Our own new world is limitless and new.
I look behind me, at the gray stone hall I’ve come to love. The first time I saw it, it looked like a ghost castle in twilight. I thought then that it was a place to hide.
Instead, it was the place I came alive. The place where my body and soul blazed into fire. Where Edward and I each sought sanctuary when we were hurt, and Penryth Hall healed us.
It was the place our family began.
“I love you, Diana,” Edward whispers now behind me. I lean back against his chest, against his legs that are wrapped around mine, as one of his large hands rests protectively over the swell of my belly. Yes, I’m pregnant again. A boy this time.
Life is more complicated than the movies, that’s for sure. But it’s also better than I ever dared dream. Real life, the one I’m living right now, is better than any fantasy. Smashed thumbs and all.
I’ve finally found the place I belong.
Mrs. Warreldy-Gribbley never wrote a “how-to” manual about how to fall in love, or raise a child, or discover what you really want in life. Because there are no guide books for that, really. There are no surefire, guaranteed instructions. Each one of us can only wake up each morning and make the best choices we can, hundreds of choices each day, big ones and little ones we don’t even think about.
Sometimes bad things happen. But sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we’re brave. And sometimes, when we least expect it, we’re loved more than we deserve.
It turned out I didn’t need to be a movie star. I didn’t need to be famous or rich. I just needed to be loved, and to be brave enough to love back with all my heart.
People can change, Howard told me once. Sometimes for better than you can imagine.
He was right. Real life can be better than any dream. And it’s happening, right now, all around us.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from TO SIN WITH THE TYCOON by Cathy Williams.
CHAPTER ONE
ALICE MORGAN WAS growing more annoyed by the second. It was ten-thirty. She had now been sitting in this office for an hour and a half and no one could tell her whether she would be sitting there, tapping her foot and looking at her watch, for another hour and a half, two hours, three hours or for the rest of the day.
In fact, she seemed to have been forgotten. Mr Big played by his own rules, she had been told. He came and went as he pleased. He did as he wanted. He was unpredictable, a law unto himself. All this had been relayed to her by a simpering, pocket-sized blonde Barbie doll as she had been ushered into her office to find that her new boss was nowhere to be found.
‘Perhaps he has a diary?’ Alice had suggested. ‘Maybe he had a breakfast meeting and forgot that I would be coming at nine. If you could check, then at least I would know how long I can expect to be kept waiting.’
But, no. Mr Big didn’t run his life according to diaries. Apparently he didn’t need to because he was so clever that he could remember everything without the benefit of reminders. Besides, no one was allowed into his office when he was absent—although the Barbie doll had worked for him for four days a few months ago and knew for a fact that he didn’t use any diaries. Because he was brilliant and didn’t need them.
The Barbie doll had since peered into the office twice, smiled apologetically and repeated what she had previously said—as though lateness and discourtesy were winning selling points that the entire staff happily accepted and so, therefore, should she.
Mouth tight, Alice looked around her, from her smaller office through the dividing glass partition into Gabriel Cabrera’s much bigger, much more impressive one.
When she had been told where she would be temping, Alice had been thrilled. The offices were situated in the most stunning building in the city. The Shard was a testimony to architectural brilliance with magnificent views over London. People paid to go up it. The bars and restaurants there were booked up weeks in advance.
And now she would be working there. True, her contract was only for six weeks, but she had been told that there was a chance of being made permanent if she did well. He had a reputation for hiring and firing, the woman at the agency had added, but Alice was good at what she did. Better than good. By the time she’d arrived at the building at precisely eight-forty-five that morning, she had made up her mind that she would do her damnedest to secure a permanent position there.
Her last job had been pleasant and reasonably well paid, but the surroundings had been mediocre and the chances of advancement non-existent. This job, should she manage to get it, promised a career that might actually move in an upward direction.
Right now, she thought that she wouldn’t be going anywhere if her new boss didn’t show up, except back to her little shared house in Shepherd’s Bush with one wasted day behind her. She probably wouldn’t even be paid for her time because no one would sign off her work sheet if she didn’t actually do any work. She wondered whether his reputation as a hirer and firer wasn’t actually a case of him being left in the lurch every three weeks because his secretaries got fed up dealing with his so-called brilliance. Not so much a case of him firing his secretaries as his secretaries firing him.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall that occupied one section of her office and frowned at the image reflected back: her neat outfit and unremarkable looks did not seem to gel with the glossy, snappy image of the other employees she had seen as she had been channelled onto the directors’ floor. She could have landed on a film set. The guys all wore snappy, expensive suits and the women were largely blonde and achingly good-looking in a polished, well-groomed way. Young, thrusting, career graduates who all had the full package of looks, ambition and brains. Even the secretaries and clerks who kept the wheels of the machinery oiled and running were just as glamorous. These were people who dressed for their surroundings.
She, on the other hand...
Brown eyes, brown hair falling straight to her shoulders, and she was far too tall, even in her flat, black pumps. Something about her grey suit and white blouse screamed lack of flair, although when she had stuck it on that morning she had been quietly pleased at the professional image she projected. It had certainly made a change from the more casual gear she had become accustomed to wearing at her last job. Now, here, she just looked vaguely...drab.
For the first time she wondered whether the gleaming CV in her handbag and her confidence in her abilities were going to be enough. An eccentric and insane employer who surrounded himself with glamour models might just find her a little on the boring side.
She swept aside the nudge of insecurity trying to push itself to the forefront. This wasn’t a fashion parade and she wasn’t competing with anyone in the looks stakes. This was a job, and she was good at what she did. She picked things up easily; she had an agile brain. When it came to work, those were the things that mattered.
She hunkered down for the long haul.
It was nearly midday, and she was bracing herself for an awkward conversation with one of his employees about his whereabouts, when the door to her office was pushed open.
And in he came. Her new boss, Gabriel Cabrera. And nothing had prepared her for him. Tall, well over six foot, he was the most sinfully good-looking man she had ever set eyes on. His hair was slightly too long, which lent him a rakish air, and the perfection of his dark, chiselled features was indecent. He emanated power and a sort of restless energy that left her temporarily lost for words. Then she gathered herself and held out her hand in greeting.
‘Who are you?’ Gabriel stopped abruptly and frowned at her. ‘And why are you here?’
Alice