The Trouble With Coco Monroe (2 page)

Rafe shook his head. ‘I won’t leave her here alone.’

‘She won’t be alone. Louise has devised a shift plan for herself, Ethan, you and me.’

Rafe nodded. ‘Sounds good. I’ll take the night shift.’

Charles simply stared hard at him, narrowed his eyes, nodded.

‘And you can stop blaming yourself. None of us could have predicted this. The boy committed suicide tonight. Hung himself.’

Now Rafe shut his eyes.

Christ, it just got better and better. Poor bastard. The press were going to be baying for blood over this disaster. Somebody, somewhere in the system had cocked up spectacularly. What a damn waste of a life.

Charles continued, ‘The medics reckon she’s over the worst. As long as there’s no sign of infection, she’ll make a full recovery.’

Rafe nodded. ‘It’s going to be a long haul back to full health.’

‘I know.’ Then Coco’s father’s eyes went dark and his mouth narrowed in a determined line. ‘From now on she’ll start doing as she’s damned well told. I lost her mother and I won’t lose my daughter. Not like this. I mean it, Rafe. I don’t care what you have to do but as of now I want all her activities curtailed. The party is over.’

He’d known this was coming. As head of operations and security for Monroe Industries, Rafe knew that Charles Monroe spoke out of fear and deep love for his daughter. He’d been bound to over-react and come down hard on her. It was just that Rafe didn’t think that was the best plan. Coco would dig her heels in and fight. And he’d be stuck right in the middle.

‘She’s twenty-eight and already tugging hard at the leash. Don’t you think it might be an idea to give her time to get better? All you’ll do is push her even further away.’

Coco’s father lifted his chin; his blue eyes went like ice.

‘She’ll do exactly as she’s told.’

‘She’ll fight, Charles.’

‘Yes. But I will win.’

Chapter One

Coco Monroe didn’t do romance, she didn’t do babies and she sure as hell didn’t do weddings.

It wasn’t that she didn’t do love or was jaded. She loved her family, her friends. She was a caring, sharing sort of a person. But she didn’t do weddings. And if it wasn’t for the fact that Rosie Gordon was one of her closest friends she wouldn’t be doing this one either.

In theory she had absolutely nothing against procreation or the institution of marriage.

And as far as mini human beings were concerned she could take them or leave them.

Unlike most women she didn’t bill and coo over her friend’s spawn.

Nope.

Now dogs, well dogs were a completely different thing.

She loved the couple of mutts that shared her life with her whole heart.

Why did other people, people who should mind their own damn business by the way, believe she was missing out?

As soon as her brothers knew she was attending Rosie’s wedding to Alexander Ludlow the winks and nudges had started. Along with the sly comments about her,
‘Carrying on the family line.’

Why should she be the one to carry on the family line?

After all she was the baby of the Monroe clan.

Why couldn’t Ethan, Wallace and Bruce step-up and be men?

They were the ones with penises.

It was bad enough listening to her father’s relentless mutters to set her up with a,
‘Good man.’

No. Thank. You.

She had a career, a life to lead, things to do and that didn’t include a husband or children.

According to the latest government demographics, seventy per cent of women aged twenty-eight were single, career oriented and in no hurry to have babies or settle down.

Right on, sistas.

The tiny family chapel in the grounds of Ludlow Hall with its clipped lawns and rose covered arches dated back to the seventeenth century. It had witnessed many births, marriages and deaths of the Ludlow family. And was absolutely charming.

Inside, the chapel’s slightly shabby condition gave it a certain steadfast grandeur. The vibe wasn’t exactly eerie but it was as if the ghosts who dwelt there ran soft fingers of welcome across Coco’s cheek, down her bare arms.

She shivered.

‘You okay?’ Louise muttered.

‘This place is so atmospheric.’

‘I know. But it’s a friendly sort of creepy. There’s a lotta love being felt here today.’

Coco grinned. ‘You’re a big softie when it comes to weddings.’

‘I’m a big softie when it comes to Rosie Gordon. She doesn’t hang around does she? It must be shortest engagement in living memory.’

‘Alexander was the one in a hurry,’ Coco whispered.

‘It took him long enough to see the light,’ Louise muttered.

‘You may now kiss the bride,’ instructed the minister.

Alexander didn’t need to be told twice.

The congregation laughed at the bride’s surprised yelp as the groom bent her over his arm and kissed her senseless.

Then an organist with two chins, and working on a third, beamed as he played the wedding march with gusto.

‘They look insanely happy.’ Louise whispered in Coco’s ear.

She was right.

Alexander and Rosemary Ludlow held hands as they strolled down the aisle.

Coco had to admit the bride’s cropped hair had come as a surprise but her friend suited the style.

The wedding dress, a dreamy concoction of ivory silk and tulle, came all the way from a fabulous designer in Rome. It was off the shoulder and showcased a slim but curvy body.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes were suspiciously bright even as she grinned at the guests.

Those bright eyes went huge with wicked glee when she spotted Coco and Louise. Rosie was well versed in Coco’s views on divine happiness.

Behind the happy couple came the wedding party of Rosie’s parents, Alexander’s sister Bronte Ferranti, her husband Nico and their twins.

‘Aww, look at the babies, isn’t little Sophia just gorgeous?’ Louise cooed in a way that had Coco battle not to roll her eyes.

In spite of herself, she had to agree the kid looked cute.

Jeez, what the hell was going on with her friends?

They were dropping like flies into wedded bliss and babies.

However, Coco had to admit marriage and motherhood certainly agreed with Bronte.

She worked the pencil slim look in a knee length dress in emerald silk. Along with a matching fascinator on her shiny blonde head.

Yep, Bronte Ferranti was one hot mama.

And the way the big Italian Nico Ferranti was looking at his wife, no wonder she was happy. Who wouldn’t be happy with a gorgeous male specimen like that drooling all over her.

Envy was a useless emotion, but Coco couldn’t help the little dart to the heart.

The bitter truth was that with her emotional baggage there wasn’t a man on the planet who would take her on. He’d need balls of steel to stand up to her father.

She gave herself a mental shake - remember, no negativity.

Positive thoughts were the rule of the day.

And today was a happy day.

She’d have fun even if it killed her.

And talking of fun.

‘I told you we’d arrive in plenty of time.’ Coco sent Louise a slitty-eyed-butter-wouldn’t-melt look.

Her best friend slid the look right back. ‘You’re fortunate no police were lurking,’ she retorted, not bothering to hide her annoyance. ‘You’ve two speeds, stop and bat-out-of-hell. It was sheer luck you didn’t ding either the Bentley or the Ferrari the way you shoe-horned your car into that space.’

Wearing a sheath the colour of fresh straw, Louise was a skinny blonde with legs up to her armpits and today looked as if she’d stepped right out of the pages of a glossy magazine. Her heart-shaped face with deep green eyes, porcelain skin, had a wide mouth and a no nonsense chin.

It was bad of Coco, but she couldn’t resist digging Ms Cranky Pants with a pointy stick.

‘Can’t wait to paaaartaay,’ she sang, and did a little shoulder shimmy.

Sure enough determined green eyes flashed into hers.

‘You’re not well enough to party. I’m driving back and if I see you looking pale and interesting I’ll set Bronte on you. She doesn’t take crap from anyone, even you.’

Now Coco gave her big eyes.

‘I’m feeling fine, mummy. No shortness of breath. No pain. I’m good to go.’

‘Big words, Monroe. Don’t forget I was there when the doctor told you to take it easy. A punctured lung is not an ingrown toenail.’

Coco conceded she had a point, but the first real freedom she’d had in months to just drive without being shadowed by bodyguards had gone to her head.

She grinned, remembering Louise’s wail as the hot red Audi Spyder had whipped through the gates of Ludlow Hall.

About to respond Coco stopped dead, went stiff.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled. It was as if a gentle fingertip whispered down the sensitive skin.

She knew that tingle.

And that tingle made her scowl.

Louise blinked. ‘What’s up?’

‘Trouble,’ Coco said with a throaty growl.

Very slowly she turned around.

And sure enough right at the back of the Chapel was one Lord of the Realm and all round pain-in-the-ass, Rafael Cavendish.

Their eyes met.

His dark gaze struck her like a blow.

Since she’d felt that impact many times before it never failed to annoy.

And boy, the way that gaze seared her ovaries, it more than annoyed her now.

His morning dress suit in pale grey was bespoke and hugged shoulders that might have belonged to a linebacker. The crisp cotton shirt was so white against a healthy glowing skin it hurt the eye. He wore the suit like the armour of a warrior of old.

And he was a warrior, she reminded herself.

Since Rafe had left the military two years ago, he’d run operations and security for Monroe Industries. Slipping right into the trusted position of her father’s right-hand man. Mr Trouble Shooter himself.

The way those dark eyes flicked to Louise, gave a brief nod of hello before returning to Coco, popped annoyance up another click.

For the life of her she could not understand the little dance of excitement skittering up her spine.

Then the way his dark, dark eyes took a stroll from the fascinator on her head, down her silk dress, the way they lingered possessively on her small breasts and back to her face made her eyes narrow into slits.

As the face of Coco cosmetics she had lots of attractive men look at her, desire her.

Plenty.

And she knew how to handle them too.

Dream on, Rafael.

Something must have shown in her face because that long mouth with the full bottom lip twitched as if trying very hard not to smile.

Her brother Ethan moved to his side, said something in his ear.

Rafael responded, but the way his eyes never left hers had a shiver run over her skin.

‘Might’ve known they’d been invited,’ Louise said in a tone of utter disgust.

Dragging her eyes from Rafe’s, Coco took a deep cleansing breath.

‘They went to school with Alexander. It’s a free country. We can avoid them if we want to.’

‘Still not speaking to Ethan?’

Coco’s chin rose. ‘Nope.’

‘It’s been a week. Don’t you think you’re being a little bit childish?’

Not many people got away with talking to Coco Monroe in that tone. They’d been friends since that very first day at kindergarten. After years of education in the same establishments Louise was more than her best friend, more than a sister. They worked together, played together and were a strong team. Honesty was a big part of what made them tick and Coco knew Louise wasn’t being nasty or bitchy. She was simply stating the facts as she saw them.

‘He voted to keep me off the board,’ Coco reminded her.

‘Ethan will always back your father’s decision. It’s his company, therefore his rules.’

Angry betrayal burned too hot in her belly, in her heart. ‘Yeah? Well, I’m a Monroe too. I’ve a right to be there. I’ve the qualifications, the experience. All I’m missing is a penis.’

Since she’d heard it all and more before, Louise simply nodded.

‘What happened to you scared us, Coco. But it’s been hardest of all on your father. He needs to wrap you up in cotton wool. He’ll come around eventually. He always does. You just need to give him time.’

Louise was right.

Her father always gave in but never without a fight to the death.

Although father and daughter clashed the love and respect they had for one another usually managed to overcome all disagreements. Over the years they’d learned to compromise. But since the night she’d been attacked her father had become completely unreasonable. He brooked no argument or defiance. His word was law and that was that. No debate. No discussion. She had her place and by God she would stay there.

Coco had no intention of doing any such thing.

And she was sick and tired not only of the battle but of the war.

Sick and tired of having to emotionally prepare for every little skirmish with her larger than life parent. She was tired of fighting for her independence, for her very soul.

Her life now was split into two distinct parts, before the night she’d been assaulted and after.

When her father found out what she’d recently been up to he’d never forgive her for keeping him in the dark, but it couldn’t be helped. She had a life outside of Monroe Industries, a life outside of Coco cosmetics. A life she was desperate to embrace.

Since she’d sent her letter of resignation five days ago, she’d heard nothing. And that was typical of how her parent played mind games. But the truth was that by resigning in sheer temper after their show down she’d hurt him. A steel band of anxiety, of regret, meant her stomach muscles were now burning tangled ropes. She pressed the flat of her hand against her midsection. And recognised the ache for what is was, the driving, desperate need to please her father - an unattainable goal.

From outside the Chapel the sound of happy laughs, cell phones and camera flash brought her back to her surroundings.