Chapter Twenty-Five

Violet

No.

The train I intended to catch is canceled, and although the next one is on time, it’s made me late, and it’s almost two-thirty when I arrive at the hotel.

Please don’t have finished the interview early and left already.

The hotel is clearly catering to the influx of fans, as they’ve opened a small conference room and are showing the interview live, on United’s cable TV channel.

The room is packed, and I hover by the door, then I catch sight of a notice directing, presumably, the press to the interview itself. Even though I won’t be able to get into the room, I make my way along the wide, carpeted corridor, and there’s another notice on a stand, proclaiming that Lucas Carter is in conference room one.

Sure enough, there are a couple of security guards. At the other end of the corridor.

With their backs to me.

My heart pounds, and my hands are sweaty. I’m not really going to do this, am I?

Before I even answer my own question, I push open the door and slip inside. Instead of being safely at the back, where no one will notice me, the door opens halfway along the room. A few heads turn in my direction, and I stealthily shut the door behind me and try not to catch anyone’s glance.

Talk about looking suspicious. Guilt leaks from me, but I’m not about to turn back now. Lucas is speaking, clearly answering a question I missed. His voice is a thousand times sexier than I remember and sets the butterflies off in my stomach. Not now, Vi. I straighten my shoulders and grip my phone. With a bit of luck, the journalists will think I’m recording.

At least no one marches over and demands to know what I’m doing there, and I take a deep breath and swivel on my heels. I’m instantly transfixed by the sight of Lucas, who’s sitting behind a table with Bec and a couple of other people I don’t know at the front of the room.

“So, Lucas,” one of the journalists says, although I can’t see who’s speaking. I can’t see anyone but Lucas. “There were some rumors you’d lost your heart to a gorgeous redhead over the summer. Any truth to that?”

What the fuck? Heat blasts through me, and I have the terrible urge to slink back out of the room before anyone guesses she’s talking about me. Well, how many other redheads has Lucas dated over the last month?

None. Although I don’t know about the losing your heart bit.

This is awful. I don’t want to hear Lucas’s celebrity sound bite response. Sneaking in here was the worst idea I’ve ever had.

But I’m rooted to the spot, needing to see this unravel until the bitter end.

“I can tell you one thing, Stella.” Lucas sounds his usual flirty self, the way he’s sounded on countless TV interviews over the years. I steel my nerves, waiting for him to deny the fact he’s ever had a serious romance, let alone with me. “That wasn’t a rumor.”

Oh, my God. He just said that on live cable TV.

There’s an animated stir among everyone in the room, and hands shoot up, vying for the next question. Bec picks the lucky winner. “Is this mystery lady going with you to Spain?”

I’m gripping my phone like it’s a good luck charm, and without quite meaning to, I edge my way around the couple of guys in front of me, so I have a better view of Lucas.

He’s dressed in a casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up, displaying his famous VIII tattoo on the underside of his left forearm, and I can’t tear my mesmerized gaze away. Lucas, luckily, is focused on the guy who asked the question.

“I want her to come with me. But I was a right prat to her.” He gives a small smile, nothing like his ever-ready camera beam, and his glance slides around the room.

And slams to a halt as he sees me. Shock streaks across his face, gone in an instance, but it’s enough. He didn’t know I was here. He didn’t say that for my benefit. For endless seconds it’s like the rest of the room fades away, and it’s only me and him. And then intrigued murmurs around us get louder, but it’s like he doesn’t notice.

Still holding my gaze, he says, “I don’t know if she can ever forgive me.”

She’s forgiven you already.

“Okay, then,” Bec says, “That just about wraps things up. Thank you for—”

Before I can stop myself, I step forward, and Bec cuts off in midsentence. I’m right at the front of the room, where everyone can see me. Nerves churn through me, I desperately need the bathroom, and my fingers are scarily numb. What the hell are you doing, Violet? But it doesn’t matter how much I hate being the center of attention. This is something I have to do. Just say it. “Why don’t you ask her, Lucas?”

From the corner of my eye, I see the guys next to me do a double take, as though they’re connecting the red hair and mystery lady comments. I don’t care. None of that matters. All that matters is what Lucas says next.

He lifts his hand as though he’s about to twist his earring but stops and drags his palm over his jaw instead. “I know I don’t deserve it. I really screwed up and want to say how sorry I am. But do I get a second chance to make things right?”

“I think so.” My voice is croaky, and I’ve no idea how he could hear me. But he pushes back his chair and strides around the table toward me. The journalists part before him, then form a semicircle behind him, obviously not wanting to miss a single word of the unfolding drama.

Oh fuck, I’m on cable TV, too. My panic dies as Lucas stands in front of me, close enough that his seductive cologne sends my hormones into overdrive. But even so…not close enough.

Not nearly close enough.

…

Lucas

I can’t believe Violet came to see me after I was such a prick. I’d planned on going to see her at work tomorrow, waiting until her lunch break and then trying like hell to win her back.

Not that I had a clue how to do it. I still don’t have a bloody clue.

We need to get out of here and find somewhere private, but I’ve the gut-wrenching fear that if I don’t tell her right now how I feel about her, things will be screwed up for good.

Where the hell do I start?

Grovel, you fucking wanker.

The silver-tongued Lucas Carter, who can always shoot his mouth off when it doesn’t matter, can’t find the words to tell his girl how much she means to him.

I drag in a fractured breath. Pretend it’s just Violet and me here.

“What I said the other night about”—I hesitate, not wanting the press to know just how much of a clueless bastard I am—“the work situation. Violet, I know it sounded bad. I’m sorry I assumed you’d leave your family and everything behind just because I wanted you to come with me.”

She bites her lip, but even when the journalists crowd closer, her gorgeous green eyes don’t flicker from mine. “It was just so unexpected. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve.”

“Nah. This is on me.” It hurts, deep in my chest, that she’s trying to make me feel better about the way I behaved. “My ego took a hit it was never expecting.”

“Your ego isn’t that big.”

I should’ve got us out of here. I don’t want my confession immortalized on TV, but the alternative—that Violet might walk away—isn’t an option. The words rip from me. “The thing is—it wasn’t my ego.”

“Wasn’t it?” Her whisper is so soft, I’ve taken a step toward her before I know it.

“It was only afterward it hit me that I never asked you. Did I? I just took it for granted. I’m such an arrogant arsehole.”

“No, you’re not.”

That’s a good sign, right? I push my luck and take her hand. She doesn’t pull away. “I don’t want to lose you. Are we still good?”

Her smile is everything. “Yes.”

Relief floods through me, and I’m weirdly lightheaded, as though I’ve just taken a helium hit. “We’ll make this work, Violet.”

“I know we will.”

There’s something else I need to ask her, but not here. It’s too public. And now she’s given me a second chance, we can escape. I release her hand and wrap my arm around her shoulders. The press makes the most of the moment as I lead Violet out of the room.

“Sorry about that.” I glance along the corridor, which is empty, but it won’t be that way for long. “Look, Violet—”

Before I can push out the words, she squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry I called you stupid. I didn’t mean it.”

I give a jagged sigh. “It’s okay. I deserved it.” And so much more.

She doesn’t look convinced. “I was just upset, that’s all.”

“I know.” I didn’t know then. Not that it’s any excuse. “I didn’t realize. About your mum.” Just spit the fucking words out, Carter. “How sick is she?”

I break into a sweat. Christ, I hope it’s nothing awful.

Terminal.

Stop it.

I shove back memories of my own mum.

“It’s pretty bad.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and her lip trembles. I grip her hand tighter, to let her know I’m here, but my brain’s frozen and I don’t know what to say.

“Is…” I clear my throat. “Is she going to be all right?”

Stupid question. I can’t even backtrack, as there’s a loud rushing noise filling my head, destroying any chance of coming up with a half decent platitude. Who wants a fucking banal platitude, anyway?

“Yes.” Her voice is firmer than before, and she nods, as though that emphasis helps. “She’s going in for surgery on Tuesday, and everyone’s very positive.”

Shit. Tuesday. And all I could bang on about when we were on the cruise was us flying to Madrid.

The conference room doors open, and everyone swarms out. Fuck. There’s still so much I want—need—to say to Violet, but not here. Not now.

She goes onto her toes and brushes a sweet kiss across my lips. “I have to go,” she whispers.

I inhale a long breath. Things are sorted, we’re back together.

Something doesn’t feel right, though. Like there’s a missing piece, just out of reach, something clawing at the back of my mind.

“I’ll call you.” My voice is gruff, and she sniffs and nods.

It physically hurts as she walks away from me. And when she disappears around the corner, it’s like she’s taken a piece of me with her.

…

Violet

It’s midafternoon Tuesday when I squeeze Mum’s fingers and drop a soft kiss on her cheek. She came round from surgery a couple of hours ago, and although she keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, it’s amazing how great she is when she’s lucid.

“I won’t be long,” I tell her and Dad. I’m going to pick Sam up from his friend’s house and bring him back here to see Mum.

As I walk toward the reception area, my mind slips to Lucas. He’ll be almost in Spain by now, and my heart gives a little tug. I’m so happy we made up before he left. Every time I think about what he said at the press conference, I go all warm and gooey inside. He truly is the guy behind his mask. I wasn’t wrong.

Lucas stands up as I enter the reception, and I stop dead, my heart slamming against my ribs in shocked disbelief.

“Hey, Violet.” His sexy voice sends shivers along my arms, even though I’m still incapable of speech. “How’s your mum?”

“But…” I reach out and poke his chest, just to make sure I’m not seeing things due to stress. “How are you here?”

He gives an awkward shrug, as though he’s embarrassed. “I couldn’t leave you. Not when your mum’s in hospital.”

I haven’t cried once today, but his words very nearly push me over the edge. I clear my throat and don’t know what to say.

“Come and sit down for a minute.” He leads me to a couple of chairs by the window, where there’s a beautiful bouquet in a gift vase sitting on the floor. Did he buy my mum flowers?

Once again, I sniffle back tears.

We sit, and he angles his body toward me, shielding me from anyone else who might come into the area, and takes my hand. “Is your mum okay, Violet?”

I take a great lungful of air to try and clear my blocked throat. “Yes. The surgery was a huge success. She’s doing really well.”

“That’s great.”

I nod and lick my dry lips. “But you’re supposed to be touching down in Madrid right about now.”

“I know. But I don’t have to be there for another week. I canceled the flight.”

“But you hired a private jet.” I feel terrible that he’s wasted so much money. And he did it so he’d be here for me. I give him a watery smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

My heart just about overflows. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Me, too. Look, the thing is, there’s something I have to say.”

“What’s wrong?” I cradle his jaw. Whatever the problem is, we’ll fix it. Together.

“I know you’re not ready yet. I get it, but I need to ask. Just so you know.” He sucks in a ragged breath, and I’m bewitched that this gorgeous, confident man, who has half the football-loving world worshipping at his feet, is struggling to tell me something of earth-shattering importance.

“Ask me.”

He gives a tortured smile. “When you’re ready, will you think about moving to Madrid with me? I mean for you and me to live together. In the same apartment. Together,” he repeats, sounding slightly desperate, in case I don’t get it yet.

His face is blurry through my tears, but I don’t try and hold them back anymore.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” His grin lights up the room. “That’s fantastic. You didn’t make me get on my knees and grovel.”

“I don’t know. I think what you did yesterday on camera counts as a bit of a grovel. It was very elegant.”

“There’s no pressure. If you need to finish your degree first, I’ll always be there for you.”

Even in a hospital reception room, this moment is perfection. “It’s an online degree. I can do it anywhere. And I’m sure I’ll find a casual job somewhere. If not, I’ll take on more hours of my virtual assistant job.”

“Sounds good.”

I take a deep breath. Mum’s words echo in my head. It’s time you spread your wings. And the time is now. “As soon as Mum’s given the all clear, I’ll move in with you.”

It’s like a huge weight lifts from my heart, and when he grins at me, I know everything’s going to work out.

“For real?” It’s like he needs me to confirm it before he’ll truly believe it.

I kiss him. God, I’ve missed him so much. “For real.”

“I love you, Violet.” His words are so low, I think I imagine them. I pull back, heart racing, and drown in the perfect blue of his eyes.

“Do you?” Seriously, Violet…

“I do.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, which slays me. “You’ll never let my ego get away with anything.”

“I love your ego. I love you.”

We kiss again, a totally inappropriate kiss for where we are, but no one else is in the room. When we pull back, he tucks my hair behind my ear and then cradles my face.

“I’ve never been a real player. Not when it matters.”

Whatever’s left of my heart melts. “I know. You’ve always been so much more than your rep. It didn’t take me long to find that out for myself.”

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“I had a great teacher.”

His smile is the one he saves especially for me. “So did I.”