Catherine O'Connor - Sweet Lies

‘And where’s Karl now?’ he demanded, the self-assurance in his voice irritating her more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.

‘My husband died several years ago,’ Megan replied frostily, hating the intrusion into her private life. He had given up his rights to that with his betrayal.

‘And he is your only child?’ he asked, a tightness in his voice as he looked deep into her eyes, and Megan quickly lowered her long lashes over her eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth that she knew she would be unable to hide from him.

‘Yes.’ Megan forced a smile, though her insides were churning with despair. Was he jealous or merely curious? she wondered, a sudden ache piercing her heart.

‘He doesn’t look like you…’

‘No,’ snapped Megan quickly. ‘He takes after his father.’ Her eyes couldn’t quite meet his as she replied.

‘Are you coming?’ Luke’s voice was sharp as he turned back, glaring at them both with obvious disapproval. Megan gave an apologetic smile to Darrow, but he seemed unperturbed by Luke’s rude outburst and strolled over to meet him. Luke watched his approach with caution, his face sulky, the silence only adding to the tense atmosphere. Darrow broke the silence with his customary ease, as if oblivious to the tension between the mother and her child.

‘My name is Darrow,’ he offered, his voice firm, full of authority. He stretched out his hand, his gesture more one of challenge than friendship, and Megan mentally prayed that Luke would respond. For a moment she thought her prayers had been wasted and her heart shrank within her as a sudden shaft of piercing pain seared through her. For a brief moment she thought her heart would break in two; just seeing them together held a bittersweet pain. ‘I’m an old friend of your mother’s,’ he continued, taking Luke’s hand in a firm grasp. ‘I was trying to persuade her to have dinner with me this evening.’

‘She can if she wants,’ muttered Luke, trying to sound careless, yet suddenly he seemed so vulnerable to Megan and her heart went out to him. The mask of manhood that he tried so hard to wear often slipped.

‘I had no idea she had to have your permission,’ drawled Darrow, with a friendly smile, but it was not returned. Luke was unable to match Darrow and did not know how to respond.

Megan joined them, part of her wanting them to at least like each other. Her eyes darted frantically from Luke to Darrow, sensing their disapproval of one another, and her heart slowly sank within her. It had been a fleeting dream that they had both shattered.

‘I knew Darrow a long time ago, Luke,’ Megan explained breathlessly, the pain catching in her throat at the obvious antipathy. Luke nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing; his eyes were fixed on Darrow with deep interest and suspicion.

‘Come on, we’d best get settled in,’ cajoled Megan, tossing the keys in her hand in a carefree gesture that was far removed from her true feelings. She knew now that her return was on a disaster course, but she was powerless to do anything about it. She turned as she opened the door to allow Luke to leave, then she turned back to Darrow, and forced her voice to sound light, almost friendly.

‘It was nice to see you again, Darrow.’ Her cool tone did not betray the turmoil of emotions that were twirling around inside. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again some time,’ she added, confident that she would not see him again, and yet that caused a sharp pain deep down inside.

Darrow’s mouth widened into a perfect smile, triumph curling the corners of his sensuous mouth as he viewed Megan with a cool air of superiority. Megan shuddered as her eyes rose to his, trying to fathom where his amusement came from and not trusting him an inch. She knew him too well to be fooled by his casual stance. His hand rested on the door-handle, opening it still wider to allow her to leave.

‘No doubt we will,’ he agreed, in a smoky voice that put Megan on edge, every nerve in her body suddenly alerted to some hidden danger.

‘What do you mean?’ she breathed raggedly, hating the storm of emotion that was sweeping through her body. His smile twisted in cruelty and his eyebrows rose in mockery; a rumble of laughter sounded deep in his chest.

‘You mean you really don’t know?’ he asked in disbelief, the mocking light in his eyes holding her trapped, unable to move.

‘Know? Know what?’ demanded Megan, a spiral of fear twisting up her spine and a cold dread seeping over her trembling frame.

Darrow inclined his head backwards. ‘This is mine—my hotel, my complex.’ The cold, proud possession in his voice confirmed what he was saying, and Megan gasped in horror.

‘Yours?’ she whispered in disbelief, hoping for a denial and yet already knowing it was the truth. Her heart shrank within her. She had been such a fool, allowing the travel agent to make all the arrangements. She would have certainly noticed the name of the proprietor, and never would even have dreamt of coming here, and now it was too late. She knew there was little chance of accommodation anywhere else in peak season, and besides, she didn’t want to give him the impression that his presence made any difference to her.

‘Yes, Megan, mine,’ he replied in a controlled voice, but Megan could see the malice in the depths of his ruthless eyes. ‘I told you I’d make it one day.’ The coldness of his attitude frightened her; his face had become distorted with anger and hate. ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t have kept your promise and waited for me,’ he snarled, the bitter rage spilling out, and Megan flinched at the anger in his tone.

She felt her anger flare up inside her and she tried hard to control her temper. Her fists tightened into balls of rage as she glared back at him, unable to comprehend the injustice of his remark. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve been successful,’ she admitted, resenting the sacrifices she had made to make him a success.

‘Are you?’ he mocked, his expression challenging, but his voice was flat.

‘Of course I am,’ she said with forced brightness, as a sharp pain of regret fleetingly touched her deeply, and yet it was the truth. It made it all worthwhile. It justified her deceit, vanquished any last doubts she had had. All the lies, her struggles, the loneliness of her life now made sense, and yet a sting of bitterness cut into her as she remembered all the hardships she had faced alone just so he could fulfil his ambition.

He had always been ambitious; Rannaleigh had never seemed big enough to contain him. He had loved the idea of America—the size, the challenge, the thought of being a success in a big way through his writing. Megan had known that until he tried he would never be satisfied, so she had given him his freedom, expecting his return, but then she had lost him forever to someone else.

‘You don’t look it.’ Darrow noted, inclining his head closer to hers so he could get an even clearer view of her troubled expression.

‘I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else,’ Megan confessed, her mind coming back to the present with difficulty as the familiar smell of his aftershave filled her senses. His dark eyes fixed on her, studying her closely for a moment.

‘Thinking what a foolish mistake you made running off and marrying someone else instead of waiting for me?’ he jeered cruelly, seeming oblivious to the sorrow growing in her misty eyes.

Megan reached out and touched his arm. The smooth cloth of his expensive suit could not hide the hard ripple of tension that ran the length of his arm. ‘It wasn’t like that…’ she protested, shocked by the cruelty of his words.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘Darrow, please…’ she began, suddenly wanting to explain, regardless of his reaction and despite the terrible repercussions it would cause in her own life.