La Brat (24 page)

The only missing ingredient was his sub. She should have been here by now.

He checked his phone again, reread her text.

Just finishing here. Will go back to my flat for a change of clothes, see you in 30 mins.

He checked the time since that message arrived. Fifty-five minutes. How long did it take to throw a fresh pair of pants and a T-shirt into a holdall and walk up one flight of stairs? And to make matters worse, she wasn’t answering her phone or texts. He wasn’t given to stalking his submissives, but he was concerned. He knew Eugenie had a casual attitude toward time keeping—or she used to. It wasn’t a trait he’d seen much in evidence of late.

Once a brat, always a brat. She’s angling for another spanking.
He dismissed that notion as quickly as it formed. Not Genie, not anymore. She had no need to manipulate. She needed only to ask and she knew that now. They had both grown up. With a curse, he turned the oven off and headed for the door.

He jogged along the corridor and down the flight of stairs separating their floors. His phone was in his pocket but he didn’t bother to try her again. He had his security passkey so would let himself into her flat. If she wasn’t there, he’d go looking for her in the offices or the public rooms—she would never have left the hotel without letting him know her plans.

As soon as he turned the corner and started along the corridor toward Eugenie’s studio flat he smelled it.

Smoke!

Autopilot kicked in. He lunged for the fire alarm situated on the wall a few meters ahead of him and punched the glass. A cacophony of bells filled the hallway. He ignored them as he dragged a fire extinguisher from its bracket next to the alarm button and started running. He was halfway down the corridor before he saw it, but it was with a fatalistic sense of expectancy that he registered the wisps of pale gray smoke drifting from under Eugenie’s door.

The pounding of his feet echoed around the empty corridor as he raced to reach her. He dumped the fire extinguisher and tried his passkey. Nothing, the fucking key wouldn’t work. Not so much as a flicker. He rattled the door but it was locked solid. He was aware, just dimly, of the sound of running feet approaching behind him. Help was on the way, but might be too late.

He stepped back the width of the corridor between him and Eugenie’s door. He eyed the solid barrier before giving it a resounding kick. The wood shook, rattling the frame, but it held. He stepped back and repeated the action, desperation and naked fear lending him a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. He grimaced in satisfaction as the doorframe splintered. He shoved the door, crouching to avoid the billows of smoke pouring out into the hallway.

“Genie! Genie, are you there?” He peered through the haze, seeking some shape, some clue that she was in here and alive. Nothing.

“Aaron, don’t go in there. The fire brigade is on their way.” He recognized Elise’s voice but knew he couldn’t wait. Eugenie couldn’t wait. With his hand shielding his mouth and nose as best as he could, he grabbed the extinguisher from the floor and dove into the flat.

He saw at once where the fire was. The waste paper basket was alight, and flames were starting to lick along the curtains nearby. He had a few seconds at best before the entire room would be engulfed. He directed the nozzle of the appliance at the bottom of the paper bin and let out a thick burst of foam. The flames died. He waited for a moment then delivered another blast when he spotted a faint, defiant flicker. This time he killed it.

“Genie! Genie, where are you?”

He staggered to the window and threw it open, the smoke already starting to dissipate now that the source was extinguished. He leaned over the sill to heave in a couple of lungs full of sweet oxygen then turned to crouch against the wall, below the smoke. His eyes smarting, he peered around the empty room. Nothing. Where the fuck was she?

Then he heard it. A groan, faint but unmistakable. He crawled toward the bed and almost fell on her. She lay on the floor, curled in a ball on her side between the bed and the wall. He cradled her in his arms as he struggled to his feet, his lungs now burning as they filled with the remaining smoke. Head down, holding his breath, he headed for the only light source, the hallway outside.

Moments later, he stumbled back out into the relatively clear air of the corridor. He sank to his knees, still hugging Eugenie close.

“Let me see her.” Fleur’s voice cut through his sense of relief at finding himself alive, and Eugenie too, he hoped. She had been alive. He’d heard her voice, her soft moan. He laid her on her back as Elise ushered the growing crowd of hotel employees back along the corridor, issuing her instructions as she did so.

“Someone needs to be downstairs to direct the fire service when they arrive. Louis, could you do that, please?” One of the waiters, clad now in just jeans and a shirt, turned and sprinted for the stairs. Elise wasn’t done yet. “Anton, call an ambulance.”

Aaron sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall, heaving in long, cool draughts of precious oxygen as Fleur strapped a facemask across Eugenie’s mouth and nose.

“The fire’s out.” Aaron managed to choke out the words though his throat felt to be full of gravel.

“Good. But the alarm will have connected to the fire service automatically and they’ll be on their way. We need them to check that all is safe.” Elise’s words were matter-of-fact, though her tone and anxious expression belied this.

She knelt beside Aaron, her hand on his arm. She squeezed his wrist. He found her presence reassuring but he knew that even though the immediate crisis was over, their problems were far from finished.

“We need the police too.” He coughed, leaning forward to reach for Eugenie’s hand. “My passkey didn’t work. It was dead.”

“Well, perhaps the fire… The electrics…?” Elise sounded as unconvinced as he was.

“No way. The fire was at the other side of the room in the waste paper bin. It wouldn’t have affected the security system, and even if it had, the failsafe would have unlocked all the doors. She was locked in there.” His mind was racing now, assembling all the pieces. “And how the fuck did her bin catch fire? Genie doesn’t smoke. There would be no reason for any naked flame.”

“Okay. The fire investigators will be able to tell us more. I’m just glad you were here and spotted the smoke in time.” Elise patted his arm as they both watched Fleur working on Eugenie.

Aaron groaned, leaning his head back against the wall now. “She was late. I should have come looking for her earlier. I should never have let this happen. Is she okay? Why doesn’t she wake up?”

Fleur turned, her expression grim. “Concussion would be my best guess. You are right about the police.” She gently probed the back of Eugenie’s skull. “This head wound will take some explaining.”

Chapter Seventeen

Her head hurt. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her eyelids were heavy and it was too much trouble to open them. Perhaps she wouldn’t bother. Not yet anyway. She allowed herself to drift as the dark fog descended again.

* * * *

Still hurting. Thirsty. So tired.

Eugenie could hear voices, low, whispering, somewhere close by. She tried to make out words but couldn’t. It was effort, too much effort. She’d try later. Perhaps.

* * * *

“Why doesn’t she wake up? It’s been twelve hours. Is she going to be all right?”

She recognized that voice, that tone.
Aaron
.

Eugenie tried to open her eyes but it was too difficult. She tried to reach for him but her hand felt to be made of lead. She was filled by a sudden sense of desperation, an overwhelming need to touch him, to feel his solid presence. She again tried to reach for him, but still her limbs would not obey her.

“She’s coming round. There, look, she moved her fingers.”

Eugenie was aware of the strong, warm hand that now wrapped itself around hers, the long, capable fingers she knew so well. She tried to grasp him, but couldn’t move. It didn’t matter, he just tightened his grip.

Secure in the contact, she allowed herself to drift away again.

* * * *

The next time her mind edged toward consciousness, she was ready. She wanted to wake up, wanted to open her eyes and see the world, needed to know she was still in it. Eugenie pried her eyelids apart, slowly opening them to let in the light.

The room was strange, not a place she knew. She lay on her back, above her the bright glare of strip lights. She turned her head, saw a white rail beside her head, and beyond that, a sleek cream-colored cupboard fixed to a plain white wall. Something caught her eye, a light flashing. She peered at it, tried to focus. It was a small screen, figures dancing across it. A monitor of some sort?

Her hands. Something was touching her hands. She lifted the left one a few inches, amazed to find that she could do so. A clip rather like a large clothes peg was attached to her middle finger, and from that, a cable connected her to the monitor.

She was in hospital. This was medical equipment. Why? Why did she need to be in hospital? What was wrong with her?

She opened her mouth to ask, but there was no one to direct the question to. She tried to lift her other hand, but this one was weighted down. She turned her head to investigate, and saw him.

Aaron was in a low chair beside her bed, his head on his chest. He was asleep, his hand clasping hers in a firm, immovable grip.

Eugenie relaxed. If Aaron was here, this would be okay. He’d know the answers. She could wait until he woke up then ask him. Her fears evaporated and she allowed herself to drift off to sleep again.

* * * *

“Genie? Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Aaron’s voice invaded her dream. She didn’t mind, she loved to hear his voice. She smiled.

“Wake up, love. It’s time to come round now.”

No, not yet.

“Yes. Now. Come on, you can’t lie around here all day.” His words were firm but his tone achingly gentle.

“Sir? I’m tired.”

“I know, love. You can go back to sleep soon. The doctor needs to check you over.”

Doctor? Oh yes, the hospital. Eugenie remembered the white rail, the monitor. She had questions. The doctor could tell her, or Aaron could. She forced her eyelids apart again.

“Hello, darling. Welcome back.” Aaron was leaning over her, his face close to hers. He was smiling, his eyes soft. Had he been crying? No, impossible.

“Hello…” Her voice rasped. It didn’t sound like her at all. Her throat felt awful.

“Shh, you don’t need to speak just yet. Here, try some of this.” Aaron slipped his arm under her shoulders and lifted her up a little, at the same time holding a cup to her lips. It was one of those odd hospital cups like a child would use, with a lid and a spout. Cool liquid spilled onto her tongue. It was sweet, so welcome. She swallowed, lifting her hand to clutch at his.

“It’s okay, baby. There’s plenty. Take it slow.”

Eugenie sipped at the water, relishing the cool, soothing sensation as it flowed down her throat. She felt as though her tonsils had been attacked with a cheese grater. When she’d had enough she looked up at Aaron, who understood at once. He placed the cup on the bedside table before leaning back to look at her.

Another figure appeared, this time wearing a white coat. The doctor. He leaned over the bed to peer at her.

“I’d like to examine you, Mademoiselle d’André. Is that okay?”

Eugenie nodded.

“I’ll wait outside.” Aaron started to rise, but Eugenie grabbed at his hand, shaking her head in desperation. He couldn’t leave. She couldn’t let him go.

“It’s quite all right for Monsieur Praed to stay, if you want him to.” The doctor’s voice was kind, and calm. Eugenie liked him.

She nodded, and Aaron settled back in his chair. The doctor’s checks were soon completed—heart, lungs, blood pressure, temperature. He seemed satisfied.

“Your readings are back to normal, more or less. How do you feel?”

“My throat hurts.”

The doctor nodded. “You inhaled a lot of smoke. That will pass, but I know it’s unpleasant right now. I can prescribe some painkillers for you. What about your head?”

“My head?” Eugenie was only now beginning to register that her head was hurting too, a dull ache at the front, behind her eyes, and a sharper pain at the back.

“Yes. You had quite a knock there. You’ve been out cold for nearly twenty-four hours.”

“What? What!” Eugenie struggled to sit bolt upright.
Twenty-four hours! The wedding.
She was supposed to be at the hotel directing operations with military precision. She couldn’t be lying around here in a hospital bed complaining about a sore throat and headache. She needed to get back there—now.

“Whoa, steady on, Genie. You need to rest.”

Aaron sounded so calm. Didn’t he realize? Had he entirely forgotten how vital it was that nothing be allowed to go wrong? Yet here they both were, their posts deserted. Anything could be happening. She turned to him, her desperation mounting.

“I need to get back.
We
need to get back. My clothes…”

“Your clothes are in the hotel laundry, where perhaps we might be able to get rid of the smell of smoke. I’ll bring you some fresh things to wear when you need them. Which is not now.” Elise’s voice echoed across the small room. She stood in the doorway, her arms full of flowers. She offered a polite nod to the doctor as he left to minister to other needy patients. “We have everything under control. Farah sent these and she hopes you’ll be well enough to be at the ceremony tomorrow, but not to worry if you don’t feel up to it.”

“What? But… How?”

“Your notebook. It’s a bit grimy from the smoke but we managed to salvage it from your apartment. From there, I was able to take over. Unless you don’t think me capable, of course…?” Elise’s expression was wry as she arranged the showy display of glorious blooms in a vase she found on the windowsill. “These roses are beautiful.”