Save The Date!: The Rebel and the Heiress / Not Just a Convenient Marriage / Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Rick’s heart burned for her, mourned that wide-eyed little girl who’d smiled at him with such open-heartedness it had made him believe there were better things in the world than he’d experienced up to that point.
‘That sounds like hard-won wisdom, Princess.’
She didn’t answer. He signed her contract because he wanted her to trust him. For good or ill.
‘You’ve changed, Princess. A lot.’
She snorted. ‘You mean I’m not fat any more?’
‘Don’t use that word!’ His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. Reverberating through his head, all he could hear were insults—You’re a fat piece of useless lard! How could anyone love you? You’re fat and ugly! Horrible things flung at women by men who’d meant to wound.
Nell eyed him warily. He glared at her. ‘You were never fat!’
Her gaze slid sideways. She lifted a shoulder. ‘I was plump, and I was awkward and almost chronically shy.’
Those things were true. ‘I always thought you were kind of cute.’
That made her look back at him. She tried to hide it, but he could tell she wanted to believe him. ‘If that’s the case,’ she said eventually, ‘then you were in the minority.’
He still thought her cute, but he had no intention of acting on it. She was still trouble. And he avoided trouble wherever he could. And power games. And complications. He pushed his shoulders back. ‘So how’d you go from shy and awkward to polished and sophisticated?’
She waved that away. ‘It’s too boring for words.’
Her reluctance intrigued him. ‘I’d like to know.’
She blew out a breath before jumping up to put coffee on to percolate. He was about to tell her she drank too much caffeine but then she proceeded to set out some of her extraordinary cupcakes and he decided to keep his trap shut.
‘Blueberry Delight and Tutti-Frutti,’ she said, pointing. She made coffee and sat again.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’
‘As you’ve probably gathered, I wasn’t precisely the kind of child my parents had been hoping for.’ She blew on her coffee. ‘They’d hoped for some pretty, delicate little thing who did ballet and uttered childish whimsies that charmed everyone.’
He winced. Nell hadn’t fitted that picture.
‘When I became a teenager, my mother hoped I’d become a fashion plate who’d be eager to accompany her on her many shopping expeditions.’
‘And your father?’
‘Who knows? He’d have probably been happy if his golf buddies made comments about me becoming a heartbreaker and that he’d have to beat the boys away with a big stick.’
Did she know that was exactly how she could be described now?
‘When my grandmother found out how miserable I was she set about helping me.’
‘How?’
‘She took me to a therapist who helped me overcome my shyness. She took me to a stylist who trained me in what clothes and make-up best suited me, and she found me an up-and-coming young hairdresser who was an absolute whizz.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Obviously, it didn’t all happen overnight.’
Rick unclenched a hand to reach for a cupcake. ‘You know your parents were wrong to have such expectations?’ They should both be horsewhipped for making her feel like a failure, because she hadn’t met their specific designer mould. People like that shouldn’t have kids.
‘I do now.’
He took a savage bite of cake and frosting. ‘I mean, would you ever do that to a kid?’
Her eyes flashed. ‘No!’
He set the cupcake back on his plate and eyed her for a long moment. ‘Why all this determination to avoid self-pity?’
Something inside her eyes hardened. ‘Because, regardless of my gripes about my parents, I never had it as tough as you or Tash or even Crazy Cheryl who you went to prison for.’ She gave a half smile. ‘Cheryl used to throw stones at me whenever she saw me in the garden.’
It didn’t surprise him. Cheryl’s home life had been beyond shocking. But...there was more than one way to damage a kid.
‘It’s not a contest, Princess.’ She was entitled to her pain and disappointment.
‘Tell that to my parents.’
Exhaustion hit him at the expression on her face. ‘It didn’t work, did it?’ He slumped back. ‘Did they notice at all?’
‘They noticed. It just took me a long time to realise that it didn’t make any difference, that it didn’t make them love me more. It just meant they didn’t mind parading me around their friends so much.’
He wanted to swear, but he knew she wouldn’t like it so he didn’t.
‘And then I realised I was wasting all of this time going to parties I didn’t enjoy, buying clothes I didn’t want and doing coffee on a weekly basis with women who called me their friend but who haven’t had the decency to return my phone calls since calamity came calling.’
He did swear this time.
She transferred her glare to her coffee. ‘That was when I decided to be done with all that and focus on something more important.’ Her lips lifted. ‘Like cupcakes.’
He’d have laughed except he suddenly saw it all too clearly, could see now why she’d done what she had.
‘You handed your trust fund, your apartment, and your car over to your father because you wanted to make a clean break with your past.’
‘Bingo, tough guy.’ She might sound sophisticated and self-assured, but she couldn’t hide the vulnerability that flickered through her eyes. ‘Do you think that’s stupid of me?’
‘I think it was smart and brave. You don’t need to be beholden to people like that.’
‘Thank you.’
She smiled and for a moment he swore he saw glitter flickering at the edge of his vision. He blinked it away. ‘There’s one thing I don’t get.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Why are you fighting to keep this old relic of a house? Why don’t you rid yourself of the responsibility?’ And rake in some much-needed moolah while she was at it?
‘This house belonged to my grandmother. She’s the only person who loved me unconditionally. And she loved this house.’
She wouldn’t have wanted it to become an albatross around her granddaughter’s neck, surely?
‘My parents lived here once they were married, not because it was convenient for the factory but because they wanted to be seen living in the Big House, as you call it. They never loved the place. They look at it and all they see are dollar signs. I look at it and...’
She didn’t finish the sentence.
‘And you see a Victorian teahouse.’
‘You think that’s dumb?’
‘I think it’s an interesting business plan with definite potential.’
She leaned towards him, her face alive. It was the way she’d looked at him fifteen years ago when she’d given him her locket. Only she wasn’t a little girl any more but a woman. And he was a grown man.
Heat circled in his veins to pool in his lap. He surreptitiously tried to adjust his jeans, reminding himself about trouble and complications and grief and misery. He was not