“Hi, there,” he said, his tone amused, his accent seductively foreign.
Dazed, I peered up at his face. He was too tall to kiss, this dark stranger with a three-day stubble. His masculine scent stirred a forbidden desire deep inside of me and I couldn’t speak for a moment. He was so damn gorgeous. His temples revealed just a hint of grey—making me think he was in his thirties. His hypnotic brown eyes crinkled with kindness as he gave me a dazzling smile.
“Thank you?” I finally said. The response had made sense in my head.
He must have found it humorous, as I saw his full, kissable lips quirk up in a smile—a smile that suddenly faded as he glanced over my shoulder.
Someone from behind me gripped my arms and dragged me away from him, forcing me to trot on unsteady heels towards an SUV. I had no choice but to move in that direction, feeling dizzy as the world whooshed by.
My handbag slipped off my shoulder and landed on the ground as that someone then shoved me against the front of the vehicle, pushing me forward until my cheek pressed against the hard metal of the car bonnet. I tried to push myself up, but my hands were suddenly drawn behind my back and I was held down, incapacitated—and vaguely aware that the handsome stranger was watching.
My cheeks ablaze, I cringed at the thought that Nick was seeing this, too.
I lifted my head a little and saw Morgan climb out of the limo. She whipped out her iPhone and pointed it in my direction.
The flash was blinding.
“Wait right there!” I called after my brother as he climbed into the back of a limo.
God, it’s cold.
I could see my breath forming white puffs in the air. January in England was never kind. I rubbed my arms in a failed attempt to warm up. Nick was bailing on his own party. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to wait for me. Considering I’d flown in from Brazil, this was not cool.
But before I headed over to Nick’s car, I first needed to deal with the woman who’d slammed into me. My driver, Carl, had the situation under control as I approached. He was currently holding the girl with her face pressed against the hood of the SUV.
“Você está bem?” Wait, I’m in London. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m having a blast!” she snapped.
“Do I know you?” I tilted my head and saw expressive blue eyes peeking out between locks of long brown hair. Even with a scowl, she certainly didn’t look like a threat.
“I was trying to get to my boyfriend,” she said.
“Nick?” I stood up straight and shot a glare through the dark tinted windows. My brother was in the back of that car with a blonde, no less.
“He’s your boyfriend?”
“We live together.”
That was news to me.
“Well, we used to,” she added. “He’s my ex now.”
I motioned for Carl to let her go and she immediately picked her handbag up off the ground. When she straightened, dark curls tumbled over her shoulders and caught in the breeze.
“Come onto the pavement,” I told her.
She was pretty, even ethereal, with big soulful eyes and pink sensuous lips. Her long curls enhanced her youthful appearance. I tried to fathom why my brother had ditched her.
Her smashed glasses lay in front of me on the pavement. I picked them up and handed them back, trying not to cringe. She took them with a nod of thanks and then turned them over, frowning at the damage.
Carl handed her an envelope. “This is yours, too?”
She shook her head. “I was trying to return it.”
I braced for the onslaught that might be coming my way, expecting her to object to the way my driver had treated her. Half the bar was gaping at us through the window.
I refocused on her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
She rubbed her wrists. “It’s how I like to spend my Friday nights…an evening of total humiliation topped off by being manhandled by a complete stranger.”
“Sorry about that.”
“What did I do wrong?”
“You came at me rather fast. Carl’s my driver and he doubles as a bodyguard.”
I’d be shaking him off after tonight. He usually drove my mother. She had insisted he usher me around after my arrival in London.
“I didn’t see you,” she said, slipping the ruined glasses into her purse.
“I’m rather hard to miss.” She looked annoyed, so I held out my hand to shake hers. “I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
She wrapped her fingers gently around mine and squeezed, sending a shiver of delight into my palm and up my wrist. When she finally let go of my hand, I had the urge to shake off the tingling sensation.
What was that feeling exactly?
“I’m Daisy.”
“Max.”
“Nick’s brother?” She blushed.
Her sweetness had eased the tension in the air. If she hadn’t been connected to my brother, I’d have swooped in at once. I couldn’t understand why Nick had kept her hidden away. I was struck by her grace. The way she threw a reassuring wave to Carl was endearing.
“Can you wait here?” I asked.
When she nodded, I made my way over to Nick’s limo. I rested a hand on the open passenger door and leaned over to glare at my sibling in the back seat. “You’re leaving?”
“Hey,” said Nick. “You made it!”
“Is that meant to be funny?” I pointed a thumb at the bar. “Are you going back in?”
He gestured to the woman sitting beside him. “This is Morgan.”
His weak diversion made my jaw clench with frustration.
“You must be Max?” she cooed.
“Nice to meet you, Morgan.” I returned my focus to him. “I’ve flown thousands of miles to be here.”
“I appreciate that. You’re here for a couple of weeks, right?”
I took a deep, calming breath, reminding myself that, while Nick could be infuriating, it wasn’t really his fault. He was still dealing with his father’s death. More recently, I was concerned his grief was affecting him in new and interesting ways. His phone calls to me had dropped off and Mum had shared how worried she was about him. Nick and I shared the same mother, though that was where our similarities ended.
I loved my half brother, but Nick was always pushing his boundaries.
Twenty-six years ago, my mother had been swept off her feet by one of England’s most prominent football players—Nick’s dashing father. The only solace for me as a kid was that I loved football, so me staying with Mum during the holidays was always something I looked forward to. Growing up playing football with an icon in the garden had soothed this boy’s hurt feelings.
Still, the divorce had left behind shards of pain that had never eased. I was only seven years old when my mother left us…left my father to die from a broken heart. I’d never revealed that to anyone—least of all my mother.
My unfailing obsession with football was now encouraged by this asshat. Nick was a talented player. I both envied and admired him at the same time. I felt envy for the time he’d had with my mum after she’d left me in São Paulo. And I felt inspired by him because he was set to follow in his dad’s footsteps and become an icon himself.