She Devil

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Despite the distracting weight of my grief, I was still intrigued by this posthumous missive. Why on earth did I need to know what had really happened to April’s mother? And why couldn’t he have told me when he’d been alive? Had April’s father, Maxim, been blackmailing him all these years so he hadn’t been able to tell me what he’d obviously felt I now needed to know? As far as I knew, Maxim had taken great pleasure in bankrupting my father’s first business not long after Isabella Darlington-Hume had died, but was there more to the story than that? And, if so, why hadn’t April told me about it at the time? Why, instead, had she cut all ties with me? Had her father forced her to do it?

It seems incredible that something like that could have happened. But then, you never did know with Maxim Darlington-Hume. He’d probably happily use his daughter as a shield if he thought it would let him get away with something.

Is that why my father wrote me this letter—to ask me finally to get justice for him? Or for me—so I can finally get closure?

But of course that means connecting with April again.

Something I’m reluctant to do after our last clash.

Being inside her again, so physically close when my feelings about losing my father were still so raw, had been electric. I’d needed it so badly, that intimacy, that primal, life-affirming connection. But I hated that it was her I’d needed it with. In those moments I’d let my emotions control me, something I’m very careful not to do any more, and it had scared the crap out of me, how good it felt to fuck her. To be close to her. To connect with her again. I was on a razor edge of ecstasy and despair. And it was dangerous. Really bloody dangerous.

Which is why I’d forced myself to turn the situation back into a game. Perhaps it had been a way of punishing her for making me feel like that. I don’t know. It was a fucked-up situation through and through.

And not one I should consider revisiting.

But I know my father would hate to think she’d beaten me into submission and that I was just moping about, feeling sorry for myself, now that he’s gone. I’m the last living De Montfort without a steady partner or children and perhaps he was afraid I’d never be able to commit to someone if I was still hung up about my disastrous relationship with April. That I would spend the rest of my life alone.

So I’m going to take his challenge and run with it. To be the man he was so proud of and get him the justice he deserves. I’m finally going to make April tell me the truth then nail that bastard Maxim to the wall for what he put my father through—even up the score between our two families. Then maybe I’ll finally be able to move on from my hang-ups about April Darlington-Hume.

But all this means I need to find a way to see her again.

I need some sort of bait. But in order to make that work I’ll have to offer her something she can’t refuse. Something she has no choice but to deal with herself.

Maybe then I’ll finally be able to put this thing between us to bed once and for all.

* * *

I choose to roll out my plan on my private island off the coast of Greece, deciding it’ll be the best way to secure her complete attention for as long as I need it.

Now I’ve retired from professional tennis and I’m in a position where I can run my sports-clothing company remotely I like to spend a lot of time here on Palioph. It’s small compared to the rest of the Greek islands, with only three miles between its coasts, but to me it’s six and a half square miles of paradise.

It only has one residence on it, a two-storey, six-bedroomed Greek mansion with a balcony that wraps all the way round the house, giving me three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sea views. It’s right on the northern coast, and has a white sand beach directly in front of the house and a small harbour just a five minute walk away where I keep a small yacht moored for trips to the mainland. In a complex next door to the house I also have a gym, an Olympic-sized open-air swimming pool and both lawn and clay tennis courts.

You can see why I like to spend so much time here.

And, if all goes to plan, April’s going to be more than happy to spend some time here with me. For a handful of days, at least. I’m hoping that’s all the time it’ll take to get the information I want from her.

Thankfully, the lure of the business proposition I’ve set in motion has caught her attention and I’m expecting her to arrive here on a private-hire yacht any minute now.

I pace the room as I wait to hear the sound of the boat’s engine as it approaches the harbour, aware of my blood thrumming through my veins.

To my great annoyance I’m actually nervous about seeing her again. I guess it’s because I know I probably only have one chance to get this right. If she senses how important this information is to me, she’ll use it against me by deliberately withholding it, and I can kiss goodbye to fulfilling my father’s dying request.

Which I’m not going to let happen.

I owe him that much.

I turn and look out of the floor-to-ceiling window as the sound of a boat’s motor breaks the still air of the living room where I’m waiting. It’s her. I can see her standing on the deck of the small yacht, looking towards the house. The sun is making her blonde hair shine like spun gold and I’m struck by how proudly she holds herself, as if she’s keenly aware of the power she holds. Because she does. I’ve witnessed it first hand: the way people’s eyes are drawn to her whenever she enters a room. She’s a beautiful woman, after all, but there’s more to it than that. She has a formidable presence.

Trouble is, she knows it too well.

Tearing my eyes away from her, I go to the kitchen and pour myself a cold drink, trying to get the image of her out of my mind. But it determinedly stays there as I close my eyes and tip back my head to drink the ice-cold water. All I can see is her hair streaming behind her in the breeze and the magnificent swell of her breasts pressed against the soft material of her blouse as it plasters itself to her body. She’s wearing a white trouser-suit, for Christ’s sake, and she looks incredible in it.

Fuck.

I’m really going to have to watch myself around her. The last thing I need is to allow myself to indulge in some stupid fucking fantasy where we re-form the connection we once had. After the way she’s treated me over the years, I know that’s impossible. That I can’t trust her for a second.

It’s ten long minutes before there’s a loud, assertive knock on the front door—so very April—and I’m finally able to pace through to the hallway and swing the door open to admit her.

She stands on the doorstep for a moment, her cool blue eyes assessing me, as if trying to figure out my game plan before she enters.

Good luck with that, sweetheart.

‘April, good of you to come all this way.’

She raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow, then gives me a wry smile. ‘You didn’t exactly give me a choice. Your broker made it clear you were only interested in seeing prospective buyers here on your island.’

I nod. ‘This is where I run my businesses from now.’

The look in her eyes is discerning, as if she suspects she’s been brought here on false pretences.

Shrewd woman.

‘So you’re really serious about selling your father’s company?’ Her eyebrows twitch upwards. ‘I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re happy to potentially sell to DH Worldwide, considering our history.’ She moves her finger between the two of us to make it plain she means us personally.

I shrug. ‘I just want the best deal I can get for it. I can’t let my personal feelings get in the way of the most intelligent business decision to make.’ I lean against the doorjamb and fold my arms. ‘But, before you get too excited, I have to point out that you’re up against some stiff competition, so there’s a good chance I won’t be selling to you anyway. Unless you can offer me a deal I can’t refuse.’

I can tell she’s trying not to frown at that, but I don’t allow the smile that’s pushing at my mouth to surface. I want her to think I’m deadly serious about selling De Montfort Software and that she’s in with a real chance of securing the sale.

‘I know you won’t want to lose out, though, April. And I’m damn sure your father won’t either. I’m guessing it’ll put a real dent in his confidence in you taking over the CEO role full-time if you can’t close this deal. Am I right?’

She doesn’t answer this, but I can tell from a slight, momentarily unguarded expression of worry that flashes in her eyes that I’ve hit the nail on the head. I’d specifically made sure her father heard about me putting up my father’s business for sale so she’d be forced to respond to it. I knew Maxim Darlington-Hume wouldn’t be able to pass up an opportunity to take another of my family’s businesses from us. Especially one that would be so beneficial to his company’s portfolio. And it appears I was right.

She glances over my shoulder as if looking for something—or someone—inside the house.

‘Have my rivals arrived yet?’

‘They’ve been and gone already.’ I keep my expression blank so as not to give away my ruse. ‘You’re the last one to turn up.’

In reality, the others haven’t actually been invited to come yet. I’m still trying to decide whether I actually want to sell my father’s business right now, or try running it myself for a while first, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She frowns and it’s clear the idea of being last to the table frustrates her. ‘Oh, I see. Well, I’m here now, so perhaps we should get straight down to business, then.’

‘I’d expect nothing less from a professional such as yourself,’ I say, waving her inside with a sarcastic flourish.

She gives me a stiff sort of nod—I can tell it’s killing her, having to try and be so unnaturally friendly towards me—stalks past me, then pauses in the middle of the hallway, waiting for me to close the door and show her in which room we’re going to be doing business.

I lead her towards the library, which is my favourite room in the house. I’ve had it stocked with hundreds of books, both fiction and non-fiction—a lot of which I’ve read and enjoyed over the years I’ve lived here.

Her face is a picture as she gazes around the room, clearly surprised I would own such intellectual things as books.

‘Don’t tell me, you had no idea I could read,’ I tease her.

She visibly tenses, as if I’ve hit a nerve, then holds up a hand in supplication.

‘Look, Jamie. I know we’ve not exactly had the best of relationships over the years, but can we put that aside for the time being? What happened the last time we saw each other was a mistake, I’m sure you’ll agree. It was clearly a time of heightened emotions and a culmination of a lot of pent up anger which I think we’re both mature enough to move on from now.’