The large, high-ceilinged drawing room was full of dragons, most of them young, mixing with a determination bordering on desperation. I knew the immediate members of the Fortescue family and could see their familiar features in some of the others. Even so, the visiting dragons were easy to spot because of their untailored clothes. The visitors’ outfits meant the whole thing didn’t quite meet the bar for formal cocktail dress, but I was definitely underdressed in my Henley, jeans and boots.
Ella squeezed my arm. I realised I was standing stock-still in the doorway, searching for one particular face.
“I have to do the rounds and make nice with the visitors. Daddy will be here somewhere. He’ll be pleased to see you,” she said, before diving into the throng.
With my only shield against Charlie gone, I retreated to the bar built into the far end of the room. It wasn’t entirely in keeping with the period feel of the rest of the house, but it was convenient for parties.
The bartender was in shirtsleeves and black trousers, and he glanced up from the orange juice he was pouring when I leaned against the bar. Dark curling hair, dark stubble, and dark eyes that oozed sensuality had arousal stirring low in my gut. If the dread of seeing Charlie again hadn’t been eating me up, I’d have hit that. Hard.
“Glenmorangie Signet, please.” I didn’t need to check the top shelf. I knew James Fortescue’s taste, and he’d never risk running out of his favourite single malt.
The guy’s lips quirked slightly before he shrugged. “Why not?”
I watched him reach up to the top shelf, enjoying the way his black chinos clung to his arse. I didn’t know him, though he was a dragon. He must be one of the minor Fortescues—the family was extensive.
He turned quickly enough to catch me looking, the glint in his eyes suggesting he didn’t object. But I mustn’t get distracted. I was here to do a job that could be dangerous if I didn’t keep my mind on it. So I dropped my gaze and traced a pattern with my finger on the polished wood in front of me, determinedly forgetting his dark eyes that had been so swiftly assessing my face, his slightly crooked nose and firm jaw that hinted at danger.
“Ice?” he asked.
I looked up, shocked, and saw the humour in his eyes. He wasn’t a complete savage—that had been deliberately provocative. “Nice try. Just the whisky, thanks. One finger.”
“Bollocks to that. Nate can take three fingers easily. Ask anyone.”
I froze at the familiar voice. The only part of me that was moving was my heart, beating rabbit-fast. The words had scarcely registered. All I could think wasCharlie.Here, so close, after so long.
At last, I forced myself to turn towards him. While his voice had been the same as ever, he looked different. His blond hair was very short now, emphasising the large eyes and sharp cheekbones that had captivated me the first time I saw him. His cheeks had a hectic flush, and I recognised the look in his eyes. He was halfway to hammered, though it couldn’t be much past eight pm.
I realised I’d been staring at him for God knew how long. “Charlie,” I said, struggling to act normally. His name came out sounding strangled, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say as his gazeroamed over me, his expression a mix of hunger and something that I couldn’t identify.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said, echoing Ella’s move by reaching out to run his fingers through my hair.
I’d thought I was prepared for this. Years of hurt, of wondering why I wasn’t enough, why the man I’d thought was my soulmate had dumped me so abruptly and so damn cruelly. I’d made sure since then that I would never go through that again. But somehow, faced with the reality of Charlie, I couldn’t do anything except stare at him and remember how I’d loved him.
“Adios, motherfucker.”
The bartender’s voice was deep and a little gravelly, breaking me from my trance.
Charlie swung round on him. “What the fuck did you say to me?”
“Adios, motherfucker.” The guy pushed my glass across the bar as he held Charlie’s gaze, supremely unconcerned about the heavy threat in Charlie’s voice. A threat that he’d be wise to take seriously because Charlie was heir apparent to the Fortescue fortune and could destroy a minor member of his family without even trying. Charlie also bore a grudge like no one I’d ever met.
“You look like a cocktail drinker, and I figure that’d be your cocktail of choice. Want one? An Adios, Motherfucker, that is.” His eyes raked over Charlie disdainfully, making it clear nothing more than a drink was on offer.
The man must have a death wish. Charlie’s colour rose further and his shoulders squared. Sensing his imminent eruption and not wanting to see the bartender fired after his clueless interruption had helped me, I elbowed Charlie’s arm. “I need to see your father. Will you take me to him?”
“Why?” Charlie’s attention was back on me, but I was in control of myself now. Millions of people survived break-ups without falling apart. After five years, I should have moved on so far that he wasn’t even a memory. However pathetic I was, I wasn’t going to let himsee how he still affected me.
“I’d like to stay in Bath for a while,” I said.
“Of course you’d come back.” He sounded supremely self-satisfied.
“I’m here to write a book,” I clarified swiftly.
He blinked. “Write a book?You?That’s—that’s unexpected, Nate.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want him to question my statement too closely. “Where’s your father?”
Charlie shrugged. “Don’t know.” He tipped his head to one side and looked at me, his eyes not quite focused and a potent hit of alcohol on his breath. “Let’s go and look for him. We should catch up,” he said, reaching out to cup me through my jeans, his hand plastered against my dick.
