The Grand Duel (The Grand Men #4)
Chapter 20
38%
TWENTY
Lissie
I have everything planned out. The entire two days scheduled to ensure every moment of Charles’s time away runs smoothly.
So where the hell is he?
My knee bounces as I peer through the private plane’s window, my gaze pinned on the same route I took from the terminal.
There’s no way he’d forget or not show.
I check my watch and find he’s over half an hour late.
He’s probably just stuck in traffic.
“Can I get you a drink at all, Miss Elton? Or something to eat? Mr Aldridge ordered pancakes in advance, but we can make you pretty much anything.”
I look up at the lady and shake my head, forcing a smile. “No, thank you.”
“Well, let me know if there’s anything, okay.”
She walks away when I nod.
I look around the private plane, wondering how much longer Charles will be.
He will show up, won’t he?
With unease making my hands sweat, I pick up my phone from the armrest.
Hey. On the plane. Everything okay?
I chew on the inside of my lip, waiting for the message to deliver, but it doesn’t.
I drop it back down and smile at the flight attendant who’s stood at the open door of the plane, my heartbeat kicking up a notch.
She eyes me a few times before she comes back to my seat. “Mr Aldridge seems to be running late. Are you sure I can’t sway you with something to eat? The cheese toasties are to die for.”
Maybe something to eat would help.
“Nervous flyer?” she adds, her gaze knowing.
I shake my head. “Not normally. I’m just a little overanxious today, sorry.”
It’s probably the lack of sleep.
She holds a hand up to me. “Please, don’t apologise. It’s why I’m here. We’re in no rush to get off the ground, so we’re okay for time. How about that sandwich?”
I let out a lungful of air and nod. “I’d love one, thank you.”
She disappears, and I look back out through the window, praying Charles shows up soon.
I lean back and close my eyes, trying to get a grasp on why I feel so unsettled.
Charles will be here soon.
Charles will be here soon.
Charles will be here…
The smell of the toastie cooking flows through the plane, and I let my eyes peel open, my mind drifting back to a different time.
Jovie always loved a cheese toastie when Mum and Dad were away.
It was one of the only things I could get her to eat.
The pilot appears from behind a door and then heads towards me, a plate in hand. “Hello. Miss Elton, isn’t it?”
He places the toastie down on the table, and I stare at it, my body feeling as if it’s turning a little numb. “Uh—sorry?”
“I’ve flown your parents before. Grace and William Elton.”
I nod, my mouth going dry.
“How are they?”
I frown, flicking my eyes out through the window before looking back at the man. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
Heat climbs up my neck, sweat prickling my skin.
“Are you okay? Can I get you a cold glass of water?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” I say, or try to, my words not sounding like my own.
“Lissie, I’m scared.”
“You’re okay. You have me.”
“I want mummy.”
I pull my baby sister tighter to my side, making sure the quilt covers her. “Me too. But they have a really important event happening this weekend, and we have to be really good for them.”
“My tummy hurts.”
“I’ll go and make you something to eat. Wait here under the covers.”
I make my way from my parents’ bedroom and run as fast as my feet will go down the landing to the stairs.
They’ll be home soon.
They’ll be home soon.
They’ll be home soon.
It’s been three days since they left, and they never go for more than four, so they have to come back soon.
I make Jovie a cheese sandwich and then place it under the Rayburn to warm it, making it slightly toasted. My parents would be so mad to know I’m feeding her what they call junk, but Jovie is such a fussy eater. It’s hard to make things from the list they left.
I don’t really like the stuff on the list either, but they like it when we eat it. I think if I can get Jovie to try some of the foods soon, they might start taking us with them on their work trips, and we won’t be here alone.
I miss them when they’re gone. I wouldn’t tell Jovie because it would frighten her, but I get scared at night when it’s just the two of us.
“Lissie.”
I turn and find Jovie standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Jovie, I said to…” I stop when I notice the dark patch soaking her pyjama bottoms. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s okay.”
“I got it in the bed.”
No! Not Mum and Dad’s bed. I swallow and put my arm around her. “It’s okay. I promise. We’ll go and get new bedding from that shop Mum likes tomorrow before they get back. They won’t even know.”
“Will they be mad at me?”
“No.” I bend down and help her remove the wet material, taking her hand in mine. “You won’t be in trouble at all. I promise.”
“What’s going on? Is she okay? What happened?”
Charles .
My eyes come into focus, his face beautiful, even beyond the sheen of tears.
“Lissie, are you okay?”
My parents came home two days after that night, making the trip a day longer than they’d ever left us before.
I remember being terrified. The look on my dad’s face when he found the spot on his bed haunts me as I relive it now.
I’d tried so hard to clean it, the mattress ruined. I had even gone to my mum’s favourite shop and bought the cream sheets and covers she likes. It’s all she uses, so I was certain she wouldn’t know.
She did though.
They both did.
I hadn’t done a good enough job.
My dad looked at me as if I was dirty and asked why I was in their bed and not my own.
“It smells like you,” I’d told him.
“And now it smells like urine. Jovie ,” he shouted, and my heart sank. When Jovie came into the room, her eyes were as wide as I’d ever seen them. “You are five years old. Do you need to be put in nappies?”
She shook her head, her mouth opening.
“It wasn’t her.” I swallowed and looked back at my dad, hating how much I’d disappointed him. “It was me. I was in your bed because I missed you, and I fell asleep. I had too much juice, and I wet myself.”
He’d huffed, turning his back to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, walking closer.
“Grace, come and get these kids out!”
“Lissie.” Charles’s voice fights its way into an aching chaos.
A tear falls down my face, and I reach up to wipe it away.
“What is it?”
I look up at the people gathered around, their worried stares fixed on me.
“Leave us. Now.”
Everyone disperses, Charles remaining on his knees at my feet.
I look into his eyes, shaking my head. “I don’t know what—” My throat catches, emotion overcoming me. “You weren’t here, and I didn’t know if you were coming, and…” I look down at my trembling hands. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I was on the phone to my parents and was running late.”
I nod.
“What do you need?”
My sister.
I need Jovie.
“Nothing,” I whisper, fighting back inevitable tears. “I’m okay.”
Charles stares through me, his jaw clenching. “What happened?”
“It was just something I remembered.”
His eyes flick around my face, unwilling to look away.
“You’re here now.” I force a smile, making sure the stray tear that fell is gone, brushed away. “I’m sorry for making such a fuss.” I twist to sit square in the seat, removing him from the space between my legs.
I peer down at him still beside me. “I’m okay, Charles.”
He gives me a slight nod, those blue eyes not leaving me.
“Shall we go?” I say nervously, wishing he’d get into his seat and stop giving me such an intense look. I can already feel the adrenaline wearing off and mortification taking its place.
I’m too much.
I can see the way he’s looking at me.
Charles eventually stands, straightening out his suit. As he steps to the side to pick up his discarded laptop, I notice the small takeaway bag on the table behind him.
He shifts in front of me before I can see what the name on the bag reads.
As he settles in the seat next to me, I take a long, deep breath in, letting my body relax now Charles is here.
I don’t know why what just happened, happened, but I do know I didn’t make it up. I may have left that night as a ten-year-old girl somewhere in the past, shielded myself from it, but it made its mark. It wasn’t a new terror that wakes you in the dead of night in a cold sweat. It was the brush of a finger over a deep scar I somehow forgot ever existed.
Does Jovie remember?
“I’m sorry, Lissie. I didn’t realise how late it was.”
“No, please. I was being silly.”
“You’re not silly,” he says in earnest.
I meet his eyes and find that same pained look from before. I roll my lips, swallowing around the emotion still lodged in my throat, knowing I can’t let it out.
“Can I try and cheer you up?”
The corner of my lip lifts, and it instantly triggers a fresh wave of tears. I blink them away. “You don’t need to. I promise, I’m good.”
He leans past me and picks up the bag from the table. I can’t help but breathe him in, the fresh smell of his body wash.
It reminds me of something…
Something sacred and?—
“I thought, as we’d be out of the country for our weekly ice cream date.” I look at him and then back down at the ice cream pots in his hands. “An unorthodox ice cream breakfast would ensure we’re not breaking any of those rules of yours.”
“You got ice cream?”
“It’s partially why I was late,” he says apologetically, holding them up. “This and my parents.”
“Could we not have ice cream in Italy?”
He points at the two tubs as if it’s obvious. “But you like Macca’s ice cream.”
I bite my lip, popping the first lid off and finding honeycomb ice cream.
I smile, real and wide, handing it to him. “Yours.”
“For the time being.” He takes the ice cream pot, although his attention, his eyes, and that very slight smile, they all seem to belong to me.
I pop the next lid off with butterflies featherlike in my gut.
Neapolitan.
“It’s eight o’clock in the morning.” I chuckle, my throat tight. “Macca’s doesn’t open until ten.”
“They don’t. It was very expensive ice cream.”
I take a bite, wondering if anyone has ever done anything so thoughtful. “Charles?” I say, not looking up at him.
“Yes, Lissie?”
I purse my lips. “Did you call it a date just now?”
He looks down at me, his face harder now, and then he looks over the top of the seat, cheekbones tainted pink, and says, “Ready when you are, John.”
The flight was two hours and forty minutes, and I slept for two hours and fifteen of it. I didn’t get home from the club until gone three this morning and had to manic pack ready for my five a.m. alarm.
After the moment I had waiting for Charles to get on the plane, I feel a little dead inside.
I consider whether the lack of sleep I’ve had in the past forty-eight hours has anything to do with the memory of my parents.
Charles hasn’t said more than a couple of words to me since landing, guiding me to the car and then typing away on his laptop for the short journey to the hotel.
We’re stood shoulder to shoulder as the concierge pushes our bags into our room when he looks down at me. “Did you have a room added for yourself?” he asks, as if only now considering it.
“The suite has three bedrooms,” I tell him. “Is that okay?”
Relief seems to cool his features. “Of course.”
The hotel is as beautiful as the pictures promised it would be. Newly refurbished and set in the tranquil Positano. The perfect place for Charles to get some rest and recuperation.
“I’m so glad I talked you into this,” I say, smiling at the concierge as he leaves the room. “Isn’t it beautiful.” I lift the drape, letting the sea breeze blow over my chest and face as I peer out at the terrace.
“It sure is,” he says, although when I look at him over my shoulder, he’s looking at me. “I’m going to take your things to one of the rooms. Which would you like?”
“Charles, I’m just here to take notes. You take first pick.” I sigh happily and step through the folding doors.
He disappears for a while, and I make myself comfortable out on the terrace, my eyes still heavy and daring to close completely.
I probably should have tried to get the night off work last night like Charles suggested.
I sink into the lounger at my back, relishing the feel of the afternoon sun on my face.
My eyes are closed when Charles’s voice calls from behind me. “Snoozing again?”
I throw up my middle finger at him over my shoulder, wondering where he’s been and how long my eyes have been closed.
“So very classy, Lissie,” he says, coming to sit beside me on the lounger.
I sit up a little when I find him fresh from a shower and in an immaculate cream suit. “You—” I cut myself off, not knowing why I’d say what I was about to say. His top button is undone, no tie in sight. Just the tease of his neck and chest against a crisp white shirt. “Where are you going?” I ask instead, internally fighting the infatuation I have with the man.
He’s beautiful.
Ridiculously so.
“I have a meeting planned, and then I’ll be going to the panel.”
I swing my legs over the chair. “Oh, I didn’t realise you’d be leaving so early.” Three hours early. Shit . “I’ll go?—”
“Lissie,” he says, catching my wrist as he stands. I turn, not meaning to end up so close to him.
He looks down at the minimal space between us and steps back, his eyes fluttering a little before he clears his throat. “I want you to stay here.”
I let out a sigh of relief, knowing I won’t fight him on it. “Are you sure? If you text when you’re done, I’ll meet you downstairs in time for the panel.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t need you to attend any of the panels.”
“What do you mean? That’s the reason I came. To take notes.”
“And I changed my mind. Instead, you can stay here and get caught up on rest. Order from the room service. Have a couple cocktails or something. They have a spa, don’t they?”
My mouth drops open. “I can’t not work. You expect me to come away on a work trip and sleep?”
“You do a good enough job of it in my office and plane.”
“Charles!” I say, pushing his chest.
He grabs my hand, holding it for a second before letting it go.
He clears his throat. “Just…rest. For a little while.” His frown is as perplexed as I am. “Please, Lissie? You clearly need it.”
He backs away before turning to walk inside and through the main living space.
“What about taking notes?” I call out as I rush to catch up.
He looks over his shoulder and smiles. “I’ll be back by three thirty.”
Two hours later…
The panel is running a little behind. I’ll be back at four instead.
Also, would sleeping beauty like to attend the charity gala with me tonight?
Charles Aldridge
Director
Charles Aldridge Ltd
I sit up on the lounger and smile, my body feeling heavy and relaxed from my nap.
Thank you for letting me know - x
Sleeping beauty didn’t bring a dress suitable for such an event…what time does it start?
Lissie
Assistant to director
Charles Aldridge Ltd
Go out and buy something. Or I can have something brought to your room if you’d prefer. My bank card is in the safe in my room. 8475.
Charles Aldridge
Director
Charles Aldridge Ltd
I pull up his number and call him.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” I say with a sleepy smile, walking across the decking. “You know you could just text me instead of emailing me.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
My smile grows, my stomach doing stupid things. “This gala. Is there a dress code?”
“Black tie.”
“Okay, perfect.” I slide open the terrace door and walk inside the suite. “Do you need anything whilst I’m out?”
“No, I have all I need. Take my card. Did you get it from my room yet?”
“Not yet.” I narrow my eyes. “I can pay for my own clothes, you know.”
“You wouldn’t be needing new clothes if it wasn’t for me asking you to the gala. Treat yourself, Lissie. I’m paying.”
“Well, I won’t argue with that. I’ll warn you, though, I have very expensive taste.”
“Do your worst.”
I did. My worst, that is. I walk through the door to our suite three hours later with five bags hooked on my arms.
Charles must hear me and appears in the doorway of his room.
“I thought you’d done a runner on me.”
I stop short, my mouth going dry at the sight of him. “You sent me shopping,” I mutter, my eyes greedy as they take in his mostly unbuttoned shirt and cream trousers.
His feet are bare, and the idea of it, that he’s not long started to undress, makes a flush of heat rove over my skin.
He takes a sip of what looks to be whiskey before placing it down on a nearby table. “What did you get?” He starts towards me.
“That’s none of your business,” I say, feeling a little flustered the closer he comes.
He gives me a look. “I paid for it.”
“You paid for these.” I hold out three bags to him which he takes. “Dress, bag, and the shoes you technically owe me.”
He frowns, taking the bags. “Why would I technically owe you a pair of shoes?”
“The day I came for my interview at Charles Aldridge and you cancelled on me, meaning I never needed to travel into the city in the first place…well, I was mugged on the underground and when being a hero, chasing my mugger, I snapped the heel off my favourite pair of shoes.”
He frowns harder. “Not technically at all, then.”
I give him a small smile and shake my head. “I’m not paying you back for the shoes.”
He pulls open the bag and peeks inside. “Fair enough. What’s in those?” he asks, nodding towards the bags on my arms.
“These—” I pull them to my chest. “Are absolutely none of your business.”
I’m pretty sure a trail of fire follows me and my new underwear all the way to my room.