Prada And Prejudice. Katie Oliver

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      Not ever again.

      As everyone lifted their glasses to toast Dominic and Keeley’s happiness, Natalie’s humiliation curdled into fury. She hadn’t meant to fling her glass of Pinot Noir at that well-dressed bloke in the bespoke suit; she’d been aiming for Dom. But two glasses of wine drunk in quick succession had left her light-headed, furious…and her aim a bit off.

      Where in hell was the door?

      Ah, there it was. Lovely door, marvelous door! She’d leave here and…Natalie frowned. Well, with no money for a minicab, and no ride home forthcoming from Dominic, she’d figure that out when she left.

      Her hand closed over the doorknob, and she flung it open. Rows of coats hanging on wooden hangers met her gaze. Oops…not the front door, then, but the coat closet. She could’ve sworn…

      “Excuse me,” a male voice behind her asked in mild concern, “are you all right?”

      She whirled around – which, truthfully, didn’t help her spinning head – and snapped, “Of course I am. I’m fine.” She glared at him, and her heart sank. Those penetrating blue eyes…that expensive bespoke suit…

      Crikey. It was the bloke she’d just doused with Pinot Noir.

      “Your attempt to exit via the coat closet – not to mention the state of my shirt and tie—” he glanced down at the wine staining his front “—tells me that you’re far from all right.”

      “I told you, I’m sorry about your shirt,” she said stiffly. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning bill.”

      “That’s not necessary. Have you a ride home?”

      “No,” Natalie said. She narrowed her eyes as she glimpsed Dominic, holding court in the drawing room with his arm draped around his new fiancée’s shoulders. “Not any more.”

      He plucked the empty wine glass from her hand and put it on a passing tray. “Look, I have to leave. I find I need a change of clothes,” he added dryly. “I’ll give you a lift home if you like.”

      For the first time, she studied him. He had dark blondish hair and blue eyes, coupled with a rugged build and a lived-in sort of face. Not classically handsome, perhaps, but compelling, in a Daniel Craig-ish sort of way.

      Perhaps that’s why he seemed vaguely familiar.

      “I’d be happy to take you home, Natalie.”

      Ian Clarkson stood before her. Although married to her best friend Alexa, and darkly handsome, Ian always made her feel a tad uncomfortable. He’d made it clear he was interested in her, the cheating sod. He was definitely a wolf in posh clothing.

      “I’m taking her home.” Daniel Craig left no room for argument.

      “But Natalie doesn’t know you,” Ian challenged him, “does she?”

      Before hostilities could escalate further, Alastair James made his way towards them. “Natalie, darling, there you are! You’re not leaving, I hope?”

      “I’m afraid so.” She kissed his cheek. “Grandfather wants me at the board meeting tomorrow morning, God knows why. Congratulations, by the way! How has Cherie put up with you for so long?”

      He laughed. “I’ve no idea.” Still handsome despite the grey that peppered his dark hair, Alastair put his arm around Nat’s shoulders. “I’m glad you made it to our anniversary celebration. Ah, Mr. Gordon,” he added, and thrust out his free hand. “I see you’ve met my goddaughter.”

      “Wait – you two know each other?” Natalie said in surprise.

      “Only by reputation,” Alastair said, and raised his brow. “And quite a formidable reputation it is, too.”

      “Oh. Well, he’s offered to take me home.” Natalie regarded Alastair quizzically. “Should I accept?”

      His eyes met Gordon’s. “I’m sure I can trust you to see Sir Richard’s granddaughter safely home, Mr. Gordon?”

      “Of course,” he replied, and extended his hand to Alastair. “I’m a man of my word, if nothing else. Unlike some.”

      The smile he directed at Alastair, Natalie noticed, was chilly. Odd, that…but no one else seemed to pay any mind.

      “Congratulations, by the way,” Gordon added. “I apologise, but the state of my clothing prevents me from staying.”

      Alastair frowned. “Yes, Natalie, what happened? I’d no idea you and Dominic had parted ways.”

      “It was a…mutual decision.” She refused to cry over spilt wine; Dominic so wasn’t worth it. “I planned to break up with him after the party, but he dumped me first. I’ve apologised to Mr. Gordon for ruining his suit.”

      “No harm done. Are you ready?” Gordon asked her.

      She nodded. “Yes, let me just get my coat.”

      He put a hand on her back and guided her out through the crush of people. As he stopped to collect their coats, Natalie glimpsed Dominic halfway across the reception room, and he glanced over at them with narrowed eyes. She resisted the urge to flip him the bird.

      After all, one of them needed to be an adult. It might as well be her.

      Outside, Mr. Gordon gave the valet his keys and helped Natalie on with her coat. “How are you feeling?”

      “A bit dizzy,” she admitted.

      Five minutes later, the valet roared up on a gleaming Triumph Thunderbird motorcycle and brought it to a stop before them. Natalie’s eyes widened. “Is that yours? You can’t expect me to ride on the back of that…in this!” She looked down at her short coat, shorter dress, and six-inch heels.

      “I’m afraid you’ve no choice, if you want a ride home.” He produced two helmets from the saddlebag and handed her one.

      Natalie eyed the gleaming silver-and-black motorbike doubtfully. “I’m really not dressed for it—”

      He gave her legs and her strappy shoes a critical once-over. “If you weren’t wearing those bloody stripper heels—”

      “They’re not stripper heels!” she protested. “They’re Louboutins, and very expensive.”

      “Well, you and your very expensive shoes will have to sit sideways. Put on the helmet. And button up, it’s cold.” He swung one leg over the motorcycle and waited.

      “Bloody hell but you’re bossy.” Natalie did up her buttons and sat sideways behind him, shivering in the unseasonably cold night air, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I won’t fall off, will I?” she called out anxiously over the growl of the engine.

      “Not if you hold tight. Where do you live?”

      “Ladbroke Grove.” She gave him the address and rested her helmeted cheek against his СКАЧАТЬ