The Last Heartbeat Page 3

  Please cancel your taxi and come to the main house. I’m leaving for my home in Melbourne today, too. I’ll give you a lift. I’ll even foot the bill if the driver’s waiting by the time you get this note.

  Let’s talk. Please.

  Luke.

  She pressed her fingertips to her mouth and said a silent prayer for clarity. What on earth would possess an attractive and seemingly stable man like Luke to want to see her again? Did he hope a little road trip with her would provide some on-road entertainment at her expense?

  No. That wouldn’t be it.

  He was a decent guy. Probably too decent for her. His restraint last night proved as much. And he’d been right, in the clarity of day, she did regret what had almost happened. Thank goodness he’d stopped.

  The man was smoking hot, probably loaded, given he had a home in Melbourne and an estate in Roseford. He didn’t need a walking disaster like her staining his perfect life.

  Of course, she couldn’t accept.

  Not on calling him. Not on a ride home. Even if intrigued, and if she did want to know his story too.

  She’d learned long ago her heart didn’t cope well with getting attached to others.

  So, she stood and left his card where she’d found it. Maybe he didn’t seek entertainment at her expense. Maybe he was a great guy willing to look past her freak-out from last night. Maybe he possessed some genuine pity, or worse, affection for her. Either way, there was no point dreaming big.

  I deserve to languish in my demented hell. Leave the poor, nice man alone.

  Her nerves startled beneath her skin, and she took her first steps off the veranda. Last night’s failed romp made Luke the first person in four years to glimpse the cracks just beneath her carefully maintained façade. He knew too much.

  The fact he still wanted to know her made things worse. He’d likely have questions. And if he did want to pick up where they’d left off, he’d also never settle for the mystery she’d demand. Besides, picking up where they’d left off would never happen.

  He sure as heck didn’t need to know her story.

  Hell, even she didn’t want to know her story.

  Her only option with this man, as much as the dull pain in her chest begged otherwise, was to get on with her life as she always did.

  She heaved her suitcase off the veranda and waited for her taxi outside the cabin’s low wire gate. She’d eventually forgive herself for last night’s slip up. For messing about some poor, innocent, well-intended man. And soon, any recollection of Luke and their almost night together would fade. Just like most memories did these days.

  Most memories, except for the ones about Elsie.

  4

  Three months later

  Agathe jolted at the high-pitched wail of her cell phone ringing; an air-raid siren probably wasn’t the best choice for a ringtone, even though the God-awful sound did mean she never missed a call.

  She scavenged through her brown leather work satchel and ignored the sea of angry glares from the black-clad professionals crammed onto her city-bound tram. Their dark office attire was typical for the Melbourne corporate scene and not all that dissimilar to her own clothes. Then again, her current doom and gloom color palette hadn’t always been her style.

  She pressed the phone to her ear, a little breathless from her fright and subsequent rummaging. “Hello?”

  “Are you at the client’s building yet?” Sue Hatchman’s clear-cut tone sliced through the receiver.

  Agathe brushed non-existent fluff from her aubergine silk blouse. “I’m just about to step off the tram.”

  It was a small lie, but one her senior manager would never know about.

  “I’m glad I got you before you walked in.” Sue’s quick, sharp words hinted she had other things to do, which in truth, she always did. “Just wanted to wish you luck and remind you Tiluma Technology is a huge, new client for us. We need your efforts to encourage a long-term partnership. Do you understand? You have to shine for me. Let’s not forget who convinced me to tell the higher-ups you could handle this job.”

  Kind of Sue to use the word convince, when Agathe had in fact begged, sucked up, and manipulated her way into singlehandedly managing this project. A middle-management position had opened up, and she wanted that promotion.

  Besides, the new client, Tiluma Technology, was a small, eighty-person setup with a few minor efficiency issues. She could kick the company up another level easily and claim all the glory for herself. There was no need to include anyone else from Slate and King. She had a few good ideas in mind. And just as Sue Hatchman had taken a chance on an inexperienced Agathe three years ago, this gamble, too, would pay off to everyone’s benefit.

  “You have nothing to worry about.” Agathe figured it would be mere months before her photo graced the halls as the new middle manager at Slate and King’s head office, the position just one rung below Sue. “I can handle Tiluma. Give me a few weeks.”

  She’d poured almost every spare minute of her free time into her job. A symptom of having little else in her life, maybe, but at least she had one thing to keep her going. Work. The one area in which she shone. The one area in which she could say she never failed. An area she dominated and controlled. The one place these days where she still mattered.

  Sue, the woman with enough power to demote, fire, re-purpose, and reward Agathe, let out an appeased sigh. “Good. Just don’t make me look bad in front of the other seniors, okay?”

  The tram halted with a ding, and its doors swung open. Agathe raced to shuffle out with her fellow commuters. “You won’t regret this.”

  “Keep me updated.” Sue had reverted to her solid tone, and a moment later, she hung up.

  Agathe tucked her phone away and trekked her gaze skyward, to the three-story building before her. The modest, red-brick structure cowered beneath the surrounding monolithic skyscrapers on either side, but Tiluma’s reputation stood strong as a tech firm to look out for. The company’s viral joke apps already raked in a solid fifty million a year, despite being only a few years old. All Agathe had to do now was figure out why a company with so much potential merely coasted, its progress having all but stalled.

  She paused at the building’s glass sliding doors, certain Tiluma could be a superstar with a few little clever shifts in direction.

  “Hello?”

  She startled at a disembodied voice through a speaker to her left, having forgotten most tech firms kept tight security, with their doors locked in case of thieves. Computers and innovative prototypes were hot property to anyone from street thugs looking to deal in stolen property, to fellow competitors looking to profit on a stolen idea.

  “Hi.” Her voice came out wispy and flustered. “I’m, um… Agathe Santos. Your management consultant from Slate and King.”

  “Oh, right. Yes. Cool.” Party-like screaming played loud in the speaker’s background. The door clicked open. “Come on in.”

  She marched into the building, high heels padding on the slate-gray carpet. Trendy, raw-brick corridor walls surrounded her on either side, while the sound of gleeful squealing drew nearer and nearer. She stopped in her tracks, the crescendo of noise akin to a bunch of kids lost in the thrill of a summer water fight.

  She tilted her head and listened harder, nerves jangling at how odd all of this seemed. Then again, Tiluma was a company based on humor. Perhaps she’d have to accept raucous screeching as part of the deal? And really, she had her own tasks to focus on, namely that of making a good first impression. Who cared what silliness these people engaged in, as long as the employees were happy and fulfilling their job requirements.

  She powered on and rounded a corner, glass walls in every direction, large windows glowing up ahead. The lack of traditional, solid walls created a fresh and open feel, and her mood lightened as she tread onward in search of someone in charge.

  A hub of commotion met her at her final rounding of another corner. A man with a beautiful face and shaggy blond hair ran toward h
er, his expression lit with a giant grin. She smiled at his approach, at the way his grin played up a masculine cleft at the edge of his chin.

  Despite the oversized, frat-boy clothing, her breath caught on his soft, blue eyes. Something about this handsome face, paired with his robust build, echoed the appearance of another rugged man she’d met months ago, in the woods of Roseford.

  She darted her gaze to a lady screaming past with whipped cream in her hair. A man chased her with a huge slice of chocolate cake clutched in his hand.

  The scene playing out looked chaotic more than fun, like perhaps the screams she’d overheard through the intercom weren’t all too joy-filled after all. Her chest squeezed. She absorbed the finer details of the mess and movement around her. This was no cheerful office party.

  This was a food fight.

  Her focus returned to the beautiful stranger standing before her. Or more precisely, to his hand, to the ham and cheese sandwich held poised at her shoulder level. His lopsided grin spread. He’d witnessed her realization and had her cornered.

  With that, his beauty became less enchanting, and more of a menace. He leaned forward and pressed the ham sandwich into her shoulder, the slow, squelch of bread and deli meat meshing in the fibers of her gray jacket.

  “I stab you with a sandwich.” His eyes lit anew, though a sickening chill washed over her body. “You are now infected with ham and cheese disease.”

  He let go and gave a theatrical laugh. The sandwich fell to her feet, while the shaggy menace loped away like a goofy Labrador.

  She peered down at her damaged outerwear. Pure confusion and shock ricocheted through her body and seemed to slow the movement of blood through her veins. She couldn’t understand why someone would do this to her. To a person they’d never met. To a person commissioned here to help.

  A rise in anger twisted through her core. She dug through her work-satchel, mumbling obscenities under her breath. At least her favorite silk blouse had survived the ordeal. Still, she’d hunt down her blond sandwich attacker, eventually. And when she did, she’d wreak her revenge.

  She took a seat atop a row of tables against a far wall and dabbed a tissue at her gray jacket. From this vantage point, she could watch for future attacks and keep away from the pandemonium.

  A man sat to her right; his white shirt smudged with what looked like red jelly. She ignored the red jelly and focused on his carefully gelled hair and smart, black-rimmed glasses, before holding out her hand. “Agathe Santos.”

  His frown eased a little, and he took her hand. “Daniel Ari. Engineering manager.”

  She turned her body toward him, glad at least this guy wasn’t attacking her with food. “And I’m guessing with a surname like Ari, you’re Sri Lankan?”

  He laughed and swept a hand over his face and torso, his hair pitch black and his skin a shade darker than her own. “You mean the rest of me didn’t give that away?” He beamed a genuine grin now. “My real surname’s Ariyanayagam. I use Ari because it’s easier for most people here to pronounce. And you must be our new management consultant, right?”

  Her shoulders eased. “I’m supposed to check in with Max Tindall, but it’s nice that someone else here is expecting me.”

  Daniel’s smile faded, and he turned toward the man who’d stabbed her with a sandwich. “That’s Max Tindall. Consider yourself checked-in.”

  Instant heaviness nestled in her chest. For the first time in her career, she hoped with all hopes she’d misunderstood. “Max Tindall, as in Tiluma’s second-in-charge, as in the chief technical officer? That’s Max Tindall?”

  Daniel gave a half-hearted nod. “Yep, though you forgot to add he’s also the CEO’s little brother.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she skimmed her focus over the sea of people ahead. The scene was a clash between delighted mayhem dotted with those cowering from the juvenile antics they were forced to endure.

  Why would anyone allow this level of disarray?

  “I can only imagine what your CEO is like.” Her jaw slackened, the words fell out of their own accord.

  Daniel straightened. “He’s a decent enough guy, really, just in over his head with running things. Max is a law unto himself, and we’ve all yet to figure out how to rein him in.”

  She locked gazes with one man glaring around the room. His dark eyes might as well have been shooting red laser beams; he looked that pissed. She imagined him as the ideal candidate to slap Tiluma with a harassment lawsuit. Not that she’d blame him.

  She reeled back, just in time for a Vietnamese rice paper roll to make impact with the floor at her feet.

  “Max couldn’t have done all this on his own.” She kicked a piece of shredded carrot off her black, high-heeled shoe and gestured to the mass of exploded food around them. “Who helped him?”

  Someone would need to fix this. And given her job, that someone was her.

  “Me.” Daniel gave a defeated shrug. “Apparently…”

  She dipped her chin, inspecting his clean-cut appearance, coupled with the apprehensive way his voice trailed, along with his rounded shoulders. Not an obvious contender for a die-hard troublemaker.

  “I put together a surprise birthday party for Caroline, over there.” He gave a sheepish smile and jutted his chin in the direction of a petite redhead, huddled in a corner with an inordinate amount of food clinging to her navy-blue blazer. “Everyone was supposed to bring in a plate of food, you know, to eat, not to throw. But then Max traipsed in with his funny-guy shtick, and this happened.”

  Daniel gestured to the chaos before him.

  Agathe gave a small smile. “So, Caroline’s your girlfriend?”

  His gaze jerked back to Agathe’s face. “No. And look at her. She won’t want anything to do with me after today.”

  He aimed his focus on Caroline. The woman dabbed a paper napkin to her cake-saturated blazer, the action pointless against the magnitude of the mess.

  Agathe nudged him a little with her shoulder, uncertain what else to offer in light of this man’s failed plans. “Given her attempts to save her outfit, I’d say Caroline’s full of optimism and is at least persistent. Trust me, an optimistic and persistent woman won’t let a little cake ruin her chances at love.”

  Daniel dipped his chin and gave her a half-hearted scowl.

  “Well.” She slapped her hands on the tabletop either side of her, ready to make her awkward exit. “It’s about time I—”

  A white blur whizzed past her lower periphery, making fast contact with her tummy. Her mouth dropped open at a wedge of half-melted brie cheese clinging to her jacket.

  What the actual…?

  Her knees locked, and she shot to standing. This was it. She was going to war, though against who exactly, she didn’t yet know.

  The cheese unstuck and plunked to the floor. A growl tore from her throat, and she fixed her sights forward, set on hunting down the cheese-throwing idiot. Once she was done with that fool, she’d go straight to the top, to whomever supposedly ran this sideshow.

  Her gaze fused with a set of familiar green eyes—not the cheese thrower—that guy took one look at the overwhelming man staring at her and fled out of sight. No, these dazzling eyes belonged to someone else. Someone a heck of a lot more frightening. And though hard to admit, a damn sight more attractive. Someone who made her world spiral and tilt…

  A sick feeling worked its way through her belly. Suddenly, her work at this office seemed less straightforward. Those dazzling eyes belonged to the one man she thought she’d never see again. Or more precisely, hoped she’d never see. The man she’d met three months ago. The one from Roseford. The one she hadn’t quite had the pleasure of having sex with, because she’d freaked the fuck out and left him no choice but to bail on her… All before she’d then bailed on him.

  Luke Whatever-the-rest-of-his-name-was…

  Her shoulders sank. Her skin tingled. Those wide and incredulous eyes could belong to no one else. They were unmistakable. But up until now, she
’d justified her quiet escape from Roseford as being for the best, though the lightning flashing through his stare did make her second-guess her choice to ignore him. Then again, she’d had no other option. Had she wanted to? No. Did she regret rejecting his offer to get to know her? Hell, yes. Had she done the right thing, given her circumstance? Abso-freakin-lutely!

  And yet, more than any of that, she regretted seeing him now. His presence came as a not-so-good indication he was somehow enmeshed with her work here at Tiluma. Her career was the one thing she could control. The one thing that forced her out of bed on the days grief threatened to override and consume her. Her job gave her existence its sole scrap of meaning.

  Luke didn’t just put her professionalism at risk; he jeopardized her entire way of being. He’d seen her weak and vulnerable, nowhere near as together as she liked to present. He’d seen her on the verge of breaking. Worst of all, he’d knocked back a chance at no-strings sex to spare her mental wellbeing. And as sucky as she’d sound if she voiced any of this aloud, she resented his kindness. Resented the way he’d unearthed so many of her buried emotions. He’d glimpsed just how damaged she was, and she couldn’t let that slide.

  Luke rubbed a hand over his chest, convinced for a second there that his heart just might have stopped beating. A solid thunk thunk pulsed at his fingertips. Well. At least his heartbeat was back on board. In fact, it now did the opposite and kicked faster than ever.

  A smile wobbled his lips; his mood lifted. Agathe Santos might not have called him, but she sure as hell stood mere meters away now, her eyes unblinking, his stunned deer stuck in the path of an eighteen-wheeler.

  A million nagging questions ravaged his mind. She’d never let him know why her passionate veneer had shattered at the prospect of making love. Had it been something about him? Or maybe some broader issue? Then again, she hadn’t even let him drive her home the next day, let alone speak to her on the phone. Maybe the problem was that she hadn’t been as available as she’d seemed. A boyfriend, maybe, or worse, a husband. Her appearance now only added to the questions. He narrowed his glare, chest clenching at the memory of her silent exit.