Rumours: The Ruthless Ravensdales

‘I know, but Flynn’s trying to smooth things over,’ Jake said. ‘Another divorce will be costly to both of them, and not just financially. Their popularity could rise or fall according to how they handle this scandal. You know how fickle the fans are. Flynn’s hoping he can silence the girl with a one-off payment. Something big enough to keep her mouth shut and go away. Preferably both.’

Julius was relieved to hear it was all in good hands. Flynn Carlyon was the family lawyer; he’d been a year ahead of them at school. He handled Julius’s parents’ legal affairs as well as run offices in London. Flynn wasn’t just a solicitor to the stars. He had won several high-profile property settlement cases that had given him the tagline around the courts: Flynn equals win. He had a sharp mind, an even sharper tongue and a cutting wit.

‘Have you met this girl?’ Julius asked.

‘Not yet,’ Jake said. ‘You might want to drop by next time you’re in town and say hello. After all, she’s your new baby sister.’

How could I possibly forget? Julius thought with a despairing groan.

* * *

Holly put the finishing touches to dinner before she went up to her room on the second floor to have a shower. The room she had chosen was four doors down from Julius’s suite but on the opposite side of the wide corridor. It didn’t have a balcony—thank God—but it did have a nice view over the front gardens and the tree-lined driveway. It had its own en suite, which was decorated in a Parisian style with lovely ceramic-and-brass tap handles and a claw-footed bath that was centred in the middle of the floor, with a telephone-handle fitting as well as taps. There was a separate shower stall big enough for a football team and lots of gorgeous, fluffy white towels, fragrant French soaps and expensive hair products. A gilt-framed oval mirror hung over the pedestal washbasin and there was another full-length one in the bedroom.

The only issue Holly had was with her clothes. They didn’t feel right for her surroundings. All this high-end luxury made the clothes she’d brought with her look even dowdier than usual. She had never been financially stable enough to follow fashion. Fashion was something other people followed. Shopping was a pastime other people indulged in. Rich people, people who had money, security and the safety net of family. Holly had taught herself not to want things she could never afford. She had deadened her desire for nice feminine things. It was pointless to wish she could dress like the women she saw about town. Smart women; educated, sophisticated, polished and poised, with hair, make-up and nails done like models and movie stars. She could never compete with that. It was so far out of her reach, she didn’t bother trying.

But right now she would have loved a nice dress to put on and some high heels to go with it. Some classy underwear—not cheap, faded cotton but some slinky, cobwebby lace. She would have liked some make-up—not much, just enough to highlight her features, to put some colour on her eyelids and some tinted gloss on her lips. She would have liked to get a decent haircut, perhaps get some professional foils done to cover the pink streaks she’d done with a home kit that hadn’t turned out quite the way she’d planned. Maybe a bit of jewellery—pearls, perhaps—to give her a touch of elegance.

But what was the point of wishing she could dress like a glamour girl when all her life she had been the girl with the charity shop clothes? The girl with the bad haircut, the bitten nails and the cheap shoes with the soles worn through? She had always felt like a donkey showing up at a posh dressage event.

Why should now be any different?

After her shower Holly slipped off her towel in front of the mirror. At least she had a good figure. It was her only asset. Good bones; long, slim limbs; a neat waist; nicely shaped breasts; mostly clear skin, apart from that ridiculously childish patch of freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Her gaze went to a pattern of damson-coloured marks around the tops of her arms. She reached up and touched them, her stomach doing a funny little dip and dive when she realised what they were. Julius’s fingerprints had branded her flesh with light but unmistakable bruises.

She bit her lip, looking at the grey cotton tank top she had been planning to wear with another pair of jeans—her only pair without holes in them, although they did have a frayed hem. She put on the tank top and picked up a green cardigan, even though the evening was warm, and slipped it on. It wasn’t the nicest weave—the acrylic in it always made her skin feel itchy. But it was either that or a denim jacket or a pilled woollen sweater that would have her sweating within seconds. Finally, she bunched up her hair and secured it with an elastic tie in a makeshift knot at the back of her head.

Holly drew in a breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh. Why she was trying to look half-decent for Julius Ravensdale wasn’t something she wanted to examine too closely. It wouldn’t matter if she’d been dressed in the finest designer wear; he would still look down his imperious nose at her.

Just like everyone else.

CHAPTER SIX

JULIUS HADN’T BEEN able to track down Miranda or his father. But he had fielded several calls from his mother, who was beyond hysterical. He did what he always did. He listened, he stayed calm, he bit his tongue. His mother vented, raged and fumed so much that he began to wonder if she was actually enjoying herself. It was an opportunity to play the victim, one of her favourite roles. His parents’ relationship was toxic. He hated the way they were madly in love one minute then hated each other the next. When one did something out of line, the other went into payback mode. It was childish and puerile.

The press was having a ball with this latest bombshell. He’d clicked on a couple of links Jake had sent him. The girl in question was stunning. If her mother had looked anything like Katherine Winwood, Julius could see why his father’s head had been turned. Julius only hoped no one would track him down for a comment. His life here in Argentina was his way of flying under the radar. Over here hardly anyone knew who he was and he wanted it to stay that way. But what was he going to do if the press came sniffing around? Holly was a loose cannon. There was a possibility she would deliberately mislead the press if given half a chance. Should he send her away? He looked at his phone. He had the number of her caseworker on speed dial. His finger hovered over it...but then he pushed his phone away.

For all her feistiness and brazen behaviour, there was something about Holly that mystified him. She seemed so determined to challenge him, yet he had seen that glimpse of touching vulnerability down at the lake. He had never met anyone quite like her before. He found her...interesting. Stimulating, and not just because of his overactive hormones. There was a hint of the lost waif about her. Or was he completely hoodwinked by her? Was it his rescue complex in overdrive? He wasn’t the sort of person to walk away from a person in need. Holly was difficult and disruptive but if he sent her away now she would have no choice but to go into detention. He knew enough about the penal system to know it was not the place he would want anyone under his care and protection to go. Sophia had been so keen to take Holly on. He would be letting her down if he quit now. The least he could do was talk to Sophia about it. Get her perspective on things.

It was Julius’s routine to go to the sitting room before dinner each evening to have a quiet drink with Sophia before she served the meal. It was a pattern they had fallen into over the past few months. He enjoyed hearing about Sophia’s extended family and her interesting childhood as the daughter of Italian immigrants. They often spoke in Italian, as he was fluent, given his mother was from Florence.

He wanted to use this time to inform her of his father’s latest peccadillo so she could put steps in place to maintain Julius’s privacy.

His parents—most particularly his mother—would be appalled at Julius for being so familiar with his housekeeper or, indeed, any of his staff. When he’d been growing up, his parents’ housekeeping staff had not been considered part of the family. There’d been strict codes of behaviour forbidding anything but the strictest formality from the staff towards family members. One did not discuss one’s private affairs with the staff. One did not fraternise with or consider them as friends. They were employees. They were kept at arm’s length. They were taught to know their place and never stray from the boundaries of it.

The only exception had been Jasmine Connolly, the daughter of Hugh Connolly, the gardener at the family property in Buckinghamshire called Ravensdene. Jasmine had come to live with her father after her mother had dropped her at Ravensdene on a visit and was never seen or heard from again. Julius’s parents had taken pity on Hugh Connolly—unusual for them, considering their almost pathological self-centredness—and had offered to pay for Jasmine’s education. Jasmine was like a surrogate sister to Julius, and certainly to Miranda, as they were much the same age.

Jake, however, had a tricky relationship with Jasmine after an incident when she’d been sixteen. Both blamed the other and as a result they were sworn enemies, which made for some rather interesting dynamics at family gatherings.

But this time it wasn’t Sophia who joined Julius for a drink. In walked Holly, carrying a tray with savouries on it, which she put down on the table in front of him, but not before he got a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage as she leaned over.

‘Sophia sends her apologies,’ Holly said. ‘She’s having an early night.’

Julius frowned. ‘Is she all right? I haven’t seen her all day.’

‘She’s fine. Just needs a rest, is all.’

He watched as Holly poured him a glass of white wine. Clearly Sophia had filled her in on his preferences. She handed it to him with a tight-lipped smile. ‘Two standard drinks is all I’ll serve. Just so you know.’

He took the glass, only just restraining himself from draining it dry. Mixing one glass of wine with Holly Perez was like drinking five tequilas and expecting to remain sober. It was impossible to remain sober and sensible in her company. He could already feel the tightening of his groin; the stirring of lust her presence triggered was like someone flicking a switch inside him.

For all that he’d wanted to get rid of her, she had turned things around with her concern for Sophia. But was it concern...or conniving behaviour to serve her own ends? He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know why she was so determined to make trouble for him. It didn’t add up. If she made too much trouble, she would be sent to jail. Why then sabotage her last chance at making something of her life? She seemed intent on destroying any hope of a positive future. If he sent in a bad report to her caseworker, it would be disastrous for her. She knew that. He knew that. Why then was she so determined to ruin everything for herself? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t logical.

If there was one thing in life Julius demanded, it was sense and logic.

‘I thought I told you not to wear jeans to dinner,’ he said.

A flash of defiance—or was it pride?—sparked in her caramel-brown gaze. ‘I don’t have any dresses. I could’ve come in shorts or my underwear. I can go upstairs and change or I could strip off here. You choose. I’m easy.’

‘Undoubtedly.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘Not as easy as your old man, according to the news I heard just now.’ She sat on the edge of the sofa opposite him. ‘He’s quite a cad, isn’t he? Nothing like you, or so you say.’

Julius forcibly had to relax his hold on the stem of his glass in case he snapped it. ‘I would appreciate it if you would refrain from discussing my father’s affairs with anyone. If you say one word to the press, I’ll send you packing so fast you won’t know what hit you.’

‘Are you going to fly home to England to meet your new sister?’

He tightened his jaw. ‘I’m not planning to.’

‘It’s not her fault your old man’s her father,’ Holly said. ‘You shouldn’t judge her for something she had no control over.’

Julius took another mouthful of wine. She was right and he wanted to hate her for pointing it out to him. But he needed time to get used to the idea of having a half-sibling. He thought he was used to his father’s scandals but this one took the prize. The press had been still banging on about it last time he’d looked. Katherine Winwood might be gorgeous to look at but who knew what her motives were in coming forward? Money, most probably. That she might be entitled to some compensation for how his father had treated her mother was not something he wanted to comment on. He was sick to the stomach over his family’s dramas. What or who would turn up next?

Julius decided a change of subject was called for. ‘I’ll order some clothes for you. Let me know your size and I’ll make sure you have what you need.’

Holly’s eyes danced. ‘So you’re going to be like a sugar daddy to me or something?’

He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. ‘No.’

She picked up a canapé and bit into it. ‘Pity.’

‘It’s rude to speak with your mouth full.’

‘I’ll make sure I remember that when we’re in the bedroom,’ she said with a naughty smile.

Julius kept his gaze locked on hers but he wondered if she could sense the fireball of lust that hit him. He was suddenly so erect he could feel it pressing against his trouser zip. The thought of her hot little mouth on him made his blood pound in excitement.

He distracted himself by leaning forward to take one of the canapés off the platter. ‘Where did you learn to cook?’

‘Picked it up along the way.’

He sat back and crossed his right ankle over his left thigh in the most casual and relaxed pose he could manage while his erection still throbbed. Painfully. ‘Along the way where?’

‘Here and there and everywhere.’

It seemed he wasn’t the only one keen to avoid discussing family issues, Julius thought. ‘What are your plans once you leave here?’

She gave a loose little shrug before taking another appetiser. ‘I want to get a job and save up enough money to go to England.’

‘To holiday?’

‘To live.’ She took a noisy bite and munched away, like a bunny rabbit chewing a crunchy carrot.

Julius knew she was doing it to annoy him. Her rebellious streak was kind of cute, when he thought about it. It reminded him a bit of Jasmine Connolly, the gardener’s daughter, who liked to have a bit of fun at times—mostly with Jake, who for some reason didn’t see the funny side.

Cute?

What was he thinking? Holly wasn’t cute. She was as cunning as a vixen. She was out to prove he was unable to resist her. He was out to prove he could. He had the edge on her. She might be doing all she could to get thrown out of his house but without him as her guardian she would find herself doing time. Why then was she pushing him to evict her? Was it deliberate or a knee-jerk thing? Was her behaviour a pattern she had developed in order to survive? From the scant details she’d given him, her childhood clearly hadn’t been a picnic. Did she push people away before they pushed her?

And why did he give a damn?

‘Do you have relatives in England?’ Julius asked.

‘My mum was an orphan. My dad was, too. An English couple adopted him, which is how he met my mum over there. It’s why they hit it off so well. They were two lonely people who found true love.’ Her mouth took a sudden downturn and she looked at the remaining piece of her canapé as if it had personally offended her. ‘Pity they didn’t get the happy ending they deserved.’

‘How did your father die?’

‘He was killed in an accident at work.’

‘What sort of accident?’ Julius pressed a little further.

‘A fatal one.’

He gave her a look. ‘I realise it’s probably painful to talk about but I—’

‘It happened a long time ago,’ Holly said, interrupting. ‘Anyway, I only remember what I’ve been told.’

‘What were you told?’

‘That he died in a work-place accident.’

She was a stubborn little thing, Julius thought. She would only reveal what she wanted to reveal. ‘Did your mother ever remarry?’

Holly got up abruptly from the corner of the sofa and dusted her fingers on the front of her jeans. ‘You want to make your way to the dining room? I’ll only be a minute or two. I promised I’d take Sophia’s meal up to her.’

Julius sat back and sipped his wine, a thoughtful frown pulling at his brow. So it wasn’t his imagination after all. There was definitely something about Holly’s background that made her reluctant to speak of it. Could he get her to trust him enough to reveal it?

He pulled himself up short. Why on earth was he even trying to understand her?

He was supposed to be keeping his distance. He wasn’t the type of guy to let his emotions get the better of him. It was fine to care about her welfare— perfectly fine. Any decent person would do that. But if he thought too much about her cute dimples, and pert manner and that far away look she sometimes got in her eyes when she didn’t know he was looking, he would be feeling stuff he had no right to be feeling. It was bad enough being attracted to her physically. God forbid he should start liking her as a person. Feeling affection. Holly was a temporary inconvenience and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her so he could get his life back into its neat, ordered groove.

Even if at times—he reluctantly conceded—it was a little boring.

* * *

Holly made sure Sophia was settled in her suite with her meal, a drink and the television remote handy. She had cut up the chicken and the vegetables so Sophia could eat with her left hand using a fork. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour to bring up dessert and to clear your dishes,’ she said.

‘Muchas gracias,’ Sophia said with a soft smile. ‘You’re a good girl.’

Holly gave a little grunt of a laugh. ‘Try telling your boss that.’

Sophia looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You don’t need to be bad to be noticed. There are other ways to get his attention.’

Holly frowned. ‘I’m not trying to get anyone’s attention.’

Sophia gave her a sage look. ‘Earning someone’s respect takes time. It also takes honesty.’

Holly fiddled with a loose button on her cardigan. ‘Why should I bother trying to earn someone’s respect when I’m not going to be here long enough to reap the benefits?’

‘Señor Ravensdale could help you get on your feet,’ Sophia said. ‘He could give you a good reference. Find employment for you. Recommend you to someone.’

Holly snorted. ‘Recommend me for what? Scrubbing someone’s dirty floors? No thanks.’

Sophia released a sigh. ‘Do you think someone who’s in charge of maintaining the upkeep of a house is not worthy of respect? If so, then you’re not the person I thought you were. People are people. Jobs are jobs. Some people get the good ones, others the bad ones—sometimes because of luck, other times because of opportunity. But as long as each person is doing the best job they can where they can, then what’s the difference between being a CEO and a cleaner?’

‘Money. Status. Power.’

‘Money will buy you nice things but it won’t make you happy.’

‘I’d at least like the chance to test that theory,’ Holly said.

Sophia shook her head at her. ‘You’re young and angry at the world. You want to hit out at anyone who dares to come close in case they let you down. Not everyone will do that, querida. There are some people you can trust with your love.’

Holly swallowed a golf ball-sized lump of sudden emotion. Her father had called her querida. She still remembered his smiling face as he’d reached for her and held her high up in his arms, swinging her around until she got dizzy. His eyes had been full of love for her and for her mother. They had been a happy family, not wealthy by any means, but secure and happy.

But then he had died and everything had changed.

It was as though that life had happened to another person. Holly felt like a different person. She was no longer that sweet, contented child who embraced love and gave it unquestionably in return. She was a hardened cynic who knew how to live on her wits and by the use of her sharp tongue. She didn’t feel love for anyone.

And she was darn certain no one felt it for her.

‘I’d better go serve His High and Mightiness his dinner,’ Holly said. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Holly?’

She stopped at the door to look back at the housekeeper. ‘What?’

‘Don’t make things worse for him by speaking to the press if they come here. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s trying to help you, in his way. Don’t bite the hand that’s reached out to help you.’

‘Okay, okay, already. I won’t speak to the press,’ Holly said. ‘Why would I want to? They’ll only twist things and make me look bad.’

‘Can I trust you?’

‘Yes.’

‘He won’t let you win, you know.’

Holly kept her expression innocent. ‘Win what?’

Sophia gave her a knowing look. ‘I know what you’re trying to do but it won’t work. Not with him. If he wants to get involved with you then it will be on his terms, not yours. He won’t be manipulated or tricked into it.’

‘That’s quite some pedestal you’ve got him on,’ Holly said. ‘But then, he pays you good money. You’d say anything to keep your job.’

‘He’s a good man,’ Sophia said. ‘And deep down I know you’re a good woman.’

You don’t know me, Holly thought as she closed the door. No one does.

I won’t let them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JULIUS WAS STANDING at the windows of the dining room when Holly came in with the food. She unloaded the tray on the table and then turned briskly to leave.

‘Aren’t you joining me?’ he asked.

Her chin came up. ‘Apparently I’m not dressed for the occasion.’

There was a bite to her tone that made him wonder if he had upset her. Embarrassed her. Hurt her, even. She always acted so defiant and in-your-face feisty that to hear that slightly wounded note to her voice faintly disturbed him. There was so much about her that intrigued him. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to uncover her secrets. The secrets he caught a glimpse of in her eyes. The shifting shadows on her face he witnessed when she didn’t think he was looking at her.

She was an enigma. A mystery he wanted to solve. She played the bad girl so well, yet he saw elements to her that showed her vulnerability, her kindness. Like the way she had taken over the kitchen so Sophia could rest. That showed sensitivity and kindness, didn’t it? Or was he being the biggest sucker out to fall for it? Was it all an act? A charade? How could she be as bad as she made out? What was her motive to make him think she was out to seduce him? Was it because he wasn’t taking her up on it? Did his refusal to succumb to the temptation she offered make her see him as even more of a challenge?

‘It’s not a formal dinner,’ Julius said. ‘If I had guests, then, yes, I would insist on you dressing appropriately. I’m sorry I didn’t realise you haven’t the suitable attire in which to do so but that will be rectified as soon as possible tomorrow.’

Her small, neat chin came up. ‘Once you’ve coughed up that dictionary you’ve swallowed, maybe you’ll have room for the dinner I’ve prepared. Bon appetit.’

He let out an exasperated breath. ‘Look, if I’ve upset you I’m sorry. But things are a little crazy for me just now.’

Her eyes flashed with unbridled disdain. ‘Why would I be upset by someone like you? I don’t care about your opinion of me or my clothes. It means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me.’

Julius pulled out the chair to the left of his. ‘Please join me for dinner.’