Break The Rules Page 7

He didn't even twitch.

  Instead, his gaze clicked to the hand on her ass then lifted to meet hers.

  He mouthed. You are a bad, bad girl.

  He moved towards them.

  T.C. blinked.

  A horrible thought entered her mind.

  Omigod.

  What if Sean hit Freddy?

  He wouldn't hit Freddy.

  Would he?

  Sean tapped Freddy on the shoulder, while T.C. looked on with something like fear gripping her heart. Freddy was a gentle soul. When they'd been young, he'd had a problem standing up for himself. There was no way he'd be able to handle a big tall Irish man a good sixty pounds heavier.

  Freddy turned and shocked T.C. to the core when he beamed. "Hi, Sean. How are the ribs?"

  "Good, Fred. The new pain pills helped a lot, thanks."

  T.C. gaped at them. "You know each other?"

  Freddy stared hard at her, blinked. "Of course. I treated him in outpatients."

  Which just went to show what a small bloody world it was, T.C. realized, putting two and two together to make four.

  "Mind if I take over, Fred?" Sean asked.

  It was insulting, T.C. fumed, the way Freddy had just handed her over to Sean, as if she was a packet of... of... chips.

  Sean took the woman who was driving him mad in his arms.

  She held herself so stiff he was amazed her spine didn't snap.

  The hectic flush on those cheekbones and the feral glitter in those baby blue eyes made her look like an angel who'd swallowed a wasp. But Sean knew T.C. was no angel, with that body in a red dress that looked as if it had been sprayed on her. The woman had a mouth made for sin and the morals of a harlot.

  His hands on her waist fisted when her brows rose in a what-do-you-want gesture.

  Because part of him wanted quite desperately to spank her ass, while another part of him longed to toss her over his shoulder and take into his man cave so he could strip her down to the skin and rediscover the sex kitten who'd clawed his back and begged him for more, more, MORE.

  He was going to do neither, since one idea was as stupid as the other.

  Hadn't she made it clear he'd meant nothing more to her than a stud?

  One night only.

  End of.

  She looked nervous.

  So she should be.

  "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not up for another roll in your bed."

  She looked down her nose at him. "I'm not looking for another forgettable night either. The feeling is entirely mutual."

  Her combative tone was a shock to the system.

  He couldn't deny it.

  In case they found themselves around her beautiful neck, he shoved his hands into the trouser pockets of his monkey suit.

  Who the hell did she think she was, talking to him like that?

  He wasn't the one in the wrong here.

  She'd been the one crawling over him like a rash when he'd been hit by a damn bus in Paris, and she'd lied to the medical staff to gain access to him by saying she was his fiancée. And then she'd taken him to her bed and made wild love to him all fucking night. They'd found something special and then she'd kicked him out.

  So what was with the stink eye?

  As if he'd ever tie himself down to a woman like her?

  Difficult.

  Bad tempered.

  Alley cat.

  And now she had the nerve to stand there looking at him with an attitude?

  In the military, he'd handled dangerous situations and dangerous men with ease.

  So how did she manage to press every single hot button?

  He was a fool, that's what he was.

  Because one night with her would never be enough for him.

  Never.

  Just touching her, smelling her hair, looking at her as she shot daggers at him, he admitted he wanted more.

  He wanted everything with her.

  And if that wasn't foolish he didn't know what was.

  "You're a spoiled little rich girl who thinks she can treat people like dirt. One of these days Karma's going to kick your ass so hard and I hope I'm around to see that day come."

  The flash in those blue eyes should have warned him.

  But he didn't heed it.

  The punch to the mouth rocked him back on his heels.

  Around them, people stopped dancing.

  T.C.'s face was so pale that for a moment Sean thought she was going to pass out.

  Omigod, she shouldn't have hit him.

  The man had a jaw like granite.

  She was sure she'd broken her fingers.

  No matter how much he deserved it, there was no excuse, and no place, for violence, ever.

  Humiliation burned T.C.'s cheeks.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ana and Olivier heading their way.

  A deep shame scorched her throat.

  This was her best friend's big night and she'd gone and made a horrible scene.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

  Sean's tawny eyes were dark and hard as they studied her face.

  "No." He glanced at his fingertip, at the blood from his lip. His eyes clicked to hers. "You shouldn't. It is the act of a coward to hit a person who will not hit back."

  T.C. closed her eyes as Sean assured Ana and Olivier that there was nothing to see and that everything was fine.

  There was nothing worse than being in the wrong and having your nose rubbed in it.

  Ana grabbed her hand. "What is going on?"

  The last thing she'd wanted was to do anything to spoil her best friend's party.

  T.C. shook her head. "It was just a stupid argument. I'll tell you and Danni all about it on Monday. We'll meet at the bar. Okay?"

  Ana's eyes searched T.C.'s, but she nodded. "All right. Are you sure you're feeling okay, you look awfully pale?"

  Actually, she felt sick to her stomach, but T.C. nodded. "Go back to the party. I'm fine."

  Later, as she sat in the back of the black cab taking her home, T.C. knew she was so far from fine it wasn't funny.

  Yet again, she'd messed up.

  Big time.

  And she had no idea how to fix it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Great party," Linda muttered to Danni.

  They were sitting at a round table tucked into a corner of the ballroom and far enough away from the sound system blasting out a rock song from the band on the stage.

  Danni nodded, her mind on other things.

  "Where's Gillian Pebbles-McCarthy-Lyons-Stone and her latest conquest?" Linda asked, referring to Danni's oft-married mother and her new fiancé.

  Danni turned to study Ana's personal assistant, who looked pretty amazing this evening.

  Linda's hair had been dyed the color of ink and she wore a black, sleeveless body-con dress with matching sky high heels showcasing amazing legs encased in sheer stockings. She'd gone for contacts and vivid red lipstick this evening, which made her look fifteen years younger and opened up her face. The woman was stunning, as the lingering looks from men could attest. However, it appeared Linda wasn't interested in picking up a beau. She'd settled in at the table and appeared perfectly content to people watch.

  "She's been a nightmare, hasn't she?"

  Linda shrugged. "No more than usual. Where's your man gone?"

  Danni wished she knew.

  Thirty minutes had passed since Pascale had muttered something about getting a real drink and wandered off.

  "I think Gillian put him on edge."

  Linda made a noncommittal sound in her throat. "If she'd stared at me with that unblinking focus, she'd have put me on edge, too. What's wrong with her face?"

  "Botox."

  "She should get a refund. Same with the boob job. The heroin chic look with massive tits doesn't work."

  "Daddy says she can't cope with ageing and she can't cope with having a daughter my age."

  "She's a mental case. That's what she is. I've never heard a woman p
lay the narcissistic whiney victim so badly in my entire life. No wonder her fiancé's gone to look for pastures new." Linda jerked her chin. "He's over there chatting up the little blonde."

  A mortified Danni had already noticed.

  Looked as if her mother's latest wedding was over before it had even begun.

  Not that that was a bad thing.

  She'd long ago come to the conclusion that what her mother needed was time on her own to understand herself and to stop depending upon men to make her happy.

  "I need to go to the ladies room," Linda told her, rising.

  Since she wasn't fond of the idea to be seen sitting alone at the table, Danni nodded. "I'll come, too."

  Linda craned her neck to check out the hallway leading to the main rest rooms. "Looks busy. We'll go this way and use the one next to reception."

  As they made their way through the throng, Danni checked her phone for a message from Pascale and found nothing. He was a tall man and easy to spot, but she couldn't see him near the bar, or mingling with some of Olivier's pals.

  A weird chill began in her chest and low in her belly.

  She wasn't good in crowded spaces at the best of times and tended to suffer from sensory overload.

  How many times had she been told that she was over sensitive?

  She took a breath and shrugged of the feeling that something was off in the atmosphere this evening.

  When Danni and Linda shoved through large double door into the reception hall, they breathed a combined sigh of relief.

  At this time of the evening the curved and highly polished reception desk wasn't busy. A handful of people sat chatting on long couches and quiet nooks with high backed chairs and coffee tables. Instrumental music turned low added to the overall affect of calm and relaxation.

  Danni sank into a chair, leaned back and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of peace.

  Much better.

  A young waiter arrived and asked if he could help them.

  "Why don't you order one of your green teas and I'll have a black coffee," Linda suggested before she walked in the direction of another long hallway, which lead to the rest rooms.

  Danni smiled up at the young man, a student by the looks of him, and placed her order.

  She turned and noticed that Linda had come to a dead stop, had her phone in her hand and was either recording something or taking a picture. And then she side-stepped behind a huge plant and checked her phone.

  Danni rose, her heels clicking on the stone floor.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered.

  It was the look in Linda's eyes for her, pity, that had Danni poke her head into the corridor to see what the hell was going on and that was when her heart dropped to her feet.

  Her mother was in a man's arms.

  The scene was an intimate one.

  Gillian had her body pressed against his, her arms wound around his neck.

  His hands were fixed to her narrow waist as he bent his head.

  And the man was—Pascale.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Between dancing and mingling with her guests for three solid hours, Ana reckoned her new shoes had put her feet through all nine levels of hell.

  The heat in the room was killing her, too.

  Time for a breather.

  Since the band was on a break and slow music played on the speakers, she took the opportunity to slide into her seat and glug down a glass of water.

  Beneath the table, she kicked off her heels and wiggled her toes.

  Bliss.

  "You make my son very happy," Valentina Conti said from over her shoulder.

  Olivier's mama took a seat next to Ana.

  It was the first time she'd been completely alone with the woman since the Conti family had arrived and immediately Ana's guard came up. She scanned the room and found her half-sister, Tanith, making her way back to the table.

  Thank you, God.

  Ana turned to Valentina and gave her a wide smile. "He makes me happy, too."

  This evening Valentina wore an ivory silk sheath with a lace over dress the color of black coffee. The color combination set of her slim figure and dark hair beautifully.

  "As long as Olivier is happy, I am happy."

  Since she'd already gone through all the happy chat, Ana nodded in response.

  "I cannot wait for his wedding. Of course, you will marry in Roma. We Italians know how to celebrate true love."

  Ana's mind went blank. "Um... We've agreed not to rush into it. We have a lot to discuss about the logistics, my career, his career, etcetera."

  Valentina's sharp eyes studied Ana's flushed face. "You look stunning. Red suits you. It is hot in here this evening. Are you feeling well?"

  Ana blinked and wondered if there was a subtext going on and the woman meant she really looked like crap. "Yes. I'm good. It's been a busy week at work."

  "Things will settle now. Olivier will transfer to an English team."

  Ana's jaw didn't drop, but it was a close run thing.

  Hang on a minute.

  Back up the truck.

  Olivier was moving to England?

  Since when?

  "I'm sorry," Ana said weakly. "I don't think I heard you correctly. Olivier's transferring clubs?"

  Immediately Valentina's brown eyes grew wide and her hand flew to her mouth.

  "He has not told you? Dio mio. He said it was to be a surprise!"

  It was a surprise alright.

  If he had plans, why the hell didn't he say anything when she'd told him she was prepared to move to Rome?

  Valentina's hand covered Ana's. "Please say nothing. I thought he must have told you by now." Ana's gaze caught hers and read a genuine horror that couldn't be faked that she'd let the cat out of the bag.

  "Things have been so hectic, what with the engagement party and work, we've hardly had time to chill out."

  Valentina beamed. "And then you will have a wedding and give me many bambini!"

  Across the table, nineteen-year-old Tanith caught the last part of the sentence because her eyes went wide and she mouthed, Omigod.

  Babies?

  Who the hell had time for a baby?

  A thought hit her so hard something like ice settled in Ana's stomach as she did a quick mental calculation, twice.

  Mind spinning, nerves dancing in her belly, she slid her feet into her shoes and stood.

  "I'm sorry. I just need to go to the ladies for a moment."

  As Ana forced a smile to her face and pushed her way through the crowd towards sanctuary, a weird sort of panic threatened to overtake her.

  It wasn't until she was alone in a stall and sitting on a toilet lid, that she used her fingers to calculate, again. And came up with the truth.

  Her period was late.

  It was never late.

  Never.

  Her mind a complete blank, she simply stared unseeing at the door.

  Minutes passed.

  She knew she couldn't stay here all night.

  As Ana washed her hands at the sink, Bronte Ferranti entered.

  Nico's blonde wife was dressed in a sleeveless sheath of emerald silk the exact color of her eyes. The woman was tall and slim with long, lean arms. She looked stunning this evening.

  Her ready smile slid away as she studied Ana's white face in the mirror.

  "You okay?"

  Was she?

  Ana had no idea.

  The key, she told herself, was not to panic unless she had something to panic about.

  She'd been under a lot of stress recently.

  At times stress did weird things to the human body.

  First chance she got, she'd buy a pregnancy test, or six.

  "I'm fine."

  Bronte's emerald eyes filled with a ready sympathy. "Is it all getting a little too much?"

  "Yes. Just a bit."

  "You know I'm here if you want to talk."

  Ana gave her what passed for a weak smile. "I know. And I appreciate
it. I do."

  Bronte's eyes stayed sharp, but her mouth curved. "But you want me to mind my own business."

  Ana shook her head. "No. It's just a lot to get used to in a short time, you know?"

  "I do. My door is always open."

  When her eyes stung, Ana gave her friend a hug. "Thanks. I appreciate it." Then she wondered how the hell she was going to get through the rest of the night.

  ***

  Olivier checked his watch.

  Ana had been in the restroom for ages.

  He was about to ask one of his sisters to make sure everything was okay, when Ana stepped into the hallway. In spite of looking stunning in her dress and heels, she'd been wearing that wide-eyed I'm-overwhelmed look all day. But then he supposed anyone would be overwhelmed by the way his mother and sisters had fawned over both of them today. If he added the strain of her newly found father, stepmother and two step-sisters into the mix, no wonder his woman appeared a little frazzled.

  Plus, he had a huge surprise for her.

  Later.

  When they were alone.

  And he couldn't wait to see her face when he told her his news.

  He took her hand. "Come, dance with me."

  She blinked and sent him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'd love to."

  On the dance floor he held her close and dipped his head to find her looking over his shoulder, staring into space. "You are very quiet."

  "Tired. It's been a long day."

  As he studied her pale face, he wondered if she was coming down with something.

  "You have handled the initial blending of our families very well."

  She tilted her head to look him in the eye. "Have I?"

  "Si. I knew you would."

  "Did you?"

  Olivier reckoned he'd come to know and understand how Ana ticked, at least he thought he had. Was there something, some undercurrent, in her tone? "I understand it has not been easy for you to accept so many opinions, unasked for opinions, on what we should do next. On our future."

  "We could always elope," Ana said in a hopeful voice that made him smile.

  He didn't believe she was serious. "That would hurt the people we love."

  Ana stared over his shoulder again. "I suppose that would be an incredibly selfish act."