The Innocent's Shock Pregnancy. Carol Marinelli

ONE

      ‘MERIDA! THANK GOODNESS you’re here!’

      Reece was clearly relieved as Merida stepped into the smart Fifth Avenue gallery.

      A spring shower had chased her from the subway and, having dashed out of her apartment at short notice to get there, Merida hadn’t brought an umbrella. Her long red curls were looking particularly wild, but there should be time to sort them before he arrived, she thought.

      Merida Cartwright’s smile was so bright and engaging no one would guess that stepping in at the last moment to give some VIP a private tour of the gallery was the very last thing she wanted to be doing this evening.

      While she might be a gallery assistant by day, Merida was an actress by night—and also by heart. From England, she had come to New York with Broadway in mind and had given herself a year to make it.

      Now, ten months in, her time and her savings were fast running out.

      She needed money, and although she had an important audition tomorrow, and would prefer to be in her tiny apartment preparing for it, she smiled. ‘It’s honestly not a problem, Reece.’

      ‘I had just started to lock up when Helene called.’

      ‘Helene?’

      ‘Ethan Devereux’s PA. I can’t believe that he’s coming to visit the gallery and I shan’t be here to show him around.’

      ‘It will be fine.’ Reece was highly strung and Merida did her best to calm him. ‘What time is your flight?’

      ‘At nine. If I’m going to make it then I have to leave soon.’

      Reece made no move to go, though. Instead he fussed over details.

      ‘You’ve read through the manual I sent you on the amulets?’

      ‘Of course I have.’ Merida nodded as she undid the belt of her trench coat. In fact, she had been the one who had set up the amulet display.

      ‘This has to go well, Merida. I tried to suggest to Helene that he visit the gallery once I’m back from Egypt, but she was adamant that he wanted to see the display tonight. It would be madness to turn down a Devereux. One bad word from him and we’re sunk.’

      ‘Really?’ Merida frowned. ‘Just who is he?’

      Reece let out a disbelieving laugh, but then righted himself. ‘Of course—at times I forget you’re from England and won’t have grown up being fed every detail of the Devereux family’s lives. Basically, the Devereux family are our landlords, darling.’

      ‘They own the building?’

      ‘They own half of the East Side and more besides. They’re NYC royalty. There’s the father—Jobe—and his two sons, Ethan and Abe. And all are utter bastards...’

      ‘That’s not nice.’

      ‘They’re not nice,’ Reece countered. ‘Oh, poor Elizabeth...’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘Elizabeth Devereux—Jobe’s wife. Well, second wife, and mother to his sons. She was an absolute angel, and for a while they were almost a happy family.’ Reece needlessly checked the door to make sure they were alone. ‘Apparently she found out Jobe was having another affair.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Usually Elizabeth turned a blind eye, but rumour has it that this particular time it was with the nanny.’

      ‘They broke up?’

      ‘No, she fled to the Caribbean to heal, the poor thing, and died in a water-skiing accident. Since then the Devereux men have reeled from one scandal to the next. Don’t let Ethan’s unquestionable good looks dazzle you—he’d happily crush you in the palm of his hand.’

      Merida winced.

      ‘Now, there’s champagne on ice. Pop the cork as soon as you see his car. I’ve had hors d’oeuvres from Barnaby’s sent over...’

      ‘How many guests is he bringing?’ Merida checked.

      ‘I’m not sure. Probably it’s just his latest, so I’ve set up for two. I had a quick look online, to try and find out who she might be, but I got lost in the quagmire so you’ll just have to wing it. Oh, and Gemma’s brought you in one of her dresses to wear. It’s out the back.’

      ‘Pardon?’ Merida’s green eyes narrowed. She was unsure if she’d heard that right. Reece had never told her what to wear before.

      ‘It’s just a simple black dress. And Gemma’s also loaned you some pearls.’

      ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’

      Merida had on a gorgeous Buchanan tartan kilt. It was possibly a little short, but she had on black tights and suede boots and it was topped with a simple black jumper. It went well with her colouring and was her favourite outfit—one that she usually saved for auditions. But, given the important guest, she had made an extra effort this evening.

      ‘You look fabulous,’ Reece attempted. ‘Merida, you always do. But while for the most part I’m happy to overlook your little eccentricities, with Ethan Devereux descending...’

      ‘Eccentricities?’ Merida frowned.

      But Reece refused to be drawn and quickly changed the subject. ‘Look, I really do appreciate this, Merida,’ he said as he pulled up the handle on his suitcase. ‘I’m sure there is some guy who hates me for calling you in to work tonight.’

      Merida gave a non-committal smile. She had decided long ago that she would not be discussing her love-life with Reece. Or rather the absolute lack of it.

      ‘And once Ethan’s gone,’ Reece said as he went through the door, ‘would you mind updating the website? Clint didn’t get around to it.’

      ‘Sure.’

      Finally Reece was outside, chatting to Vince, the doorman-cum-security guard, as he hailed down a cab.

      With fifteen minutes to prepare for the VIP guest’s arrival, Merida slipped out to the back.

      Unlike the gallery, which was all large open spaces, muted colours and plush fabrics, the back area was adorned with brown peeling paint and was terribly cramped.

      There in the tiny staffroom, wrapped in plastic and hanging from the door, was a black dress, with a small pouch dangling from it, containing a single row of pearls.

      Gemma had also left a pair of black stiletto shoes, and Merida’s jaw gritted. They clearly didn’t dare risk leaving even footwear to her! Reece could be so catty at times—but Merida needed the job far too much to protest.

      She slipped the little black number on. It was a halter-neck, and Gemma hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Merida might not have a suitable bra. There was no choice but to go without—though thankfully Merida wasn’t particularly well-endowed in that department.

      Her make-up was the same as always—a touch of mascara to darken her fair lashes and bring out the green of her eyes, and a dash of blusher to brighten her pale skin. The only lipstick she had with her was a coral one, and she put a slick on, then stepped back and checked her reflection.

      It looked rather dour—though there was far too much flesh on show to call it a funereal outfit, Merida thought. She looked like one of those greeters at an exclusive club or restaurant.

      Except for the hair.

      Merida would need a week to attain sleek sophistication in that department, so she ran some serum through the ends and then tied it so that it hung in a thick, low ponytail.

      It would just have to do.

      She headed out to the main gallery and cast a knowing eye over the displays, then clipped down the stairs to the amulets, just to check all was in order.

      The lights were on a sensor, and the walls