CHAPTER ONE
GEORGINA LOOKED UP at the imposing Georgian mansion in front of which she was standing. Well, she would have expected nothing less.
She raised her hand to the doorbell. Her brain was saying Might as well get it over and done with while her feet were yelling Hang on just a minute...let’s think about this.
She went with the brain and pressed the buzzer before her feet could start winning the argument.
She was here now. She’d travelled hours to be here and she wasn’t going to slink away without telling the owner of this over-the-top mansion in Kensington—a man she had known since childhood, a man on whom she had had a very inconvenient crush when she’d been a kid of sixteen, that, Hey...guess what...? I bet you never thought that you and I would be in a relationship after all!
Matias had no idea who could be ringing his doorbell, but whoever it was deserved a Medal of Honour for the most timely interruption in history.
The icy blonde perched on his white leather sofa hadn’t stopped screaming for the past thirty-five minutes. She carried on screaming now, as she followed him out of the vast sitting room towards the front door.
‘I refuse to let you break up with me! I’ve told everyone that you’ll be coming to the anniversary party next weekend! I’ve bought a dress! There’s someone else, isn’t there? Who is she? Do I know her? How could you do this to me? I love you! I thought you loved me!’
Matias had stopped answering her questions ten minutes ago and he wasn’t going to start again now.
He pulled open the door and stopped short.
‘Matias.’ Georgina peered around him to the source of the high-pitched screaming. ‘I’m guessing I’ve come at a bad time?’
The feet were desperate to take to the hills, but she wasn’t quitting now that she was here. That said, she wanted to do nothing more than run away, because it didn’t matter how much she braced herself for Matias’s ridiculously stupendous good looks, every single time she saw him she was floored all over again.
Dry mouth, thudding heart, clogged brain...and a crashing reminder of what it had felt like to be an adolescent, with her hormones wildly out of control, in thrall to a guy who had never been short of his own personal fan club full of adoring hot babes from the age of thirteen. She’d kept her idiotic crush under wraps, but she could still burn with shame at the memory of it because she’d always been the last sort of girl he would ever have looked at.
‘Georgie, what the hell are you doing here?’
‘That’s not a very nice way to greet an old friend, is it? I’d rather not come back, Matias. I’ve spent hours on a train and I’m hot and tired and my feet need to rest.’ Or to take flight, she thought, willing her nerves to go away and thinking, yet again, how much she disliked the man. So stupidly sexy, and yet with a set of values that so got on her nerves.
‘Is my mother all right?’ Matias demanded.
‘Who are you?’
A blonde had materialised next to him and Georgina wondered whether Matias ever got bored of dating women who were clones of one another. Towering blondes with catwalk figures and a racy sense of fashion that was based on wearing as little as possible even in the depths of winter.
This particular blonde was wearing a tiny red mini-skirt and a tiny red top and some very high sandals because it was the height of summer.
‘Time for you to go, Ava.’
‘We could still make this work, Matias!’
Matias cast a sideways look at Georgina and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘No chance,’ he said grimly, rescuing her tiny tan designer bag from the table in the hall and handing it to her while channelling her towards the doorway. ‘You deserve better than me.’
Georgina rolled her eyes. She stood aside while the blonde walked past her, at least eight inches taller in her heels and as skinny as a runner bean.
‘That was considerate of you, Matias—softening the blow by telling her that she could do better than you,’ Georgina remarked, stepping inside the mansion and getting a glimpse of his departing back as he headed towards some other part of the house—probably the kitchen, because he looked as if he could use a stiff drink.
Charming, she thought, walking briskly behind him. What on earth did all those women see in him? Yes, he was rich. Yes, he was good-looking. But beyond that... There was nothing that appealed on any level. Which made it quite ironic, considering she was here to tell him that they had secretly been seeing one another, falling in love and getting embroiled in a hot and heavy relationship that was destined to lead...who knew where?
She felt queasy at the revelations about to be put on the table.
‘Well?’
Matias didn’t bother looking at her. He went straight to a cupboard, pulled out a bottle of whisky and poured himself a glass, offering her one as an afterthought, but obviously not really expecting her to take him up on the offer.
‘Your mother is fine. In a manner of speaking.’
‘I’ve had a hellish day, Georgie, so spare me the riddles. Not that it’s like you to beat about the bush. Bludgeon it into the ground is far more your style.’ He raised his eyebrows and didn’t look away when their eyes tangled. ‘I spoke to my mother two days ago and she sounded well, so what’s the matter with her?’
‘Nothing. Her health hasn’t deteriorated. I mean, she’s still weak after the stroke, and her speech isn’t quite back to normal, but she’s doing all the exercises the doctor recommended.’
‘Good.’
‘You have a wonderful house, Matias.’ She didn’t feel that the subject waiting to be broached could be broached quite yet. She needed to feel a bit more comfortable. Right now, her nerves were at breaking point. ‘And I will have that drink you offered, actually.’
‘Whisky?’
‘Wine, if you have any. Thank you.’
‘I’m warning you it’s not organic. It’s incredibly expensive, though, so please think twice about pouring it down the sink because it fails to meet your high standards.’
Matias strolled towards the fridge and withdrew a bottle of Chablis. He looked at her over his shoulder. She was dressed as she was always dressed, in some sort of flowery concoction that was designed to do absolutely nothing whatsoever for the female form. Long skirt, loose top... A veritable riot of colours, none of which flattered a woman who was small, round and had bright red hair.
Was it so hard to make an effort? he wondered.
‘Very funny, Matias.’
‘We both know how much you like to bang the drum for organic farming. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your social conscience.’
‘You can be really horrible, do you know that?’ she asked. But
