Trade (16 page)

Laughter rippled through the rank
of massed people.

“A couple more photos, Sholto?”

Sholto posed for picture after
picture. He smiled till his cheeks ached. Then he glanced pointedly at his
watch. “I have to go.” He grinned again. “Have a good day, guys.”

He climbed into the back seat of
the Mercedes with a sigh of relief.

The driver avoided the front
entrance and took him straight to the underground car park. He unlocked the
private elevator with a code, and held the door open until Sholto was safely
inside. “Just press P to go straight up to the penthouse, Sir. They’ll check
you in up there to save you having to brave Reception.”

Sholto flicked open his wallet.

“No need, Sir. It’s all part of
the service.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gerard.”

Sholto pulled out a fifty anyway,
and shoved it into Gerard’s hand. “I want to keep you sweet, I might need you
again.”

The driver smiled, and stowed the
note in his pocket. “Anytime, Sir. Have a good day.”

Chapter Seventeen

There’s nothing romantic going on between us. I’m single,
and I’m not seeing anyone right now.
Max pressed Pause. Sholto’s face froze
on screen, captured in a genuine, winning smile. If it weren’t for the ache
between her thighs from a night of sex she’d believe him herself.

When he’d called to say he was in
the penthouse suite in The West Continental, she’d dashed home to pack an
overnight bag, heart quickening in anticipation of joining him.

If she hadn’t flicked on the TV
out of habit, she would have missed it.

He denied they were even casually
dating. While she’d made a fool of herself telling Cam and Kathryn they were
moving in together. Confusion, mixed with betrayal churned inside. The awful
feeling of being exposed as a naïve idiot sickened her. Once again, courting
public opinion, he’d played the part he thought other people wanted him to, and
humiliated her in the process.

The reporters were gone, but the
walls boxed her in, like a prison. The desire to escape, to run and hide from
him and the world sped through her veins like quicksilver. A day spent with
Sholto would be nothing more than a booty-call. He’d charm her. Talk her
around. Use his body’s magnetism to hold her in sway, and smooth over the
situation.

She didn’t want to be mollified.
Didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his easy smile and clever words.

A sour taste filled her mouth,
just like fifteen years ago when kids laughed and pointed as he publicly
rejected her. How could she have let this happen again? With shaking hands, she
snatched her car keys from the table by the front door, and ran.

*****

Thin slivers of ice floated in the silver bucket holding an
open bottle of champagne. Two unfilled glasses sat next to it. The chocolate
strawberries had melted. And Max wasn’t answering her cellphone. He called down
to reception, and before he got out the full sentence, the receptionist was
delivering the same message she had the last four times he’d called. “No, Mr.
Kincaid, there have been no messages for you. Yes, I know you’re expecting a
guest. She hasn’t arrived.”

He called Max again, and left
another message. “I’m freaking out here. Call me and let me know you’re okay.”

The last time they spoke she’d
joked about packing a bag, saying she wouldn’t bother with a nightgown or
underwear because she wouldn’t be needing it. The urge to leave the hotel and
go to her apartment was overwhelming, although by now she must have left. It
had been two hours.

His phone rang.

“Max?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded
weird. “I just...I just need a little time.”

He sank onto the sofa. “What do
you mean? Has your car broken down or something?” He stood. “Tell me where you
are, I’ll come get you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m fine. I’m confused. I need a
little time to sort things out in my head. I’m not at home.”

“Where the hell are you then?” Hot
anger flowed through his veins. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours, thinking
you’re in some sort of trouble. I need to see you, Max. We had plans.”

“I know. But you have to give me
some space.” She pulled in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry. We have to talk about
the reunion. The client, Cam Bailey, will meet you at your hotel at seven on
Sunday evening, you can get acquainted, and both travel on from there.”

Sholto rubbed the back of his
head. She was acting as though last night had never happened. As if business
was all they had between them.

“Max. Talk to me.”

“Just tell me you understand the
arrangements.”

His teeth were gritted so hard his
jaw ached. “I understand. I’ll be ready.”

“You’ll arrange a car for the
evening.”

“Yes. That was in the contract.”

“Thank you.” She was silent for a
moment. “I’ll call you Monday morning and we’ll talk.”

“It’s Friday. Monday is a lifetime
away.” Desperation ate at his gut. “Come on, Max. Just get in your car and
drive to the hotel.”

“I can’t. I can’t now. I’ll see
you Monday.”

The line went dead. Sholto’s thumb
hovered over redial, then with a curse, he tossed the cell phone onto the sofa
.
I’m not begging
. He poured a glass of champagne, downed it in one, and
poured another.

Everyone gets dumped sometime or
another whether they admit it or not. He’d had women tell him it was over
before, but not like this. This time, he hadn’t treated her casually, hadn’t
screwed around with other women.

He’d taken off his mask and showed
her something real, instead of the fantasy. For the first time, he’d been open
about his early life. About his mother’s hoarding and the ugly truth about how
he failed to protect her.

He’d been singing in the shower
this morning happy because he’d spilled his guts to Max and she accepted him.
What a complete sap. It hurt. It fucking hurt. While he’d been worshiping her
body the night before, she’d been preparing to run. He swallowed another
mouthful of champagne and lay down on the sofa. Covered his eyes with his arm.

She’d called about the reunion, as
if knowing that blowing him off might make him get on the next plane out of
here. But he was bigger than that. They’d made a trade. A favor for a favor.
Come Monday, he’d insist she saw him, he’d listen to what she had to say and
then he’d leave.

Maybe it was payback for the way
he humiliated her when they were teenagers. Maybe she was just shallow and
wanted Damon Fitz in her bed, rather than Sholto Kincaid.

I don’t know, and I don’t
fucking care.

If that were true, why did he feel
as though someone had ripped out his heart?

The scene was set for a monumental
pity party. He poured himself another glass and swallowed it like water. He
could sit here getting drunk and order up more booze to keep him that way until
Sunday, or he could escape this fucking purgatory.

He picked up the phone and called Jasper
Watson.

“Jasper, It’s Sholto Kincaid.”

“Sholto!” At least someone sounded
happy to hear from him. “Hey, I saw you’re in London.”

“I guess everyone did. I’m staying
in The West Continental. I thought we could get together, and talk about the
movie.”

“Definitely. Are you free for
dinner?”

“Yes.” He bit back the urge to say
more. To confide that he’d planned on being wrapped around Max that night and
to ask Jasper if he’d heard from her. They were friends, he had no idea how
good friends they were, but he’d remedy that tonight. “As you know I’ve had
problems with paparazzi, but there’s a good restaurant in my hotel, maybe we
can eat here?”

“I’ll book a table for
seven-thirty.”

They met in the Bay Tree
Restaurant in the hotel six and a half hours later. The lighting was subdued,
and the maître d’ led Jasper to Sholto’s table in a secluded corner, far from
prying eyes.

Sholto greeted his guest, and
ordered a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild Bordeaux from the wine-waiter.

Jasper looked him up and down. “I
can’t believe the difference in you. You really had me fooled in Indonesia.” He
took the menu from the waiter with a smile. “You must have dropped quite a few
pounds while you were there. Tell me, did you really do all the hunting and
stuff? Or did our mutual friend Max? That girl is awesomely badass.”

“She knows what she’d doing in the
wild.” A memory of her walking into the water naked flashed into his mind.

“And out of it. She’s a clever
cookie.”

“Have you known Max a long time?”
He kept his tone light and conversational, as though he wasn’t eaten up with
knowing the answer.

“I’m one of her clients.” Jasper
rubbed the back of his neck. “And I’ve got to tell you, when she approached me
to ask me to consider you for the role in
Solo
, I laughed right in her
face.” He glanced up at Sholto. “I’m ashamed to say I didn’t see your
potential. Even after watching
After Ecstasy
, I didn’t think you could
do it. Now, I can’t imagine anyone else in the role.”

The waiter came to take their
orders and then the wine arrived. When their glasses were filled, they raised
their glasses.

“Here’s to our movie. May it win
us both Oscars.” Sholto clinked his glass against Jasper’s.

“So, how is our girl? I presume
she’s the friend you were in London to see last night?” Jasper’s eyebrows rose.

There seemed little point in
denying it. “She’s fine.” The bottle of champagne he’d drunk during the day
loosened his tongue. “I thought I’d be with her now, to be honest. But hell,
what do I know about women?” His laugh sounded bitter. “Sorry, I guess you don’t
want to hear my dating woes.”

Jasper frowned. “Dating woes? How
is that even possible? You and Max have some sort of history, don’t you?”

“One hell of a twisted history.”
He shook his head at Jasper’s wide-eyed expression. “Not that sort of a history.
We were friends. Until something stupid happened when we were teenagers. She
asked me to a dance, and some prick filmed me rejecting her. It spread through
the school like wildfire.”

Jasper winced.

“I was a stupid, cocky kid. I
thought we’d got past it on Melati, and I…” He swallowed a mouthful of wine.
Having a heart to heart with his soon-to-be director wasn’t a good business
move, but he didn’t seem to be able to shut up. “I really care about her, but I
think it’s over.” Jesus, he hadn’t been such a heartsick wimp before, ever. “Talk
about something else, man.”

“No.” Jasper patted his arm. “You
need to get this out. Max is gorgeous, smart, and sexy.” He held his hands up. “Not
my type,” he added. “But you shouldn’t let her get away, not if you care about
her like you say you do. One thing I don’t understand though…”

They were interrupted by the
arrival of their meals.

“I don’t understand why you told
the world you didn’t have a girlfriend if you and Max are dating. It must have
hurt when she saw that on the TV.”

*****

It had been a strange few days. After speaking to Sholto,
Max had driven out to Butterworth to check on her father’s progress. William
was home, out of bed, and slowly recovering. To her relief, her sister didn’t
make an appearance, so she was able to catch up with her mother without the
added snark Caroline was sure to provide.

The blanket saturation of Sholto’s
presence in the country seemed to have passed them by, or maybe they were just
being polite by not mentioning it. They’d never visited her London home, so the
picture wouldn’t have rung any bells even if they had seen it.

When she was kid living at home,
she always listened as her mother practiced her Sunday sermon, and as she made
herself comfortable on the sofa next to her father on Saturday afternoon, she
sent up a silent prayer that her mother wouldn’t be lecturing about loose
morals, and the perils of extra marital sex.

“In our everyday lives, we talk
about accepting people for who they are. About compassion and forgiveness,” Margaret,
started. “But oftentimes, we say the words but don’t act on them. I’ve been
guilty of this myself, because just like you, I’m human.

“Remember the parable about the
good Samaritan? We all love that story because it shows how kindness and
compassion work in action. How someone can reach out to another human being in
pain and in need, and help them. Many people walked past, rather than helping,
and it’s easy to damn them for their inaction. To feel they weren’t good
Christians because they failed to help.”

She smiled at William and Max.

“Of all those people who didn’t
stop, do we suppose there wasn’t anyone who wanted to?” She shook her head. “Many
probably wanted to. They would have felt guilt and distress at their failure to
act. But they knew that being the person to stop, being the first person to
break through the barrier of the status quo would make them different. Would
single them out from the crowd. And so many times, even today, it is easier to
do what everyone else does. To fit in, to be accepted by doing what everyone
else does.”

She turned over her piece of
paper, glanced at the notes she’d written on the back, and continued. “Don’t
deny what you know to be right in your heart. Don’t reject the right thing to
do because it’s too hard. For if you do what you know would make God happy, if
you live by God’s law, and truly follow his teachings, you will know true
happiness.” She took a sip of tea.

“And it’s never too late to start.
We are all worthy of God’s love. The bible tells us of how Jesus tended to the
sick. How he cared for the people rejected and shunned by society. What he
wants is for everyone to follow his example. To show kindness, care, and
compassion to everyone equally. It is not for us to judge other people, for we
are all imperfect. Remember Jesus said, ‘Let he who is without sin cast the
first stone?’ Well none of us is without sin. None of us is worthy to judge
others.”

She sank down into the armchair. “What
do you think?”

William nodded. “Well said. It’s an
important message, one well worth repeating.”

Her gaze connected with Max’s and
held.

“Good sermon, Mum.”

“I’m so glad you decided to come
down and visit this weekend, dear. I wanted to talk to you about Sholto.”

Max’s heart sank.

“Your sister was very vocal in the
hospital, but I want to let you know your father and I don’t share her views. I
know when he first joined our community he had a few sharp edges, but he had
cause. His early life, from what I understand, was difficult.”

“It was.” She didn’t know how much
her mother actually knew about Sholto’s past, but as vicar she had a role on
the school board, so she would have been informed of at least some of it.

“Does he make you happy?” William
said.