Love and Liability (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 2) (40 page)

“He would’ve killed me,” Poppy said, and began, despite the warmth of the day and the pavement beneath her, to shiver. “If you and Will hadn’t shown up when you did—”

“But we did,” Will reassured her, and reached for her hand. “How do you feel?”

“Like warmed-over crap.” She winced as she touched the raw scrape on her face. “Hitting the pavement like that didn’t do wonders for my face, I’m sure.” She saw her handbag, fallen open on the pavement by the Fiat. “Will — Erik’s mobile was missing. Did you take it?”

He nodded. “I took it out last night, when I picked you up from work. I wanted your dad to see Erik’s texts, to show him what was going on. It was his idea to turn on the phone’s sat nav—”

“To draw the bastard out of hiding,” Marcus finished. “It worked a treat, too.”

“Then we called the police straight away,” Will said.

“Which you should have done yourself, madam,” Marcus informed Poppy in no uncertain terms.

“I couldn’t! I was afraid if the police got involved, I’d be sent back to Mum’s.”

“Your mother,” Marcus ground out, “is to blame for this. She had no business bringing that monster anywhere near you. And as for leaving you alone—”

“It’s not really her fault, Dad,” Poppy objected. “Erik lied to her; he said he was a venture capitalist. He was very convincing. She’d no reason to believe otherwise. And she usually didn’t leave me alone; but the night Erik showed up, she called to say her flight from Brussels was delayed. So I was only alone for a couple of hours.”

“Nevertheless, your mum’s poor choices put you in a dangerous situation, one you weren’t remotely equipped to handle on your own. If it were up to me,” Marcus finished savagely, “that piece of sex-trafficking shit would be dead, and no mistake.”

Will took Poppy’s hand. “Thanks to your dad,” he told her, “the police dispatched DS Watts and Sergeant Fanning here straight away. They watched from over there—” he indicated a row of cars just behind them “—until you broke away, and then they had a clear shot at Erik.”

“That must’ve been the shot I heard behind me,” Poppy said, and bit her lip. “I thought it came from Erik’s gun. I thought he’d fired at me.”

“No.” Will studied her curiously. “How’d you do it, by the way? How’d you get away from him?”

“A safety pin. I wore it in my T-shirt when I was living on the street. It was the only thing I could find in my bag to use as a weapon when I was looking for his mobile. I jammed it down into his hand as hard as I could.”

“I still can’t believe you lived on the streets for all those weeks.” Marcus shook his head in disbelief. “When I think of what might have happened to you…”

“But it didn’t, Dad,” Poppy said gently, and put her hand on his arm. “I’m okay, truly.” She glanced over at Will. “And it’s all thanks to Will. He insisted I come here and talk to you. He badgered me to death about it.”

“Is that right?” Marcus raised his brow. “Well, Will —I owe you a great deal of thanks for that.” He clapped his hand on Will’s shoulder and turned back to his daughter. “You needn’t worry about going to your mum’s to live if you don’t want to, poppet. I’ll file for custody. Or shared custody, if you prefer.”

“Are you and Mum getting a divorce, then?”

He nodded and passed a hand over his face. “I’m afraid so. I can’t blame her for our marriage falling apart, though. That’s all my doing. I was never around for her…or for you.”

“But you had your restaurants to see to,” Poppy said, trying to be fair, “and…all the rest of it.”

“I’m giving it up, Poppy.” Marcus’s grey eyes met hers. “I’m selling the restaurants, except for the brasserie and a couple of the gastro pubs. Thanks to my financial advisor, I’ve done well enough in stocks that I can afford to pay off my debts and scale back a bit. I’ll finish filming
Chefzilla
, write a cookery book every couple of years. But my first priority is to spend more time at home — with you.”

“But — what about your Michelin stars? They mean everything to you.”

He took her hands in his. “Once they did. But now I see that chasing after those bloody stars cost me precious time with you — time I can never get back. I’ve worked six days a week since I was fifteen…” He stopped, and let out a long, slow breath. “But that’s over. I’m truly sorry for all the years I’ve wasted. You mean everything to me, Poppy. I’ve realised that, these last few weeks. Everything.”

And as her father enfolded her once again in his arms Poppy was overwhelmed with emotions.

She was relieved that the nightmare with Erik was finally over…

But most of all, she was thrilled to have her father back again.

Chapter 60

It was barely seven o’clock and Jamie’s kitchen was already seriously in the weeds.

He grabbed two plated entrées and shouted, “Orders up.” As a result of Marcus Russo’s bad publicity, Gordon Scots’ business had tripled. Jamie glanced out at the packed tables. If not for Jago, a hard worker and a quick learner, and Holly, who’d agreed to stay on and work the dinner shift tonight, he honestly didn’t know how he’d have managed.

“Service!” Jamie called out as he picked up a plate of steak and turnip mash from the garnish station and set it down on the pick-up counter. He took two plates of salmon from Jago and deftly wiped the edges of the plates with a clean cloth. “Holly, table three, your orders are ready!”

Holly arrived at the pass, breathless. “It’s insane in here tonight!” she complained. “If those blokes at the bar don’t stop pinching my arse every time I walk by—”

“Just smile, please, and don’t dump food in their laps,” Jamie warned her.

“No promises,” Holly retorted, and turned away with her table’s plates in hand. As she made her way through the bar she glanced up at the widescreen TV and came to an abrupt halt.

Alex Barrington’s face filled the screen.

“Conservative Candidate Barrington Nixes Chipping Barnet Shelter Reopening,” read the news crawl. “Full story at ten.”

Holly was stunned. It couldn’t be. Had Alex really reneged on his promise to reopen the homeless shelter in Chipping Barnet? Had he finally caved in to Camilla’s pressure?

Troubled, she delivered the food to her table. As she wove her way back through the bar to her station, the mouth-watering scent of steaks sizzling on the grill filled the air.

When she arrived at table four she pulled out her order pad and glanced up, pen poised. Shock riveted her to the spot.

Alex Barrington lowered his menu and met her gaze, equally startled. “Holly!” he exclaimed. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I work here.”

“But I thought you only worked the lunch shift.”

“Normally I do. But Jamie was short-staffed tonight.”

He hesitated. “I’m glad you’re all right. I read about what happened in the papers.”

“Oh? Yet you’re only now bothering to ask if I’m okay? And only because you ran into me by accident?”

“I’ve been in Brisbane on business. I just got back.”

“Oddly enough,” Holly said, tapping her pen against her order pad, “I’ve heard they have phones now, even in Brisbane.”

“I tried to call,” he said defensively. “You never answered.”

“That’s because a sex-trafficking psychopath named Erik took my phone.” She glared. “You might’ve called the restaurant.”

“I did. I left several messages, with Jamie. Obviously,” he said through gritted teeth, “you didn’t get them.”

“What were you doing in Brisbane? Was there a tranny convention?”

“I was stuck in a long, gruelling meeting, trying to win over a new and very lucrative client for the company.”

“Must’ve been a
very
long meeting,” she agreed, “if you couldn’t find the time to send a single text. The police recovered my phone from Erik yesterday, but you never called. Not once.” Hurt coloured her voice.

“The coverage in Brisbane was spotty. And…” he paused, embarrassed “…and I dropped my mobile in the airline toilet on the flight back.”

“Oh? What were you doing — inducting a flight attendant into the mile-high club?”

Anger suffused his face. “Damn it, Holly, I was on my way out the door Friday morning to see you, the minute I saw the papers. I was frantic with worry. But my boss waylaid me and sent me off to fucking Brisbane to chase after a new account. I had no choice but to go, and no time to call you before I left.”

She flipped her order pad open and pressed her lips together. “I have other tables waiting. What would you like?”

“To talk,” he snapped. “Like adults, if that’s possible.”

Holly flipped her pad shut, incensed. “Says the man who so recently had a tranny in a kilt sitting on his knee.”

“It was a crazy, drunken night with Dominic Heath, nothing more. And for the record, I hated every minute of it.”

“Oh, yes — I’m sure it was pure torture being surrounded by half-naked lap dancers, a rock star, and endless bottles of Scotch.”

Alex leaned forward, his expression grim. “You’re determined to think the worst of me, Holly, no matter what I do or say. I can’t help but wonder…how much does Jamie Gordon’s influence have to do with your low opinion of me?”

“Jamie doesn’t tell me what to think! I’m perfectly capable of drawing my own conclusions. You went too far this time, Alex.”

“So that’s it? You’ve drawn your line in the sandbox, as it were, and you’re daring me to step over it?”

Holly saw the covert glances of diners nearby. “Perhaps you’d like to order now, if you won’t explain yourself to me.”

“Why bother?” Alex said shortly. “You’ve already tried and convicted me before I’ve said a word in my defence.”

Holly stared at him. This was a new, harder-edged Alex, and she didn’t much like it. He should be begging her forgiveness and promising to make amends, not presenting this indifferent, don’t-give-a-monkey’s attitude.

“You have to admit, when I caught you with Kate on the sofa that day, it looked pretty damned incriminating—” she began.

“But it wasn’t! I already explained all that. I was trying to get Kate to admit she’d swapped that photo.”

“You were on
top
of her! And she was practically naked!”

Even the other waiters were listening, now.

“I don’t care how it looked. Nothing happened!” He lowered his voice and added, “Could we not do this now, please?”

“What about Scotland?
That
happened!”

“Dominic is my client,” he ground out. “The publicity was regrettable, and I’m truly sorry if it upset you. But as a result of that trip, I landed the firm several million pounds’ worth of legal defence work.”

“Chatting up transvestites makes for good business, then.”

Alex ploughed a hand through his hair in frustration. “Listen to me, Holly. I care about you. I do. I asked you to move in with me, if you recall. And you turned me down.”

She fidgeted with her pen. “I didn’t turn you down, exactly. You caught me by surprise. I wasn’t ready—”

“No. But you were ready enough to share Jamie’s flat.”

“That’s different! It’s convenient,” she said, suddenly defensive, “because it’s upstairs, and I
work
here. And because Jamie and I are friends.”

“Friends,” he echoed, his expression hard. “And what happens when you get a job elsewhere? Will you still share your ‘friend’s’ flat then? Will it still be ‘convenient’?”

Guiltily, Holly thought of Valery’s job offer. She’d got a generous pay rise and could afford her own place now. Yet she hadn’t even bothered to look for a new flat.

“Alex, I agree that we need to talk. Privately,” she amended, trying to ignore the couples sitting nearby, blatantly eavesdropping. “Maybe I
have
been a little quick to judge—”

“What’s going on? Holly? What are you doing here?”

Holly whirled around. Camilla Shawcross stood beside her, mingled surprise and annoyance plain on her face. “Camilla!”

Why hadn’t she noticed the extra place setting across from Alex until now?

“Holly was just leaving,” Alex said. “Weren’t you?”

Infuriated by his dismissive tone, she took up their menus. “Yes. I’ll send Sergei over to take your orders.” She paused. “You know, Alex… I really can’t believe you backed down on reopening the Chipping Barnet homeless shelter.”

“I didn’t ‘back down’,” he told her, his words firm. “I plan to revisit the issue once I’m elected.”

“Call it whatever you like,” she retorted, “but in the end, what you’re doing is giving up on something important — something that could make a difference. You really should stand your ground, Alex…even if it means losing the election.”

“I’m sorry you don’t approve, but, on this particular issue, I’ve decided to concede.” He added tightly, “This is how the real world works, Holly, with give-and-take and compromise.”

“Compromise?” she echoed. “Is that what you call it, Alex? Because from where I stand, it looks like what you’re compromising are your principles.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Holly, grow up,” Camilla said, and rolled her eyes. “People have to make choices, sometimes hard choices, every day.”

Holly lifted her brow. “Really? Do you mean hard choices, like whether to trash someone else’s relationship or not?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Camilla — from day one, you’ve done everything you could to make me look stupid in front of Alex.”

“I thought you did rather a good job of that on your own,” Camilla retorted.

“You’ve seized every chance you could to elbow me out of the way to spend time with him, first with your work-related phone calls, and now with your ongoing ‘election help’.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you. Your insecurity is showing.”

“And your thong’s showing,” Holly snapped. “Or at least, it was.”

“What?” Her brow rose. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“Holly,” Alex began, red-faced, “that’s quite enough—”

Holly pressed her lips together. “Did you know that Alex made a wager about you with his coworkers, Camilla? He bet he could get you into bed within two days of meeting you.”

The blood drained from Camilla’s face. “What?”

“And to prove it,” she forged on, “he brought in your thong afterwards, to show his mates. It was red, by the way.”