One Night Only

‘The shit’s hit the fan with one of my New York clubs...’ He winced.

As well as renovating The Yard in Soho, Ben owned and managed a string of clubs in New York, where he’d grown up.

‘You don’t need to hear my work woes.’ His wince turned into a hesitant smile. ‘But I am going to have to leave you to things here—I have to fly to the States tonight and sort shit out.’

Essie rolled her shoulders back. That he would trust her with his shiny new cocktail bar and nightclub gave her shivers that bubbled up at the back of her throat, threatening to close off her windpipe.

‘Of course.’ She swallowed, eager for another of his grateful smiles. ‘That’s why I’m here.’ She could pull a pint from her years of working the uni bar, and the rest she’d learn on the job while her own career path loitered in an uncertain slump. Her motivations were more about personal bridge-building than flexing her managerial muscles in the hospitality industry. But looking at the furrows in Ben’s brow and the dark circles around his tired eyes, she knew she’d walk a path of hot coals to help, even if it took her away from developing her relationship blog full-time, one of the ideas she’d considered now that she’d finished her PhD.

A small frown settled between his brows. ‘Are you sure you can spare the time? Shouldn’t you be job-hunting or schmoozing professors?’

Essie snorted a nervous laugh. Now that she’d finished her PhD, an academic position held far less appeal than it should. She’d considered a university teaching post but was way too intimidated to believe she had anything useful to teach others. She’d love to focus full-time on promoting her blog to wider audiences, but part of her secretly baulked at dedicating all her energy to making it a success—the ‘lost little girl’ part of her who missed her dad and couldn’t understand why he spent so much time away. After all, what did she know about healthy human relationships? Everyone would see through her, know she was a fraud.

‘I’ll be fine until you can replace me with someone better qualified.’ She had plenty of time to build her own career, whatever that looked like. She only had one brother. And, for now, he needed her.

He cracked a wide smile. ‘Great.’

Essie flicked through her notebook to hide the attack of rapid blinking. She’d be the best bloody bar manager he’d ever seen. He wouldn’t be able to resist falling deeply in sibling love with her.

‘So, to recap on our previous conversation...’ She tapped the pen on the page, tempted to push it behind her ear to inspire greater confidence. Perhaps she should have bought a clipboard. ‘My predecessor has already hired waitstaff, bulk ordered the beverages and organised a cleaning crew...’

Ben nodded. ‘All you have to do is be around to supervise things here.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘You are awesome.’

Warm treacle flooded her veins but she shrugged off his praise with a small shake of her head. She wished she’d recorded the moment so she could play it back to herself in the privacy of her flat later or every time her bones rattled with insecurities.

‘The decorators have finished downstairs in the basement, and the interior designer will be here in—’ he checked his Rolex ‘—thirty minutes. Can you make sure they install the leather seats in the VIP area and remind them we decided on the black privacy curtains for the booths instead of the white?’

Essie nodded, scribbling a quick note as they walked. Ben ushered her out of the path of a man in paint-speckled overalls hefting a ladder on one shoulder and offered a tight, apologetic smile.

‘Oh, and can you remind the electricians before they leave to install the string lights upstairs on the roof garden?’ He sighed. ‘Sorry. It’s a lot.’

Essie shook her head. ‘Not at all. I have a list.’ She brandished her notebook with a reassuring grin.

A small nod. ‘Have you...had any contact from...Frank?’ Ben shot Essie a cautious look, tinged with the usual flash of guilt. He felt somehow responsible for their father’s actions, but they’d both been victims of the lies.

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted to discuss was their father and the endless sob story he’d made of her young life. How he’d decimated her childhood adoration of him, a daughter-father rite of passage, through cowardly evasion and cruel deceit. Essie had learned early on, by the amount of time he’d spent in London, that she’d ranked pretty low on her father’s list of priorities. But to discover, on her fifteenth birthday, that her whole life, her very existence, had been a lie, that she hadn’t mattered enough, that she had a half-brother...

She swallowed back the familiar burn in her throat and shoved her father from her mind. Today was the start of something new, something positive—she wouldn’t let him tarnish it the way he’d managed to tarnish every other significant moment in her life. Birthdays, school awards ceremonies, her first prom night—he’d been conspicuously absent.

Ben led the way to a door beside the bar. ‘Come and meet my buddy.’

Her mouth twitched with a small, indulgent smile. Despite growing up in Manhattan, his mother’s hometown, he’d lived in London for a year. His accent and his choice of slang wavered wildly between the two, something else about her big brother Essie found endlessly endearing.

How could this amazing man be related to Frank? Not that she was the best judge of character. She’d idolised their father growing up, but he’d used his frequent business travel to successfully navigate his deceptions and conduct two separate lives on two separate continents; conceal two separate families.

Essie tossed her coffee cup in a black bag and ducked through the door Ben held open for her.

‘Although he’s supposed to be a silent partner, he’s up to speed with everything so, between the two of you, you should have most things covered. I’ll be back in a few days—plenty of time for us to put the finishing touches to the launch party.’

‘I promise, your club is in good hands.’

They’d chosen the perfect trendy and glamorous location—this part of London was always buzzing with young, beautiful people. And now she’d seen the club’s interior, which was tasteful, chic and oozing sophistication, that she could participate in her brother’s venture filled her with pride and renewed hope. And something less tangible...a small bud, blooming open, affording a glimpse of the full beauty to come.

Belonging.

Something she’d craved for as long as she could remember.

As the door from the bar closed behind them the noise levels dropped as if they’d entered a vacuum. Ben grinned at her impressed expression.

‘State-of-the-art soundproofing. Costs a bloody fortune but worth it.’ He took a left turn, pointing out the salient landmarks as he strode ahead.

‘Kitchen here and staff break room. Staff toilets on the right.’ Another left turn. ‘You can use this office.’ He paused outside a room where the furniture had been sited but still wore its protective Bubble Wrap clothing. He flashed his handsome, lopsided smile and Essie nodded, eyeing the sparse space.

They’d arrived at the last room. Ben rapped lightly on the door.

‘Come in,’ a voice said.

If she hadn’t been so dazzled by the warmth and camaraderie of her brother’s welcome and the affectionate bonding moment of him sharing his shiny new club with her, she might have clued on sooner. But she followed him into the room, blind to everything but Ben and blissfully oblivious to the impending catastrophic confrontation.

And came face-to-face with Ash.

The smile she held on her face morphed into a frozen grimace. Her cheeks twitched with the effort of keeping it there, like a painted-on clown smirk.

She scoured her gaze over his height and breadth, seeking confirmation. But, no, it was definitely him.

The verification came, a breath-stealing blow to the solar plexus.

‘Essie, this is Ash Jacob, my oldest friend and now business partner. Ash, my little sister, Essie Newbold.’

Essie wanted to run a lap of honour at hearing Ben’s description of her, but her stiff skeleton could barely manage a small chin tilt in Ash’s general direction as her neck muscles seized like a rusty gate.

Confident, commanding Ash stood, smoothing down his graphite tie as he rounded the sleek, modern desk and strode into her personal space with his hand outstretched in greeting as if he had not a care in the world. Saliva pooled in her mouth, her throat too tight to allow it passage. Her mind ping-ponged inside her skull, playing catch-up.

His gorgeous face, now clean-shaven to reveal a chiselled jaw and sinful creases that bracketed his full mouth, was relaxed, a small, polite smile on his lips as if he welcomed a total stranger, not the woman he’d come inside last night with a yell she heard every time she closed her eyes.

The memory of his now absent stubble scraping across her nipples gave her an acute pang of longing to see the relaxed, playful Ash of last night. Tourist Ash. Not this tie-wearing, professional version with distant, accusatory eyes and a tense jaw. But for the embers flickering in his navy stare, she’d almost have believed she’d concocted last night’s torrid one-night stand. But her hips and thighs still bore the ghostly imprints of his fingertips as he’d held her tight and drilled into her with fierce determination.

‘Nice to meet you.’ The rich, dark rumble of his voice scraped her eardrums. Her coffee soured in her stomach. How could he maintain such a poker face? Why didn’t he suffer the same jaw-dropping disbelief currently rendering her speechless? And why, oh, why out of all the men in the universe had she chosen her half-brother’s best friend and business partner for her first one-night stand?

Ash’s warm hand enclosed hers, reminding her of last night’s touches. Touches that should have been more intimate but paled against this simple handshake, because this time all pretence was stripped away.

Ash Jacob was The Yard’s co-investor.

Ben’s silent business partner.

Ben’s billionaire friend from uni. A man she’d wrongly assumed was a tourist and picked up in St James’s Park. A man she’d had sex with, twice, whose bed she’d only left mere hours ago. A man to whom she’d confessed her pathetic lack of sexual experience, and thought she’d never see again.

Molten heat engulfed Essie’s throat. She swallowed it down with a sour chaser of you’ve-only-got-yourself-to-blame. But her stomach rebelled the dose of self-inflicted medicine.