BROTHERS OF ST. BARTS a totally addictive romance read (St. Barts Romance Books Series Book 6)

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Authors: EMME CROSS

BOOK: BROTHERS OF ST. BARTS a totally addictive romance read (St. Barts Romance Books Series Book 6)
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BROTHERS OF ST. BARTS

(Book 6 of the St. Barts Romance Books Series)

 

EMME CROSS

Published 2015 by Joffe Books, London

www.joffebooks.com

 

 

 

© Emme Cross

 

 

This b
ook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling is Canadian English.

 

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BOOK 3: BACK TO ST. BARTS
Sunny is at loose ends, trying to fit into Sven’s life but also establish one of her own. Then something happens which will change everything . . .

 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/BARTS-totally-addictive-romance-Romance-ebook/dp/B011LOZ7V0/

http://www.amazon.com/BARTS-totally-addictive-romance-Romance-ebook/dp/B011LOZ7V0/

 

 

 

 

BOOK 4: BABY ON ST. BARTS
Two events shatter Sunny’s dreams in the most compelling St. Barts book yet. This time there may be no way back for Sunny and Sven.

 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/totally-addictive-romance-Romance-Series-ebook/dp/B0125TAU6W/

http://www.amazon.com/totally-addictive-romance-Romance-Series-ebook/dp/B0125TAU6W/

 

 

 

Introduction to Brothers of St. Barts

 

Sunny and Sven thought they had laid all their ghosts to rest during a trip to St. Barts. They had said a proper goodbye to Mimi, Sunny had gently but firmly turned aside Linus’s romantic aspirations and she’s having regular therapy sessions to help her deal with PTSD that resulted from Clyde’s attack.

But as the couple returns to Oslo to await the birth of their second child, a secret from Sven’s past now threatens their future happiness . . .

Chapter 1

“Judith, it’s wonderful!” Sunny swirled around, the baby in her arms, the dog at her feet. Her husband was paying the cab driver who had hauled their luggage through the slush that covered the walkway. The calendar may have said spring, but the Oslo winter was like a stubborn houseguest, reluctant to leave.

“I did the entire place in shades of yellow — a happy colour for a happy house.”

The entry way was painted a burnt gold. The old chandelier had been repaired and cast prisms over the glistening black and white tiled floor, where stood a round table adorned with a huge basket of yellow orchids, Sunny’s favourite. There was a yellow and white hand-crafted pottery bowl placed conveniently for keys and cellphones. Against the wall, an apothecary chest stood waiting for its drawers to be filled with dog leashes and gloves. A mirror hung above the chest at just the right height for those last-minute checks before leaving. A large closet stood empty next to the powder room.

“We couldn’t save the original floor tiles, at least not enough for the entrance, so we used them in here.”

Sunny smiled at the pale yellow daffodils on the powder room wallpaper, that were echoed in the bouquet next to the bowl-shaped sink.

“The kitchen. I have to see the kitchen.”

“I followed your specs, and I think I got all the appliances right.”

Sunny inhaled as she took in the sunshine yellow of the walls, the gleaming restored hardwood floors and the expanse of grey and white marble countertops. The cupboards had doors both solid and of glass. Sunny’s fingers itched to start arranging their supplies.

“The pantry is through there,” said Judith as she filled Bliss’s sippy cup with water and put out a fresh bowl on a mat for the dog. “I’ll bring Frigga over as soon as you settle in. She is going to have so much fun spending time with Sponge.” The latter thump-thumped her tail on the floor as she heard her name.

Sven leaned against the counter, beer in hand. “You did great, Mother. I love the old light fixtures over the counter and the sectional looks just right. Terrific for after-dinner lounging.”

“You can have breakfast and lunch here,” said Judith pointing at the massive island with four stools and a high chair waiting for their occupants. “The floors are heated in case you want to visit in the winter. I saved all of the original light fixtures and had them re-wired and brought in a few new pieces but for the most part, I kept as much of the old as I could. Go take a look. Explore. I’ll heat up your lunch and look after the baby.”

Sunny grabbed Sven’s hand and they scampered through the Great Room. She dropped her winter coat on the couch, exclaiming over the finishes.

“This is so beautiful.” The couple stood arm-in-arm in the dining room, which was enclosed in glass, like an atrium. The watery spring sunlight spilt through the old bottle glass in the window panes.

“I can’t wait to have your friends and family over for dinner. There’s easily enough room for ten.”

Sven laughed at her enthusiasm. “Don’t start planning menus yet. We haven’t seen the most important room in the house.”

“Your office!”

“Our bedroom,” he leered.

They rushed up the kitchen staircase. The master bedroom was at the back of the house, taking up what had been three smaller rooms. Judith had painted it the palest of lemon yellows with white accents from the linen curtains to the carved Scandinavian bedstead. The linens were white, matching the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

“I can imagine us spending a lot of time in here,” said Sven with a grin.

“Come see the bathroom!” Yellow and white tiles of different sizes and shapes were arrayed around a huge double walk-in glass shower and a massive double slipper tub, big enough for the whole family.

“I think I found Bliss’s room,” he heard Sunny call from down the hall. It was yellow with touches of pink, with patchwork rugs on the floor and yellow matted pictures on the wall.

Next door was a ‘Jack and Jill’ bathroom with stools at the sink for little legs. Beyond that was the nursery. Sunny’s hand went to her bulging stomach as Sven came up behind her and laid his hand on the five month old fetus slumbering within.

The room was blue and yellow. The crib was white with a dinosaur throw. The walls were hung with posters of all the Premiere League soccer clubs.

“I can recite those in my sleep by now,” teased Sunny.

“Fat lot of good it does me. Once I even tried remembering all the addresses I’d lived in before we met.”

“I think you finished before you even reached number One in Los Angeles.”

“All your fault, vixen.”

“Come on. Let’s see the pièce de résistance.”

They walked down the hall past the unfinished guest bedrooms to the stairs leading up to the third floor. Judith had replicated the door to his office in Venice Beach. The etched glass was decorated with Sunny’s favourite Buddha and the words ‘No Fear Productions.’ Sunny let Sven go on ahead. When she got to the top of the stairs she stood watching his face as he drank it all in.

There were skylights and eyebrow windows under the eaves. The room was furnished with built-in bookcases, a comfy chair and an ottoman. There was a desk with a computer already in place. Off to one side ‘The Scream’ stood on an easel, for inspiration while he wrote his screenplay about the famous Norwegian painting. It was exactly as he’d imagined it.

“My mother . . .” Sven was at a loss for words.

“Your mother,” echoed Sunny, and they kissed before going back to join her in the kitchen for lunch and heartfelt compliments.

* * *

With shaking fingers, Astrid gave a final touch to her pale blonde chignon and pulled at her lavender suit jacket. She knocked on the door of the hotel room.

Nils waved her in, frowning at his cellphone. “Surely we can work out an extension of some sort. You know I’m good for it.” A pause. “But that’s unreasonable. You know what the market’s like at the moment. I’ll take a bath if I’m forced to sell. Just give me another couple of months.” A scowl. “I can’t believe after all these years you’re treating me like just another . . . Fine. Sure. By close of business Tuesday.” He tossed the phone onto the bed and closed his eyes. “Fuck!”

Astrid waited silently, watching him. His flaxen hair was perfectly cut and the impeccable shave was no doubt courtesy of the hotel barber. His suit jacket hung on the back of the desk chair, standing watch over a pair of gleaming shoes. His cufflinks lay on the desk and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. His Hermès tie was unknotted. This was as casual as Nils got. Even naked, he appeared to be dressed in a perfectly pressed suit; he wore his own skin like a suit of armour. Astrid used to find it sexy. Now it was intimidating. If she peeled off his clothes would he look like a figure in the ‘Body Worlds’ exhibition — minus a heart?

Astrid cleared her throat. “Business trouble?”

“You know what the global economy is like. Norway’s been insulated but Europe and America are in the toilet. Nobody’s buying, everybody’s bailing. I hope you’ve come with news about my money.”

“Not exactly.”

“Astrid, my dear, nobody does the quivering bottom lip thing quite as well as you but you heard that phone call. Some of my business associates want their money. So
I want mine.”

“I don’t have it. I told you that.”

“Fine. But you know where you can get it. I read that the movie star and his family have moved to Oslo.”

“I can’t just say ‘Hi, welcome to the neighbourhood. Get out your cheque book for old time’s sake.’”

“It wouldn’t just be for old time’s sake, would it? Besides, you know how to get what you want out of that famous idiot. Spread your legs, your ass cheeks or open your mouth. I don’t care. I want my money.”

“His wife’s pregnant.”

“What the fuck is that to me? It only means he’s probably looking for some outside entertainment. There’s nothing sexy about a pregnant woman. Why do you think I disappeared when you were out to here with Liam?” If he noticed her wince, he didn’t care. “This is your chance.”

“It’s not like that with him — with them.”

“Again. Don’t care. My patience is almost at an end.”

“But she’s pregnant.” She raised her hand to pre-empt interruption. “When the baby’s born, Sven might be more amenable.”

Nils paused. One slim finger stroked his upper lip. He’d had a moustache when they’d first met and he’d never lost the habit when musing.

“The happy family. The bundle of joy. The PR possibilities. Hmmm. You always were more shrewd than I gave you credit for. How long?”

“What?”

“How far along is she? How long until the happy occasion?”

“She’s about five months.”

“August. I don’t think I can wait that long. Maybe he’ll pay up now to prevent the little woman from being so upset she miscarries.”

“You wouldn’t!” Astrid swallowed the bile in her throat. “How could you say such a thing?”

“Stop it. I’m not buying your concern for his wife or his marriage. When Sven came back to Norway last fall you were sniffing around like a bitch on heat. You wouldn’t have given her a single thought. You would have fallen into his bed at the crook of his famous finger.”

“I would not.” Her blush gave her away.

“Astrid,” he said with cruel patience. “I was there, waiting for you when you got home from that reunion. You were so upset he’d brought his wife.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm, his eyes hard. “You had the whole seduction planned and then he brought his wife.” He gave a sharp laugh. “I wasn’t wrong; you have lost your touch.”

She could feel those cold blue eyes assessing her, stripping her raw.

“What happened? You were always icy but that was the lure. It was a challenge. A man was tempted to see if he could warm you up. Now, there’s just coldness. It’s off-putting.” He gave a theatrical shiver as if she was radiating cold air.

“It’s your fault.” She choked back a sob. “I can’t trust anyone any more thanks to you.”

“You never could trust anyone, but you were too stupid to know it. I may be willing to wait until August . . .” He saw hope flare in her eyes, her shoulders relax ever so slightly. “I said I may be willing to wait. It depends on what you’re going to do to try to convince me.”

He stood there, unmoving, staring at her, like a mongoose with a snake. Astrid felt her throat close up and her skin crawl. He wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing an object — a tool. Had he ever seen her as a human being? Was he capable of doing so?

“I’m waiting. For fuck’s sake, you used to be quicker on the uptake.” Exasperated, he reached down and unzipped his fly, not even bothering to undo his belt or loosen his trousers.

“Hurry up. I haven’t got all day. I’m having drinks in the bar in twenty minutes. It may take you that long to even get me hard.”

Astrid stared at him, frozen to the spot.

“There. That’s better. You’re never more attractive than when you’re scared. It brings some colour to your face. I like it when your eyes dart around looking for escape. I can almost see the wheels in your head turning.” He gave a humourless laugh. “This may work after all.”

She still didn’t move a muscle. She could see his stiffening penis start to poke through his open fly.

“The offer to wait until the baby is born is open until I have to leave for my meeting. You have twenty, sorry, now nineteen minutes to convince me to be patient. If you want me to call him now and break the news to the daddy-to-be . . .” Nils moved to zip up his fly, his eyes on her face.

Astrid shuddered and sank to her knees in front of him. He allowed himself a cold smile of triumph and then checked his watch again as she bowed her head dutifully, resigned to her task.

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