Secrets of a Chalet Girl: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Novella Page 7

  Flora’s eyebrows shot up when she saw the suite. She tried to bite back her reaction – it wasn’t cool to act too excitedly, was it? But this was the best hotel room she’d ever seen. It was easily three times the size of the flat she’d shared with Tom back in England. It had its own sitting room and library, not to mention its own dining room, kitchen area with cappuccino machine and three separate terraces to sit out on, all overlooking the jaw-dropping view. The bathroom had a sumptuous Jacuzzi bath set into the middle of the floor and enticing packets of bath salts and expensive lotions.

  When they were finally left alone Flora turned to Zac, grinning wildly.

  “This is the best Christmas present anyone’s ever given me. It’s fantastic here, I’m not sure I ever want to leave!”

  “Glad you like it. I must admit I wasn’t expecting to be upgraded, they must have had a cancellation, or…perhaps they thought my father had made the booking, I didn’t leave my first name.” Zac gazed pensively out at the view, frowning. “Oh well, we’re here, that’s what matters.”

  “Who is your father?” she asked. “Someone important?”

  “Sort of - he’s known locally at least.” Zac turned to her and pulled her into a hug. “And my parents dine at Le Patio fairly often but anyway, I don’t want to talk about them. It’s nice to spend Christmas with someone…special.”

  “Oh, I’m special am I?” She nudged him playfully and snuggled into his chest, trying hard not to think about what would happen when this was over. She just had to try to hold back emotionally. Just? Huh, because that was going to be easy, wasn’t it?

  “Oh yes.” Zac pulled her over closer to him, his hands on the small of her back. “Don’t you know you’re special?”

  Flora thought hard. Her parents had never been particularly demonstrative or generous with their praise. She’d always been left feeling distinctly lacking, never quite able to measure up to their high standards. Tom had sometimes made her feel special but then he’d also made her feel as worthless as it was possible to feel too.

  “Well… I suppose,” she lied. She wanted to believe she could be special, but…

  How special can this relationship be if I’ve already set a ‘best-before’ date on it?

  It wasn’t meant to mean anything. They were hanging out for the holidays, both at a loose end, keen to enjoy each other’s company.

  But it’s going to be sad when Christmas is over and we go our separate ways…

  The rogue thought was accompanied by a swell of longing so powerful it scared her. To avoid having to examine where it’d come from and what it meant she leant up on tiptoe to kiss Zac, closing her eyes to the connection she found in him.

  What sort of game were they playing here? What had started out as Truth or Dare had become a whole lot more serious. Did they even know the rules? Perhaps they were making them up as they went along as they had with the Truth or Dare.

  Truth – I really, really like you. Dare – I don’t dare let this take over. Forfeit – I’m afraid of losing my independence. More than that I’m afraid of losing myself again…

  But the thoughts faded away as they kissed, kissed passionately and touched each other as though they were racing time. Soon all she could think about was feeling his skin against hers and wanting him to come inside her again.

  The best kind of therapy – the euphoric sex haze that makes everything feel better.

  “You do know you’re not to blame, don’t you?” Zac asked Flora, idly stroking her back; she had such beautifully soft skin. It surprised him how quickly he’d come to care for Flora. He wanted to spoil her, protect her and make her smile. She had a lovely, sexy smile that made her eyes sparkle.

  Christmas Eve had been magical with drinks in the Piano bar and a gourmet meal at Le Trianon. He wanted to make her Christmas Day even better. She needed cheering up and as far as he could tell she really didn’t deserve the grief she was getting from back home.

  He wanted to help her forget.

  “Yes…I think I do…now, that is. See what found its way into my timeline yesterday.” She handed him her mobile phone, grimacing.

  Zac scrolled down to the Facebook link and clicked it, seeing Flora’s name mentioned. It linked to a local newspaper article in England.

  ‘Tragedy Strikes Local Community’ – Earlier this year we reported the heart attack of the chairman of the Parish Council, Mr Paxton, at a community fundraising gathering. Further tragedy struck the Paxton household when his son Tom was jilted at the altar. The runaway bride left the family with mounting bills for a lavish wedding. With regret we report that on hearing the news Mr Paxton went on to have a second heart attack from which he failed to recover. The family blame the cancellation of the wedding and his son’s distress for putting Mr Paxton under stress. Mrs. Paxton said…’

  Zac stopped reading and raised his eyes to meet Flora’s. “You know this is a load of crap don’t you?”

  She met his eye. “Until I read that article I couldn’t shake the guilt but that, that…so-called newspaper gets all its facts wrong. I didn’t leave them in any debt; we had wedding insurance and I hardly left Tom at the altar. They got the order of events completely wrong and…I’m bloody angry. It’s woken me up to how unfair this is. I think the Paxton’s have friends at the local newspaper, it’s a deliberate smear and I refuse to let it get to me.”

  “You could complain? Try to get Facebook to take the link down, or make an official press complaint in England?”

  “I don’t want to do anything.” She shook her head. “If I do I’ll get sucked in and I want to leave it all behind me.”

  He supposed he could understand that point of view. After all hadn’t that been the way he always dealt with problems?

  “Did you never talk to his family about why you were leaving?” he asked.

  “I tried to.” She sighed, shaking her head. “His sister and I were close but I…couldn’t tell them how he made me feel. I tried but his sister accused me of making stuff up to make myself look better.”

  “How bad was it Flora?” He stroked her arms, soothing and cajoling her, the action feeling instinctive.

  Somehow he knew it had been bad.

  He wasn’t sure how he knew it. But he knew.

  And he wanted to knock the living daylights out of Flora’s ex, anger swelling up on her behalf, so strongly that the muscles in his hands tensed and his body felt rigid.

  “Pretty bad,” she whispered, eyes wide, imploring him to understand. Or did she just want him to shut up and stop asking questions?

  He pulled her closer towards him and she pressed her head against his chest, eyes screwed shut.

  “It’s hard to talk about, you know?”

  “I know,” he replied, stroking the length of her back. “But it’s over now. And you did the right thing. You had to leave. No one should have to put up with bullying of any kind.”

  His mouth tightened as he thought of his mother and her refusal of all his offers of help.

  Her refusal to leave.

  It baffled him. Maybe Flora would be able to explain to him why his mum still put up with his dad because he as sure as hell couldn’t fathom it!

  Can I tell Flora?

  He didn’t share his family stuff with anyone. It had certainly never occurred to him to share it with the girls he dated. Nick knew things weren’t right at home but they never talked about it. It simply wasn’t their way of doing things…

  He was about to say something when Flora turned her face up to his and kissed him, the kiss was long and deep and passionate, stirring him on every level. Opening Pandora’s box could wait until another day.

  Who wanted to talk about sad stuff when you could be enjoying life and living it to the full?

  Focusing on the positives, that’s what I need to do.

  And what Flora was doing with her hands most definitely fell into the enjoying life category. She trailed kisses down his chest and surprised him by kneeling down and taking h
im in her mouth, eyes looking up, wide and focused on him.

  She didn’t break eye contact when he stared back. The intensity of the connection increased the pleasure for him. It was amazingly, mind-blowingly intimate and he came quickly, unable to hold back or delay his release.

  He wanted to repay her, to make her forget about crappy guys who got off on making women feel small. He manoeuvred her back towards the bed, hands running over her body, stroking her curves, and kissing her.

  “Let me give you a Christmas present.” He grinned.

  And then his phone rang.

  Some nagging sixth sense told him he couldn’t ignore this call. It was Christmas Day. He could never ignore his phone without wondering if his mum was okay.

  “I’m sorry,” He shot an agonised look at Flora. “It could be important.”

  He grabbed his phone, the caller ID on the screen told him his fears were well grounded. He answered the call.

  All he could hear was his mother sobbing, over and over.

  It broke his heart.

  “Mum, are you okay?” It was a bloody stupid question but all his brain could come up with at the moment.

  There was some more sobbing. And then the line went dead.

  He stared at the phone in his hand, dread trickling down his spine. He was dimly aware of Flora’s gaze on him and turned back towards her. She sat naked on the edge of the bed, eyes brimming with concern. He liked that she didn’t feel the need to hide her gorgeous body under the duvet anymore.

  She’ll understand. Even if you don’t tell her everything she’ll understand. Flora’s that kind of girl.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to summon the control he needed to do this. “I have to go.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?” Flora suggested tentatively.

  He considered. An outsider would most likely make his dad snap back into jovial host mode, all traces of his aggression hidden by the smooth veneer of charm and social graces. Zac had seen the transformation more times than he could remember when family friends and colleagues visited them at home.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, I’d planned to take you to the Piano Bar for cocktails again later on and we’re going to miss our booking for Christmas lunch … This isn’t what you signed up for.”

  “I signed something?” She smiled. “Hey, the hotel’s lovely but I’m here to hang out with you.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed his clothes. “Let’s get going then.”

  He had a feeling this might be a very bad idea but he hoped he’d be proven wrong…

  Flora’s stomach was churning. She could tell from Zac’s stiff jaw and the way he gripped the steering wheel that something was seriously wrong. That he’d fallen out with his parents was obvious given they were practically around the corner and yet he’d chosen not to visit them for Christmas. But it was also clear that he still cared about his mother at least.

  If her experiences had taught her anything it was not to judge. You never had all the facts about someone else’s situation. She’d experienced enough condemnation to have that lesson drummed into her.

  “Am I allowed to ask what’s wrong?” She reached across from where she sat in the passenger seat of his jeep and tentatively laid a hand on his thigh.

  “My mum needs some help,” he muttered, gaze focused on the road, eyes dark and full of dark intensity.

  Help with what? Chopping carrots? Carving the turkey? Do they even have turkey at Christmas here? Well I suppose they might given she’s English.

  But of course it wasn’t going to be anything that trivial. Zac had always seemed so utterly in control but now she could practically see the turbulent emotions warring beneath his calm exterior. His knuckles were virtually white where they gripped the steering wheel.

  Every so often he glanced over at her, eyes thoughtful and lips slightly parted as though he was about to speak. But he always seemed to think better of it.

  She liked Coppet, it was a pretty little village on the outskirts of Geneva, on the shore of Lac Léman, complete with chateau. Once they’d driven through the main village they took a turning off the road and onto a grand gravel driveway, the house not even in sight from the wrought iron gates. When they eventually did see the house Flora had to admit she was impressed. It was built in the style of a typical French mansion and had pretty green shutters with a snowy white clematis trailing up the creamy brick walls. The grounds were immaculately kept with barely a leaf out of place. To the side of the house Flora’s gaze fell on the stretch of private lakeshore and the boathouse. She glanced at Zac, wondering if she should make small talk about the house, tell him how much she liked it.

  Maybe not.

  He hesitated on the doorstep, face pale and preoccupied. Then he raised his hand and rang the bell. They stood in awkward silence for a few minutes.

  “Are you sure they’re in?” Flora bit her lip, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, like she was trespassing or something.

  Zac pulled a key out of his pocket but hesitated again before putting it into the keyhole. He glanced at Flora, gave her a tight smile that she took to be a ‘thanks for this’ and then swung the door open.

  She could hear the raised voices before they had taken many steps into the elegant hallway. They were speaking French but there was something about the male voice that made her tense, the hectoring tone familiar. Her stomach twisted violently and she placed a hand against the cool stone wall. Zac didn’t seem to notice as he strode forward to the source of the row.

  The voice could easily have been Tom’s in thirty years time. And the woman’s voice, low and pleading, sent a chill down her spine.

  I used to plead like that. Much good it did me.

  Flora hesitated where she stood, one hand on the cool stone and the other on her stomach. Should she go with Zac, or…

  A scream cut through her thoughts and Zac strode off ahead of her.

  Flora followed tentatively, wondering if she should help but half wanting to go back to the car and shut herself in. She felt physically sick, as though her defences were crashing down around her and her body was letting her down.

  She entered a large drawing room in time to see a man in his sixties, presumably Zac’s father, with his hands around a slender woman’s neck.

  Zac raced forward and yanked his father away, then pushed him so hard the man staggered and fell backwards into a chair. The woman ran to the fallen man’s aid, her eyes flashing accusation at Zac.

  She then stood behind her husband as though literally hiding behind him. Flora froze in the doorway, hoping if she stayed still enough then maybe no one would see her.

  “How could you Zac?” The woman’s English accent sounded clipped and slightly upper class, Flora had to admire her swift recovery of composure. Her clothes were smart, probably designer. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell anything from looking at her now, her face a mask.

  But Flora knew. She knew from one look in the woman’s eyes…and she would have known even if she hadn’t seen the Zac’s dad trying to strangle her. This was classic avoidance.

  And she knew it because she’d been there herself.

  “I was defending you mum. We should call the police.” Zac raised his arms in the air, hurt so vivid in his eyes that for a second she imagined she could see the boy he’d once been. “What is it going to take for you to realise he can’t treat you like this? Exactly how far does he have to go?”

  “He doesn’t mean any harm,” his mother whispered, eyes cast down to the hands clasping the chair back in front of her.

  Zac snorted.

  His father merely sat, glaring at Zac as though his son had climbed out from under a rock and he was contemplating ways of exterminating him.

  Anger bubbled inside Flora, causing emotions she’d successfully buried to rise to the surface.

  “Why are you here anyway Zac?” His mother aske
d coldly. “You know we always go to the country club on Christmas day.”

  “You rang me.” Zac shot an angry look at his father, as though daring him to stand up again. “I heard you crying!”

  “Oh.” His mother frowned, mouth pursed into a tight line. “I must have knocked the button on my mobile, I didn’t know…”

  Flora looked away from Zac and his mother, feeling uncomfortable. Zac’s father’s eyes flashed with pure hatred when they met her gaze. She shrank away backwards into the corridor, feeling nauseous again.

  I really shouldn’t have come…

  She could still hear their voices from the hallway.

  “Why don’t you leave mum?” Zac’s voice was entreating. “Come away with me now. Just leave and let me take care of you.”

  Then she heard a roar and shouting in French and she guessed Zac’s dad had decided he’d had enough of sitting quietly. She heard the word ‘quittez’ and knew enough French to guess he was saying Zac should be the one to leave, ordering him to get out of his house.

  “I’m not a little boy anymore, Dad.” Zac raised his voice but didn’t shout. “You can’t beat me into submission anymore.”

  “He’s always tried to be a good father to you, Zachary.” His mother’s voice rose to join in.

  Flora walked towards the front door as quietly as she could, feeling winded and wishing she could literally disappear. It was all too much to deal with. She felt for Zac, really she did but she didn’t know what to do. Presumably no one would thank her if she called the police and Zac’s mum would refuse to make a complaint.

  “Please mum.” Zac’s voice was still audible when Flora reached for the catch and opened the front door. A vice-like grip squeezed her chest and she could barely breathe, as though even her lungs were afraid of being heard.

  She walked to Zac’s Jeep and stood with her back against it, watching the house, her fingers twisting anxiously together.