200 Harley Street: The Tortured Hero. Amy Andrews
Читать онлайн книгу.
away, not allowed to go to school or play with the other kids because of her disfiguring condition.
London must be terrifying.
Olivia, who had spent a lot of the past six weeks building a rapport with Ama, had tried her best to comfort the girl, but sometimes only mother-love would do and Ama had cried and cried until her mother returned.
And, oh, the way she’d clung had been gut-wrenching!
Olivia had been able to feel the frantic beat of Ama’s heart through her painfully skinny ribs as the little girl had held onto her for dear life. And Olivia had clung right back, rocking her slightly, shushing her gently, feeling so inadequate in the face of the girl’s anguish.
It had reminded her of the day she’d found Ama and her mother, both wailing and crying in the street, clinging to each other as two men engaged in a heated discussion had grabbed at them, trying to pull them apart. She hadn’t been able to bear it.
A passing car hooted, bringing her back to the here and now, and Olivia shivered as the Hunter Clinic came back into focus. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to enter.
Her heart pounded as she mounted the stairs and pushed through the heavy doors. After-hours the clinic was hushed and deserted and she took a moment to absorb it all. Except for the stark whiteness of the updated décor, visible even in the darkened interior, it looked the same as she remembered—exclusive, luxurious, old money. It smelled the same. It felt the same.
And yet it didn’t. It was familiar … yet not.
Maybe it was because she was different? Not the same starry-eyed Olivia who had trusted her heart to the Hunter boys only to be used in their toxic games and have it crushed into the dirt.
Older. Wiser.
Stronger.
It was warm inside and she undid the toggles on her duffle coat as her boot heels tapped on the exquisite grey and black marble floor on her way to Leo’s office. It felt like a lifetime ago now since she’d walked these corridors on her frequent trips to see Ethan.
Ethan.
Olivia’s heart skipped a beat as her stride faltered.
No. She would not think about him tonight. She wasn’t here to see Ethan. She was here to see Leo.
Ethan would come tomorrow. And tomorrow would be soon enough.
Despite only the most subdued light, coming from lamps placed in discreet alcoves, her feet took her to Leo’s office without any real direction from her brain. Once there she didn’t stop to give herself time to think or doubt, she just reached up to knock on the door, surprised when it swung silently open under the weight of her closed hand.
For a moment, peering into the sumptuous darkened office, with just a desk lamp illuminating the room, she thought the man sitting at the desk, head bent over a chart, looked like Leo and she smiled.
‘Leo,’ she called from the doorway, her voice hushed as seemed appropriate in the quietness of the deserted building.
Ethan, who’d been too intent to register the knock, looked up as his brother’s name spilled from Olivia’s lips, and even a decade down the track he still felt the impact of that mouth.
Wide and sexy, forming a natural pout that had always fascinated him. A mouth he’d kissed.
He’d missed.
It was a startling realisation for a man who’d felt dead inside for the past year. And he wasn’t sure he liked it.
What the hell was she doing here? Didn’t her flight arrive early tomorrow morning?
‘Olivia,’ he acknowledged, watching as her eyes, always two huge chocolate pools shimmering with emotional intensity, grew even rounder.
He should stand—innate good manners dictated that he should—but his legs felt about as supportive as wet noodles and he didn’t trust them. Thankfully Olivia seemed too stunned to call him on it.
Olivia blinked as all the oxygen in the room was sucked right out. ‘Oh …’
Ethan. Not Leo. Ethan. Her heart pounded in time to the drumming of his name through her brain.
Ethan. Ethan. Ethan.
‘I’m sorry, I know I’m late, but …’ She nervously checked her watch. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Leo here.’
Ethan hadn’t been sure what they’d say to each other when he and Olivia came face to face again. They’d spoken twice on the phone about the case, which had been brisk and professional, but he’d thought it would be different when they were looking at each other. That old hurts might have fizzled out.
Evidently not, judging by the wariness in Olivia’s startled gaze.
Her first words were not warm and welcoming. There was no let bygones be bygones about her demeanour. She hadn’t smiled for him as she had when she’d mistaken him for Leo. And, perversely, it bugged him.
There was a wariness, a distance in her gaze. As if they were strangers instead of ex-lovers. And a part of him wanted to snatch her up, taste that pouty mouth again, remind her how good they’d been together.
If only he could get up without falling flat on his face!
‘He’s at home,’ Ethan said abruptly, angry at the direction of his thoughts.
For God’s sake, he was lucky she hadn’t slapped him in the face. Clearly he wasn’t thinking straight. Clearly he was just too damn tired to be facing ghosts tonight.
Olivia frowned. ‘Oh …’
But … she’d called Leo the moment they’d landed and they’d arranged it. She delved around inside her bag for her mobile phone, pulling it out. Immediately she noticed two missed calls and a text—all from Leo.
Apologies. Something came up. Get Ethan up to speed and you can catch me up tomorrow.
‘Something came up,’ Olivia said, looking from the phone to Ethan as she relayed the text.
Ethan grunted as a rather unpleasant thought occurred to him. Leo had texted him during surgery, asking him to familiarise himself with Ama’s chart—on his desk—before the morning. Had Leo set this up so he and Olivia could get their first meeting over and done with in private—to give them room and privacy to clear the air?
His relationship with his brother was the best it had been in years, but he didn’t appreciate being manipulated like this.
‘I bet it did,’ Ethan said dryly.
Olivia put her phone back in her bag. ‘He wants me to get you up to speed.’
Ethan had sometimes forgotten, just looking at her, that Olivia was Australian. Her flawless peaches and cream complexion seemed eminently English, and it was only when she opened her mouth and the flat Aussie drawl came out that he remembered. That and the opal ring she still wore on the middle finger of her right hand—a gift from her parents for her eighteenth birthday.
‘No time like the present,’ he agreed grimly.
If Leo had set them up then it would be foolish not to use the time wisely.
‘Come in.’ He gestured, suddenly realising she was still standing just inside the doorframe. ‘Take a seat.’ He indicated with his head for her to take the one on the other side of Leo’s desk.
Her movements seemed awkward and unsure as she drew closer. She certainly didn’t seem to be in any hurry to reach her destination, and he waited impatiently for her to take her seat, his gaze drifting to the way the denim of her jeans clung to legs still as slender as he remembered.
As she drew level his gaze moved up. Her red turtle-necked skivvy was mostly hidden by the thick navy jacket she was wearing, but it did