Page 35 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

“Me too. They’re firmer when they still have the stone inside. Kind of creamier.” I study the flesh of the green olive. “Black or green?”

“Green.”

“Me too.” I sigh and drop the stone onto the side plate. “I bet you didn’t expect such a riveting bar conversation today, huh?”

Clinton laughs. “I’m a barman. It’s in the job description to help take people’s mind off things.”

I laugh, not in amusement, and help myself to another olive. I’m on my fifth when Jude appears beside me, nodding at my empty as Clinton replaces it with a fresh new drink. “That kind of day?”

I look at him with exasperation. “Had better. What did Rob say?” I ask, making him tilt his head in question. “I saw you out there talking.” It’s not like he was hiding, and there’s a direct view onto the front from here.

Jude glances back over his shoulder, as if reminding himself of that. “I wouldn’t put it past her. But I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“I’m not,” I say with grit, surprising Jude.

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Good.” He reaches for my stool and drags it closer. “Are you done?”

“I’m done.”

“Then let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“I want to take you away.”

“Okay,” I agree easily, observing his slow, thoughtful nod, watching as he drifts into a daydream. “Are you alright?” Why does he seem vacant all of a sudden?

He visibly shakes himself back into the room, smiling. It’s forced. “Sorry, what did you say?”

I lean back. “I asked if you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” He stands, collecting my hand, frowning past me. I look back to the woman, Denise. Comprehension seems to have just hit her.

“You’re the guy who owns this wonderful hotel,” she says, excited. “Oh my, it all makes sense now!” She lifts her drink. “The Amelia.”

Jude laughs. “Yes, and just like my girlfriend, it leaves a wicked aftertaste.”

Denise erupts into belly-clenching laughter. “Oh, that’s funny. How romantic. Have you been dating long?”

“Long enough to get a cocktail on the menu in honour of her.” Clinton chuckles, prompting a glare from Jude. “You can’t fire me.”

“Can’t I?” Jude grumbles, taking my cocktail off the bar and dragging me away. “We’re having lunch in the Piano Bar. Put Amelia’s drinks on my tab.”

“Yes, boss.”

“He’s right,” Jude says. “I can’t fire him.”

I laugh. “So, we’re going for a relaxed lunch, are we?” The Piano Bar is cool and laid-back, rather than formal and refined like the Orangery.

“We are.”

“What will you do?” I ask as he guides me across the lobby. “There are no tablecloths to hide your wandering hands.”

He snorts, pulling out a tub chair for me, giving me a wide, full-beam smile. It takes him from handsome to illegal. “Restrain myself.”

Plucking the menu off the table, I lower and browse the options. “Burrata and risotto,” I say decisively, slamming it shut.

“Are you in a rush?”

I cross my legs and relax back, taking in the busy Piano Bar. “I think we could both do with letting off some steam,” I muse. His laugh is sardonic, and I sigh. “What am I going to do about my car?” I pout. “I can’t drive it like that.”

“I’ll get it repaired,” he says, making me feel guilty. The car cost him enough. “Please don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried. I’m annoyed.”

“Don’t be annoyed,” he breathes as he pushes my cocktail towards me.

Is he for real? Don’t be annoyed? Sure. Easy. And rich, coming from him.

“Thanks.” I lose myself in my drink and try to push back my irritation. It’s not Jude’s fault. “What are you having?”

“Prawns,” he answers. “You’ve got your meeting with Spector soon, right?”

“Wednesday.”

“Ready for it?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I sing.

“What’s your strategy?”

“Patience. Listen. Don’t overtalk or overwhelm her with all the reasons why I should be the chosen one.” I smirk around the rim of the glass when Jude chuckles.

“You’ll smash it,” he says, and just that stupid little comment makes my heart swell.

“So where are you taking me away?” I ask.

“Florence?”

I’m interested. And very excited. “Really?”

“That looks like it’s hit the spot.”

“It’s been on my list of places to visit for years.”

“Mine too.” He smiles. “The architecture is mind-blowing. It’s what I did ... well, before Mum found ...”

“You were an architect?” I ask, shocked, lowering my glass. “How didn’t I know that?”

“Because I’ve never told you.”

I give him a playful, dirty look. “And how much more haven’t you told me?”

He laughs lightly. “I followed in my dad’s footsteps, but I was more modern than Dad’s classic grand.

I loved mixing old with new. Like ancient, raw bricks with frameless glass.

Clean plaster with original tumbled floors.

” He gazes around the Piano Bar. “Dad was old, I was modern. With this place, I wanted to make sure there was plenty of his influence. For Mum.”

“I think he would have loved it.”

Jude smiles mildly, nodding his thanks when a bottle of beer is put in front of him. “We’ll take the burrata, prawns, and risotto, please, Audrey. Make sure there’s no nuts in any of those. Or anywhere near them.”

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t,” she says, smiling.

“Well, I was pretty sure there weren’t nuts in the Eton Mess, and yet there was.” He hands the menu back on a tight smile and Audrey blinks. “Double-check, okay?”

“Of course.” She casts a smile my way before she leaves, and I return it, feeling like a massive inconvenience.

“Do you enjoy running Arlington Hall?” I ask, because that’s an entirely different ball game and out of his architectural scope.

Jude was right. It’s a very special place, and that’s entirely down to him.

The effort he’s put in to making it what Evelyn Harrison imagined, the time and dedication he’s given in honour of his parents. It’s admirable.

“I hardly run it. Hiring the best team was essential, given I knew fuck all about running a hotel.” He laughs. “I’ve learned along the way with their help. Honestly, they’re invaluable. Especially Anouska. She was managing a hotel in Manhattan before I poached her.”

“You’re ruthless.”

Amusement slides across his lips, stretching them. “Maybe.” His hand meets my knee, and I shift in my chair, electric shocks shooting up my thigh and smacking me straight between my legs.

“ So ruthless,” I say, breathless.

“Shall we take lunch in bed?”

I’m up like a shot, Jude’s gaze rising with me. I need to get him somewhere private before I make a spectacle of us both. “I’ll see you upstairs,” I say, hearing him chuckle as I go.

I leave the bar with haste, making my way through the lobby, my stomach fluttering madly, and I’m about to take the stairs when I see Katherine rounding the corner from the spa.

She’s in her gym kit, but judging from the lack of sweat and the fact her makeup is perfect, I’m guessing she’s not made it there yet.

I look down at my leggings. Feel at my still-warm, slightly clammy cheeks.

What the hell did you do to my car, you mad bitch?

She falters in her pace when she sees me, her animosity instant. Why is she still kicking around here?

I mentally demand my feet to carry me up the stairs, away from her toxic energy, but for all the will in the world, they won’t bloody budge.

“Amelia,” she says, resting her weight on one hip. It’s the kind of stance a woman takes when she’s about to launch into ultra-snarky bitch mode. Call another woman she dislikes and doesn’t respect sweetheart or something equally condescending.

I somehow manage to convince my legs to work.

“How’s your new car?” she calls, quickly halting me again. Staring forward, I imagine all the ways I’d like to hurt her. But in this moment, I realise the best, most effective way is to simply be with Jude.

So I turn and smile, walking backwards up the last few steps.

“My new car is as beautiful as my new boyfriend. As comfortable to ride too.” Now I must shut up and move on, and yet her face, a picture of pure indignation, is like petrol on my flames.

“Oh, and, Katherine, you must try the new cocktail on the menu. I hear it packs a punch. Toodle-oo.” I pivot and smirk to myself as I walk, getting ready to strip the moment I’m in Jude’s apartment.

“My God, you actually think you know him, don’t you?”

My feet falter, but somehow, I keep walking. I don’t like the sound of that at all. I make it through the door of Jude’s apartment and breathe in deep, fighting back the angry increase of my heartbeats, pacing up and down, hearing her say that last thing over and over. What the hell did that mean?

Jude bursts through the door, his T-shirt half off. He screeches to a halt, looking me up and down. “Why aren’t you naked?”

“I just ran into Katherine.”

His shoulders drop. That pisses me off too.

“She laughed at the idea that I think I know you.” My arms fold across my chest. Protective.

Like a woman getting ready to block something damaging.

I huff under my breath and unfold them. “Why would she laugh at that?” I ask.

“Is there something I should know?” Or something more? And can I take it?

Jude feeds his arm back through his T-shirt and pulls it down. “She’s trying to get a rise out of you.”

“She’s succeeding!” I cry, turning and going to the kitchen.

I need water. The sound of Jude’s boots follows me in, but he remains quiet behind me as I bang my way around his kitchen.

After glugging back half the glass, I slam it down while Jude hovers on the threshold, as if scared to enter.

“It would be easy not to give her a rise if she wasn’t here.

” I throw it out there. “Why haven’t you told her to fuck off? ”

He laughs under his breath, looking at the ceiling. For patience? I’m astounded. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not that simple?” I parrot on a recoil. “It’s very simple. This is your hotel, Jude. Go tell her to find another health club to work out at.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he breathes, daring to enter.

“Are you just going to carry on saying stupid shit?”