Welcome to Mills & Boon. Jennifer Rae

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      Victoria stood behind me, with two of her friends.

      I stared at her. “Excuse me?”

      “Don’t mind her,” one of the friends said. “She’s not used to seeing Edward with a girlfriend.”

      Girlfriend made it sound like we were exclusive. Which we weren’t. Well, obviously I was not dating anyone else. Was he?

      My breath caught in my throat as I suddenly looked at all his late nights in a brand new light. The nights he hadn’t even come home, when I’d assumed he was at work...could he have been with someone else? He’d never promised me fidelity, after all. I hadn’t received a single word of commitment or love. In fact, he’d promised me the opposite.

      “I wouldn’t say I’m his girlfriend,” I said thickly.

      Victoria pounced. “What are you then?”

      “His, um, physical therapist.”

      They all stared at me, then burst out laughing.

      “Oh, is that what they’re calling it now,” one said knowingly.

      “It’s true.” At least it used to be true. “Edward was in a car accident in September...”

      “That’s right.” Victoria St. Cyr looked at me thoughtfully. Diamond bangles clacked over the music of the nearby quartet as she held up her hand. “Doesn’t that all make you worry?”

      “What?”

      “Edward’s accident.” She sighed. “He was so in love with that American maid who worked at a nearby house.” She looked me over insultingly. “She looked rather like you, in fact. When she fell pregnant, he helped her leave London and flew her all over the world for a year. But when she had the chance to marry the father of her baby, she dropped Edward without a thought.”

      “The other man was a Spanish duke,” her friend added, as if that explained everything.

      “Edward actually tried to blackmail her into leaving her new husband—and her baby. Fortunately, the car flipped down the hill. But if the Duke and Duchess of Alzacar had pressed charges, Edward would be in jail.” Shaking her head, she said coldly, “He should be in jail. Rupert should be CEO.”

      Did she think this new knowledge would devastate me? “I know all that,” I said coldly, though I was shaking. “And you’re wrong. Whatever mistakes Edward made in the past, he deserves to lead St. Cyr Global. He’d never sink a billion-pound deal like his cousin tried to do.” I drew myself up. “He’s twice the man your husband is.”

      Victoria stared at me dangerously.

      “Your loyalty is adorable,” she said softly. “But let me offer you a little friendly advice.”

      Friendly? Right. I said guardedly, “Yes?”

      “I understand your attraction. Truly, I do. The night I met Edward, I wanted him so badly, I would have done anything to get into his bed. Anything.” Her lips pursed. “Luckily I met Rupert before any damage could be done.”

      “Your point?”

      Her thin lips curled. “Edward is poison for women. You’ll see. He keeps a lover just long enough to use her body and break her heart before he tosses her in the rubbish bin. How long have you two been together now? Two months? Three?” She shook her head with a pitying sound. “You’re long past your sell-by date. Here.” She pushed a card into my hands. “Call me when you need a shoulder to cry on.”

      And she swept past me grandly, her entourage trailing behind her.

      Numbly, I looked down at the embossed card. It was like a business card, only gilded and elegant and clearly for society. It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen.

      Crumpling the card into a ball, I shoved it in my purse. Even living among the sharks of the entertainment industry hadn’t prepared me for this. Edward’s family was awful. No wonder he’d been a sitting duck for the first reasonably kindhearted person he met—that American girl he hadn’t wanted to let go. Because he loved her so much.

      While he was ready to dump me for a white lie I’d told, just because I’d wanted so desperately for him to think the best of me.

      Turning blindly from the buffet, I ran into a brick wall. Edward was standing behind me. I wondered how long he’d been there.

      “Having a good time?” he asked, his face inscrutable.

      “No,” I choked out.

      “It might be better with champagne.”

      “I don’t want any.” I looked up at his handsome face. Was he already trying to figure out how best to end our relationship? How to let me down easy, and without a fuss?

      I wanted him to love me. I wanted him to hold me close and never let go. Everything he’d told me—from the beginning—would never happen. Stupid. So stupid!

      My voice was nearly a sob. “I just want to go home.”

      For a long moment, Edward just looked at me. All around us in the ballroom, beautiful, glamorous people were laughing and talking, celebrating, and a few had started dancing to the music from the quartet. But as he looked into my tearful eyes, for a split second it was as if the two of us were alone again. Just like at Penryth Hall.

      “All right,” he said quietly. Taking my hand, he pulled me from the ballroom, stopping for my coat. His driver collected us at the curb.

      The streets of London seemed darker than usual. The rain had stopped, and the clouds had lifted. The night was frosty and soundless.

      We walked into his dark, silent house after he punched in the alarm code. I started to go up the stairs. He stopped me.

      “I never told you,” he said huskily, pulling me into his arms, “how beautiful you looked tonight.”

      My heart went faster. “I did?”

      “The most beautiful woman there by far.” Pulling me closer, he twirled a long tendril of my hair around his finger and murmured, “I was glad when you left to get a drink, because the other men were flirting with you so indecently I thought I’d have to punch them.”

      “They were flirting with me?” I said dumbly. I had no memory of any of this alleged flirting, or of any of the men who’d surrounded us. I just remembered clinging to Edward’s arm like a silent idiot.

      “Any man would want you.” His hand traced up my shoulder, my neck. “You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever known.”

      “More than the woman you loved in Spain?” I heard myself blurt out.

      His hand grew still. His ice-blue eyes met mine. “Why do you say that?”

      I swallowed. But I couldn’t back down now. “Victoria told me you took care of her for a year, helping her when she was pregnant. After she married someone else, you still loved her. You wouldn’t let her go. You were willing

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