Chapter 2
DARCY
“Hello? Hello?”
Darcy Wainwright pulled the phone from her ear, looking at it as if it had sprouted a mouth. It hadn’t. It was just a phone, and the man on the other end had hung up on her.
“Oh!” she declared, turning to the girl sitting next to her. Penny Anderson glanced over, a knowing smile on her face.
“Let me guess,” she said in her prim accent. “An APEX Club member, making ridiculous demands, in a tone of voice better suited to scolding a naughty child?”
Darcy nodded.
“You get used to it,” said Penny. “Most of the people who stay here are nice, but there are some who really make you want to . . .”
She gripped the cord of her own phone and wrung it between her hands. Darcy laughed, covering it with a hand. The lobby was busy with all the wealthy on display. The suits and shoes and shiny watches. The minutiae of the rich that made them stand out from the everyday crowds, and all of them here, spilling out of the convention centre, heading for the banquet rooms. There were around a hundred of them, and Darcy scanned the crowd for familiar faces. It was like being at the Oscars, she thought, there were so many famous people here. It was one of the reasons she’d agreed to work at the Royal Alpine resort — the other reason being she had literally no idea what else to do with her life. It wasn’t like there were a lot of jobs going for twenty-three-year-old American girls stranded in the middle of Europe.
“Who was it?” Penny asked, leaning in conspiratorially. Darcy smiled, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“Devlin Storm,” she said, and Penny squealed.
“Oh my god, I am so in love with him. I’ve seen him around. I can’t believe you spoke to him. What was he like?”
“Arrogant,” replied Darcy.
“Well, duh,” said Penny. “He’s always arrogant . What did he ask for? More silk for his sheets? More gold in his bathroom? A delivery of gorgeous models?”
“He wants to fly out tonight. He was asking for his helicopter.”
Penny glanced at the bank of giant windows that made up the south wall of reception. Through them was a perfect view of the Alps, their peaks dizzyingly high. The sky was darker now than ever, even though it was only mid-afternoon, and flecks of snow battered at the glass. It was dark enough that Darcy could see her own reflection there — her shoulder-length brown hair, her slim face, and the big, brown, doe-like eyes she’d inherited from her mother. She fiddled with the collar of her shirt, feeling overdressed and uncomfortable. It wasn’t her style, but you couldn’t exactly turn up to work in a place like this in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Well, even someone as rich as Devlin Storm can’t control the weather,” Penny said. “Management let us know an hour ago — no flights in or out. He’s in for a long stay once this blizzard gets going. It’s one of the biggest we’ve seen in years.”
“So what do I tell him?” Darcy asked. Penny shrugged.
“You’re new. You’ll soon learn that people like Devlin Storm don’t listen to anyone. If he wants his helicopter, he’ll get it. But nobody will fly it for him. Incoming.”
Darcy sat up straight as a young, dark-haired man walked up to the desk. He was incredibly dashing, with a beaming smile that was contagious. She grinned back.
“How may I help?” she asked.
“I was wondering if you could assist me,” the man said in a gorgeous British accent that was even posher than Penny’s. “I’ve been trying to call home, but the phone lines seem to be down. I need to speak to my father.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Darcy stuttered. “The storm has brought down all the phone lines. But I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as they’re back up and working again.”
“Thank you so much,” he replied. “My name is Edward Harrington. I’m just heading to the APEX drinks in the lodge, but I’ll be at the banquet later if that’s too soon.”
He nodded politely, then walked away.
“Like I said,” Penny whispered, “most of the guests here are perfectly nice, and perfectly gorgeous too. Case in point, that one is tenth in line to the British throne, or thereabouts. I hope his call isn’t about an urgent treason plot because it doesn’t look like the phones will be back anytime soon. The storm is closing in.”
As if on cue, a blast of wind shook the building hard enough for Darcy to feel the floor tremble. The windows rattled in their frames, and the crowd oohed and aahed as they filtered through the door to the banquet hall. Darcy was so busy watching them go, and searching for celebrities, that she didn’t see the figure approaching her desk until he’d slammed both hands onto it. She flinched, rocking back in her chair so hard she almost tumbled out of it.
“Oh,” she said, flustered. She glanced at the man there and became more flustered still. Devlin Storm was even more gorgeous in real life than he was on the covers of the magazines. It was like he’d been carved from marble, every line of his jaw perfect even past the scattering of stubble. His short hair had been teased and tousled by the wind, and the first thing Darcy found herself thinking was how much she’d like to tease and tousle that hair with her fingers.
Darcy ! she yelled silently at herself, her cheeks blazing. At this rate, she was going to have to throw herself out into the snow and wind. But how was she supposed to cool down when Devlin was fixing her with eyes the colour of an alpine lake — deep and green and sparkling with cold sunlight.
“Uh . . .” she muttered. “Hi?”
Devlin raised an eyebrow, looking at her with such an intense expression that she felt like pushing her chair back just to escape it.
“No,” he said. “ Bye . Are you the woman I was just speaking to?”
Darcy nodded, not sure if she could trust her mouth. Devlin may have been handsome enough to turn her insides to molten lava, but nobody got to speak to her like that.
“I don’t think you understand,” he growled. “I’m not accustomed to asking twice.”
“I’m sorry, sir ,” Darcy said, fighting to keep her tone civil. “But as I said on the phone, there is a blizzard approaching. All flights have been grounded.”
“That’s not good enough,” he growled, leaning over the desk. He smelled of pine trees and the cold, fresh air, and it took Darcy’s breath away. “Nobody tells me I’m grounded.”
“I’m sorry,” Penny interjected. “Darcy is right, there—”
“Let me speak to the management straight away,” Devlin demanded, completely ignoring Penny. “If they want to see me back here, if they ever want another dime out of me, they’d better get me my helicopter.”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open. He sounded like a petulant child.
“Am I speaking to an idiot?” Devlin said. “Now!”
Darcy had pushed herself out of her chair before she even knew she was doing it. She didn’t retreat, she leaned over the desk until her face was just inches from his.
“You have no right to speak to me like that,” she pointed out, anger making the words boil up from inside her. “How dare you!”
“Darcy!” hissed Penny in warning. “Enough!”
“Your helicopter is grounded, and there’s nothing I or anybody else can do about it,” said Darcy, folding her arms across her chest. “So, why don’t you take your entitled attitude somewhere else and wait for the storm to pass like the rest of us?”
The silence in the lobby was deafening. Fortunately, the other guests had all passed through into the banquet hall, leaving Darcy and Penny alone with Devlin Storm. Darcy could hear her heart pulsing heavily in her ears, and her cheeks were burning more fiercely than ever.
Swallowing awkwardly, she took a couple of steps back, wondering how long it would be until she lost her job. She had no doubt in her mind that Devlin would report her to the management. He must be furious. But when she looked at him, his expression was unreadable. Darcy couldn’t decipher the seriousness on his face. She also couldn’t get over the sheer size of him even though she was standing too. Tall, broad, massive. He towered over her, studying her with his green eyes in a way that made her feel like she was melting. She bit into her lower lip and sat down heavily. The only trouble was that her chair had rolled away and what she sat down on was the floor.
“Oof!” she cried. Penny was there in a flash, helping her up. Darcy groaned, more from the embarrassment than the pain, rubbing her behind. Devlin shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“You have five minutes to get a pilot to the hangar,” he said. “Because in six minutes, I’m leaving.”
He picked up his suitcase and strolled away.
“What do we do?” Darcy asked, her heart drumming against her ribs.
“You go after him,” Penny said. “Try to stop him. I’ll call Abigail.”
“But—”
“Go!” Penny insisted, waving her hands to chase her out from behind the desk. Darcy did as she was told, trying to ignore the wave of panic that swelled inside her. Devlin had crossed the lobby and was heading out through a door marked ‘Staff Only’.
“Mr. Storm!” she called after him. “Please, you can’t go through there!”
She reached the door before it could close, running into the corridor beyond. Devlin was walking fast now, his long legs carrying him down the hallway in a few great strides. Darcy ran to catch up, calling his name to deaf ears. Devlin exited through the door at the far end, a fierce gust of wind blasting sleet and snow into Darcy’s face as she followed. The cold air instantly cut through her shirt as she shivered behind him.
“P-please!” she called. How on earth had she ended up in this situation? She’d only been working at the resort for a week, and now here she was chasing an intolerable, arrogant, rich man through the snow. It was just her luck! Devlin was halfway to the low, squat building that held the guests’ helicopters — a parking lot for the rich and wealthy. He hadn’t looked back once to see if she was okay, or to even check that she was following him. She upped her speed, the snow crunching beneath her cheap shoes, the wind freezing every nook and cranny. She didn’t think she’d ever been this cold before.
Devlin opened the hangar door and walked inside, letting it snap shut just as she was reaching for it. She cursed him as she pulled it open, grateful to be out of the cold. The building looked even bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, at least fifteen sleek, powerful choppers lined up side by side. A small desk sat beside the door and a balding man peered up at them through his glasses.
“The Bell 525 Relentless,” Devlin said. “I need it ready to go, and I need a pilot.”
The man shook his head as he stood up, brushing crumbs from his overalls.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Everything’s grounded. I—”
“You’ll do exactly what I ask,” Devlin stated, pointing a finger at the man. “And you’ll do it now.”
“Mr. Storm,” Darcy said. “That’s enough. You simply cannot fly.”
Devlin turned to her, a look of confusion sweeping his face. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when the door behind Darcy swung open. A middle-aged woman in a sharp suit and heels blustered in, shielding her head with a clipboard. Darcy recognised Abigail Lamb, the CEO of the resort, and took a deep breath of relief. Devlin could argue all he wanted with the receptionist, but he couldn’t argue with the boss.
“Miss Lamb,” said Devlin. “At last, someone with a bit of sense.”
He glanced at Darcy with a dismissive look of contempt before turning around. A great, hulking mountain of muscular back filled her line of sight and told Darcy exactly how important she was to this man-child.
Abigail took a moment to compose herself, smoothing back her silvering hair. She glanced past Devlin to Darcy, an apology of sorts in her expression, then looked at the man demanding the impossible.
“We’ve been told by the experts that this blizzard is a big one. The biggest of the year. It’s rolling in hard from three directions, and we’re right in the middle of it.”
“Then fly the other way,” Devlin argued, brushing snow from his expensive jacket.
“We cannot take responsibility for that,” Abigail went on. “Our pilots are not willing to take the risk.”
“Then I’ll fly it myself,” Devlin said. “I have my license.”
“I think—”
“My license, my bird,” Devlin interrupted her. “You have no power to stop me.”
Abigail sighed. “Actually, we do. It’s the law — no solo flights over the mountains. A pilot must have a co-pilot, in case of emergencies. And none of our pilots are willing to go with you, Mr Storm.”
Devlin growled beneath his breath. He looked at Abigail, then at the balding man, then finally over his shoulder at Darcy.
“I’ll take her.”
“What?” Darcy exclaimed, shaking her head. “No, that’s impossible, not to mention extremely presumptuous. I’m not a co-pilot, I’m a receptionist.”
“You’re fine. Luckily a co-pilot doesn’t need to know what they’re doing,” he said. “You just need to sit next to me and stay quiet.”
“ What ?” Darcy replied, her thoughts swirling like snow.
“Fifty thousand if you’ll ride with me, right now.”
Darcy’s mouth fell open for the second time in ten minutes, and she looked at Abigail. The older woman shrugged.
“It’s your call, Miss Wainwright. Technically, Mr Storm is correct. There’s no rule to say the co-pilot has to be a trained pilot. There’s nothing against it in our rulebook.”
“But . . .” Darcy said. “But my job . . . Don’t you need me in reception?”
“I’ll make sure she flies right back,” Devlin interjected. “Or I’ll put her in a car. Either way, she’ll be back here safely by tonight.”
“Sign here, for our insurance,” Abigail said, handing the clipboard to Devlin. He ran his eyes over it then signed, handing it back. Darcy realised she was still shaking her head. Devlin glanced at her, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.
“One hundred thousand,” he said in a demanding tone. “Yes or no.”
It was more money than she’d earn in five years here, all for going on one helicopter ride over the mountains and down into the airport — half an hour at most. The idea of it terrified her, just like the idea of most things terrified her. Adventures were things to be afraid of, but she knew that the money could change her life. It could get her home.
“Yes,” she said, her voice little more than a squeak.
Devlin nodded at her, his mouth curling into the closest thing to a smile she’d seen since she met him. Her heart drummed a little more, and maybe it was the stress of the situation, or maybe it was the way Devlin was looking down at her, his eyes piercing hers, but suddenly Darcy had had enough.
And you’re about to spend half an hour alone with him , said her brain. She ordered it to shut up. Abigail was giving instructions to the balding man, and Devlin snatched up his suitcase from the ground. He glanced down at her one last time with an extreme, almost unnerving intensity.
“I’ll have you back by nightfall,” he said. “That’s a promise.”