Page 2 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

It was such a beautiful service. A stunning meal. Wonderful speeches. Alcohol on tap, although I’ve been very cautious with what passes my lips. Alcohol makes me weak, and as I’ve found another five missed calls and two more texts since I last checked my phone, I can’t be weak.

If medals for avoiding eye contact were a thing, I’d get the gold.

I’ve managed to evade Nick’s gaze all day, and that’s an achievement since he sat directly opposite me throughout dinner.

As soon as coffee and petits fours were served after dessert, I was up and out of there, heading onto the balcony to get some air, along with a dozen or so smokers.

Abbie and Charley join me, both with reluctant smiles. “That was beautiful,” Abbie says, dropping down on the rattan couch next to me. “I’m full to the brim!”

“Me too,” Charley moans, rubbing her tummy. “Lloyd’s taken the kids to your parents’ room for a nap. I might join them.”

I chuckle and reach for the same glass of wine I’ve been sipping throughout dinner. “Did you see the cake?”

“Yeah.” Abbie frowns. “Why does it look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa?”

“The chef’s mislaid the cake stand. I don’t think anyone’s noticed.”

“How long before Rachel starts popping out babies?” Charley asks, making my glass falter on its way to my lips.

“I don’t think it’ll be long.”

Mum and Dad wander out onto the balcony, throwing smiles everywhere as they head our way. Mum’s eyes are still puffy. She’s spent most of the day weeping, along with Grandma. “You two okay?” I ask.

“Yes, darling, Grandma and Grandpa have gone to lie down for a while. It’s the noise, you see, and the band are about to start.”

“Oh, the band.” Charley hops up, suddenly full of beans. “I haven’t had a good dance since we got shamelessly drunk in Amazonico and forgot to pay our bill.” She chuckles, I wince, and Abbie hisses her disapproval. “Fuck,” Charley blurts. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”

“It’s fine,” I assure her.

“What was insensitive?” Dad asks, reminding all three of us that we’re not alone.

“Nothing,” I sing, jumping up and kissing his cheek. “You look very dapper today, Dad.”

“Doesn’t he?” Mum gushes. “Come, come, it’s the first dance.” She shoves Dad back into the ballroom, and we all follow to watch the happy couple take to the floor.

I spot Grandma with Grandpa and hurry over. “You two oldies are supposed to be having nanna naps.”

Grandma expresses nothing but sheer disgust. “I’ll smack that arse of yours, Grand Girl,” she warns. “You think I’d miss the first dance?” She grabs my arm, pulling me close. “You’ve lost your sparkle,” she says, making my smile fall. “Where’s it gone, Grand Girl?”

I soften in her hold. “I’ve just misplaced it for a while, Grandma.”

“What happened?”

“It just didn’t work out.” The lump in my throat I’ve managed to keep under control starts rising.

“Love hurts, Amelia Gracie Lazenby.” She takes me in a squishy hug.

“I don’t love him,” I whisper.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl.” Breaking away, she takes my cheeks, getting her nose close to mine. Her old eyes shine knowingly. “The best kind of love hurts the most.”

“Clark and Rachel are on the floor,” I whisper, my voice noticeably broken. I can’t talk about him.

“So they are,” she murmurs, hooking her arm through mine and turning us to face the floor, just as Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You” starts and Clark swoops Rachel into his hold.

My bottom lip wobbles. He looks so happy, and no one can deny Rachel is perfect for him.

She catches my eye as Clark twirls her, and I smile through my emotions as she puts a finger discreetly to her lips.

Clark’s told her I know about the baby. My mum will be on cloud nine when they decide to break the news.

I find Grandpa on my right and pull him close, replacing my arm through Grandma’s with his. “I just need to use the ladies’,” I say, leaving them, but I don’t go to the ladies’. I take a fresh drink off the bar and head outside, hoping the cooling air will clear the glaze in my eyes.

Avoiding the gathering of smokers at the far corner, I take a moment before I’m undoubtedly discovered hiding. I underestimated how hard today would be. Keeping my game face on, trying not to let my heartbreak show. How I wish my family had never found out about Jude.

I sigh, glancing over my shoulder.

And freeze when I see Nick through the smattering of guests who’ve stepped out onto the balcony too. “Shit,” I whisper, moving myself between one of the tall pyramid lanterns and the edge of the balcony so he can’t see me.

My position gives me direct sight down onto Regent Street, and I nearly stop breathing when I see a man standing on the pavement across the road, his head tilted back to see up to the balcony, people dodging his static form.

My stomach drops into my gold heels as I take him in, unable to look away.

Messages and calls are easy to ignore. But when he’s within sight?

He’s tired, I can see it even from up here.

But despite that, he’s still too stunning for words.

And I hate him for that too. His white shirt is tucked into grey trousers, his sleeves folded neatly to his elbows, the knot of his tie perfect.

I meet his eyes, and once they lock, I can’t tear them away, no matter how hard I try.

No matter how much I know I should. He lifts his phone to his ear, and mine starts ringing from the satin purse dangling from my wrist. On autopilot, I knock back the drink in my hand, parched, and set the glass on the ledge before getting my mobile out.

I know I shouldn’t take this call. Everything is screaming at me to reject it.

Reject him . And yet I still swipe the green icon and press my mobile to my ear.

The sound of the street below becomes amplified down the line. “Come to me, Amelia,” he says, his voice strong. Commanding. It’s the kind of tone I should scoff at. The kind of demand I should rebuff with a plain fuck off . “Don’t make me come up there.”

I take a breath, feeling every muscle engaging. Tightening. To keep me here, or to take me to him? Jude hangs up first, leaving that threat hanging.

Stop.

Don’t go.

But that’s the power of Jude Harrison.

I tuck my phone away and dip out from behind the lantern, and the second I do, Nick spots me. He smiles mildly, coming my way, and I start to shake my head, warning him off. I take no pleasure from the hurt that dilutes his expression as he halts. “Your dad said you’re not seeing that guy anymore.”

I pick up my feet. “I can’t, Nick.” I pass him, trying to keep my cool. Today is not the day to lose it, not with Nick or my father.

“Amelia, please.”

Skirting around the edge of the room, I follow my feet to the stairs that’ll get me to the lobby.

Or am I following my heart? No. I stop at the top of the stairs, taking the rail.

Then turn around and take a few steps back towards the wedding.

My teeth grit. I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions, but I need answers. Deserve some answers.

“God damn it,” I say, a little too loudly, pivoting and taking the stairs down to the lobby, my feet fast. My heart is out of control, pumping hard, but it’s leading me to him.

You were a bet.

I stop abruptly, trying to catch my breath, feeling panicked. My head and my heart are at war; I’m cursing constantly, fighting to ignore my heart and listen to my head.

“Are you okay there, madam?”

A suited man appears beside me. The concierge. “Yes, thank you.” I divert to the elevator and press the button. I need to go to my room and regroup. Find some strength and resistance. The elevator dings, the doors open, and I stare at the empty cart. Just get in. Get in and let it carry me away.

As I look back over my shoulder to the revolving doors that lead out onto the street, my lip begins to wobble.

But I still turn away from the elevator.

The elevator doors start to close without me in it, and my feet move without me telling them to, carrying me towards the source of my distress and heartache.

Pushing my way round the ornate revolving door, I find Jude waiting for me immediately outside. He was coming to find me.

My heart turns, my throat closes. His chest visibly deflates from his exhale of relief, his eyes dull, and I wait for his words while we stand in the middle of the pavement, in everyone’s way. Except he doesn’t speak. He just holds my eyes, his face expressionless.

A car pulls up to the kerb. A Rolls-Royce. Jude steps towards it and opens the door, then stands back, waiting. I look at him. See his jaw tighten and his Adam’s apple protrude from his swallow. “Get in,” he orders, his tone flat but radiating authority.

I shouldn’t even be here on the street. I definitely shouldn’t put myself in his car.

But against my better judgment, I step forward and hitch up my skirt, climbing in.

Humphrey’s in the driver’s seat, and I catch his eye in the rearview mirror.

He nods mildly as I settle in the soft leather seat, Jude climbing in behind me.

The armrest isn’t down, so I fix that, putting a pathetic barrier between us as Jude watches out the corner of his eye.

As soon as the door closes, Humphrey pulls away and Jude reaches for the button that raises the panel, giving us privacy.

What am I doing?

Even now, with half a metre between us and a ton of hurt and anger, I can feel the chemistry sizzling.

And it fucks me off. My unstoppable reaction to him really fucks me off.

Braving facing him, I take in his stunning profile.

“I’m only here for some answers.” I sound confident but feel far from it.

“Sure you are,” he replies, not even looking at me.

“Don’t be an arsehole, Jude. You used me in a sick game you play with the married woman you’re fucking.”

His jaw rolls, and his nostrils flare.

“Were you still fucking her?” Is he still fucking her now?

“No, Amelia, I was not fucking her.”