The Socialite's Secret. Carol Marinelli

huge entourage were all there on their phones. As Luke went to go in and speak with the daughter, one of them had the nerve to ask for his ID.

      ‘It’s your ID that I need here,’ Luke responded, and with that line he warned them how any dealings with him would be.

      ‘How is she?’ a frantic woman asked.

      ‘We’ve been waiting for more than an hour for an update,’ another person said.

      Luke just ignored them and walked into the very full staffroom. ‘I’m Luke Edwards, I’ve been taking care of Anya. I’d like to speak with the immediate family.’

      And there, in the midst of it all, she was.

      Scarlet.

      Still beautiful, Luke thought.

      She was sitting, trembling, with her head in her hands. Even her cloud of black ringlets was shaking as her knees bobbed up and down. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings but then she suddenly looked up and her already pale face bleached further in recognition.

      ‘Luke?’

      ‘Luke Edwards,’ he said, doing all he could to keep them anonymous, to not let everyone present know the agony this was. ‘I’ve been treating your mother. Are there any other relatives?’ Luke checked.

      Scarlet shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but no words came out so she shook her head again but then managed two words. ‘Just me.’

      ‘Then I’d like to speak to you alone.’

      ‘We need to know what’s going on,’ a woman said. ‘I’m Sonia, Anya’s manager.’

      ‘I’m speaking now with her next of kin.’

      Luke’s stance was not one to be argued with. It wasn’t just that he was tall and broad—after all, there were far more burly bodyguards than he. More it was his implacable expression and cool disdain that had the manager step back and the path cleared for him to leave.

      Scarlet was seriously shaken; her legs felt as if they were made only of liquid.

      She was about to be told that her mother was dead, Scarlet was quite sure of that.

      ‘This way,’ Luke said, and down another corridor they went, and when she needed him to take her arm, instead he walked on briskly.

      Luke opened the door to his office and she could see his grim expression.

      She was dead, Scarlet was sure.

      Luke was here.

      Scarlet was very used to feeling conflicted but it was immeasurable now.

      She stepped into his office and the first thing that hit her was that it was so quiet.

      So completely quiet and calm that after the chaos of that morning the stillness hit her like a wall.

      For the first time since she had found her mother, there was, apart from her own rapid breathing, the sound of silence.

      Stepping into her mother’s hotel bedroom had been something she would never forget.

      ‘Mom?’

      She had crept in quietly and seen her mother lying in her bed, face down. ‘Mom?’

      She had tried to turn her over but Scarlet was of slight build and she hadn’t been able to.

      She had screamed for help and after a couple of moments a shocked butler had arrived.

      From then on it had been chaos. Hotel staff had started to appear. Vince, her mother’s physician, had arrived dressed, wearing trousers and a shirt, and Scarlet couldn’t understand why he had taken a moment to get dressed.

      She had stood back, sobbing, watching chaos unfold, and finally had picked up her cell phone and dialled the UK emergency number.

      She shouldn’t have rung it, she had been told.

      There was already a private ambulance on the way.

      Scarlet opened her mouth to ask the inevitable question—’Is she …?’ But her throat had been dry and scratched from screaming and no words had come out.

      Luke could see her confusion and anguish.

      ‘Take a seat,’ Luke said, and he turned the engaged light on above his door that warned people he was not to be disturbed.

      Still Scarlet stood there.

      She was going to hell for all that she’d done, Scarlet knew. In fact, she was going to hell twice because, instead of asking how her mother was, instead of begging him to tell her the news, she blurted out what was now at the forefront on her mind.

      ‘I’m sorry …’

      ‘Just take a seat,’ Luke said.

      She went to take a seat, but the chair seemed a very long way off and Luke’s hand went on her shoulder to guide her towards his desk, but then he changed his mind.

      His hand slid from the nearest shoulder to the farthest arm and he turned her into him. Luke’s arms wrapped around her and he pulled her right into his chest and he held her so tightly that for a moment nothing remained but them.

      There was the scent she had missed, the body she had craved and the understanding that Scarlet had never known till him.

      It was an embrace she had been absolutely sure she would never, ever feel again.

      ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Scarlet wept.

      ‘It’s okay, Scarlet.’ That lovely deep, calm voice hushed her. Luke’s chest was such a wonderful place to lean. To feel his breath on her cheek and his hand stroke the back of her hair was a solace Scarlet had never thought she might know again. ‘I think she’s going to be okay,’ Luke said.

      He was talking about her mother.

      While she was sobbing for them, for their beautiful, painful past and all that they had lost.

       CHAPTER TWO

      CALM, PROFESSIONAL AND DETACHED.

      That was how Luke had intended to be with Scarlet as he updated her on her mother’s condition. The entire walk from the staffroom, right the way to his office, Luke had been telling himself that he was more than capable of being just that.

      Luke had learnt a long time ago to push emotions aside—with patients and their relatives, with his own relatives too.

      He had just never quite mastered objectivity when Scarlet was around.

      It was something he knew he had better start working on.

      Just not today.

      Now the very last thing Scarlet needed was calm, professional and detached, but more to the point the impact of actually seeing her again meant that Luke could be none of those things.

      Just yet.

      As he pulled her into his arms, the embrace was as necessary for Luke as it was for Scarlet. There was so much anger and pain inside both of them. Their traumatic past was perhaps insurmountable but he dealt with the present now.

      She was here. Not by the method he would have preferred—Luke had hoped Scarlet would contact him before she’d left for America today—but, yes, she was here, and so Luke held her in his arms and smelt again her hair, fighting not to kiss her salty tears away.

      How messed up was that? Luke thought to himself.

      He’d had a few months to prepare for the possibility of seeing her again. Since Anya’s UK tour had been announced late last year, the thought that their paths might cross had been constantly on his mind. Since Anya and her entourage had touched down in England he had been wondering if Scarlet would call, if their history meant