Chapter 5
Five
LEWIS
PRESENT DAY
“ A ren’t you going to be late?” Fyfe asked.
I glanced over at my laptop, open on a video call with my friend. He was dressed in a button-down shirt because he’d come from a meeting with my uncles. It was no exaggeration to say that Fyfe was a computer genius. While at Edinburgh Uni studying computer science, he’d created an online game in his spare time that grew so popular, he sold it for millions. By the time he graduated, he already had more money in the bank than he knew what to do with, and had been recruited by one of his professors to join his cybersecurity team after helping him with several jobs during his education.
Now Fyfe was back in Ardnoch, ran a small cybersecurity team, and had taken over the management of protecting my families’ businesses. He ran all the tech security at Ardnoch Estate and the whisky distillery and also managed the cybersecurity of some of the estate’s celebrity members .
He’d come a long way from the grungy teenager with a chip on his shoulder he only ever let me see.
“You know I don’t want to go.”
“It’s Eilidh,” Fyfe reminded me. “And she might pretend like she doesn’t need anyone, but she needs you. More than ever, probably.”
“She’s changed since you knew her, Fyfe. She’s … she’s all in my business and everyone else’s, but whenever anyone tries to dig deeper into hers, she evades like a champ.”
“More reason for you to go to her wrap party. Make sure she’s behaving.”
I snorted at that. “What are you up to this fine Friday night?”
Fyfe glanced at his phone. “I actually have a date.”
“Finally.”
“Says the bloke on the longest dry spell known to man.”
“Fuck you,” I replied without rancor.
He chuckled. “I’m just saying … maybe tonight’s the night.”
I gave him a look because he knew me.
My friend nodded. “Well, some of us are less discerning. I, for one, intend to get laid this evening.”
“Enjoy.” I walked over to the laptop, envious of his ability to take his feelings out of sex. “Talk to you later?”
“Aye. I’ve got a meeting in London in a couple weeks, so maybe we can grab a beer?”
“Definitely. Talk to you later, bud.”
“Later.” Fyfe tapped on the screen and was gone.
I blew out a beleaguered breath and snatched my keys off the kitchen counter of my small, one-bedroom flat in Hammersmith. The club Eilidh and her castmates had rented out for their wrap party was in Holborn. But I’d get there in no time on my bike because I wasn’t planning to drink.
The green Kawasaki was the best investment I’d ever made. Getting around London was less stressful with it. My precious Harley-Davidson was parked in my parents’ garage back in Ardnoch because the Kawasaki was the better bike for the city, in my opinion. I longed to get back to the Harley, though. Another reason to miss Ardnoch.
When I first took an interest in motorbikes, it was for the sole purpose of making my way around London more easily. But I soon fell in love with how it felt to ride. Journeys before were contained by vehicles that encased me, walls of metal and glass between me and the outside world. On a bike, the concrete was beneath my feet, the wind against my body. I was part of that outside, connected to it in a way I couldn’t be in a car or a truck or a train or plane. There was something almost therapeutic and invigorating, as if I were part of the wind. Like flying.
I had to be extra switched on, more aware of every turn, every bend, every curve. I’d come off the bike once. Luckily, I was mostly bruised and beaten. Nothing fractured. It was enough to scare the shit out of my mum who begged me to stop riding, but I think my dad knew motorbikes had become integral to me. And I couldn’t stop being me.
He must have convinced her to let it go because she’d not made me feel bad about riding since.
The city was a blur of traffic and lights on a Friday night. People were out in their best clothes, suits and shirts and jeans, heels and skirts and cleavage. I could practically smell the perfume and aftershave already.
Thankfully, there was off-street motorcycle parking near the club. I had an app that told me exactly where I could safely leave my ride.
I pulled off my helmet and secured it beside a passenger helmet I kept in the lockable hard case on the back. Seeing the extra helmet, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken someone out on my bike. It was probably Sean. The last woman on my bike was Charlotte. I threw off the thought of her, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.
I tightened the tie that held my hair up off my neck and reluctantly strode down the back lane toward the club entrance. They asked for my name at the door, and as soon as I stepped inside, a wall of heat and music and the cloying mix of multiple designer fragrances, and alcohol hit me.
The wrap party had clearly grown out of hand because there had to be more than a hundred people here. It was a large space, so it wasn’t jam-packed, but it was crowded enough I couldn’t immediately see Eilidh.
A flash of bright green against dark hair at the bar caught my eye. I moved in that direction, recognizing my sister’s profile as she gestured animatedly with her hands. My gaze flicked to her companion, half expecting some panting moron drooling over her?—
I froze on the dance floor, bodies jostling into me at my sudden halt.
Their complaints barely registered as I stared at the woman smiling at my sister.
Callie Ironside.
Callie was here.
The last time I’d seen Callie in real life was in passing. I’d come home for Christmas my second year of university, determined after being away for sixteen months that I could be in Ardnoch. I could see my ex. I’d be fine.
But when she’d seen me across the street from her mum’s bakery, she’d looked right through me. As if I were a stranger.
And it killed me.
So I didn’t go back. Not until I knew she was in France and there was no chance of bumping into her.
Now here she was. In the flesh.
Was her Frenchman here with her?
Panic lit through me at the thought.
In fact, I was seconds from turning and walking back out when Callie suddenly stiffened and snapped her head toward me. As if she’d felt me there.
A sensation, like an electric buzz, flared up my spine. The nape of my neck prickled.
Then I was shoved forward, jerking me out of the feeling.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
I turned toward the apology and found an attractive redhead smoothing down her skirt in a flustered manner. She blinked rapidly as she looked up at me. It was hard to tell under the club’s lighting, but she might have been blushing. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I, uh, don’t know what happened.” Her voice hardened as she shot a dirty look to her left.
A quick glance revealed two young women who were snort-laughing into their drinks as they peered at us.
“I’m Amy.” The redhead held out her hand, her expression filled with interest. “I’ve seen you around. You’re Eilidh’s big brother, right? I’m a PA. Production assistant.”
Realization dawned.
They’d pushed her into me.
“Nice to meet you.” I gave her a toothless smile because I could feel Callie at my back, and while I’d been seconds from walking out, I found now I couldn’t. She was here. And I hadn’t heard her voice in so long. “I have to get to my sister. Have a good night.”
The redhead’s face fell with disappointment as I swiftly turned and marched toward the bar. Now both Eilidh and Callie were watching me, but I only had eyes for my ex. Her long blond hair curled over her shoulders, and she wore a figure-hugging black dress that stopped above the knee. It had a modest neckline, but it didn’t matter. The dress was so tight it did little to hide the fact that Callie was curvier than she’d been when we were teenagers. And she still had the best pair of legs I’d ever seen. Right now, every strong curve of her long legs was enhanced by the sky-high heels she wore.
Heat tightened in my gut.
And when I dragged my eyes back up her body as I arrived at the bar, I saw Callie swallow hard. It suggested she was just as nervous to see me.
Good.
“Lewis!” Eilidh reached out, tucking her arm in mine. “You remember Callie, right?”
I shot her a look before returning my attention to my ex. “It’s been a long time.”
Callie straightened to her full height, her expression uncharacteristically blank. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Meaning … she wouldn’t have come otherwise?
Irritation gnawed at me. “Well, I’m Eilidh’s brother. What are you doing here?” I cursed inwardly at how accusatory that sounded.
“Oh, Callie’s home now,” Eilidh answered for her. “Back in Ardnoch, running the bakery with her mum.”
Shock thrummed through me. “No more France?”
“That was always the plan,” Callie answered politely but emotionlessly. “School in Paris and then bring what I learned back to the bakery.”
It was always the plan? She hadn’t … she hadn’t left Ardnoch for good after telling me she never planned to leave? She hadn’t lied.
Something in me eased.
“Isn’t that great?” Eilidh nudged me mischievously. “And she left the Frenchman behind.”
I watched as Callie narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Eilidh, all the while feeling a relief like I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“He was a French fling after all,” Eilidh continued.
They weren’t serious? She wasn’t in love with him? My pulse raced and the room swayed a bit.
Fuck.
“It looks like Amy fancies you.” Eilidh suddenly released my arm to stand between me and Callie. But I couldn’t take my eyes off my ex. It took extreme willpower to drag my attention to my sister.
“What? Who?”
Eilidh chuckled. “Oh, poor Amy.”
Oh right. The redhead.
I looked at Callie again. She was leaning against the bar now, her back almost turned to me as she played with the straw in her drink.
“Beer, brother?”
“Do they have NA? I’m riding tonight.”
“Of course they do.” She gently pushed me toward Callie. “You two catch up. There’s a castmate out there I can finally hook up with now the show’s over.”
“Eilidh,” I warned.
She grinned unrepentantly and sauntered off in pursuit of another conquest.
Heart thumping so hard I could hear the blood whooshing in my ears, I stepped up to the bar beside Callie.
Her perfume was different.
When we were sixteen, I’d bought her a bottle of perfume for Christmas, and she’d worn the same scent for the next two years.
This new scent was more intense—something fruity, floral, and spicy all at once. Sexier.
She refused to look at me, staring into her drink.
I knew her profile like I knew the back of my hand. And yet there was something different about her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Perhaps because the last time I stood this close to her, we were eighteen. All at once seven years felt like forever and no time at all.
We said nothing as I waved down a bartender and ordered an NA beer.
Callie was tense beside me but made no move to leave, so I was encouraged by that.
By the time the beer arrived, someone had pumped up the music to an obnoxious level. So, I leaned my elbows on the bar, close enough to almost touch her, and sipped my drink.
Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I was satisfied to see her chest rising and falling a bit too quickly.
She was as affected by my proximity as I was hers.
“I thought maybe you’d moved to France permanently,” I called over the music.
I felt her look at me and turned to meet her gaze.
“No.” She shook her head. “I never lied about wanting to stay in Ardnoch.” She gestured around us. “Just as you never lied about wanting to get out.” With an abrupt shrug, she threw back the rest of her cocktail and then strode away from the bar.
I followed her movements with the hungry determination of a starving lion stalking his next juicy meal. And there was no fucking way, now that I’d found her again, I was letting her out of my sight.