her head from the sofa—where she’d collapsed facedown after stumbling from the bathroom—she glared at the caller ID, planning on killing the person.
Just her luck, it was her brother Thomas. One of two people in the UK she couldn’t kill. He was also the only person whose call she had to take. As CEO of Collier’s, he was technically her boss.
That didn’t mean she had to be pleasant though. “Do you know what time it is?” she growled.
“Happy Saturday to you, as well. It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
Really? She pulled the phone from her ear to check. When she’d lain down, it was just before seven that day. “Sorry. Thought it was earlier.”
It suddenly dawned on her why Thomas could be calling. “Rosalind didn’t have the baby, did she?” She pushed herself upright, ignoring how the blood rush made the room—and her stomach—sway.
“Not yet. The doctor thinks she’ll go right on her due date, same as she did with Maddie. And you sound like dirt.”
She felt like dirt. No longer having to worry about being alert, she slid down into the cushions. “Maria’s wedding was last night. I overdosed on sloe gin.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“Not as good as you’d think.” And ending with her nearly falling on her face when she tripped going up her front steps—right after she’d insisted she was perfectly able to navigate the walk on her own. She could just imagine the look that had crossed Lewis Matolo’s face when he caught her by the waist. A combination of smugness and disgust, no doubt. At least he was gentleman enough not to say anything out loud.
“Is there a reason you’re calling?” she asked. “Because otherwise, I would like to go back to dying.”
“Actually, there are two reasons, if you can stave off your demise for ten minutes.”
“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises. What do you need?”
“The first thing isn’t a need, it’s an invitation. Rosalind and I were talking last night. About how fantastical the last eighteen months have been. Between her accident and last Christmas…”
Fantastical was a good word for it. Eighteen months earlier, Rosalind had disappeared after her car plunged off a bridge in Scotland. She had reappeared last Christmas hundreds of miles away with amnesia of all things. Rediscovering their relationship had been a challenge. Susan liked to think she helped the cause by sharing some hard truths Thomas hadn’t been willing to tell his returning bride.
Of course she was the only one who thought so at the time, but the three of them had put the issue behind them.
“We thought, with the baby arriving soon, it would be the perfect time to reestablish ourselves as a family,” Thomas continued.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve decided to renew our vows on Christmas Eve. Nothing huge. Just family and a few close friends.”
“That sounds…lovely.” Susan hated the tiny knot of jealousy that twisted in her midsection. Her brother had fought hard for his life and family; a proper sister wouldn’t envy his happiness.
Especially when his voice hummed with a bashful excitement. “Maddie’s going to be the maid of honor,” he said. “She’ll be heartbroken if her favorite aunt isn’t there.”
“I’d be heartbroken if I missed seeing her,” Susan replied, the knot easing slightly. The prospect of seeing her young niece dressed like a princess was too charming to resist.
“So you’ll be there?”
“Of course.” It wasn’t like she had Christmas Eve plans.
“Great. I’ll let Rosalind know. The other reason I called…” On the other end of the line, Susan heard the clink of a teacup. “I’m going to need you and Linus to host the Collier party again this year. I promised Rosalind I would take time off when the baby was born so we could bond as a family.”
Susan groaned. Not again. Collier’s had been holding a company Christmas party for its employees ever since the days of Queen Victoria. What was once a show of largesse toward the workers had morphed into a fancy cocktail party hosted by the CEO. Last year, Thomas had begged off because of Rosalind’s amnesia, leaving her and Linus to play the benevolent owners.
“Can’t Linus host by himself?” Everyone loved Linus.
“I’d prefer both of you to be there. Especially since Linus has been…”
“Unreliable?” She thought of how he’d left her in the lurch last night.
“Distracted,” Thomas replied. There was a pause, during which she imagined him studying his cup of tea while he thought of the right words. “Look, I know the party’s not your favorite event…”
“Try least favorite,” Susan corrected. The whole affair was an exercise in awkwardness for everyone involved. Smiling and making small talk with people like Ginger and Courtney. It’d be like the wedding times ten. “I was actually thinking of staying home this year…”
“You can’t. You’re a Collier. It wouldn’t look right.”
“I doubt people will care—they’re more interested in the free booze.”
“Susan…”
“Fine.” She noticed he hadn’t corrected her. “I’ll host the party.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else or can I go back to dying now?” Her head was demanding coffee and aspirin before it could handle any more conversation.
“Die away,” her brother replied.
They said their goodbyes, and Susan tossed her phone on the cushion next to her. Five minutes, she thought as her eyes fluttered closed and her body fell sideways. Five minutes and she’d head to the kitchen for caffeine.
The phone rang again, the shrillness next to her ear making her wince. She fumbled for it without opening her eyes. “What did you forget?”
“Nothing that I know of,” said an unfamiliar voice. Deep and with a strong northern twang, it caused tingles to trip up her spine. “I was calling to see how your head felt this morning.”
How did this stranger know she had a killer hangover? “Who is this?” Susan pushed herself into a seated position—again.
“Lewis Matolo. The bloke who brought you home, remember?”
Remember? She was hoping to forget. Nearly bursting into tears, tripping over her own two feet. She’d worked hard her entire adult life to project an image of togetherness and control to the outside world…and Lewis Matolo had seen none of that.
She also remembered him being incredibly attractive. If you were into the cocky, athletic sort.
“How did you get my number?”
