‘As most of you know, I’m Jago Le Roux. As stated, my sister’s wedding has been cancelled,’ he said, his expression grim. ‘I’d ask you to respect our privacy and give her space to workthrough this day and drama, but I suspect that’s not going to happen, is it?’
A barrage of questions punctured the air as he followed his siblings back to the house. The video cut off and Angus, still shaken but trying to hide it, lifted his eyes to look at Heath.
‘Explain,’ he demanded.
Heath stretched out his long legs and rested his hands on his stomach. ‘We were hired to protect one of Johannesburg’s most recognisable faces, the heiress Thadie Le Roux—’
Her first name, he recalled her telling him, meant ‘loved one’ in Zulu. It was an unusual name and one he’d never heard before or since that night in London four years ago. Memories of gliding his hands over her silky, glorious skin, exploring her sexy mouth, her gasps and her groans as he loved her, bombarded him. Those six hours spent with her were the best sexual memories of his life, and it took all his willpower to keep his expression impassive.
‘This is a massive story in South Africa and, as a result, Docherty Security is attracting attention down there. It’s been forty-eight hours since the wedding was called off, but the ex-fiancé is, in the hope of rehabilitating his reputation, doing interviews. His actions are fuelling the story and keeping it in the headlines. Now the international press corps has picked up the story and, because her mother is a famous ex-supermodel and socialite, the attention on her is going to double. Or triple.’
Angus listened to him, only one part of his brain focused on what he was saying. He couldn’t believe he’d found her, that he knew now who she was, her surname, where she lived. Four years ago, on meeting each other at an engagement party, they’d left the party separately and met up on the pavement below the couple’s penthouse apartment. He’d invited her out for a drink but somehow, in the taxi from the party to the bar, they’dstarted kissing and she’d instructed the taxi driver to take them to her hotel suite.
All their conversation from that point on had been done with hands and lips, with strokes and kisses. They’d agreed, only first names, nothing more. Their attraction and chemistry had been mind-blowing, overlaid with an intensity he’d never experienced before. For the first time, instead of running out of the door after a sexual encounter, he had been desperate for more time with her. In a day or two, he’d reasoned, definitely by the time she was due to leave London in four days, he’d be ready to say goodbye. Because he always, always said goodbye. Back then—and now—he had sky-high emotional barriers and a gorgeous foreigner wasn’t going to punch through them.
As always, he hadn’t had the time, or the inclination, to make space for a woman in his life and seventy-two hours had seemed enough time to get her out of his system.
Over breakfast the next morning, he’d invited her to stay with him for the rest of her time in London, and, to his surprise, she’d accepted. Because she’d lost her phone the night before, they’d agreed she’d check out of the hotel, find a store and replace her phone. And he’d take her suitcase with him to his office. When she was done, she’d call him—he’d placed his business card on the bedside table—and he’d give her directions to his flat, and he’d meet her there, and they’d spend the rest of the day in bed.
The phone call never came and her suitcase still sat at the back of his walk-in closet. In the days following their encounter, he’d tried to find her, but soon realised it was an impossible endeavour when he only knew her first name.
But he knew more now.
It was a ten, twelve-hour flight to Johannesburg and if he flew out later, after his dinner meeting with an important client, he could be there by mid-afternoon, South African time, tomorrow.
No! Flying to South Africa was a ridiculous notion. She was a one-night stand, nothing more.
‘Her family has an incredibly high profile, and she has a huge social media following. Her brothers recommended us to their younger sister when she expressed a need for a personal protection officer. I’m worried that if something happens to her, if she so much as kicks her toe, Docherty Security is going to catch flak. I think she needs more PPOs. She might not agree to pay for more bodyguards, might not want them, but this is a nightmare waiting to happen.’
Angus nodded his agreement. He understood Heath’s worry about reputational damage, it was normally at the forefront of his mind too. But not today.
Yes, he’d been crazy attracted to her, and the memories of that night were seared onto his brain. But attraction wasn’t driving his need to see her—his curiosity was. After four years of wondering, he might finally get answers to questions that still, occasionally, kept him awake at night. What had happened after she’d climbed into the taxi outside her hotel? Why had she changed her mind? Had she had second thoughts? If she’d decided not to see him again, why hadn’t she contacted him to collect her suitcase?
How had she gone from passionately kissing him on the pavement to vanishing?
He wasn’t interested in rebooting their affair, in picking up where they’d left off. He just wanted to know,dammit.He’d always been able to read people and situations and this ability had saved his life on more than one occasion. Where had he gone so wrong with Thadie?
He’d always been the type to dig, to understand, to gather every bit of knowledge about a situation so he had a clear, objective view of the events. She was an unsolved puzzle, anincomplete mission, an end that hadn’t been securely tied. As a soldier, and a perfectionist, Angus hated unresolved questions.
He’d read her wrong and her not contacting him felt like a failure. And failure, as his father had drummed into him from the day he could understand the concept, was unacceptable.
But was he really going to fly thousands of miles and incur the running costs of his inter-continental jet just to ascertain how, and why, he’d read her wrong? Yes, he wanted to know how. And why. It wasn’t wounded pride, or ego: the reality was that if he misconstrued another situation during an undercover operation or misinterpreted another personin a dangerous situation, people, including himself, could get hurt or killed. The worst failure of all.
There was also a good chance that when he got to South Africa, once he laid eyes on her, he’d wonder why he’d built her up in his mind, why he’d spent so much mental energy on one long-ago night. There was no chance she would carry the same punch she had years ago.
But he’d have the answers to his questions, and, since he was rich, he could easily afford the costs he’d incur. While he was there he’d also address the issue of Docherty Security suffering reputational damage, by arranging and swallowing the costs of additional protection officers for Thadie.
In a couple of days, he’d never have to give her another thought.
It was a plan with a solid outcome, one that had no chance of failing.
Angus liked plans. And he never failed.
CHAPTER TWO
THADIECOULDN’TBELIEVEthat she had walked out of Cathcart House in her skimpy dressing gown, showing a lot of leg and, because she hadn’t thought to tighten the sash, the edges of her baby-blue strapless bra. Standing up in front of all those reporters and setting out, in excruciating detail, Clyde’s perfidy had been a stupid move and she was now paying the price. For the past three days, she’d had reporters standing outside her gate and dogging her every move.
As the only daughter of one of the country’s richest men and a famous ex-supermodel, she was a society column regular and her engagement to a World Cup rugby superstar and national hero had been wildly reported on. Her wedding planning woes and the speculation about the health of her and Clyde’s relationship had kept her in the media spotlight. She and Clyde had been keeping South Africans entertained for months.