Page 25 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

I got precisely no sleep last night, but I did get the full, delicious eight inches numerous times, with pillow talk interludes between each session.

Every time we took a break from each other, the questions about his anger over his father hung on my tongue, as well as Rhys’s statement.

Since Mum died. But I thought better than to ask, and it was as if Jude sensed my curiosity, because the instant one of those small silences fell, he’d roll on top of me and we’d go again.

He finally drifted off at gone five with me curled in his side, and by six I still hadn’t found sleep.

So I got up, showered, and arranged for Humphrey to take me back to London.

Abbie was leaving as we pulled up, sipping from a travel mug of coffee. She looked at my exhausted form, tried not to smile, dropped a kiss on my cheek, and said she’d call me later. I showered, skipped the gym—I worked out enough last night—and got my arse to work.

Yawning, I rest back in my chair and click send on multiple emails, my mind naturally straying to Jude.

His father. And then, of course, the pills.

I’m no expert, but I’d say he still needs to be taking them, especially given the fury I got a glimpse of last night that he was obviously trying to keep a lid on.

Jude’s temper has always seemed extreme.

It’s always been a concern. Maybe he needs therapy, not pills.

I sink farther into my chair on a sigh, having a mental conversation with Jude, asking him all the questions I dare not for fear of igniting that temper. He needs help. How do I—

The door flies open, and a bunch of flowers appear, Shelley behind them. “Delivery for Amelia,” she sings, dumping them on my desk. “Tell me, what does a girl have to do to get this kind of attention from a man?”

I flick a sardonic look at her as I take the card and open it. And groan.

“God, you’re ungrateful,” she says over a laugh.

“They’re from my ex.”

“Sounds like he doesn’t want to be your ex.”

I give her tired eyes and drop the card in the bin. Not my bag so it can be found. “Don’t suppose you know how Leighton’s meeting with Kimpton went, do you?”

Shelley’s eyes sparkle, delighted, and she comes closer, looking back over her shoulder. “Kimpton emailed Gary this morning,” she whispers. “He didn’t like Leighton.”

“No.” I lean over my desk, interested.

“Yes.” She pouts, gazing thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “What were his exact words? Oh, yes, that’s it. Not his cup of tea .”

I chuckle. “Wise man.”

“Oh, someone’s popular.” Leighton slinks in, and Shelley and I bolt upright, throwing each other secret smirks. Helping himself to the flowers, he checks them out, sniffing. “I thought you’d broken up with your boyfriend.”

I start tapping my pen on the edge of my desk, getting worked up. Trying not to, but still. He rubs me up the wrong way. “I have. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a call.” Shelley takes the hint and scarpers, but Leighton lingers. I scowl at him. “How did your meeting go with Kimpton?”

“Oh, great.” He smirks so wide. So fake. “Must go, I’ve got a follow-up with him shortly.”

“Prick,” I murmur as he disappears, reaching for my phone when it rings. “Dad?” I say in answer. He never calls me in the day. Never.

“Are you talking to me yet?”

“Depends if you’re going to tell me how to live my life.”

“Are you coming over this evening?” he asks, completely sidestepping my statement. “I wouldn’t usually need to ask, but your mother’s helping Abbie at the florist, and I’ve been left the responsibility of sorting dinner.”

“Mum’s working and you’re cooking dinner? What has the world come to?”

“I didn’t call to get an earful of your smart mouth, Amelia. Will you come by this evening to help me?”

Dad doesn’t need help. This is his olive branch, after the most recent time he’s tried to convince me I love a man that I really don’t. Fuck. “I can’t come over this evening, Dad.”

“Why?”

I could tell him I’m going to my new place to sort a few things, but that would be a lie. I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t have to lie about my choices. “I’m seeing Jude.”

“Who?”

I sag. “I’m dating a man called Jude.”

Silence. “You said you were just sleeping with him.”

“Actually, Mum said that.”

“Last I heard you weren’t sleeping with him anymore. You weren’t dating, you said so yourself. And now you’re dating the man who you were or weren’t sleeping with? What does this mean?”

It means I’m in love! “It means I’m dating him.”

“What about Nick?”

Oh, for the love of God. I drop my head to the desk. “Dad—”

“Apparently, according to you, you ended things with Nick because your career was so important to you, and now you’re dating another man? Not just sleeping with him, but dating him?”

“This is a really weird conversation to be having with my father.”

“Poor Nick!”

I sit up. “I don’t want you to mention this to him,” I say urgently. “I’ll tell him myself when the time is right.”

“Of course I’m not going to tell him. I don’t want to break his heart.”

“Dad—”

“Do you have no compassion for the man?”

“Dad, I—”

“Poor fellow’s done nothing wrong.”

“I never said he did.” I just wasn’t in love with him, and we wanted different things!

“I’m disappointed in you, Amelia.”

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation. I’m a grown fucking woman, Dad. Concentrate on your retirement and cooking the damn dinner tonight.” I hang up and yell. Then cringe to high heaven because I just dropped the f-bomb on my father. “Shit.”

“That kinda day?”

I look up and find Sue at the doorway.

“Family politics.”

“Nice flowers.” She closes the door but stays there, holding on to the handle. I smile my thanks, not bothering to explain who they’re from. “Leo just called me.”

I tilt my head. “Mr. Lombardy?”

“Yes.” She smiles. “Mr. Lombardy. He said you’re a breath of fresh air. Obviously, I agree.”

“Well, thanks.” Does this mean he’s bringing his business my way? “I appreciate that.”

“He also mentioned that he said we met on the golf course.”

I press my lips together. “He did? I don’t recall.”

Sue nods mildly, obviously seeing through the dummy persona I’m feigning. I’m smart. She knows it. “He got mixed up. It was an anniversary party.”

Because you play golf with your husband. “Men,” I huff, rolling my eyes, and Sue laughs, loud and over the top. She came here to get her story straight?

“Anyway, he’ll be in touch about getting the paperwork drafted.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“Look after him, okay?”

My nose scrunches, as I think about all the ways Sue looks after Leo and Leo looks after Sue. “Of course.”

She closes the door behind her, and I sink deeper into my chair on an exhale. So much was said in that conversation without being said. I need caffeine.

I get up to grab my fourth coffee of the morning already, opening a message from Jude as I go. It’s a picture. I smile at the empty side of his bed.

Not a fan.

I call him, needing a pick-me-up. His voice will help. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even ten. This isn’t sustainable if my brain is going to keep functioning.

His gruff voice answers, and I shake off the shivers. “You’re still in bed, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to lie?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been up since six, worked out, ate, showered, read a ton of maintenance reports from the groundsman, approved the summer menu, discussed the expansion of the golf course with the resort manager, and signed off on endless invoices.”

“How productive.”

He groans, and I just know his gorgeous, naked body is stretching out in the bed as he does. Lord have mercy.

“Shit,” he breathes. “That’s my list of things to do today. We need to have a chat about acceptable levels of indulgence on weekdays.”

I laugh. “Happy to. Will you listen this time?”

“No.”

I roll my eyes and slip a cup under the machine, hitting the button that’ll give me a double espresso. “How do we manage this?” I ask. “I’m good for nothing, and I have targets to reach if I’m going to hit my goal.”

“You know, you could go it alone.”

I get my coffee and head back. “You mean in business? Why would I?”

“Because every penny you make would go into your pocket, not to LB&B Finance Group.”

“I have a noncompete clause. I can’t just walk out and take all my clients with me.”

“What if you don’t have to?”

“Take all my clients?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not understanding.”

“I know people.”

I stop midstride, realization slowly falling. “No, Jude,” I say firmly. “That’s not how I want to do things.”

“You want to work your fingers to the bone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, simple as that. “What are we doing tonight?” Conversation over. He took my word and accepted it. Fuck, could I love him more?

Tonight, I plan on gently asking him about the medication I found in his cupboard. About his father. I just need to pick my moment and find the courage. “I need to be in bed at a decent hour so I can get some sleep. I missed the gym this morning too.”

“You don’t need to go to the gym. I’m your new personal trainer, and my way of keeping fit is much more fun.”

I’m not going to argue. “I’ll be finished at six.”

“I’ll be there.”

I hang up, grinning like a fool, but it falls when I spy Leighton in the distance with Gary. They high-five. Huh? That does not look like a conversation where Gary just told Leighton he’s not Kimpton’s cup of tea . I sip my coffee and wince at the bitterness. “Morning,” I say as I approach.

“Oh, Lazenby.” Leighton holds out both hands, like he wants a hug. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Congratulate you on being a first-class creep?” I ask under my breath as I pass. What the hell have I missed? “What am I congratulating you on?” I keep moving, and Leighton falls into stride with me as Gary slips into one of the senior partners’ offices.

“My new clients, the Cartwright twins.”

I try so hard not to bring up my coffee.

Fuck, he got the Cartwright twins from Liverpool?

“Congratulations.” I chew over the word, trying to sound sincere.

Shit, shit, shit. That’s a massive deal and will certainly lessen the blow of not being Kimpton’s cup of tea .

The senior partners will be thrilled. Did he sleep with them?

Woo them? “I’m happy for you.” I smile as I turn my back at my door, pushing my way into my office.

Unfortunately, Leighton follows me in. I’ve had more than my fair share of him today already. He’s not done gloating. “Anything interesting to share?” he asks.

“No.”

He drops into the chair opposite my desk, getting comfortable.

“Is there anything else?” Fuck, I hate him.

“Maybe we should have that lunch sometime.”

“What, so you can refer some of Kimpton’s friends?”

His smile falters. “You have to have a certain connection with your clients, don’t you? Kimpton’s not my cup of tea, so I decided against taking him on.”

I cough over my coffee.

“I could share some insights,” he goes on. “You could share yours. It could be”—he waggles a brow—“productive.”

Is he for real? He appals me. “I’m not sure your insights are worth the price I would have to pay.” Like sleeping with you, you slimebag. I vomit in my own mouth as I flash a sarcastic smile, and Leighton chuckles as he stands and fixes his jacket.

“My insights are gold, and I’m offering you a front-row seat to a Leighton Steers seminar.” Off he trots to the door. “I’ll even share how I nabbed a meeting with the owner of Arlington Hall.”

Another choke. What the hell? “The owner of Arlington Hall?”

“Yeah, you remember him?” Pound signs ping into Leighton’s eyes when he backs out. “At the convention.”

“Yeah, I remember him.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get him in my client bank?” The door closes, and I stare at it, my lagging brain trying to catch up.

“Shit,” I hiss, dialling Jude and standing, furious. “Are you having a meeting with Leighton Steers?” I ask abruptly when the call connects.

“Ummm ... yeah?” He definitely sounds guarded.

“Jude!”

“What?”

I sit down and stand back up again, starting to walk circles around my office. “Why are you meeting him?”

“Ummm . . .”

“Um, um, um,” I snap. “Cancel it.”

“No.”

My nostrils flare. I know exactly what he’s going to do. So much for loving him more for taking my word and accepting it. “Do not interfere with my career, Jude. That’s a hard no for me.”

“I’m not interfering with your career. I’m building up the hopes of some little rat who’s hitting on my girlfriend so I can dash them and send him on his way with a polite warning.”

“Polite?”

“Depends how I feel after the meeting.”

Or if he’s taken his pills. I slam my mouth shut before I can let those words tumble out. “Jude, I beg you,” I whisper.

“Oh, baby, don’t beg me. It turns me on.”

“Jude!”

He sighs, making a long, elaborate effort of it. “He needs telling.”

“I can handle Steers.”

“I have more of a presence than you.”

“Hard no, Jude,” I warn. “If you want to see me tonight, or any other night, for that matter, cancel your fucking meeting.” I hang up and yell, slamming my phone down on my desk. “Fucking man.” Dumping myself in my chair, I close my eyes and take a few moments to breathe. Calm. Give me calm.

My landline rings on my desk, but I don’t answer, definitely not feeling very calm yet.

It rings off and rings again. Then rings off and my mobile starts.

I lose my breath when I see Tilda Spector’s name.

“Fuck,” I whisper, slapping my cheeks and blowing out a few controlled breaths. “Tilda,” I answer, happy.

“Amelia, I tried the office, but the receptionist couldn’t get through. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“No, no. Sorry, I was on another call. How are you?”

“Very good. I wondered if we could meet.”

My back goes ramrod straight in my chair. I feel like I’ve been waiting weeks for this call. “Absolutely.” I bite my tongue, refraining from asking why, and she laughs a little.

“Not a vulture, are you, Amelia?”

“Hate them,” I say, smiling.

“How does Wednesday next week sound?”

“Perfect. Just let me know where and when.”

“I’ll have my assistant make a lunch reservation and email you the details. Look forward to it, Amelia.”

She cuts the call, and I sit back in my chair, my smile wide, feeling so much calmer. “Yes,” I hiss, performing a ridiculous fist pump that I would die before doing in public.

“Fuck!” The distant curse has me looking at the door, and, curious, I get up and pull it open. Leighton’s storming down the corridor, cursing his arse off.

I peek down at my phone when it dings.

Done. For future reference, threatening abstinence is a hard no for me.

I grin and close my door, hearing my computer ping. Rounding my desk, I smile when I see an email from Leo Lombardy.

The stars are aligning.