Seducing the Secret Heiress (13 page)

‘Don't fight me, Charlie.' The man spoke in an eerie whisper.

For a split second, Charlie froze. He knew her name.

‘Paul said he wanted you undamaged.' He kept dragging her. ‘We don't want to ruin your wedding photos, now, do we?' he said, his tone low and mocking. She broke into a terror-laced sweat and struggled ferociously

She knew Paul had a reputation for ruthlessness, but abduction? Would he go to such extremes?

Aiming her elbow, she slammed the guy in the ribs. He swore but didn't flinch, only tightened his grip. He held her fast against his body and dragged her relentlessly on.

No way would she get in that van. She flew through her limited options.

Screaming – the car park was empty.

Struggling – ineffective, energy-sapping.

Reason with the creep.

‘This won't make any difference,' she said, ceasing her thrashing. ‘I won't marry him.'

His grip didn't yield but turned her to face him. ‘Yeah, he thought you'd say that.'

She knew him. She'd seen him standing in the background at some of the public events she'd attended with Paul.

‘You'll do what you're told.' The smell of stale smoke and garlic sickened her. They'd reached the van. He held her flat against the cool metal with one hand as he opened the door with the other. The guy was huge – a giant.

‘You don't come with me now, I get to smash up your cake business.' An ugly smile spread across his hard face. ‘Hope none of your workers are there when I do it. They might get in my way.' He leaned in close. ‘Know what I mean.'

Fire leaped through her veins. Thinking of Lisa and Bec in her little commercial kitchen gave her pause. If he so much as touched . . . Gritting her teeth, she smashed her foot down on his toes. It hurt her like hell, but from his cry of pain, it hurt him more. His hands dropped.

She didn't waste a second.

By the time she heard him pounding unevenly behind her she was halfway to the door.

‘You bitch,' he bawled, his fury adding fire to her pace. She knew Paul's specific instructions would now be meaningless.

The door. She wouldn't make it. Even as she turned, she realised her mistake.

The concrete floor rushed up. Pain exploded behind her eyes.

As everything went dark, she heard Gabe shouting her name.

Gabe slammed into the hulking thug at top speed. The man groaned, limped a few steps away then dropped into a boxing stance. Gabe heard shouts behind him. The man turned and sprinted to a van and roared from the car park.

Gabe fell to his knees next to Charlie's prone body.

‘Charlie. Charlie.' He was too scared to touch her. Blood oozed from her forehead and she didn't move.

‘Ambulance,' he screamed at the figures that blurred around him. ‘Call an ambulance.'

In that moment, he knew he couldn't live without her.

Gabe's head snapped up as a nurse bustled into the room.

‘What would you like me to do with these?' She held up a handful of envelopes and a bouquet of flowers.

‘Um, just leave the cards on the pile over there, thanks.' Gabe's voice sounded strange and strangled even to his own ears. ‘And you can give the flowers to the ward. We can't fit any more.' The private hospital room already looked like a florist shop, except for Charlie lying prone and pale in a steel-railed hospital bed. The doctors said she'd be fine, they just wanted to keep her in for observation for a few days.

The nurse did as instructed, then took up Charlie's wrist to take her pulse. After updating Charlie's chart, she patted Gabe's shoulder.

‘She's fine. Really. The doctor will be here shortly.'

The nurse left and Gabe renewed his vigil at Charlie's bedside. The room had begun to feel claustrophobic with all the flowers, get-well-soon balloons and every variety of gift basket. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since Charlie had been attacked. The whole country seemed to be shouting get-well-soon from the sidelines. Every tabloid ran the story on its front page. The
First-Class Chef
website had crashed under the volume of traffic. Floral tributes and gifts kept pouring into the hospital. A call from the studio told him the same thing was happening there.

Charlie had captured the hearts of the British nation.

Gabe took her hand in his own. It still felt a little too cool to his touch. He leaned over and stroked her face. The vision of that animal crouched over her crumpled body seared through his mind once more. He shuddered.

His mobile buzzed like an irritating insect. He flicked it open.

‘Gabe Grenville.'

‘Mr Grenville, Chief Inspector Majors, Scotland Yard.'

Gabe leapt to his feet. ‘Yes?'

‘No leads, I'm afraid. Looks like a random attack.'

‘What about the surveillance footage?'

‘The attack happened in a blind spot, unfortunately, and the attacker wore a hat and glasses. The van had no registration but we're following up on the make and model.'

Gabe swore under his breath.

‘I'll ring when I have more to report,' the inspector said.

‘Thank you,' Gabe replied. He hung up and ran his hand across Charlie's forehead.

He should have realised Charlie's celebrity status might attract nutters. He should have protected her. What if that guy had dragged her into the van?

He forced himself to stop imagining the worst. Charlie was safe in hospital, receiving the best medical care available. He'd made sure of that. She looked pale but peaceful.

‘Did we finish the show?' Her voice came as barely a whisper. She tried to sit up.

Gabe jumped to his feet. ‘Lie back, sweetheart,' he said, easing her onto the pillow.

The doctor entered the room. Gabe stepped back to give him space. The doctor hovered over Charlie, peering into each eye with a small torch and checking her pulse. He asked her a couple of basic questions.

‘All looks good,' the doctor announced. ‘The CT scan was fine.' He picked up the chart at the end of the bed and scribbled some notes. ‘We'll just keep you in again overnight, but I think you'll be as right as rain for the next show.' He smiled brightly.

‘There won't be one,' Gabe said. Silence fell over the room. Even the machines' constant beeping seemed to hush. Charlie and the doctor stared at him. ‘I'm cancelling it.'

‘Why?' Charlie said softly.

‘I'm not risking your safety again.'

‘Gabe, I'm fine. You heard the doctor. Please. You can't stop just because I got a bump on the head.'

‘Charlie, I don't care about the show, I care about you. If one nutter tried to abduct you, there'll be more.'

The doctor discreetly left the room.

Charlie eased herself up on her pillows even though he protested. ‘Come here,' she insisted, patting the bed next to her. He sat down gently, careful not to shake the bed.

‘You love this show,' she said, stroking his hand. ‘Cancelling it'll just make me sad and I'd feel responsible.' She gave him a teasing smile. ‘You'll hinder my recovery.'

‘Sorry, Charlie, but I've made my decision.'

The smile slipped from her face and her eyes welled up. ‘Please, Gabe, you and
First-Class Chef
are the best things that have ever happened to me.'

For almost the first time in his adult life, Gabe was unsure of his next move. But he knew one thing – he'd do anything to put a smile back on Charlie's beautiful face.

‘I know,' Gabe said into his mobile.

Charlie sat on Gabe's sofa and watched him pace the living room. Gabe had insisted she stay with him for a couple of days after she'd been released from hospital. Sophie still hadn't reappeared to make good on her threats. The woman had probably decided attacking her while she was laid up wouldn't look good. But Charlie didn't kid herself that the situation with Sophie was over.

‘It's more than the top-rating episodes of
Coronation Street
and
EastEnders
,' Gabe said.

She smiled. Gabe's animated conversation with Abigail told her everything. The semi-final had been a ratings hit.

The production's merchandise had already sold out. The YouTube clips were being downloaded every few seconds and the show was trending number one on Twitter. It now sounded as if it was breaking television records.

‘Yes, I'll be in later today. Just need to make sure the patient is comfortable,' he said, smiling at her. ‘Sure. Okay. Bye.'

Gabe snapped his phone shut and threw himself down on the sofa next to her.

‘Abigail sends her love. Everyone's looking forward to seeing you back on set for the final.'

‘I can't wait to be there.'

‘Thirty-five million.'

‘Sorry?'

‘It's official. Your sexy episode pulled a record-breaking viewership of thirty-five million viewers.'

‘That's incredible.'

‘Damn right, it is.' Gabe jumped from the couch. He clearly couldn't sit still. ‘And it's all down to you.'

‘Let's not get too carried away,' she said, rolling her eyes.

‘No, it's you. Facebook and Twitter are going wild. I told you – the country loves you.' He sat down and gave her a light kiss on the lips. ‘And what's not to love?' he said, his eyes gazing deeply into hers.

He kissed her gently. She leaned into the kiss wanting more.

‘Uh, uh, uh. None of that,' he said, hopping up from the couch.

‘Gabe, for goodness' sake, I'm fine. The doctor said so,' she said.

‘No, you had a headache last night.' He wagged his finger at her.

‘The doctor said that was normal.' Gabe had been treating her like a china doll since she'd been discharged.

‘Look, I don't want to put any more pressure on you. You're filming live at the end of the week. You need to rest and have no distractions.'

‘Hmm, I seem to remember it was your artful distraction that won me a spot in the final.'

‘When you're better, I plan to make distracting you a full-time profession.'

‘Good,' she said, grabbing his thigh and trying to pull him down again onto the couch.

‘I have to go. I'll be back about six.'

He picked up his work satchel. She followed him.

‘Now, I want you to relax all day and that's an order.'

She slid her hand up his chest. ‘I like it when you order me about.' She peppered his neck with light kisses.

‘Charlie – cut that out.'

‘Make me,' she said, as she slid her hands down the length of his torso and across his groin.

He took in a quick, sharp breath. She certainly had his attention. He gripped her hand. ‘You're still recovering,' he said, his voice a little hoarse. ‘I have to go.'

She began stroking him through his jeans. ‘I'm fine,' she soothed. ‘Your team will be on top of things.'

‘I had no idea I'd picked up such a sex kitten in Italy.'

‘I was a prude, remember?' she said, feeling his erection grow. ‘It's all your fault. You made me like this.'

He grabbed her hand and pulled it from his groin. ‘Rest. Relax. I'll see you at the set later.'

He quickly pulled open the door and took the steps to the pavement two at a time.

‘You're going to be the death of me,' he called back. ‘Now, lock that door.'

He threw himself behind the wheel, waved and drove away.

She closed the door, smiling. The idea of being distracted by one Mr Gabe Grenville sent a delicious shudder through her body. She walked into the kitchen, planning to review her menu for the final. She pulled open the fridge and scanned its contents.

The buzzing of the doorbell interrupted her plans.

She walked quickly to the door. ‘Who is it?'

‘Special delivery.'

She yanked open the door to find Gabe leaning seductively on the door frame.

‘I couldn't wait.'

A shot of heat pooled between her legs.

‘Get in here then,' she said, grabbing him by the shirt and hauling him through the door.

He kicked the door closed behind him, scooped her into his arms and strode up the stairs to his bedroom. Normally, she hated being carried, but with Gabe it felt so natural. Nuzzling her face against his chest, she didn't think she'd ever wanted anything as much as she wanted Gabe now.

The muted light from the half-closed blinds in his bedroom cast a golden glow. Gabe placed her feet lightly on the floor and tugged at the ties of her terry-towelling robe.

‘This will have to go,' he said, drawing the ties apart slowly, never taking his eyes from hers.

Charlie blushed with anticipation as he swept his hands inside the heavy cotton cloth and eased the garment from her shoulders.

Gabe's eyes flicked down her body. His eyebrows arched in amusement.

‘Nice shirt.' The T-shirt he'd given her that first night in Nervi clung to her body in all the right places. ‘Remind me to buy you something better,' he said, fingering the faded material.

‘No way,' she said, hugging the soft cotton to her naked skin. ‘It's the little piece of you that I take to bed every night.'

He ran his fingers lightly down the worn fabric. His feather-light touch brushed the swell of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. She longed to feel him, skin to skin. She ached for him to be inside her.

‘I think I'm jealous,' he said a little unevenly. ‘All this time and my T-shirt's ben having all the fun.'

He dispensed with the shirt in one deft movement and flung it aside. He held her arms apart and stepped back. A thrilling tingle spread over her as his gaze swept her body. Only her cream lace knickers stopped her from being naked.

Fleetingly, she felt exposed. Then free. Alive.

She couldn't wait to shed the one thing that stood between them.

‘You're beautiful,' he breathed.

Her nipples tightened under his hungry eyes. A smile touched her lips. ‘Your turn,' she said seductively. She pulled his shirt free from his jeans and tugged it over his head.

The sun-kissed glow of the Mediterranean hadn't quite relinquished its grip on his muscled body. She ran her hands lightly up his smooth, hard chest. Dropping kisses on his collarbone, she stepped towards him and ground her hips against his groin.

His chest rose with his sharp intake of air.

‘You're killing me,' he said, his voice hoarse.

Loving his reaction, she pressed her body against his. He closed his eyes, a deep moan sounding in her ear.

‘Enough, woman,' he groaned and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her breasts hard against his chest. He walked her backwards, half-carrying her, until she felt the bed behind her knees.

She fell back onto the covers.

His gorgeous body filled her vision.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he kicked off his shoes and reached for his belt.

‘Wait,' she said sitting up. She wanted this on her terms. She pushed his hands away and released the strap of leather that imprisoned what she craved. Then she dealt with the zip and dragged down his jeans.

He kicked them aside and stood before her. His penis strained against his black boxers. His eyes blazed with lust. She dragged him down. His luscious weight blanketed her body. His all-male scent was a blistering combination of spice and citrus.

Acutely aware of only a fine film of cotton and barely-there lace separating them, she moved her hips to caress his rock-hard erection. He groaned and took possession of her mouth, parting her lips with his tongue and delving deep.

This was where she belonged. Fate had brought them together that day on the beach. She was his. He was hers.

She withdrew from the kiss. ‘Lie on your back,' she whispered.

He obliged, a bemused look joining the craving in his eyes.

She straddled his thighs and leaned over his body. Slowly, she licked and kissed her way down his abdomen towards his groin.

‘You sure you want to do that?' he asked, he voice rough. ‘I'm already on the edge.'

She didn't answer.

The lower she travelled, the more his body shuddered. She reached his boxers and eased them down his legs.

His manhood stood proud. She scanned his perfect body.

‘Mmm,' she murmured.

‘Come here,' he commanded in a ragged voice. He reached for her again but she batted his hands away.

‘Soon,' she purred as she wrapped her fingers around his taut shaft and flicked her tongue seductively up its length.

A moan escaped his lips. He thrust his head back on the pillow.

She teased him until he clutched at her arms, trying to pull her mouth back to his. She restrained his hands and pushed them back on the bed.