The Runaway Bride And The Billionaire

Though at the same time she couldn’t blame them. If Andie, Portia or Posy had been the one who’d had anorexia, she would’ve been worried sick and done exactly the same. She knew they all did it out of love.

OK. She’d do this Immi-style. Super-organised. She’d make a list, and tick each item off as she did it.

1: Book a locksmith for two hours’ time.

2: Tell her family that the wedding was off.

3: Work through the list of everything she’d arranged for the wedding so far and cancel the lot.

Oh, wait. First things first. She blocked Stephen from her phone. At least then she could make her call to the locksmith in peace.

That was the easy one.

Now for the tough one. How did you tell your family that your wedding was off? They’d all want to know why. It made her squirm in her seat. Not only was she the cliché, engaged to her father’s second-in-command, she was the one who’d been cheated on. It made her feel grubby. Stupid. She’d thought she’d made a safe choice of partner, a man her father approved of. She’d thought that Stephen would never treat her the way Shaun had. But she’d ended up hurt, just the same.

Maybe she’d wait for a couple of hours until she could think of the right words. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to rush back from their corners of the world: Andie from Kent, where she was settling in to married life and pregnancy with the man she loved more than anyone on earth and who loved her all the way back, Portia from LA, Posy from wherever she was dancing with the ballet corps—she was being even more elusive than usual—and her parents from their ‘gap year’ in India.

She could do this.

Though she still hadn’t found the right words by the time she got back to her flat. As she’d half feared, Stephen was still there.

‘Immi! Oh, thank God. I was so worried about you.’

Did he really expect her to believe that?

‘You didn’t answer any of my calls or my messages.’

Obviously. And he hadn’t taken the hint—or her explicit request that he should leave before she got back.

‘I asked you to leave,’ she reminded him.

‘I couldn’t—not until we’d talked. Immi, it was a mistake.’

She took a step back before he could sweep her into his arms. She didn’t want him to hold her and try to make her feel better. He was the reason she felt bad in the first place. And he’d made the choice. Even if the other woman had come on to him, he could’ve said no. Could’ve stayed faithful. Could’ve told her that he was flattered but he was getting married next month and wouldn’t cheat on his fiancée.

He’d chosen to do the opposite.

‘It doesn’t have to be over,’ Stephen said, his eyes beseeching.

How easy it would be for her to agree. Then she wouldn’t have to unpick the wedding. Wouldn’t have to feel as if she’d let everyone down. Wouldn’t have to face her family knowing what a naive, stupid fool she’d been, thinking that the man she loved felt exactly the same way about her.

But Immi looked at Stephen now and realised that, actually, she didn’t love him any more. She’d thought maybe she was having an attack of cold feet at Andie’s wedding: but it had been more like a wake-up call. If she married this man now, she knew she’d spend the rest of her life wondering if he was making another ‘mistake’ he expected her to forgive. Every time either of them went away on business, every time she visited her sisters on her own because he was ‘too busy’ to make it, would there be another woman keeping her place warm in his bed?

‘Was she the first?’ Immi asked.

Stephen looked shocked. ‘How do you mean?’

Was he really going to be evasive, even now? ‘I need you to be honest with me,’ she said evenly. ‘Was that girl the first time you’d cheated on me?’

He looked away, and she knew the truth. ‘So that’s what Jamie meant about keeping your nose clean.’

He blinked. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘I overheard.’

He frowned. ‘You didn’t say anything.’

‘Because I thought I was overreacting. That I was tired. That I was letting the stress of the wedding get to me.’ She paused. ‘Were you with her when I was at Andie’s wedding?’

‘No.’

She didn’t think he was lying. But she needed to know the whole truth, not just part of it. ‘Were you with someone else?’

‘It was a—’

‘—mistake,’ she finished for him, feeling sick. So that was at least two women he’d cheated with. How many others had there been? ‘I don’t want a marriage based on a mistake.’

‘Immi, we’re good together.’

She took another step backwards when he reached for her. ‘No, we’re not. If I was enough for you, you wouldn’t be looking elsewhere.’

His skin turned a dull red. ‘I guess.’

He’d been honest with her. Maybe she should be honest with him—and herself. ‘And you’re not enough for me.’

He stared at her. ‘You what? Are you telling me there’s been someone else for you, too?’

‘No. Because I’ve never cheated on you.’ That almost-kiss at Andie’s wedding hadn’t been cheating, because Immi hadn’t actually done it. She’d thought about it, though, which was almost as bad in her view and it made her feel guilty.

‘It’s over, Stephen,’ she said. ‘I can’t trust you, and I don’t want a marriage that’s full of suspicion and lies.’

‘But—’ He stared at her, looking horrified. ‘We’re getting married in a month.’

‘Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you brought that girl home. To my bed.’ Immi dug her nails into her palms. ‘I can’t marry you. But I’ll deal with cancelling the wedding.’ Because then at least she would know everything had been done properly. Stephen had completely undermined her trust in him. Maybe she was being a control freak, but she’d rather know that things had been cancelled instead of skipped over.

‘What are you going to tell your parents?’

Good question. She still wasn’t sure. ‘I’ll tell them the wedding’s off.’

‘So I’ve lost my job.’

Why did she feel that that upset him more than losing his wife-to-be? ‘I don’t know if Dad will sack you.’ Paul Marlowe would probably want to sack Stephen—but whether he could actually do it in legal terms, Immi didn’t know. Besides, surely any decent person would offer to resign? She didn’t think her respect for Stephen could’ve withered any more, but apparently it just had. ‘Dad isn’t here.’ And Stephen, as his temporary second-in-command, would hardly sack himself. ‘I’ll be speaking to Priya in HR, but I guess it’s going to be awkward in the office tomorrow.’ She paused. ‘Unless you maybe call in sick.’

‘And then get sacked for lying?’ he scoffed. ‘Hardly.’

So, even though he was completely in the wrong, he wasn’t going to make this easy for her? ‘Your choice,’ she said. She couldn’t do anything about the work situation, but she could at least do something about the home situation. And this was her flat, not theirs. He hadn’t paid a penny towards the mortgage and he couldn’t claim any rights in it. ‘Did you pack your stuff?’

‘No.’

Clearly he’d expected to talk her round. He’d got that one wrong, too. Something else to add to her list, then. ‘Go and stay with Jamie. I’ll have your stuff delivered to his place.’

‘Immi, it doesn’t have to be this way,’ he said urgently. ‘We can get through this.’

‘No, we can’t,’ she said. She’d never told him about Shaun’s betrayal, and she wasn’t going to tell him now. But she’d never, ever trust him again. Personally or professionally. ‘I’m not going to change my mind. The wedding’s off. Please just go, Stephen.’

For a moment, she thought he was going to argue with her. But then, to her relief, he left without a fight.

As she double-locked the door behind him, she realised that he still hadn’t said sorry.

And that was somehow the saddest thing.

She was halfway through composing a text to her family when her phone beeped.

The message was from Andie.

You OK? Xxx

Twin-sense again.

I’m fine.

She wasn’t quite sure if it was true or not, right at that moment, but she knew she would be fine. She’d get through this.

Have news. Telling everyone at same time. Give me five minutes. xxx

Please, don’t let her twin think that Immi was playing catch-up again and following in her footsteps with news about a baby. That wasn’t happening any time soon. If ever. Not that she’d ever discussed any of that with her family.

And now she definitely had to tell her family about her broken engagement. She had less than five minutes.

There wasn’t a way to break the news gently. She blew out a breath and typed the bald statement.

Am calling off the wedding.

If she told them why, all hell would break loose. Then again, if she didn’t tell them why, all hell would break loose. Better to tell the truth.

Stephen has met someone else.

Though she didn’t have to tell them quite how she’d found out, did she?

I’m fine. Don’t worry. But I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, OK?

No way would her family respect that. But she wanted to allay the fears she knew they’d all have straight away. The fears they’d always have, thanks to her teenage years: anorexia was a mental illness with physical symptoms, and of course they’d worry that she’d relapse. Even though she’d spent quite a while in counselling and worked hard to overcome her problems.

PS I *am* eating. Don’t worry.

She ended with a smiley face she didn’t feel. And three kisses.

Then she added a second text to her parents.

Please do *not* rush home from India. All is under control. Or it will be. See you next month. Love you! xxx

Then she called their HR manager. ‘Priya, I’m so sorry to call you outside work, but we’ve got a bit of a tricky situation.’ She explained what had happened.

‘What a bastard,’ Priya said, sounding outraged. ‘I can’t believe he did that to you. Are you all right?’

‘I will be,’ Immi said. ‘I was kind of hoping he’d offer to resign.’

‘But he’s too selfish for that.’ Priya sighed. ‘What he did was despicable—but it’s to do with his personal life outside work. So, much as I’d like to sack him, I can’t. I can’t even give him a written warning or put him on gardening leave.’

‘Dad will probably want to kick him out.’

‘And then Stephen could take him to a tribunal and make a claim for unfair dismissal.’ Priya paused. ‘Do you think it’s likely that he can do any damage to the business?’

Would he really turn out to be that nasty, and try to damage the business now his ambitions had been thwarted? ‘I guess anything he does will leave either a paper trail or an electronic trail that would lead straight back to him. If he’s determined to stay then I don’t think he’s stupid enough to do anything where Dad could sue him for misconduct or negligence.’

‘Do you want to move your desk to my office first thing, so you don’t have to face him?’ Priya offered.

‘You are the world’s biggest sweetheart,’ Immi said, ‘and I really appreciate the offer, but no. I’m not letting him drive me out of my office. Maybe seeing me every day will make him feel guilty enough to do the right thing and leave.’

‘Once people know what he’s done—and it won’t be from me,’ Priya said, ‘I have a feeling that nobody in Marlowe Aviation is going to talk to him ever again.’

‘It’s a mess,’ Immi said. ‘But I’m going to stick it out. I’m not letting him drive me out of my family’s business.’

‘Good,’ Priya said. ‘And my door is open any time you need it, OK?’

‘Thanks.’

When she’d finished the call, she saw she had a screen full of texts.

Get that you don’t want to talk, her twin said, but do you need a hand unpicking the wedding?

Typical Andie, being practical.

Immi texted back.

Thanks, but am fine.

And she was surprisingly fine. It felt as if a huge weight had just been lifted from her shoulders—which in itself told her that cancelling the wedding had been the right thing to do. Marrying Stephen would’ve been a huge, huge mistake.

Will let you know if I get stuck on anything.

There was one from Posy.

Love you, let me know if you need anything. Portia’s been at the villa. Go there if you need a break. xxx

Thanks. Might take you up on that later. Love you, too xxx, she texted back to Posy.

Getting the next flight home. Will sack him first thing in the morning, was her father’s response.

This one she definitely had to handle in person. Sighing, she called her father’s mobile. ‘Dad?’

‘How dare he hurt you like that? Who the hell does he think he is?’ Paul Marlowe raged.

‘Dad, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘And you can’t sack him. I’ve already spoken to Priya. If you sack him, he can sue you for unfair dismissal.’

‘What—after what he’s done? That’s totally unacceptable.’

‘It’s the law,’ she said gently. ‘Dad, really. It’s fine. I’ll manage. Don’t cut your trip short. You’re not supposed to be home until next month.’ Which should’ve been for her wedding, but that wasn’t going to happen now. ‘You and Mum have planned this trip for ever and I don’t want you missing out. It’s fine.’

‘Hmm,’ Paul said. ‘Your mother wants to speak to you.’

There was a brief pause, and then she heard her mother say, ‘Are you all right, Immi?’

‘I’m fine,’ Immi said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Actually, Stephen’s probably done us both a favour. When Andie got married, I realised that he doesn’t look at me the way Cleve looks at Andie, and I don’t look at him the way Andie looks at Cleve. I thought maybe I was just having cold feet, but...’

‘If it isn’t right, it isn’t right.’

But Immi could hear the worry in her mother’s voice. ‘Mum, I’m eating,’ she said gently. ‘I promise, I’m not going to start starving myself. I’m older now and much, much wiser. Do you want me to video myself eating every meal and send you the evidence?’

‘Yes,’ Julie said. ‘Well, obviously that’d be a bit excessive. But I’m your mother. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t worry about you. I let you down last time.’

‘No, you didn’t. I was a teenager, and teenagers are very good at hiding things we don’t want our parents to know. Honestly. I’m eight years older than I was back then, and the counselling really sorted me out. My head’s in a good place. Yes, I’m angry and hurt, and I might tape Stephen’s picture on a punchbag at the gym and pound it to shreds, but that’s as far as it’ll go. Don’t worry. I really want you and Dad to finish your trip.’

‘I should be home, helping you cancel all the wedding stuff.’

‘It’s fine. I have lists. Andie’s already offered to help. It’ll be fine,’ Immi soothed.

‘But you’ll ring me if you need me?’

‘I’ll ring you,’ Immi promised. ‘But you and Dad have been looking forward to India. Just go to all the places and take a gazillion photos to show me when you get home. Love you, Mum.’

‘Love you, too,’ Julie said.

Immi had just finished packing the last of Stephen’s stuff into a box when her phone beeped again. This time it was Portia.

OMG. When did this happen? Want me to come home and scalp him?

Immi laughed and texted back,

Tonight. I’m fine. Going to tape his pic to punchbag at gym tomorrow. You OK?

Yes.

Good.

Need a hand with cancelling stuff?

No, I’ve got it. But thanks.

Right at that moment, Immi really missed her sisters and she would’ve liked nothing better than to spend an evening with the four of them curled up by the fire with mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of brownies, talking about nothing in particular. But her sisters all had busy lives. And she wasn’t going to drag everyone back to Cambridge just because her own life was taking a bit of a wobble.

See you soon, yes?

Laters, Portia texted back.

So that was the first hurdle dealt with, Immi thought. Now she needed to put her list together of people she needed to call to cancel the ceremony, the reception, the dresses and the flowers, the photographer... And she might just take her little sister up on her offer of a bolt hole in a month’s time. Facing everyone this week would be tough enough, but the week when she was supposed to have been married? That was the week she’d rather be as far away from here as possible.

And in the meantime she had work to do.

CHAPTER TWO

A month later

IMMI PAID THE taxi driver, thanked him and collected her bags from the back of the car.

The Villa Rosa loomed before her in all its pink faded glory.

The last time she’d come here to L’Isola dei Fiori had been for Andie’s wedding. When she’d still been engaged to Stephen...while he’d been seeing someone else behind her back.

She shook herself. Enough of the pity party. It was bad enough that she was behaving like the Runaway Bride—actually running away from things on the week she should’ve been getting married. But she really couldn’t bear to be in Cambridge facing everyone’s pity right now; plus her father was back at the helm of Marlowe Aviation, so it wasn’t as if she was letting him down. And she really needed time away from the whole situation to decide what she really wanted from life.

Thank God Posy’s godmother Sofia had left her this place. It had been a gift to Sofia years ago by her besotted lover Ludano, the King of L’Isola dei Fiori; and Sofia had bequeathed it to her goddaughter, the youngest Marlowe girl.

OK, so the house needed some work doing. A lot of work, Immi amended, given that the stucco was faded and there were even weeds growing out of a crack in the wall. But it had been a bolt hole that all of Posy’s sisters had needed this spring and summer. Andie, giving her time to come to terms with a life-changing event. Portia, when her career was teetering on the brink. And now Immi herself, giving her space to decide what she was going to do with her life now her marriage wasn’t happening.

Best of all, the garden here had run pretty much wild. Which meant that Immi could spend her days doing what she loved second-best in the whole world—working in a garden—and it would make her so physically tired that she wouldn’t be able to brood about the might-have-beens. She could just concentrate on the plants and let a few ideas bubble in her subconscious.

The keys were right where Posy said they’d be, underneath a flowerpot in the back garden, and she let herself in.

The house was clean—as Immi had expected, given that her older sister Portia had been staying here—and there had definitely been some work done: the cracked glass panels in the double-height conservatory had been replaced, meaning that the room was pretty much watertight again. Several other walls had been replastered, though not painted, and the once-gorgeous painted drawing room still had a crack running through the fresco; it had been repaired, but nobody had touched up the paint.

She hauled her bags into the kitchen. Just as she remembered from the weekend of the wedding, the room was large and comfortable, and she thought she could probably use it as her base. The oven was ancient but in working order, as was the fridge. The kettle sitting on the worktop was the kind you had to boil on top of the stove, rather than the electric kind with a light that switched off when the water had boiled, but again it was workable; the pans, although worn and not the non-stick kind she was used to, were serviceable enough. The place felt as if it had been stuck in the early nineteen-seventies, but it had a certain charm.

There was a note propped against the kettle; she picked it up and read it.

Posy said you were coming. Have put milk in fridge and bread in the cupboard. We’re in the white cottage down the lane if you need anything.

Matt Stark

Matt.

Immi remembered that almost-kiss at the wedding and caught her breath. Back then, she hadn’t been free to act on that unexpected and unfair surge of desire. Now she was. Though right now she wasn’t in a place where she wanted to get involved with anyone. Just let it go and chalk it up to the actions of a kind neighbour, she told herself.

And it was kind of Matt to have brought her some milk and bread. She’d planned to go shopping once she got here, but her flight had been delayed and she’d missed her original ferry crossing from the mainland to Sant’Angelo, meaning that she’d arrived at the villa much later than she’d intended. She knew the shops in the village would be closed now; hopefully Portia had left some cereal or something in one of the cupboards, but if not then toast and milk would see her through until tomorrow. She’d call in and thank Matt for his kindness in the morning.

But how good it was right now not to have to talk to anyone.

It felt as if she’d spent the last month doing nothing but talking, cancelling every single thing she’d arranged for the wedding and uninviting all the guests. Everyone had wanted to know why the wedding was off. She’d squirmed at the idea of telling people the truth, not wanting to have to face all the pity; but not telling the truth left her open to all the gossip and speculation, and even the blame—flighty Imogen Marlowe changing her mind and cancelling the wedding at the last minute, leaving poor Stephen devastated.

Ha. The only flying she was doing was in aeroplanes; and Stephen wasn’t devastated at losing her. He was devastated at losing his chance to run Marlowe Aviation.

She’d fudged her way through it, simply saying that Stephen had let her down badly over a really important issue, and the marriage would’ve failed. Better to call it off now than to go through with it and then end up with a messy divorce.

Work had been harder.

Facing him, every single day, had been tough. The first few days, Stephen had started trying to charm her round, bringing her fresh flowers for her desk every day. When she hadn’t given in, he’d moved on to blaming her for his behaviour, saying that he’d only strayed because she hadn’t been enough for him. Words that had cut deep because they’d brought back her old teenage fears of being inadequate. He’d probably said it just to hurt her when she’d refused to take him back, but the barb had landed on target. She’d been close to punching him, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of slapping her with an assault charge.

The blaming had been followed by a week of sneers and nasty little digs. Immi had managed to ignore them, for the most part, but when he pushed her to almost her breaking point she’d asked Priya to send him a formal letter about standards of professional behaviour in the office. He’d backed off after that.

But then there had been a week of fielding the tension between her father and Stephen, once Paul and Julie Marlowe had returned from their extended trip to India. Immi had had to try to stop her father going off at the deep end and leaving himself open to having to pay Stephen massive compensation at an industrial tribunal—because having to pay compensation to the man who’d cheated on her would’ve really added insult to injury.

Being away from that whole toxic situation was bliss; and, even though she still worried that her father would lose his temper, Immi knew that Priya would sit him down and talk him through the legal issues. With Priya not being his daughter, there was a chance that Paul Marlowe might actually listen to her.

A few days here on L’Isola dei Fiori, on her own, and she might be able to work out exactly where she went from here. What she was going to do with the rest of her life. With no internet—and spotty mobile phone reception only on some parts of the island, if she was lucky—she wouldn’t have to answer any questions until she was ready. Though it might be an idea to take selfies of herself eating and send them to her sisters and her mother, just to reassure everyone that she wasn’t slipping back into her old ways. She’d need to wait until tomorrow, when she had a little more than just bread and milk in the cupboard.

To her relief, Portia had left decent instant coffee and hot chocolate.