Katrina Cudmore - Second Chance With The Best Man

He’d trod the cold English Channel water, grinning widely, not caring that everyone else in the party could see his delight. He’d wanted to stay there for ever, staring into Hannah’s soulful brown eyes, his heart beating wildly in delight and anticipation that had been more than about the desire to tug her gorgeous bikini-clad body towards him.

Now he led her up the main marble staircase of the château to the second floor where, at the end of the corridor, he opened the door to her bedroom. Hannah walked inside, her gaze widening as she took in the antique jade hand-painted wallpaper, the Louis XV furniture.

He stayed at the doorway. They had dated for over ten months. The chemistry and intense attraction never waning, escalating in fact. But as they’d grown closer, as his heart had begun to need her, panic had set in. Laurent didn’t believe in love and commitment. When he’d been twelve, François ten, his father had left the family home to conduct an affair. The following year his mother had done the same. And in the years that had followed his father had disappeared from the family home at least once a year to continue his affairs. The affairs, the hurt they had inflicted on everyone around them, had poisoned Laurent for ever against any thought of commitment in his own life.

His panic had soared when he’d visited Hannah’s family one weekend and seen their love and devotion to one another. How could he ever bring her into the toxic mix of his own family, which was so full of unspoken anger and accusations? And his panic had soared even more when Hannah had told him of her plans to become a wedding celebrant. At first he’d laughed, thinking she was joking. But she’d been serious. The woman he’d thought of as being as career-minded and as focused on success as he was, who had never given any indication that she was looking for commitment, wanted to be the officiator of the institution he’d no regard for—marriage.

Increasingly he’d realised just how incompatible they were despite their attraction and laughter and warmth for one another. And then he’d learnt of his father’s stroke and his need to return to Cognac to head up the family business. For years he’d waited on the sidelines to be given the role of CEO, beyond frustrated at the decline in the Cognac House’s market share under his father’s neglectful leadership. Bonneval Cognac had been in existence since the seventeenth century. It was Laurent’s legacy and one he was determined to restore to its rightful place as the most exclusive cognac house in the world. It was a promise he’d made to his beloved grandfather before he died, a man who had despaired at his own son’s disloyalty and irresponsibility, not only with the business, but with his own family.

Knowing that there was no future for him and Hannah, Laurent had ended their relationship when he’d returned to France. It had been a gut-wrenching conversation, and he’d seen the pain and confusion in her eyes, but it was not a conversation he regretted. Hannah deserved someone who actually believed in love and commitment. Someone who reflected the love and devotion and stability of her own background.

This weekend would be awkward. But they needed to somehow build a new relationship as their paths would cross time and time again in the future. Maybe having to spend time together this evening was an opportune time to begin that process. He was the one who had messed up by allowing their relationship to become too intense—the least he could do was ensure that the next few days were as painless as possible. For both of their sakes.

‘I had planned on eating out tonight—I need to go and check on my wedding present to François and Lara first, but there’s a restaurant nearby. Will you join me?’

HANNAH STUDIED LAURENT and marvelled at his ability to forget the past. It hurt her, angered her, but part of her envied him for it. Wasn’t it what she was striving to achieve herself, after all? For a moment she was about to say no to his invite. The last thing she wanted to do was spend time alone with him.

Standing in the doorway, a shoulder propped against the frame, his arms crossed on his chest, his expression untroubled, he waited for her response. He was still the best-looking man she’d ever met. And damn it, she was still attracted to him. As her mum would say, figgity, figgity, fig . Well, if he could shrug off the past then so could she. She popped her suitcase on the luggage rack. Flipped the lid open, pulled out her laptop and placed it on the desk by the window, determined to have some control.

Opening up the laptop, she asked him for the Wi-Fi password and, logging in, she said, ‘I’m doing an online thirty-day yoga challenge and I want to do today’s session now. I’ll need a shower afterwards.’ She glanced behind her in his direction. ‘I won’t be ready for at least an hour so don’t wait for me if that doesn’t suit you.’

‘I didn’t know you practised yoga.’

She shrugged. ‘It helps me to let go of all those small things that irritate me in life.’

He made a grunting sound low in his throat before saying, ‘I’ll see you downstairs in an hour,’ and then walked away.

She closed the door and leant heavily against it. This room, the entire château, was beyond incredible. She’d stolen glances into the endless rooms they had passed downstairs, her breath catching at their delicate elegance.

It was hard to comprehend that Laurent lived here. All alone. She knew from Lara that his parents had moved to a lodge on the thousand-acre estate after he’d returned from England to take up the role of CEO. She’d heard Lara’s description of this magnificent château, had known of the world-famous cognac brand, but until now she hadn’t fully grasped his family’s wealth and standing.

This was not her world. It brought out all the inadequacies she so desperately tried to keep hidden.

Now, more than ever, she was glad that she’d never told Laurent about her early childhood. How could someone who came from this background ever understand her? Not believe she was tainted by it?

She was even more grateful that she’d never fully opened her heart to him, dared to tell him she loved him. She’d felt too vulnerable, too unsure of what his response would be—which should have told her everything she needed to know about their relationship. Though deeply charismatic, Laurent somehow managed to never fully reveal himself or show any vulnerability. For most of their whirlwind relationship she’d been blind to that, too excited by the fact that this gorgeous man wanted her in his life. He’d been attentive and fun with a determined and self-possessed streak she’d found utterly compelling. But he’d never really answered her questions about his background, what he wanted in the future. And in their last conversation he’d told her that he couldn’t give her commitment, a permanent relationship.

Thankfully she’d managed to stop herself from pleading that she was happy to keep things casual, knowing that in truth she only wanted to buy more time to persuade him that he could commit. At least she hadn’t followed that particular deluded path of trying to change another person.

After her yoga and shower, she changed into a knee-length white shift dress, a narrow gold belt cinching in the waist. Brushing out her hair, she let it hang loose and applied some make-up. About to leave, she paused to stare out of one of the four windows in the room. Below her room, set amidst a wide purple border of lavender, sat a huge swimming pool. Beyond the pool an immaculate lawn ran down to a tree-lined river. Laurent used to talk about that river, the Charente, when he spoke about home, which admittedly was a rare occurrence. In London, his whole focus had seemed to be on his career as a fund manager and the busy social life he’d created in his adopted city. He’d lived life with abandon, hungry to experience new places, new things—she’d travelled more in her short time with him than she’d ever previously done.