A Fragile Heart (BBW Billionaire Light Romance) (2 page)

“Yes, and thanks again for the peas.”

§

When Elena finally arrived back at the park, Yvonne was looking anxiously for her.

Elena explained how she’d stumbled and twisted her ankle, and needed to rest but, for some reason which she didn't quite understand, found that she didn’t want to go into detail about Guy Silver.
 

“I'm fine now,” she insisted.

“Gary’s collecting me at the corner, we'll give you a lift home,” Yvonne offered, and Elena was more than happy to accept.

The run was finished and Elena had a feeling of satisfaction and some relief at having completed the challenge.
 

Maybe she should carry on with some form of exercise over the next few weeks, shed a few pounds, get toned, and then, one Sunday morning around eight thirty a.m., fall onto that marble step again, only this time in trendy running clothes, glowing with health and bathed in expensive perfume.

Elena came crashing back to reality.
 

Sunday morning, on her way back to her tiny flat, the problems of her normal, daily life returned: would Josh be there and what on earth was she going to do about him?

Chapter Three

Elena unlocked the door heavy door at pavement level and started up the steep stairs, clinging onto the rail, as her ankle was still painful and felt as though it could give way at any moment. Opening the door to the small apartment, which was situated over the local launderette, she glanced first at the huge, ancient sofa which took up much of the lounge/kitchenette area.
 

There he was, fast asleep, still dressed in his scruffy jeans and t-shirt, guitar propped against the end of the sofa and the floor around him littered with his belongings. Rucksack, phone, music magazines, junk food containers, headphones and a microphone on a stand all jostled for space.

Elena sighed. Surely no twenty-eight-year-old single woman would choose to have her kid brother living with her with all his baggage! It was a small apartment, barely big enough for
one
, without another person and all his clutter.
 
Still, it was either that or not knowing where he would be in London after he’d dropped out of Uni.
 

She could remember the anxiety she had felt when she decided to leave Sheffield and make a new start in London a year ago. The only point of contact she had then was her brother, Josh, studying at UCL - but when she tried ringing his mobile it was always switched off. No matter how many messages left or texts she sent, there was always no reply.
 

And as the days turned into weeks and she found herself a job and this small apartment, her anxieties grew and grew. It didn't help that she also had to fend off her mother, who was constantly ringing her, asking if she was in touch with Josh and how things were going.
 

Eventually after many calls to the university offices, it was disclosed that Josh had only completed his first year and hadn’t been attending since the beginning of the second year. Due to confidentiality reasons, they were unable to give her any details of other students he might be in contact with, who might still be in contact and know where he was, although she was allowed to post a notice asking for information on the board at the student union.

 
Worried herself and feeling pressurised to keep the truth from her parents, as a last resort she had sent a stiff text to Josh:

Meet me next Sunday at noon at Trafalgar Square near the steps or I’ll report you to the police as a missing person. This is your final warning.
 

She’d gone to Trafalgar Square early and paced around the area, full of apprehension, as she didn't have a clue what to do next if he didn't turn up. She was wearing a black coat and a long, bright red scarf woven round her neck. It was cold and she also wanted to be very visible.

He was ten minutes late. She spotted him coming: scruffy, thin, weighed down with his guitar over one shoulder and a rucksack over the other. He hesitated a few steps away from her, and all the old feelings about her kid brother swept over her again. She wanted to shake some sense into him, she wanted to ply him with questions about dropping out of uni, and tell him what a fool he had been, and she wanted to throw her arms round him and tell him everything could be sorted.

In the end, she took him across Trafalgar Square to the old church of Saint Martin's in the Fields, down the stone steps to the cafe in the crypt and found a table at the back of the room, which was busy with customers.

“Don’t you dare move,” she warned him.

She piled a tray with vegetable soup,
 
cheese baguettes, two doughnuts and two coffees. She gave him time to eat and realised just how hungry he must have been as he wolfed down his food.

“Thanks, that was great,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Just tell me everything, Josh,” she sighed.

“Well, simple really. It was all a big mistake. I realised I was on the wrong course. I just couldn't get to grips with it. I should have gone into anything to do with music ... it didn't even need to be Uni. Some sort of job in the music industry would’ve been better. So I left after I met these two other guys who are trying to form a band.”

“Where have you been living?”

“On floors at people's rooms at first, then once my student loan was all gone, I moved into a sort of a squat and sometimes during the day I spend the time busking at the underground. At least its dry.”

Elena took a deep breath and pushed to the back of her mind all the warnings of the dangers in living rough in any big city. If she’d known what was really going on she would have had even more sleepless nights worrying about her little brother.
 

“You can come and sleep on my sofa until you sort yourself out,” she offered, “but I warn you, first a shower, then we'll take your clothes to the launderette, which just happens to be below the flat.
 
You'll have to try and find at least a casual bar job or something. I can pay the rent and bills, but you must try and contribute towards food. And I don't earn enough to give you spending money. Okay?”

He was exhausted and nodded in agreement. And so the temporary pact had been agreed.
 

Surprisingly, it worked out reasonably well, as Elena worked during the day and Josh was often playing gigs at small pubs at night and coming back in the early hours. He would sleep until around mid-day and then usually had a few hours temporary bar work or casual washing up to go to.
 

They’d both agreed to keep the truth from their parents for the time being. There was an understanding between them that they couldn't keep up the story for too much longer, and it must be Josh who would choose when to tell them the reality of the situation.

Josh stirred.

“So? How was the marathon?” he asked yawning.

“It was only a fun run, not a marathon,” Elena replied. “Although it felt like it at times.”
 

She hobbled across to the kettle.

“Coffee?”

“Thanks. Hey, what's wrong with your foot?”

Elena made the coffee in two big, colourful pottery mugs, then sat down with Josh on the sofa.

In a few words she explained how she had tripped and twisted her ankle, about the man who was just bringing his Sunday papers in and found her on his front doorstep, and the incident of the frozen peas.

“Wait, hang on ... Did you say this was one of those Regency houses, near the park?”

She nodded, sipping her coffee. She still felt thirsty and wished she’d made tea instead, or collected some fruit juice from the corner shop.

“And he invited you in?”

“Yes, he gave me a glass of water and put some peas on my ankle.”

“You do realise this guy must be seriously loaded? There isn't anything around there that’s worth less than around seven or eight million, at least.”

“Well, it was elegant inside,” she told him. “All marble floors, sweeping stairways, and huge vases of flowers.”

“What about him? Was he young, old, married, surrounded by photos of family and kids?”

It was unusual for Josh to take an interest in her activities, and Elena thought carefully before she replied.

“He was around forty I’d say, and good-looking in a dark, lean sort of way, with the casual arrogance you get from knowing how rich and attractive you are and that there are people out there who work for you to make life easier –
 
run your office, clean your house, chauffeur you around in your Porsche, cook you gourmet meals ... You know the sort.”

Josh finished his coffee and rose to put his mug in the sink, shaking his head.

“You missed an opportunity there. You should’ve seduced him, or at least pretended that you couldn't walk and stayed the night.”

“Like he’s going to be blown away by the sight of an over-weight, sweaty woman in old jogging clothes and a dodgy ankle!” Elena laughed.

But later, when she was in the shower, Elena found herself thinking again about Guy Silver, unable to get him out of her mind. It was a long time since she’d allowed herself to be attracted to a man, as she had been hurt in the past. However, she found herself remembering the dark designer stubble on his chin, and she let her fingers slip between her legs as she indulged in a fantasy where his strong, lean hands stroked her, insisting that he wanted to make sure she wasn't injured
anywhere else
, then carrying her up that wide staircase to his fabulous bedroom
 
...

“Elena?” Josh shouted from the other room, interrupting her fantasy. “Have you seen my phone charger anywhere? I can’t find it ...”

Chapter Four

On Monday they were all talking about the charity run as they drifted into the office, hanging up their coats and switching on their computers ready or another week of work. Some people were definitely feeling inspired to continue with a jogging routine in order to keep fit, while others complained about aches in muscles they didn't even know they even
had
.
 

This was what Elena liked about working at the agency: they were a great bunch of people who worked hard but were always interested in exchanging stories about the weekend and having a laugh together, too.
 

She thought about the sponsor money she’d have to collect during the next few days. It might not have been a great deal, but at least it would be something to add to the final amount. And she suspected that it had only been the thought of contributing that had kept her going when her ankle was so painful.

For some reason, Elena kept quiet about her incident with Guy Silver, only mentioning that she’d slightly twisted her ankle during the run. She didn't feel as though she wanted to go into any more details – she might arouse too much interest. No, better to keep it to herself …
 

She also realised that her feelings about him were becoming quite intense and felt she might give this away, too. With the best will in the world, people at work were always trying to fix her up with a date, which she still wasn’t quite ready for, and they would totally pounce on any news of her meeting a new guy.

Luckily there was a new project to be started and for the next few days they were all kept busy, telephoning people from a prepared list of numbers, trying to get them to talk about which washing powder they used, and what they thought about it. Most people thought they were trying to sell something over the phone and were unwilling to talk without persuasion. Any results were entered onto the computers and then the statistics were completed for the client.
 

It wasn’t particularly interesting or specialised work, but the office was warm, Yvonne bought everyone doughnuts at coffee break, and Maggie kept them enthralled with the news of her latest steamy romance with a weight lifter from Camden …

§

Elena was a little late for work on Thursday. The bus had been held up in heavier than usual traffic, and she arrived at the office flustered. She usually liked to be in early and slide slowly into the working day.
 

She expected to see everyone busily working at their desks by the time she arrived and was ready with her explanation, but that morning she was surprised to see the desks empty and all the staff clustered around Yvonne's office, some inside and others squashed into the open doorway.

For a dreadful moment, Elena felt sick with worry. She’d heard about this sort of thing happening quite a lot recently: a sudden fall in new business or profits, offices closing without notice or staff being made redundant. There had been items on the television news showing workers walking out of their offices with cardboard boxes containing their belongings. No notice or chance to find another job, just out onto the street. She approached the back of the group holding her breath, hoping that this would not be the case.
 

Yvonne spotted her.

“You've just missed the most exciting news,” she said. “I was in early so I decided to have a look at the donations list for the hospice so far, and there it was!”

“What?” Elena asked, her panic gradually subsiding.

“Only a donation for five thousand pounds from some company called Silverton Associates. Five grand! Can you believe it?”

“Are you sure there isn't any mistake?” someone called out.

Yvonne shook her head.

“I couldn't believe it myself so I doubled checked with the bank online. It's genuine, the only thing is, who the hell are Silverton Associates? Any ideas? Anyone heard of them?”

There was a general buzz as people shook their heads and talked about the fantastic donation.
 

Elena slipped back to her desk and sat down, trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts. Guy
Silver
?

Silver
ton Associates? It seemed such a coincidence. Could there be any connection?
 

She tried to remember what she’d actually said about the run when she’d been with Guy on Sunday morning. She’d certainly mentioned the charity and probably the name of the hospice, but what else had she rabbited on about?