He frowned. Surely she hadn’t dropped out of university to be a cocktail waitress. Flipping through the report again, he reread the part about her degree. She had been studying Vocal Performance.
Singing?
He hadn’t expected that. And yet, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, words, remarks she’d made that had meant nothing on their own, were coming together to reveal an unexpected picture.
Reaching for his laptop, he typed in her name and st
ared down at the screen, his heartbeat accelerating. There were links to blogs and reviews—and videos. Clicking on one, he felt his mouth dry. It was Dora, her face pale in the spotlight, a little younger, with more make-up and glossier hair, but unmistakably her.
And she was singing.
He felt a head rush, his vision blurring, pulse dipping with shock. The venue might be unremarkable—some no-name club in London—but her voice...
His breath caught in his throat. Her voice was raw and distinctive...nerveless. She wasn’t just talented, she had star quality—and that indefinable and, for most people, unattainable amalgamation of sex and swagger.
But she had given it up for Archie. Given up her dream.
Would he have done the same? Sacrificed his ambition?
His mouth twisted. Unlikely. To succeed—in other words, to earn their father’s approval—he and his sisters had been pitted against one another in gladiatorial combat, and winning had been everything.
And yet yesterday that had changed. He had reached out to them and they had responded.
Shying away from all of the many disconcerting reasons why he had chosen to act like that, he closed the laptop. Beyond the window, the sun was just starting to creep through the trees.
Dora wanted to be part of Archie’s life out here, and the more involved she felt, the more likely it was that she would agree to his half-brother returning to Macau on a regular basis.
The thought that she and Archie would soon be going back to England made something fray a little inside Charlie. He didn’t want them to leave. ‘Them’, because, obviously, they came as a pair.
His heart was suddenly beating a little faster. But why did they need to leave so soon? Or even at all?
The idea burrowed inside him, and then it started to fizz like a sparkler, sending out showers of brilliant light into the darkness.
He wanted Archie to stay.
Archie needed Dora.
Dora needed to feel she belonged.
And, incredibly, he knew the perfect way to give her the security she craved.
More importantly, if he could get her to agree to what he had in mind it would make her, and therefore Archie, stay here in Macau for good.
‘Do-Do! Do-Do!’
Rolling over, Dora felt the bed dip and, opening her eyes, started to laugh as Archie clasped her face with his hands and kissed her clumsily.
‘You’re all sticky.’
‘Sorry, that’s my fault.’
Glancing up, she felt her pulse stumble. Charlie was sitting on the edge of the bed—his bed—his dark eyes steady on her face.
‘He ate some mango. I tried to clean him up, but—’
‘He hates that,’ she said quickly.
‘He made that clear, but we got past it.’