘What time was that?’

‘Just before six.’

‘Were the two of you sharing a room?’

‘No.’ Scarlet frowned.

‘Were you staying in the same suite?’

‘No.’

‘So why were you in your mother’s room at six a.m.?’

‘I just went in to check on her.’

‘Why?’ Luke persisted.

‘Because I was worried about her.’

‘Why?’ Luke pushed, but Scarlet did not elaborate. ‘Come on, Scarlet. I can’t help if you don’t tell me.’

‘You can’t help me.’

‘I’m talking about your mother!’ Luke’s voice rose, just a fraction. It had to if they were going to stay on track. That little pull back served to remind not just Scarlet but himself that this was work. He watched her eyes fill with tears at the slight reprimand but he had to push through. When no further information was forthcoming he chose to be direct.

‘Has your mother been depressed lately?’

‘No, no.’ Scarlet shook her head. ‘It’s nothing like that. She just took too much.’

‘How, when her physician keeps her pills?’

‘She keeps some on her,’ Scarlet said.

Luke honestly didn’t know if Scarlet was covering up for her mother or simply had no idea how serious the problem was.

‘Scarlet.’ Luke tried to meet her gaze. ‘Why did you go in to check on your mum? I’m not going to write anything down. Just tell me.’

‘I was worried.’

‘More so than usual?’ Luke checked, and she nodded. ‘I need to know why.’

‘We had a row.’

‘About?’

‘Please don’t ask, Dr Edwards.’ It was Scarlet now who rebuked him, just a little but enough for him to get what she meant—if there were lines that could not be crossed, if he wanted to keep this professional, then, right now, the answer to that question could not be discussed. ‘We had an argument.’

‘Okay.’

‘They want my mother to be moved to another hospital,’ Scarlet said.

Luke had guessed that they might. ‘Well, as of now, the only place your mother is being moved to is Intensive Care. Here.’

‘They think that she needs to be somewhere more used to dealing with …’ Scarlet stopped what she had about been to say. Luke loathed the word ‘celebrity’.

‘She’s in the best place and in no condition to be moved,’ Luke said. ‘As her daughter, you get to make that call.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Scarlet gave a worried shake of her head.

‘I know so,’ Luke responded.

‘But she has Vince. He deals with all that type of thing.’

‘Yes, well, Vince is going to be a bit busy for the foreseeable future. After I’ve spoken with you, believe me, I’m going to be speaking with him and getting a far more accurate history than the one he gave me earlier. I may also be speaking with the police so trust me when I say that I’ll back your call if you want your mother kept here.’

‘Luke, please, don’t bring the police into this.’ Scarlet started to cry and not very quietly.

He sat and watched unmoved. Those tears did not move him and certainly he would not be swayed by hype and celebrity status when he made his decisions.

He just needed more facts but few were forthcoming.

His pager trilled and Luke checked it. Seeing that it was Heather, he made a phone call and rolled his eyes as she told him that the press were becoming more insistent. ‘Just say no comment,’ Luke responded tartly. ‘How hard is it to say that?’ He let out a tense breath. ‘Unless there is a change in Anya’s condition, or you need me for another patient, you’re not to disturb me. I’m speaking with a relative now.’

He looked over and saw that in the couple of minutes it had taken to speak with Heather, Scarlet had stopped crying long enough to take out her phone. Luke watched with mounting irritation. They were speaking about her mother’s near-death and yet Scarlet was checking the news reports and quickly scrolling through social media!

‘What are you doing?’ Luke asked.

‘It’s everywhere!’ Scarlet said, but then she really started to cry and they weren’t false tears this time. As she put the phone down on the desk, Luke saw an image, and he reached over and picked it up.

The photo that he saw was of Scarlet. She was dressed in a pair of red pyjamas and her feet were bare as she stood on the street beside the ambulance that her mother was being loaded into. Two bodyguards were restraining her from climbing in. Her black hair was a mop of wild curls, her usually pale skin was red from crying and there was a look of sheer terror on her face.

Luke looked up from Scarlet’s phone and at the woman who now sat on the other side of his desk—she was the perfectly groomed star in crisis now! Scarlet was wearing tight leather leggings and a tight black top. Over that there was a large silver leather jacket that looked as if it had been thrown on at the last minute. Her black curls were now perfectly tousled. Luke knew, though, from very personal experience, that the photo was a truer portrayal of Scarlet’s morning locks.

He pulled away from that memory; instead, he looked back at the phone and the image that had been captured by the press.

It showed a rare moment of reality in a very unrealistic world and this would be the photo that would dominate, Luke was sure.

Scarlet looking less than perfect.

It was the Scarlet he far preferred.

‘It’s going to be worse than ever now …’ Scarlet could not stop crying. Yes, she was terrified for her mother, but she’d had so much hanging on today, so many plans in place. There wasn’t a hope of escaping from the press now and, Scarlet knew, now more than ever her mother needed her to be near.

‘They’re going to make my life hell.’

‘Don’t feed them, then,’ Luke said. Her head was in her hands, her fingers were scrunched in her hair, but she lifted her face and gave him a scornful look as he continued to speak. ‘You don’t have to respond to the press, just focus on your mother and yourself.’

‘What would you know?’ Scarlet scoffed.

‘Oh, I know,’ Luke said. It was pointless to sit and pretend that he could take a comprehensive history from Scarlet and leave the personal aside. ‘David, the anaesthetist, will take a more thorough history once your mother has been transferred to ICU.’ He handed her back her phone, and as he did so he looked at Scarlet’s slender, manicured fingers and remembered hands that were as smooth as a kitten’s paws.

No, anger at her spoiled, pampered life didn’t now gnaw at him; instead, it saddened him that that funny, adventurous mind had been locked away for so long.

Yes, the world was supposedly Scarlet’s oyster, but Luke knew that since the day she had been born, her life had been magnified by a lens.

‘You’re handing me over.’

‘I’m handing your mother’s care over,’ Luke said. ‘That’s normal policy when a patient is moved. I need to get back out there, Scarlet. I have patients to see.’

‘What about me?’

Typical, Luke thought, but, though he tried to generate anger, though he did his best to remind himself of the spoiled princess Scarlet was and the absolute diva she could be, he failed.

‘What about us?’ Scarlet said.

‘There’s no us,’ Luke lied.

He was angry now as he recalled all she had done, but instead of standing to leave, he sat there.

And so did she.

They sat in the silence of his office and as the world carried on outside, both went back to a time when things had seemed so different.

When hope had arrived in both their hearts.

Even if it killed them to do so, both remembered.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I’VE GOT A HEADACHE.’ Anya closed her eyes and massaged her temples. ‘I’m going to have to go back to the hotel and see Vince.’

Scarlet frowned in concern and said all the right things to her mother but inside all she felt was relief. All she wanted was to get away from the noise of the club and close her eyes and go to sleep. It was after midnight and Scarlet had been up since seven. She had given interviews and done a shoot at London Bridge, and the rest of the day had been spent propping up her mother, telling her that she could get through the show.

‘We’ll get you back,’ Scarlet said, and nodded to her mother’s bodyguard.

‘What would I do without you?’ Anya asked, and Scarlet felt the knot that had lived in her chest for more than ten years now tighten a notch. And then, because she was Anya, her mother changed her mind about leaving when a young guy came over to their table with a drink and told her how amazing her performance that night had been. ‘I’ll just stay for one more,’ Anya said.

Scarlet moved over to give the young man room to sit next to her mother but then she stood up.

She saw the exit door and started to walk towards it.

Scarlet wanted fresh air.

More than that she wanted to run.

‘Hey, Scarlet …’ A hand was on her arm and she turned to the face of one of her mother’s bodyguards. ‘I’ll send Troy outside with you.’

She didn’t want Troy.

Scarlet didn’t want anyone, she just wanted one day, one moment to be allowed out in the world alone.

She didn’t want to be here in this club.

And then she looked up and saw a man who looked as if he didn’t want to be there either.

He was taller than most and, unlike others, he was wearing a suit. His hair was dark and as he raked a hand through it, it remained a touch messy. He was smart yet dishevelled, present but unimpressed, and there was something about him that had Scarlet intrigued.

‘We’re all leaving now,’ Troy suddenly informed her. ‘Your mother’s ready to go.’

‘I’m going to stay on.’

It was a rare request.

An almost unheard-of request, in fact, and one that did not go down too well.

‘I don’t need your drama now, Scarlet,’ Anya hissed. ‘I’ve been working all night and my head feels as if it’s about to explode …’

‘Vince will sort that out,’ Scarlet said.

It ended the conversation.

Scarlet had known that it would.

Anya could stay and argue for ten minutes with her daughter or head back to Vince.

How Scarlet loathed that man!

And so, as her mother left the building, Scarlet remained.

Not alone, of course. Three bodyguards were still present, but for now at least she was minus Mom.

Luke, even before they had arrived in the club, had had enough.

It was his younger brother’s twenty-first birthday and Luke really didn’t want to be here, but up until now he’d had no real choice.

He’d bought dinner and had done the cursory pub crawl and had decided that he’d buy the first round here, stay for a little while and then disappear.

It wasn’t a regular nightclub. Marcus’s friend knew someone and had got the boisterous group into some very trendy, exclusive basement club.

At twenty-eight years of age, Luke felt old.

He’d always been more sensible than most, more responsible than most, and this place tested that to the limit. Everyone was off their heads and the noise just ate at him.

Still, it was his brother’s birthday so Luke had gone along with things till now. He had been down from Oxford anyway, in London for an interview, and at lunchtime he had checked into a hotel.

His interview had been scheduled for four, which should have given him plenty of time to meet his brother and friend at seven. Except the interview had gone really well. So well that not only had he been extensively shown through the department, his potential new boss had asked him to wait back so he could meet a colleague who was in Theatre. Of course Luke had agreed. This was a senior registrar’s position with a junior consultancy at the end of it at the London Royal after all.

There hadn’t been time to get back to the hotel to change so he had arrived half an hour late to meet his brother and had felt on the back foot ever since. Especially here. Everyone was dressed in far less than a suit and drinking bright cocktails and were high, if not on life, just high.

‘Nice to be single again?’ Marcus asked, as Luke bought the drinks.

‘Actually, yes,’ Luke said, though it was wasted here, he thought privately.

Marcus and his friends hit the dance floor, which actually consisted of most of the place, and Luke took a mouthful of his drink and leant against the bar. He thought about the day he’d just had.

He wanted the job.

And that might prove to be a problem.

It hadn’t been a difficult break up.

A painless procedure might be the best description.

Luke and Angie had been going out for a couple of years and had been about to move in together. Angie worked at the Royal and had told him about the upcoming role. But within a week of Luke applying, their relationship had finally come undone.

There just wasn’t the passion that should be there for a couple who were about to move in together. Added to that was Luke’s refusal to, as Angie had annoying called it, share.

Only she hadn’t been talking about the last chocolate in the box!

‘I know they’re in there,’ Angie would insist.

‘What?’

‘Feelings.’ Angie’s response had been exasperated. ‘Emotions.’

‘We don’t all have to ride the roller-coaster, Angie. Just because I don’t …’ Luke had bitten his tongue rather than admit that yes, there were hurts there. Angie would have far preferred that he rise to the bait but Luke had consistently refused to. ‘I guess I’m not messed up enough for a psychiatrist to date,’ Luke had offered.

Luke was straight down the line and dealt with whatever life threw in his path without fuss. He saw no need for prolonged discussions as to how the past had shaped today. He had no wish to come home from a long and difficult shift and to share how it felt to lose a four-year-old or whatever agony the day had brought.

How he felt was his concern, he’d regularly told Angie. Amicably they had agreed that opposites did not attract and had quietly broken up.

There was one thing, though, that Luke needed to do if he was going to take the role at the Royal—and Luke was quite sure that it was his. He needed to be sure, very sure that Angie would be okay having her ex working at the same hospital.

Luke took out his phone and saw that there was a text from Angie, asking how the interview had gone, but it had been sent three hours ago.

It was far too late to return it now.

They were exes after all.

‘Well?’

A soft voice, very close to his ear, pulled Luke out of vague introspection and he caught the heady scent of summer in the midst of winter as he turned to the sight of a young woman.

She had long, black, curly hair and huge navy eyes. Her face was incredibly pale but those large navy eyes were alert and smiling. Her lips were full and she wore dark red lipstick and not much else, just a tiny, tight, red dress.

‘Well, what?’ Luke asked in answer.

‘Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?’

‘No.’ Luke shook his head and tried to gauge her age. He was usually good at it but with her it was an impossible ask. Her skin was smoother than any he had seen and yet her eyes were wise. ‘Are you even old enough to be drinking?’ Luke checked.

‘Of course I am.’ Scarlet frowned at the odd question. Everyone knew how old she was. A fortnight ago she had turned twenty-three and it had been a massive affair—Anya had bought her onto the stage in Paris and had sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.

‘I’m Lucy,’ Scarlet said, just to test his reaction and to make sure that this man really didn’t know who she was.

‘I’m Luke,’ he responded. ‘And I’m still not going to buy you a drink.’ Luke had already decided that he was going back to the hotel.

The bartender came over. ‘Hey, Scarlet! Can I get you anything?’

‘Scarlet?’ Luke frowned and watched a small blush spread up her neck and to her cheeks. ‘What happened to Lucy?’

‘That’s my …’ Scarlet didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t want to tell him about the alias that she used for hotel bookings and things. There was a heady thrill that Luke really had no idea who she was.

It was unbelievably refreshing.

‘I’ll have a glass of champagne,’ Scarlet said to the bartender, instead of answering Luke’s question.

‘Put it on mine,’ Luke said.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ Luke drained the last of his drink and turned to sort out the bill. ‘See you,’ he said.

‘You’re going?’

‘God, yes,’ Luke said as the music pumped.

‘That’s not very polite! You can’t buy me a drink and then leave me alone.’

Luke conceded with a small smile. ‘Drink fast, then.’

She took the tiniest sip.

‘And another,’ Luke said, and then he started to laugh as Lucy—or was it Scarlet?—pretended to take another tiny sip.