The Big Day Deceit

Chapter 10

T he heavy aroma of exotic, fruity, and floral perfumes mixed with a hint of sweat invaded Conrad’s nostrils, tickling his throat. Sweat he could handle—especially as sweet as this—but the scent of spices scratched at the back of his throat.

Conrad picked up yet another pair of sunglasses from the display and tried them on. Elvis style. Definitely not for him.

A metallic click-clack caught his attention, and Conrad turned around. Through his tinted lenses, the shop looked like a dimly lit factory, full of clothes, racks, and shelves stacked to the ceiling. Louise was methodically shifting hangers with shirts back and forth like a robot. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Every five or six pieces, she’d pick a hanger, examine the item, and then add it to the growing pile on her other arm, already burdened with its load.

“Have you found anything interesting yet?” He removed the glasses, letting the sparkling light from myriads of spotlights back in.

“Not really, there’s not much of a selection here.” She sucked in air through her teeth without breaking her rhythm.

What ? By Conrad’s count, she’d already been to the fitting room three times, each time with at least ten pieces. And she still hadn’t found anything? At this rate, they’d be here until tomorrow.

“Maybe I can help? What are you looking for?” He lifted the colourful bags from the other four shops they’d visited earlier and marched to the rack beside Louise.

“Nah, thanks. I’ll just try these—” She raised her arm, loaded with a variety of tops and trousers. “And then I think I’m done with this place.”

Finally.

Conrad exhaled in relief, hiding a wide smile. “Okay, take your time. I’ll be here.”

His wife smiled and nodded at him before turning on her heel and waltzing toward an empty fitting room.

This was the last one. Soon, the torture would be over. How could anyone put themselves through this voluntarily? He stroked the sleeve of a soft blouse, only to catch a disapproving glare from a woman walking by, who narrowed her eyes as if he were some kind of pervert.

He yanked his hand back—no more touching—and gestured toward the fitting rooms. “My wife ... ”

The woman disappeared into another part of the shop without a second glance. If he lingered here much longer, someone might call security. A rack with belts stood a few steps away. At least nobody would scoff at him for checking them out.

Conrad strolled over and picked up a brown leather belt with a traditional brass buckle.

“Oh, excuse me.” A short woman, with makeup that would make a clown jealous, brushed her chest in a low-cut top against his shoulder, reaching to a shelf on the other side. Conrad took a step back, only to bump into another rack.

“Don’t you mind me,” she purred, flashing extremely white teeth that probably glowed in the dark. “I’m looking for something pretty for the evening.”

“Ah.”

What else could he say? This definitely wasn’t a woman with whom he wanted to have a chit-chat in a women’s clothing store—or anywhere else, for that matter. She had that predatory look about her.

“Would you be a dear and help me reach that skirt?” Her hand brushed against Conrad’s chest before pointing upward.

How did she get so close, so fast?

“Of course, ma’am. The blue one?”

If he didn’t help her, she’d probably chase him around the entire shop.

“Yes, and the orange one as well.”

Conrad reached for the skirts, feeling the heat of her body uncomfortably close.

No freaking way.

“Here.” He handed the clothes to her and retreated toward the tills. “I need to help my wife.”

“What a shame ... ”

Not for him. Gasping for air, he scanned the shop for signs of Louise. If she was still in the fitting room, he would have to—Conrad spotted her, waiting in line at the third till. With a sigh of relief, he slowed down and joined her in the queue.

“You must have found something then?” Craning his neck, he looked at the clothes in her hands. Not a pile, just a pair of jeans. “What happened to all those shirts?”

“Not good.” She shook her head and then clicked her tongue. “I looked for you when I left the fitting room, but you were busy helping another customer. You looked ... cosy.”

Was she jealous?

She sounded jealous.

“Oh no, you got it wrong. She was a predator who wanted to eat me for lunch.” He shook his head in mock horror, which made Louise burst out laughing, her face lighting up with a playful expression.

Stop staring, you moron.

A beep of a card reader later, his wife handed him another bag and marched toward the shop exit. With an almost wistful smile, Conrad waltzed after her, silently vowing never to enter this shop again.

Outside, the sun was high in the sky, making Conrad squint in the sudden brightness. A gust of wind carried the smell of cinnamon and freshly baked bread, causing his stomach to gurgle in unison with nearby pigeons. His eyes followed his nose, and he spotted an Auntie Ann’s Pretzels cart in the middle of the square. Conrad nudged Louise in the direction of the gorgeous smells of tasty treats and freedom.

“Oh, you’re right. Let’s go to Marks next.”

No, no, no. Conrad shook his head slightly. He’d only now spotted the big Marks & Spencer sign on the corner building behind the cart.

The shop they’d just left was supposed to be the last one. There was no way he could bear another minute in any clothing store.

And the Auntie Ann’s Pretzels stand was luring him in with an invisible thread of sweet vanilla and cinnamon.

“Sorry, Lou, but I had a miscall from my accountant. I need to call him back.”

“Oh?” An indecision painted on her face.

The last thing he wanted was for her to wait around while he faked a call.

“Go ahead, I’ll join you after I’m done.” Nudging her lightly toward the M&S entrance, Conrad pulled out his phone from his pocket.

As soon as she entered the massive building, Conrad stashed his phone away and sidestepped over to the pretzel cart. After ordering two portions of cinnamon sticks to go, he collapsed onto a wooden bench with a clear view of the store entrance.

Good thing he’d let Colton go. The poor man would have probably read a whole novel while waiting.

Judging by the last visit, Conrad figured he had at least an hour.

He bit into a warm, chewy cinnamon stick.

“Ooh, that’s good.”

A taste of pure joy. And sweet. Too sweet. Conrad wiped sugar from his lips, scanning the South Gate Street for a coffee place sign.

He stood up, torn between the blue and purple coffee shop signs in the distance, weighing his chances of getting stuck in a queue, when a familiar figure appeared at the M&S entrance.

No way.

Barely ten minutes had passed since they’d parted. Spreading the cinnamon all over his jeans, Conrad patted his pockets, searching for his phone. Not there. Where the hell had he stashed his mobile? Any second now, she’d spot him sitting here.

Watching her without blinking, Conrad checked his jacket and sensed the sleek shape of his phone. Before he could pull it out, though, Louise glanced over her shoulder, then hurried off toward the side street, as if someone were chasing her.

Conrad hung all the bags on his arm, holding leftover sticks in his hand, and rushed after his wife.

What if she stole something?

Conrad chuckled. That would be the highlight of the day. And then he could come to the rescue and bail her out, like a proper hero. But if she had taken something, must’ve been small—she wasn’t carrying anything extra. Yet she kept glancing back, staying close to the grocery stalls lining New Orchard Street, like she wanted to blend in. Not a chance. On a Monday morning, the locals were at work and tourists at the Cathedral square or visiting the Roman Baths—certainly not here.

Conrad raised his eyebrows and sped up to close the distance between them, watching the path from the shop to Louise, expecting guards or someone else to follow her, but nobody emerged.

Just as he came within earshot, Louise turned back toward the M&S entrance, unaware of him. One more step and Conrad tapped her shoulder. His wife froze and turned around so slowly that he thought the time had stopped. The moment her eyes landed on Conrad’s face, her shoulders relaxed, and a sigh of relief escaped her mouth.

“You scared me.”

She didn’t look scared. Not of him, anyway.

“That was quick. I thought you needed more stuff?”

“Oh, I just needed a bit of fresh air.” Louise pulled one bag from his hand and resumed her walk down New Orchard Street, away from the shops.

“So, are you done for today?”

As he caught up with her, she nudged him slightly to squeeze between him and a vegetable stall, barely glancing at the produce.

What on Earth?

Conrad narrowed his eyebrows. “What happened back there?”

“What do you mean?” The innocent surprise in her voice would probably fool him on any other day, but what he had experienced wasn’t normal.

Leaning toward her ear, he whispered, “Did you nick something?”

A hearty laughter and a genuine amusement on his wife’s face was a clear sign he was way off. What then?

Louise lunged for the shadows and collapsed on a wooden bench with a metal curvy back toward the shops, facing the row of trees with juicy green leaves and the bicycle stand, with a lonely, dilapidated bike attached.

Conrad sat down next to her, grinning as if he’d won the lottery—actually, leaving that shopping spree was better than winning—and taking full lungs of exhaust fumes from the speeding away motorcycle on its way to deliver food.

“So, seriously. What was that all about?”

Louise grimaced, massaging her ankle. “I spotted my ex, Liam. The last thing I wanted was a chit-chat with him and his new wife.”

“His wife?”

That must’ve been awkward. If he bumped into Elisabeth with a new dude, he probably wouldn’t be as calm as Louise.

“Yeah, and his kid.”

She seemed lost in thought. Did she still have feelings for him? Was she imagining it could have been their kid?

“You mean a baby? It couldn’t be that long since you were together. Still getting married, and having a baby, that seems fast.”

Was he her first? Or only? Was he a reason she had agreed to marry a stranger for money?

“Oh no, it was ages ago.” She smiled, though her eyes remained focused on something in the distance, and she kept turning the wedding band on her finger.

Conrad touched his own ring, wondering if it meant anything—the fact she still wore hers.

“It couldn’t be that long ago. Unless it was a puppy love? Was he your first?”

Conrad sucked the air. Stupid question. Too early.

Louise raised an eyebrow, a playful smile parting her full lips. “Jealous?”

“Of course not. Just checking if I need to send a few thugs after him with a strong message to stay away or—” The smile faded, and her face turned ashen. “I was joking.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, I know.” She shook her head. “It’s not you. It simply reminded me of something I’d rather forget.”

He should probe deeper. A caring husband should know stuff about his wife that causes the blood to drain from her face. She seemed so fragile right now. Conrad touched her shoulder and cleared his throat.

But he wasn’t a loving husband. They barely knew each other. What if she told him to mind his own business and get cross with him?

Louise gasped and opened her eyes wider.

What now?

“Are those Auntie’s Ann’s?” She yanked the last cinnamon stick from his hand and shoved it into her mouth before he could object.

“Don’t give me that look. You had most of the pack already.” She mumbled with her mouth full. “You could’ve asked me if I wanted some when you knew you would be buying. But no. You didn’t think of me or my needs. All that talk about wanting to make me happy was just that. Talk.”

A second pack he had bought for her rested in his palm, under the jacket. Conrad would enjoy that. Should he let her talk more, or would she be upset that he let her dig a deeper hole for herself? Yeah, knowing women, she would turn it around and he would be the villain.

Looking straight into those shimmering eyes, he placed the bag full of cinnamon sticks in her gesticulating hand. The warmth and softness of her skin made him want to hold on to her for longer.

“What?” She pulled her hand toward her face, breaking the link between them, and looked inside the bag like she was expecting to find a snake.

“You were saying?” He couldn’t help the smug grin—making a woman speechless. Little pleasures in life.

“Well ...thank you.”

Louise lifted one stick into her mouth in a manner he found seductive—while she would simply call eating—and bit into the dough, licking her lips after each bite.

Pigeons. Twats on bicycles.

Conrad needed something to distract him from those tasty lisps or he would end up kissing her and probably get smacked for it.

Pigs.

How could he miss this earlier? There was a pig covered in colourful mosaic just next to the bicycle stand. “Look.” He extended his finger toward the unusual animal sculpture.

“No, listen.” Louise froze with her finger near her ear and mouth lightly open. A melody drifted from between the buildings, making Conrad chuckle—a live concert.

“I know exactly what it is. Want to check it out?”

She brushed off crumbs from her lap and folded the empty bag in her hands. “Absolutely.”

The swarm of pigeons landed next to their feet and attacked the sweet leftover.

“Come on.” Avoiding the birds, he led his wife toward the end of the street and to the left, into Henry Street—not the most vibrant of places and it would be quicker to go back through the shopping centre, but he couldn’t risk her being attracted to another shiny window display. Or bumping into her ex. The last thing he wanted was for her to rekindle some old puppy love.

***

?

T he pull on her hand was firm and commanding, and Annie obediently followed as Conrad led her away from the encounter with Liam. Her ex-husband’s calls after her still echoed in her ears. At first, his voice had carried a surprise, then uncertainty when she had ignored him and retreated as quickly as she could. When she’d felt that tap on her shoulder, her mind had gone blank. How would she explain to Conrad that not only had she been married before but also that her ex-husband had a habit of calling her by a different name?

Annie wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and exhaled with relief. That was so damn close. She would bet that if Liam had been alone, she wouldn’t escape with such ease. But with his wife and child by his side, he must’ve decided against chasing after his ex-wife.

A boy. Who would have thought? Back when they were married, Liam had been dead set against kids. “Screaming monsters,” he’d called them. That was one of the many differences between him and Darren—or so she’d believed. When Darren painted a picture-perfect life, complete with two children—a boy and a girl, of course—Annie had thought she’d struck gold finding a decent family man.

“Family, my ass,” she muttered, glancing around at the looming tall, sand-coloured facades of a powerful city that had weathered generations.

“What?” The hand holding hers pulled Annie toward the narrow street opening on the left-hand side.

“Oh, nothing.” The last thing she wanted was for this man to dig into her past. Not him, and not yet. Too raw.

The melody she’d heard earlier seemed to have faded away. Annie squinted, straining to hear it, but all she caught was the sigh of a distant bus pulling away from a stop.

“Wait, where are we going?”

The street they entered was so narrow Annie could almost touch both sides if she stretched her arms. Blue doors and flower pots turned this otherwise plain alley into a dance of colours.

Conrad slowed to a stroll. “You said you wanted a closer look.”

“Yeah, but we seem to be moving away from the sound.” Annie gazed at the soft shadows enveloping the surrounding buildings, and then her eyes shot up to the sunnier tops. Not even a small cloud, and yet no sun would reach down here.

“I found us a different route. Trust me.”

Annie cocked her head. Trust him? A soft chuckle escaped her mouth, but she said nothing. Besides, that firm grip of his hand weirdly reassured her that he knew what he was doing, even though her head seemed sceptical of such a ridiculous idea as to trust a man. Any man.

The shadows deepened as they stepped under a passage formed by adjoining buildings—like the width of the street that kept them apart was too much for them. Even those massive, strong buildings needed another one for support.

A few steps later, Annie raised her hand to shade her eyes. Trusting a man was bad enough, but following him blindly into a fast road was plain stupid. The hum of buses, the squawk of seagulls, and the overbearing smell of burning rubber and asphalt halted her.

Annie cringed. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

Conrad chuckled. “Patience.”

Without warning, he pulled her toward the left and into a colourful crowd of people rambling in every possible direction.

Great. She barely avoided a woman walking backwards—her camera pointing at something Annie couldn’t even see. A bicycle whizzed past Annie with a loud ring, making her turn on her heel, only to be turned back by the pull of Conrad’s hand sweeping her into another narrow street.

The city noise faded, and among those ancient walls, she caught the faint strains of that melody again.

“It’s back. I can hear it.” She beamed at Conrad, quickening her pace.

“Told you.” The smug smile on his face made her stick her tongue out at him. Not lady-like. Not at all.

Conrad laughed. A good kind of laughter. One that she could fall in love with.

Wow, woman!

Where had that come from? Annie shivered and shook her head. Not a freaking chance.

That little street spat them out onto a square with an oak tree in the centre and an inviting sign of a restaurant garden. The smell of bacon reached her nose, and her stomach rumbled. Must be lunchtime.

“Could we stop for a bite? I’m getting peckish?”

“Sure, I know the perfect place—right where that music’s coming from.”

The moment he said it, Annie picked on the passionate thrill of the violin and the beginning to—“Is it the Roxanne? I mean—” Annie turned her head to hear better and almost tripped over an uneven paving slate of the alleyway. Only a quick grip of his hands kept Annie upright.

“Yeah.” That lazy, seductive voice vibrated right next to her ear, raising hairs on her forearms. “El Tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge.”

His lips were so close, the moistness on them inviting her to taste them, his hands holding her tight, his hips radiating heat, his ...

No.

“Shall we go?” She took a step to the side, breaking the spell.

“Sure.” Was there a disappointment in his voice? Or was she imagining it?

Keeping her eyes on the ground to avoid any more uneven slabs, Annie followed Conrad to the edge of a grand square filled with benches, pigeons, and lots of people, but no violin source. The music seemed to come from across the square, and she could hear the body-shattering lyrics: “Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal.”

Annie picked up the pace, practically running. She had to be there for the chorus. Startling a feeding pigeon and barely dodging a boy on a tricycle with the rhythmic thud of Conrad’s feet behind her, she reached a narrow passage leading to a smaller square in front of the Gothic cathedral.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene: five couples in motion, red skirts twirling, black and red sequins shimmering in the sun, boots stomping to the tempo set by the violin. Annie halted, transfixed, watching the spectacle unfolding in front of her. And then she lost her balance when a body rammed into her from behind. Conrad held onto Annie and brought her up before she hit the pavement.

“Ouch. You could’ve warned me you were going to stop like that.” He massaged his jaw while standing a step behind Annie.

“Shh.” She waved him off like a buzzing fly, her gaze locked on the passionate dancers, as she sang with the lead: “Roxanne ... ”

Annie’s voice was quiet. In the staccato of boots, the singer’s voice, and the violin, nobody could hear her.

Except for Conrad.

“I like your voice.” His rasping whisper tickled her ear and caused a tingling sensation in her stomach. Her cheeks darkened, and she stopped singing.

“Don’t stop.” His hot breath as he spoke, raised the hairs on Annie’s neck.

Conrad’s hands touched her shoulders, then lazily slid down her crossed arms, his chest brushing against her back, the heat from his thighs radiating toward her hips. Finally, his fingers reached Annie’s wrists. She could sense the rough skin of his hands when he covered her soft palms, the firm grip suggesting a hidden strength.

The sudden tug made her turn around and only then did Annie realise it wasn’t a seduction technique—which was totally working, by the way—but a dance.

“No, I can’t.” Her voice muffled as the sudden move pushed her face into his chest.

“Oh, but you must.” Conrad chuckled, placing her into a firm tango frame, and guiding her as though he were born on the stage.

Annie had no choice but to follow.

“Where did you learn this?” she uttered, breathless.

“A school prom dance if you can believe it.”

“No way.” A giggle escaped her throat and died out a second later from a surprise when Conrad pivoted her body with a mastery, she wouldn’t have expected from a man running a chain of pubs. Her body responded instinctively, pivoting, shifting, and turning, in perfect synchronisation with the mesmerising music. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

A small cry escaped her lips as the song ended, like a life cut short by a knife. The crowd erupted in applause, clapping and whistling. She would’ve joined, but her hands were still locked with Conrad’s, their faces inches apart. Her heart pounded, either from the joyous labour of the dance or maybe from the proximity to the man who seemed to have more hidden talents than she would’ve given him credit for.

“For a person who can’t dance, you did pretty well,” he said in a rasping tone, still catching his breath, as he leaned forward. “You were amazing.”

She blushed and batted her eyelashes, feeling like an emotional teenager unused to compliments. Whom she had been the last time she had danced—in that ballroom class Grandma Ann had signed Annie up for. A long time ago.

“So ... ” His eyes met hers, intense, searching. His hands on her back now, not in a tango frame anymore. She could feel the heat on her skin through the fabric of her blouse where his fingers touched her.

No, she shouldn’t.

But he was so close. His lips, his breath on her cheek. Annie swallowed and, as if pushing through a drying concrete, she managed to increase the distance between their faces, only an inch but enough for Conrad to blink and step back, his hands falling to his sides. He pointed toward the dancers with a slight smile.

A new, much more mellow melody began, and the singer cuddled the microphone in his hands, ready for the next song.

“Shall we grab a bite at the café over there?”

Only now did Annie notice the outdoor garden of a little restaurant tucked behind the colourful dancers waltzing across the square.

Annie nodded. “Sounds good.” Her own voice betraying the emotions still swirling inside her. Her last dance partner had two left feet and pimples, and she’d always dreamed of muscular arms whisking her away.

Despite the thick crowd, Conrad somehow created a path for them. Annie followed him like a marionette, with her eyes glued to the show and her mind still recalling the passion of the dance.

“Here?” His voice pulled Annie out of her dream and made her focus on a small table in the corner, under a canopy supported by the wooden beams, with a grand view of the cathedral and the live concert.

“Perfect.” Annie beamed at him. She wouldn’t have picked any better.

Conrad pulled out a chair for Annie and planted the multiple shopping bags she’d forgotten about on two other chairs. “I’ll go grab the menus. What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice would be great. I’m quite thirsty.”

Conrad nodded, lightly touching her shoulder, before heading to the café entrance. Annie lowered herself into a rustic wooden chair, taking full lungs of wildflower-infused air from the vase on the table. As she let the breeze play with her curls, she scanned the colourful bags, recalling the contents of each and every one.

This had turned out to be a fantastic day. Maybe she’d spent a bit too much on the clothes, but Annie couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed shopping like that. Darren had rarely let her go shopping at all, always insisting on ordering online, even if it meant returning half the order.

And if, by an odd chance, they visited a mall, and she spent more than five minutes in a store, he’d sulk for the rest of the day, reminding her for a week of how much he’d “suffered” for her. After a few incidents like that, she’d stopped even glancing at clothing stores.

Annie exhaled with relief. Today, though ... today had been different. Even though she could see Conrad had been bored out of his mind, she had fun, as she hadn’t tried to please a man. For once, it was about her.

She stretched her neck. And actually, he hadn’t made it about him. Not once.

***

?

T he charcoal smoke from the BBQ made Conrad cough, his eyes watering. He turned the burgers with the tongs and took a sip from a cold beer bottle standing next to an aluminium tray filled with halloumi slices, waiting to be grilled.

The clatter of cutlery made Conrad turn toward the raised patio, where Colton laid the outdoor table surrounded by an old sofa with cushions and a couple of camping chairs, far more practical for eating than the loungers that usually took up this space.

“Dinner in ten!” Conrad shouted toward the open patio door. Whistling a tune under his breath, he shifted the chicken and pepper skewers to a higher rack on the BBQ to make room for the cheese.

Colton appeared beside him with an empty plate ready to transfer the burgers.

“Looks like you had a good day today, sir.”

“Oh.” Conrad chuckled. “I was never so bored in my life.” He turned to his friend. “Can you believe she spent over an hour just trying on tops?” He shook his head. “A long freaking hour. And she only bought one in the end!”

Colton laughed, handing him the plate. “I suppose she enjoyed it, though?”

“Seems like it, but I still don’t know if she’s planning to stay or leave. She kept avoiding the topic.”

Conrad flipped the halloumi slices, which were getting brown on the edges. His whistling returned.

“Hmm.” Colton raised an eyebrow. “From what I can see, sir, it couldn’t have been all that bad. If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem ... happy.”

Conrad beamed. “Well, there was this band. You know, that Roxanne group?”

“The live band playing in the square, you mean?”

“That’s the one.” Conrad gestured with the tongs, giving the burger one final poke. The juice sizzled, releasing a mouthwatering aroma. “I think it’s ready.”

Colton held the plate while Conrad stacked the burgers and skewers neatly.

“We heard the music from a distance, and when I saw her face light up, I thought it might save me from another hour of shopping.”

“Sounds like it did.” Colton chuckled.

“It was more than that. Well ... ” Conrad paused, as a memory surfaced—their dance, the almost-kiss.

“Well?”

“She sang. We danced.”

“I beg your pardon? You danced, sir?” The surprise in Colton’s voice made Conrad laugh wholeheartedly.

“I know, I know. It was in the moment. I couldn’t resist.”

“Forgive an old man, sir, but it sounds like you showed off again?” A hint of disapproval in his friend’s voice made Conrad ponder it. Then he shook his head, but Colton wasn’t anywhere near to see it. Conrad’s gaze followed the sound of Colton’s footsteps drifting away.

“It wasn’t like that! I mean. If anyone showed off, it was her.”

“Oh?” Colton’s voice was barely audible as he reached the patio and placed the food in the centre of the table.

Conrad hung the tongs on the BBQ and with the halloumi tray in one gloved hand, he lunged toward the patio.

“If only you’d seen her dancing. Man. It was mesmerising.”

“A woman of many talents, it seems, our Ms Louise.” Colton centred the bread basket and lined up all the sauces he must have brought earlier. “So, you admit you had a good time in the end, sir?”

“Well, it wasn’t half bad.” A bright grin was a clear sign it was better than that. Much better.

After placing the cheese on the table, Conrad sank into one of the chairs, his smile fading.

“But that was just one day.” He pulled off the oven glove and rubbed his neck. “Well, two, if we count yesterday’s total disaster of a day.” He exhaled heavily. “I have no idea what to do next.”

“What are you talking about?” His wife’s voice caught him off guard.

He looked up, startled. Louise stood there, her face framed by loose waves held back by sunglasses perched on her forehead. In a hoodie and a pair of leggings that hugged her perfectly shaped legs, she looked like she had always lived here. So at home.

A sudden pang of longing hit Conrad right in his stomach. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time since ... well, since Elisabeth.

“About tomorrow.”

And how to make you stay.

“Tomorrow?” Louise slid into the corner of the sofa and reached for a bottle of sparkling water.

“Allow me, Ms Louise.” Colton opened the bottle and filled a tall glass almost to the brim. Then he indicated toward Conrad, who shook his head and tilted the beer bottle over his mouth. A few last drops.

Conrad jumped up from his chair and strode toward the house.

“I’m going to grab a beer. Do we need anything else?” he asked, with his hand on the door frame.

“I think we’re good, sir.” Colton gestured to the table oozing with food while his wife sipped her water from the glass like it was an expensive champagne, watching something in the distance.

Inside, the house felt cooler, darker, all his financial troubles lurking in every corner. And the solution to all of it was sitting outside, probably already tucking into a burger. Conrad opened the fridge and grabbed two slim, cold bottles. If only he knew how to make her stay.

Tell her the truth , a small voice nagged in his head, but he dismissed it with a grim expression. That was the worst advice. The only way to get more money was to appear as if one had plenty already. No, the only way to make it work was to show her what a splendid life she could have.

Conrad twisted the cap and took a swig of a cold refreshing liquid before stepping out onto the sunny patio.

“There you are, Mr Conrad. Would you like one of each?” Colton held an empty plate, ready to serve.

“Colton, please, sit down and enjoy. You’re not at work.” He gently took the plate from his mentor’s hands and transferred two burgers and two skewers onto it, topping up with a dollop of coleslaw.

Louise shifted in her seat. “So, what’s your story, Colton?”

“My story, Ms Louise?” Colton picked a slice of bread and covered it with a thin layer of butter from an open tub.

“Yes. How did you end up working for Conrad?”

“Oh, that’s a long story, and it goes back to Mr Conrad’s—God rest his soul—father.”

Colton arranged a slice of halloumi and one chicken skewer on the left side of his plate, then filled the rest with the Greek salad Conrad hadn’t noticed before.

“Sounds interesting, and we’ve got time.” Louise curled up her legs on the sofa and brought her plate to her chest, nibbling on a burger.

“Well, it all started with my mother. She used to work for Ms Alice.”

“My grandmother,” Conrad offered, seeing the confusion on his wife’s face.

She nodded, and Colton continued. “When I turned sixteen, Sir George offered me a place as his personal assistant.” The older man smiled at the memory. “I had no experience, but what I lacked in skills, I made up for in eagerness and loyalty.”

“And two years later, a screaming baby was born, and Colton became a nanny.” Conrad made a bow to his wife and grinned, then looked at his oldest friend, remembering how annoying he had been as a child and in his teenage years, but Colton never had lost his cool.

“Oh really? So, you’ve known Conrad since he was a baby? I bet you have some stories.” The amusement in his wife’s voice made Conrad chuckle. Oh yes, there were many stories, but knowing Colton, she would not get a word from the old man about any of them.

“Well, I was barely an adult myself back then, Ms Louise, and some of those stories would incriminate me as much as your husband, so if you’ll forgive me, I’d rather not talk about them.” The older man straightened up in his chair, looking rather uncomfortable. Conrad was ready to step in and change the subject, but his wife seemed to have picked up on this as well.

“So, you knew Conrad’s Grandpa George pretty well, then?”

Colton visibly relaxed. “Yes, I did.”

“How about my Grandma Ann?”

Colton smiled and looked at Louise. “I never had the pleasure, Ms Louise, but I heard only great things about her. And of course, I learned about their story when it couldn’t harm anyone anymore—two broken hearts.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “When I met my wife, I knew she was the one. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to be separated from her and never reunited.”

“Ah, yes. Conrad mentioned you have a wife.” Louise placed her empty plate on the table. “Any kids?”

Colton’s gaze wandered off before he answered. “Sadly, no. We tried but God didn’t bless us with any.” His old friend glanced at his watch, swallowing hard, likely hiding a tear or two. “Oh dear. I had no idea it was so late. Please forgive an old man for taking so much of your time.” He stood up, brushing crumbs off his trousers.

Conrad jumped up from his chair and stood next to his mentor. “Don’t be silly, Colton. You know you’re always welcome and I promised your wife we’d look after you while she was away at her sister’s.”

“I’m with Conrad.” Louise rose from her seat and touched Colton’s shoulder. “You’re always welcome. How long is she away for?”

“Oh, only a few days. And thank you, Ms Louise, it means a lot.”

He started collating empty plates, but Conrad placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Please don’t. We’ve got this. Like I said, you’re not at work.”

Colton looked like he wanted to say something, but Conrad held onto his arm and gently guided him away from the table. “You’ve helped enough, my friend. Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll be going then.” Colton picked up a hat from the nearby chair and placed it on his head, draped his jacket over his arm. “Good night, Ms Louise. It was a pleasure.”

“The pleasure was mine.” Her voice sounded so soft and warm that it sent chills through Conrad’s body.

He watched Colton stroll toward the side gate and then disappear onto the street. The hum of the Tesla a moment later made Conrad realise he was now alone with his beautiful wife, without the slightest idea of what to do next.

“So?” He collapsed back into his chair and took a sip, searching his mind for a conversation topic.

“So.” His wife sat on the edge of the sofa. “You mentioned something about tomorrow.”

Idiot.

Now he remembered. He was supposed to come up with a plan for tomorrow.

“Right, yes, tomorrow. How about ... ”

Think, man, think.

A screeching seagull broke the silence. Odd.

“The seaside?”

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was actually a good idea—a few days at the seaside, ice cream, romantic walks, sunsets.

“What would you say about a couple of days on the Isle of Wight?”

She bit on her lip in a way that made him want to taste those lips again. Although it clearly wasn’t a good sign.

Too much? Maybe she was worried about intimacy and staying in the same room together.

“I need to check out a pub down there,” he quickly added. “One that’s for sale.”

She stopped biting her lip and cocked her head instead. It was working.

“So, I thought we could go together, and while I was doing business, you might want to take some photos with your new camera. Maybe paint a little?”

“Paint?” Her confusion was obvious.

“Oh right, you’ve got no supplies, but we could get you some—unless you don’t want to go?”

She waved her hand. “No, no. It sounds like a great idea. Let’s just focus on the photos this time. It’ll give me an opportunity to get used to the camera.”

“So, it’s settled.” Conrad took a full lung of air.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Now, he had to make a call in the morning to invite himself to one of two pubs in the area under the pretence of scouting the opportunities. Luckily, he knew a few owners down there.

Now what?

Should he ask about her intentions? What if he spooked her?

Louise yawned and stood up. “I think I’ll call it a night. It was quite a full-on day.”

She reached for the plates that Colton had left, prompting Conrad to spring up from his chair.

“Don’t worry about it. I can clean it up.”

He touched her hand, but she shook her head and lifted the dishes. “You cooked, so it’s the least I can do.”

Conrad opened his mouth to object, but she had already disappeared inside the house. With a shrug, he loaded his arms with the bread basket and remaining salad bowls, following her inside.

When he reached the sink, his wife was already on her way back to the patio. If he recalled correctly, there wasn’t much left out there. Conrad opened the dishwasher, scraped the leftover food from the plates into the bin, and stacked them neatly in the machine.

A minute later, a light breeze brought her scent, so he turned and barely avoided a collision with Louise, who stood right next to him.

“Gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were that close.”

She handed him the remaining plates with leftover burgers and a lone pepper—nothing left of the chicken skewers. Their hands brushed for a split second, reminding Conrad of that dance and passion earlier in the day.

They stood so close he could see her breasts rising fast in shallow breathing. Her lips glistened in the dim light, and her long lashes cast shadows over those emerald green eyes as she looked at him. And then she yawned and laughed, breaking his trance.

“I’m knackered. What time do you want to leave tomorrow?”

“Oh, sometime after breakfast. But no rush.”

She nodded, touching his shoulder for a brief moment before dancing away toward her room.

The urge to follow her was strong. And stupid. Conrad rushed outside, reaching the BBQ in a few long strides. Using a metal brush, he scrubbed the leftovers from the grill, focusing on the task rather than the woman inside the house.

This was getting out of hand. Conrad was nowhere near securing his funds. He needed a cool head, yet it seemed impossible around her. This was not what he had expected. Not at all.

A femme fatale.

Life had taught him to stay clear of that kind. They would suck you dry. But he had no choice here.

Still, he had to admit that when she wasn’t accusing him of being a bastard, she was actually an excellent companion.

“Just keep it cool, man. Keep it cool.”

***

?

A nnie closed the door behind her and marched toward the open windows with the energy of a three-year-old. A scraping sound made her listen for clues.

A chuckle escaped her as she caught Conrad’s voice, muttering curses under his breath. She shut the window, silencing both the scraping noise and the chirping of birds outside.

“Good.” Conrad wouldn’t hear her either.

Annie climbed onto the bed, plumped the cushions, and arranged them behind her back before picking up the phone from the nightstand. No new notifications. She should have felt relieved, but her tense shoulders and neck suggested otherwise. Darren. Even without a new text from him, Annie could feel him circling, getting closer.

Her hand stroked her belly in a protective gesture. No, she wouldn’t let this baby be harmed like—

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. Thinking about the past wouldn’t help the future. She took a few deep breaths, rolling her head from side to side to relax her neck muscles. Once she trusted her voice, Annie tapped the video call button on her phone.

A tanned face framed by joyful copper curls, adorned with a vivid orange flower, appeared on the screen with a wide grin. All of Annie’s worries drifted away at the sight of pure joy on her sister’s face.

“Someone’s having a great time.” Annie tutted, unable to hold back a smile.

Louise’s grin widened, even though it seemed impossible. The view shifted, showing the lounger she rested on, a side table adorned with colourful cocktails in fancy glasses—complete with mandatory umbrellas. The view blurred for a second before zooming in on Louise’s hand.

A ring. A fiery dragon winked at Annie with its amber eye. Annie shrieked. Any other woman seeing this dragon ring might have questioned her partner’s taste, but this ring was so Louise.

“Oh my God, Lou! It’s perfect. When did this happen?”

“I know, right?” The amber eye blinked, reflecting the evening sun’s rays. “It was waiting on a pillow for me when I woke up today.”

“And you didn’t tell me earlier!” Annie jumped up from the bed, unable to sit still.

“I thought about it, but we had a full-on day with the volcano tour, and the signal was patchy.”

Annie paced around the room, brimming with energy. “This is so amazing, Lou. I’m so happy for you—and for Meggie!”

The camera panned back to the cocktails, then to another lounger, where Meggie reclined with effortless ease. Annie had only met her once, but the impression lingered—this was a woman of quiet strength and unwavering confidence. Her straightforward demeanour and warm, steady gaze had instantly earned Annie’s admiration, but it was the gentle way Meggie’s hand rested on Louise’s arm as if anchoring her, that truly spoke volumes.

“Hi Meg, congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Meggie waved, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

The scenery changed, showing the sun setting over the ocean, and then circled back to Louise’s face.

“So, when’s the big day? Have you thought of a date yet?”

Annie stopped pacing, watching as a slight crease formed on her sister’s forehead.

“Not sure. I’m still trying to get over the shock, you know.” Louise’s giggle filled the air. “And I’ll need to tell Mother.”

“Oh my. Yes. She’ll probably have a heart attack or simply pretend it hasn’t happened.”

Annie wandered to the window.

“Do you think she’ll come to the wedding?” The light tone was underpinned by uncertainty.

Annie lifted the voile. No sight of Conrad or anything else apart from the sun setting over the orchard, bathing the trees in oranges and reds. So calm and serene.

“Annie? Are you there?” Her sister’s concerned voice jolted her back.

“Oh, yes, sorry. Got lost for a moment.” Annie turned, so the sunset framed her head in the phone’s camera. “Check this out. And yeah, I’m sure she’ll come if only to complain about how horrible everything is.”

A relieved chuckle escaped Louise’s mouth, and Annie smiled. She’d forgotten how easy it was to lift her sister’s spirits. How much she looked up and trusted Annie. The same way Annie had always trusted Grandma Ann. Her rock.

“I wish Grandma Ann was here to see you right now.” Annie strolled over to the wall of family photos and flipped the camera on her phone so Louise could see them, too. “She would be so delighted you followed your heart.”

“Yes, she would be.” A nostalgic tone in her sister’s voice resonated with Annie. “But enough about me. Something tells me you’re still at the cottage. Have you told him yet?”

Annie flipped the camera back and settled into a nearby chair. “No, I haven’t. Because Darren—” She swallowed, suddenly remembering the danger. “He’s close. He paid Mother a visit.”

“Oh no, Annie! What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Annie rubbed her neck. “But at least you’re safe.”

Louise shook her head. “But you’re not. He could show up at your door any minute now.”

The panic in her sister’s voice made Annie’s heart race. With a few deep breaths, she slowed it down. “I’ll be fine. We’re going away.”

“Away?”

“Yes, Conrad suggested a trip to the Isle of Wight for a couple of days.”

“Okay.” Louise scratched her chin. “But what about after that?”

Annie shrugged. Good question. One she had no actual answer for. But only a few hours ago, she could feel Darren’s vile breath on her neck, and now there was an escape—if only for a few days.

“That buys me some time. Maybe he’ll give up. Or maybe I’ll find a job at some bad and breakfast on the Isle of Wight and stay there. Far from his reach.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. With your experience, any B&B owner would be lucky to have you.” Louise’s voice sounded calmer and more certain now, quite the opposite of the turmoil in Annie’s head.

She might have had the experience. After all, she had managed a busy pub for quite a few years before COVID, but she couldn’t exactly offer any references without Darren getting a sniff of her location. And with the baby on the way ...

“But you should tell him.”

“Tell who?” Why on earth would Louise insist she got in touch with Darren? This was the last thing she wanted.

“Conrad, of course. I love you, sis, but it’s not right. Regardless of what you think about him.”

Conrad. Her fake husband. Her ticket away from the abusive past and terrible memories.

“I know. I just need to find a way to tell him the truth.”

And to convince him to still give me that cottage.

Footsteps echoed outside her room, followed by a soft knock on the door. Annie pressed the end button without saying goodbye to Louise.

“Everything okay in there?” His deep voice sounded close, like there were no walls between them.

How long had he been standing there?

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“I thought I heard voices.”

What should she say? Not the truth, that’s for sure. Did he hear anything in particular? All of it?

“I was just getting ready for bed when my father called to check on the situation, but I told him I was tired.”

“Oh, okay.” A hint of apprehension in his voice. Annie swallowed hard—he bought the lie this time. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.” She tiptoed to the bed, changed into her nightie, and listened to his footsteps fade away, followed by the faint sound of his door clicking shut.

Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding. She typed a reply to the question mark text from Louise.

Me: Sorry, Conrad was outside the door

Lou: Ah, no worries then

Me: Once again, so thrilled for you, sis

Lou: Thanks. Enjoy the Isle of Wight. Text me when you can xx

Me: Sure xx

Annie plugged in her phone and lay on her back under the comfort of the duvet. Louise was right—she had to come clean. She’d never been good at lying. Besides, this wasn’t the life she wanted to live. But her baby needed her. And needed a safe place to grow up.

What could she offer Conrad to make him keep his end of the bargain after such a deception? Her father would say it was good for his business and that Conrad would be a reasonable man. But if someone had done this to her, she’d refuse the deal, no matter what they offered in return.

Was Conrad more like her or like her father?

A couple of days ago, she’d been certain he and her parents were made of the same cloth.

But now ... she wasn’t so sure anymore.?