He's Captured My Trust (Captured Series Book 2) (29 page)

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Authors: Karen Frances

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Romance, #Contemporary

BOOK: He's Captured My Trust (Captured Series Book 2)
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THE RAIN HAS BATTERED THE
windscreen since I left Ethan’s house after visiting our beautiful girl. It was great seeing them at home together again, and I’m looking forward to having her. I am not usually a lover of the rain, but tonight as I make the drive to work, which is taking longer than usual, it has served its purpose: it’s been a distraction.

Alexander Mathews.

Alex has been in my thoughts since I ended our call. I put up a protective barrier after my relationship with Jeff ended. I couldn’t let myself get hurt again, but I find I am hurting all over again. I allowed Alex into my life—the handsome, arrogant American. Not only did I fall for his charisma and good looks, but I fell in love with a caring man not everyone gets to see—a trusting man who confided in me and shared his past with me, but whose silence about Katherine has me questioning his loyalty.

Where does his loyalty lie?

All I wanted was for him to be open, honest, and upfront about Katherine. If he wanted to help, all he had to do was tell me what was happening. In my eyes, she has done a cruel thing to someone she calls her friend.

I’m angry at Alex. I am past the point of feeling hurt and sorry for myself. It’s been the longest week of my life, and I’m certain tonight’s night sift will prolong it further. He hasn’t tried to contact me, which I suppose is a blessing. I need to move on.

Move on. Rebuild my life. I’m getting to be an expert at starting again, although this time, when the barrier goes up, it will stay firmly in place. I can’t let myself get hurt again. I knew when I admitted my feelings for Alex that I was putting my heart at risk. The result—a heart that’s shattered into a million pieces, and I’m not even sure it’s worth piecing together again.

Right now I wish Alexander Mathews hadn’t come into my life what seven short weeks ago and turned it upside down. I was settled before, and now . . . Now I’m just a mess.

I choose to park my car as close to the hotel as possible, so my dash inside is a short one. I don’t even pause to look across the water, knowing there would be nothing to see with this rain. I stop in the doorway and take my coat off, shaking off some of the water. I smooth down the front of my suit jacket and skirt, making sure I am presentable before entering the reception area.

Sally and Kieran are both behind the desk. She’s putting her jacket on and looks ready to head off.

“Libby,” Kieran calls as soon as he sees me. “Is it still as wet out there?”

“Yes, absolutely bucketing.”

“Sally, would you be able to give me a lift?” he asks her.

“Yes, sure. Evening, Miss Stewart.”

“Evening, Sally. What’s wrong with your car?” I ask Kieran, surprised.

“It’s in the garage. The electrics are playing up.” That figures. He should get a new one. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. He always has problems with it. “You sure you’ll be fine tonight?” he asks as I walk around the desk.

“Of course I’m sure. What chef is working late?”

“I’m sure it’s Karl tonight. We’ve been getting some room-service orders the last few nights after midnight. So there will be someone in the kitchen until then. After that, no food, so don’t go messing about in the kitchen if someone orders. Security should be in about nine thirty. I don’t know who’s in tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Off you get. Don’t have Sally waiting all night on you,” I tease him.

He leans over and kisses my head.

“Go, I said, before I change my mind and leave myself.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Will you be here when I get in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I should still be here,” I reply as he starts to walk off.

My first few hours on the desk fly by, much to my surprise. There are lots of calls to deal with: room reservations, restaurant reservations, and guest inquiries. And I thought I’d have time to do some of my own work on budgets, profits, and losses. I also wanted to do a full review of each department before I run out of time with Christmas fast approaching.

Karl phones around at ten o’clock to see if I want something to eat. I tell him I’m not hungry, but he asks when I last ate. I had some soup and a banana at lunchtime, but that doesn’t go down well with him. He tells me he’ll be around shortly with something more filling. It’s ironic. Alex wanted me to eat more as well, to try to regain some of the weight I lost. Funny, because I have probably lost more now.

“Right. Miss?” I turn to the voice. Karl has come around the corner carrying a tray. “Some dinner for two, and tea,” he says. “I’ll eat with you. I never got a chance earlier; it’s been so busy in the restaurant.”

“Okay, but I could have done with a sandwich,” I eye the plates covered with silver domes keeping whatever is underneath warm.

I move a few things out of the way so he can set the tray down, and he takes a seat beside me. Staff doesn’t usually eat at the main reception. The only exception I make is for whoever is on night shift. Night shift can be lonely and usually not much happens. I know the chefs come out and keep whoever is working company.

“Ta-da.” Karl takes the tops off the plates, revealing chicken breasts wrapped with bacon and a selection of steamed vegetables. It looks delicious. “Come on. Eat it while it’s hot.”

“Yes, Dad,” I say, laughing.

“Less of that. There’s no way I’m old enough to be your dad.” He almost growls at me, and we both laugh.

I dig in, and it melts in my mouth. The chicken is stuffed with black pudding as well, and all the ingredients go well together. As for the vegetables, I would have settled for a plate of them on their own. We chat about some of the arrangements for the kitchen for Christmas, which makes me excited about Christmas here. It will be my first in charge, although I have worked more than my fair share over the years. Everything seems to be in place for all our extra guests and dinners.

I surprise both myself and Karl, I think, by eating everything on my plate, and, honestly, I could actually eat more.

“Will you be alright?” he asks as we tidy everything up.

“Of course. I’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure. I could stay if you want.”

“You will do no such thing. I have work to get on with. I can’t sit here all night gabbing, and anyway, the security guards are about. They’ve already been in. I’m sure my father has instructed them to check on me every hour on the hour.”

“Alright, then. I’ll head back around to the kitchen and let the others get finished. Remember where I am if you need anything. I’ll come and see you on my way home.”

“You checking up on me as well?”

“I’m just making sure you’re alright. I do the same for whoever is working this shift. You’ll get no special treatment from me.”

I smile at his words because I know he’s right. He’s the one person in this hotel who tells it to me straight. He calls it as he sees it and never minces his words. After he goes back to the kitchen, I immerse myself in the budgets for each department, working for what seems like hours but turns out to be only forty-five minutes. I have to speak with Karl a few times to go over the kitchen budget. His food costs looked too low, but he assures me all the prices are correct. It’s no wonder we’re making a profit in the restaurant. He knows how to manage his suppliers, getting the highest quality at affordable prices. He does his whole job to the best of his ability and gets more from his staff as well.

As I predicted, security has been in every hour on the hour—my dad’s doing. The guys have chatted with me for a few minutes each time before resuming their patrol of both the inside and the outside. We have an excellent camera system in place, so I don’t think there’s a need for the additional security, but I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry.

At one o’clock, Karl comes back around to the reception area dressed in his normal clothes. It’s funny seeing him dressed. As the thought crosses my mind, I know it sounds bad; it’s just that I’m used to seeing him in his chef’s uniform.

“I’m heading off now. Stephen will be the first one here in the morning, at six. My guys should be in about six thirty. Any problems, my phone will be on.”

“Thanks, Karl. I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

“You’re covering the restaurant tomorrow night?”

“Yes, and looking forward to it. It’ll be good to have some interaction with staff and guests instead of all the paperwork that seems to always need to be done.”

“Okay then. Good night,” he says as he walks away.

“’Night, Karl.”

Alone again. Now to make a start on last quarter’s profit-and-loss. This job needs focus, and I can’t do it when I’m tired. I stare at the figures on the screen in front of me. I need something to drink. I head to the canteen, and, as much as the area is well lit, it has an eerie feeling to it. My imagination is working overtime. I make myself a cup of tea and buy a bar of chocolate from the machine. The sugar rush should keep me going for a while.

As I sit back down at the desk, cup in hand, I check the internal phone to make sure none of the guests have called reception while I’ve been gone. There haven’t been any calls. Perfect. That means I can get working again. I turn the radio on low for some background noise. It’s too quiet here at night. The only other sound is the crackling of the fire, which is still burning away. David, one of the security guards, has checked it every time he has been in through the night, making sure it’s topped up.

Just after three, my phone rings, startling me. I nearly jump from my seat. Sophie’s name appears on the screen in front of me.

“Is everything alright? Is it Alex?” I ask. I can hear the worry in my voice.

“Yes, everything’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Does she not know what time it is here?

“Yes, I’m fine. How is Alex?” I ask, although I’m not sure I want to know.

“He’s sort of the reason for my call. Are you near a computer?”

“Yes, why?”

“Just do as I say.” She gives me the web address of a US news channel. She also tells me to stay on the phone and turn the volume up so she knows I’m listening to it.

Alex is on the screen. I resist the urge to touch it. I know I’d almost feel his soft skin under my touch.

“Promise, Libby? You’ll watch it all?”

“Okay, okay I promise.”

He is giving a statement at what looks like an airport. I remember the last speech he made at an airport and how things ended that night. His eyes are dark and haunted as he stares back at me from the screen. His features are still as perfect as I remember them, but, right now, I want to forget. I don’t need reminders, because I still see him clearly every time I close my eyes.

I don’t think I can do this—sit here and listen to what he has to say. It’s too painful. Everything is still fresh in my mind. It hurts too much.

“As you are all aware, Miss Hunter is undergoing treatment. She is receiving treatment that she should have gotten many years ago. We have been friends, as you know, since we were children. When we were in our teens, Miss Hunter was brutally gang raped, and I was viciously attacked . . .”
I don’t hear anything else. I gasp as I bring my hand to my mouth, trying to silence myself. I can’t believe he is baring his soul to the world. I take several deep breaths as I shiver, thinking about how brave he is for doing this and also wondering why.

“Libby, are you still there?”

“Yes, Sophie, I’m here watching, listening, and not quite understanding.” I have no idea why she wants me to see this.

“Just keep watching.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you will give Miss Hunter the time she needs with her family to allow her to fully recover and deal with her issues. Now, as you are aware, I have somewhere I need to be, so if you would let me get to my flight, there is a certain young lady I need to be with.”

“You’re heading to Miss Stewart? When are you going to stop playing that girl? She seems nice enough,” a reporter throws at him, and he looks visibly taken aback by the question.

“Let me make this clear. I’m not playing Miss Stewart for anything. I don’t know where some of you get your so-called facts. Miss Stewart had to leave New York because of a family illness, and I could not leave with her because my hands were tied, so to speak.”

I take a deep breath. I think the man I love—but told I don’t want anything else to do with—is on his way here. I can’t see him.

“Libby, are you still there?” Sophie’s voice brings me back from my thoughts.

“Y-yes, I’m here. I can’t see him. I can’t do this. Please tell me his flight hasn’t left.” I hear the panic in my own voice. Surely she does as well. I hang my head in my hand.

“Do me a favour. Look up from where you’re sitting,” Sophie says. That takes me by surprise. Does she know I’m sitting here in work? My heart rate quickens as I lift my head slowly and something or someone catches my eye. Alex is standing still in the doorway.

He tucks something into his pocket, his phone I think. I frown as I take in the sight in front of me. I gasp in shock and lean back in the chair when the sudden realisation hits me that it’s really him standing there. This is no hallucination. He is really here. I can’t believe it. My heart has already started racing. I bite my lip, trying to stop it from trembling.

“Libby, Libby,” Sophie calls. Christ, I forgot she was on the phone.

“Sophie.”

“Great. So at least I know you haven’t passed out from shock,” she says mockingly. “Libby, he loves you. Please give him a chance to make things right between you, and remember what I said earlier. He’s a man, and they are known to fuck up from time to time, but he deserves a chance. He’ll take his lead from you. Be firm and fair, but most important, be yourself. If you’re angry with him, let him know, and if you want to hit him, go ahead. I know you love him. Just talk to him. I’ll go, but I’ll talk to you soon. And don’t be mad at me for doing this. I want you two together, and I would do anything to get you two back on track.” With that she ends the call, without even giving me a chance to say anything to her.

I lift my eyes and drink in the vision in front of me. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. He has a suit carrier slung over his shoulder and a small suitcase at his feet. His eyes are dark, probably from lack of sleep, something I know only too well. There is no smile on his beautiful face. I see only fear.

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