Kitabı oku: «The Real Adam Brightman»

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

Discover The Chatsfield

Copyright

Chapter One

Adam Brightman settled back into the soft leather seat of The Chatsfield’s exclusive bar and tried to drown out the sounds of the other customers with a mouthful of whiskey. He shouldn’t have come here. God knows, he should have found another bar in another part of London. But his feet had a mind of their own. Daniel Northman, manager of the bar, kept flicking glances his way, but Adam was looking at a different face, from a different time. He always was on this day, each year, for the last ten years.

A woman’s laughter peeled out from another dark corner of the opulent bar, but it sounded off to Adam’s ears, slightly forced and a little too high. He felt Daniel’s gaze on him once again. He’d offered Daniel two hundred pounds to ensure that Adam found the oblivion he was seeking tonight, but Daniel simply pushed back the notes on the bar, and slid over a glass of whiskey. On the house. Jesus, he must have looked bad. The words that Daniel had uttered slid into his mind.

That kind of pain doesn’t need a bill added to it.

He caught his reflection in the mirrored surface of the back of the bar, and cringed at the anguish he was sure shone from every pore on his face. He gritted his teeth and took another swig of whiskey, relishing the burn as the alcohol hit the back of his throat and tried, but failed, to warm the hollow in his chest. There would be no warmth. Not tonight.

The woman’s laugh came again and grated over his skin. He hunched forward in his seat, leaning over his glass. He couldn’t get comfortable. Usually the bar at The Chatsfield was everything he sought. Excitement, fun and an evening of beautiful women. But what he was looking for tonight couldn’t be soothed by luxurious leather and the wicked cocktails cooked up by Northman.

His gaze roamed over the clientele of the bar and snagged on Ally sitting with some suit. A small measure of surprise cut through him, he didn’t think that The Chatsfield would usually let an employee enjoy the hotel bar, let alone a chambermaid. But she seemed to have an ‘in’ with the bar manager and who was he to deny anyone their moment of escape?

Not that Ally looked like an employee tonight. The dress she was wearing must have cost more than her monthly salary, and Adam knew a thing or two about women’s clothing. Namely how quickly, or slowly, it could be taken off. He also knew a thing or two about a woman’s body language and, interestingly, Ally’s wasn’t saying seduction. It was restrained, but companionable. Which was an odd combination for a woman sitting in a dark bar, having a drink with a reasonably attractive man.

A pair of legs entered Adam’s line of sight topped by a short skirt, just at the right height for a man to imagine drifting his fingers beneath.

‘I’ve been trying to catch your eye ever since you entered the bar, but you’ve been staring at that girl for so long, I figured a more direct approach might be called for.’ Honeyed tones, with a slight accent were delivered from a mouth that would make most grown men cry.

He angled his head up at her; big blue eyes peered back at him through the dim lighting and all but ate him up. He could feel the familiar buzz of attraction arc between them. On any other day, he would have been tempted. More than tempted.

‘Didn’t your mamma tell you not to talk to strangers?’ he asked.

‘She also told me to leave bad boys alone. But I never listened to her before, so why start now?’ Red painted lips curved into a delicious smile.

‘Run, sweetheart. While you still can.’ His words may have been flirtatious, but the girl must have picked something up from his tone, and with a pout, she turned and stalked off back to whatever part of the bar she had come from.

He caught Daniel’s eye again, and his slight nod of surprise. It wasn’t unheard of for Adam to turn down a pretty girl, but it was unusual. He’d been at The Chatsfield a couple of months, almost the longest he’d ever spent in one place. But then The Chatsfield had something that nowhere else had. Aside from the luxury, the sophistication, the understated opulence, it also housed the one person that he couldn’t just walk away from. And that person was interfering with things.

He had flown in from New York and landed in London for one thing and one thing only: business. He felt a small spark of satisfaction over the company he had grown from almost nothing, to become a transatlantic powerhouse.

The deal with KMG, London’s leading media company, was nearly in the bag, and time was running out. If all went well, he’d be out of here within a month. He mentally ran over a list of things needed for the meeting at the end of the week. He knew that his offer to buy out KMG was good. And they’d be mad not to want to join with Adam’s empire. He could offer them an international platform as well as more money than they could imagine getting from anyone else, and in exchange, Adam would finally have a foothold in Europe. Something that his father had never even dreamed of.

His father would have been so proud at what he’d achieved, he thought bitterly to himself.

A laugh almost escaped his lips at the thought. His father. The past. But then tonight was all about the past, wasn’t it? His mind drifted back to Jessie Loe; Lucilla Chatsfield’s Executive Assistant. He’d tried and failed, quite miserably he didn’t mind admitting to himself, to speak to her, but every time he got close, he just couldn’t find the words. He knew that today would be hard for Jessie too, the memories it must bring her, the pain. But tonight was his, for his pain. For his guilt.

His fist curled around the solid crystal glass containing a mouthful left of his first drink of the night, and for a moment he was almost reluctant to finish it. Before it led to another and another.

Just as he brought the glass to his lips, another was placed on his table. The sound of glass hitting the solid wood table echoed in his ears, and the woman’s fingers spread across the rim had not yet released their hold.

‘Sweetheart, I told you before, I’m not the company you’re looking for tonight.’

The lack of response, or even movement from the woman, drew his attention up and the wind was knocked out of his chest as if he’d been sucker punched.

‘Of all the gin joints in all the world… you can turn around and walk the hell out of this one,’ he demanded.