Starr Destined (Starr Series) (36 page)

“That is certainly a wonderful period piece,” Andrew agreed.  “I’ve no doubt any architectural sa
lvager would love to get their hands on something like that.”

“No!”  I found myself virtually yelling at him, echoing the screams that seemed to emanate in horror from the very walls of the house.  “Sorry, Andrew, but it would just seem like sacrilege to rip it out from here,” I tried to explain.  I was surprised by my reaction too, but it was just an instant gut fee
ling.  It shouldn’t be ripped out of this house, because it would be like ripping out its very soul.

“Well, I just meant that it would be better to save it, if the house is going to be demolished,” he e
xplained, as he gave me a very odd look.

“I guess,” I sighed, as I headed towards where I thought I’d find the turreted bedroom. 

And that was where I finally gave up fighting and really lost my heart to this old house.

It was the most wonderful bedroom I had ever seen.

It was a huge room, and very light because of the large bay windows.  The round shape made it very unusual and quirky, which I imagined Liam would probably say also made it impractical to furnish, but all it needed was some imagination to come up with solutions to make it a workable room, especially as there was plenty of space. 

Of course, as Andrew pointed out, it had a lot of problems.

“There’s a large damp patch on the wall where the roof’s been leaking, there’s wood worm in the floor boards, and the window frames are completely rotten,” he reported after a quick examination.

“But it could all be fixed, couldn’t it?”  I glanced at him as I nervously bit my thumbnail.  I had this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, because I just knew this had been my grandmother’s favou
rite room, just as I knew she had loved the stained glass window.  I felt such a strong connection with Cressida in here, because somehow I could sense her heartache and regret at the stupid stubbornness that had come between her husband and her son. 

And I just knew that I had to keep this house: that I wanted to breathe new life into it, to try and wash away all those wasted years of bitterness and regret.  The sad aura that pervaded this place wasn’t the house’s fault, and it didn’t deserve to be demolished.

“Yes, it could all be restored.  It would take a lot of money, and a lot of time, but it could be done,” Andrew confirmed as he looked at me quizzically.  “Are you coming round to the idea of taking it on then?”

“I don’t know.  Liam’s going to hate it, isn’t he?”  I said, thinking of his ultra-modern, clean-cut apartment and office.  “He’s going to think it makes far more sense to sell it off to a developer, and no doubt he’d be right.  But to me it seems all wrong now I’ve actually been inside this house, and as that was all his idea, he only has himself to blame.  It may not seem very sensible or logical to you Andrew, but all I know is that I really love this old house and I really want to save it.”

“Well, it’s your house, so it’s your decision, Sera.  For what it’s worth, I personally think it would be a crying shame to sell if off to developers if you don't have to.  New flats and houses are ten a penny, but a place like this… well, it’s unique, and once it’s gone, it’s a piece of history that’d be lost forever.”

“To be honest, Andrew, considering how I felt before I got here, I’m amazed to find myself thin
king along these lines.  I’m sure Liam thinks I've come here just to say good-bye to the old place before it’s demolished.  How on earth am I going to convince him I've changed my mind and we should take it on?”

“Well, I'm
sure if anyone can convince The Boss about that, it’ll be you,” Andrew winked at me.

I just hoped he was right about that, and at least I had an ally on my side - a good solid logical male to back me up if Liam should try to argue that I was being an irrational female in falling in love with this broken-down old house.

It was obvious
that despite her initial insistence that she wanted nothing to do with her inheritance from her grandfather, Sera had fallen in love with the Primrose Hill house he’d left her the minute she’d walked through the door.

“I know this house is not the kind of place you would ever choose, Liam, but if we took it on, A
ndrew says we’d have to completely gut it and start from scratch.  So that means we could have things however we wanted - you could have your own home office, and there’s plenty of land, so you could have a triple or even a quadruple garage built.  I know how much you love your flashy cars, and that would mean you could keep however many you wanted here.  You could have state of the art bathrooms installed, and whatever type of kitchen you wanted, with no expense spared, seeing as you’ve told me there are plenty of funds to do this, as well as the other charity projects I have in mind.  And by having this place done, we’d be giving lots of people employment wouldn’t we?  As long as we keep the original features that I love, I’m totally open minded about what we could have done, just so long as it means you’ll think about us living here,” she pleaded. 

Her eyes were shining with excitement as she showed me round when I finally arrived from my meeting in Luton, after a journey from hell.  Thanks to an accident on the M1, I’d been stuck in tra
ffic for two hours.  Then, when I’d been trying to make up for lost time, I thought I’d probably been caught by a stupid fucking speed camera, so I was not in the best of moods when I finally arrived.

I’d found her sitting by herself at the top of the stairs waiting for me.  Andrew had left, as he’d had to go off and pick up his son, so he would be giving me his report later.

I was very aware that places like this big old house rarely came on the market, especially in such a great location, so I knew it presented a unique opportunity.  And not everyone had access to the funds required to turn it into the kind of home Sera had in mind. 

But we both did.

It was odd having to get used to the idea that Sera was now wealthy in her own right, but I was very happy about it.  I hoped that maybe it would make her less defensive towards me if she felt we were more equal in financial terms.  I was glad she’d put her trust in me to sort out the details of her grandfather’s bequest, and it meant that I knew exactly how wealthy it had made her.  As far as I was concerned, this should have removed any doubts she had about marrying me, but she still instantly shut down that topic of conversation whenever I brought it up. 

And that was really getting to me.

“We.  You keep saying
we
could do this, or
we
could do that to this house.  But it’s your house, not mine, Sera.  You want me to be involved and take this huge project on, and you’re making plans for us, for the future, as if we’re a committed couple,” I stated.

“We are,” she frowned.

“No, we aren’t. Being married is the kind of commitment I'm talking about, but of course, you won’t agree to marry me.”

“Not this again, Liam,” she rolled her eyes.  “I’ve told you countless times before that I don't believe in all that marriage crap.  You know this.”

“But I
do
believe in marriage.  You know this.  You know it’s what I want, that it’s important to me.  Doesn’t that count for anything?  Getting married matters to me.  A great deal.  So why can't you agree, if only to make me happy?  Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for someone you love and care about?  Compromise? But you refuse point blank to compromise by accepting any sign or token of commitment between us, like an engagement ring, even though you know it would make me incredibly happy.  And yet now you’re suddenly saying you want me to commit to a massive long-term project with you, with this house, because it’s what
you
want, even though you still won’t even consider committing to me in the way
I
want.  It all has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?  If marriage is no big deal for you, if you really loved me as much as you claim, you’d agree to marry me to prove it.”

“Liam, you're being irrational,” she replied impatiently.  “It’s not fair to try emotional blackmail to pressure me.” 

“Seraphina, it’s like they said in that stupid romcom film I watched with you; either you want to be with me enough to get married, or you don't.  It’s that simple.  And I would love to work on this project with you to turn this into our forever home.  But I want the whole deal.  Marriage.  I want to be your husband.  I want you to be my wife.  All or nothing.  So it’s time to make your choice.”

I’d reached the end of my tether, and my patience had run out.  So I took the biggest gamble of my life as I turned on my heel and walked away from her.

***

I’d been emasculated by Seraphina, running after her the way I had, I told myself as I drove back to my place.  This wasn’t me.  I was used to being the one in control and having things on my terms, not being led a merry dance by someone who couldn’t even be bothered to try and see things from my point of view.  I’d bent over backwards for this woman, offered myself to her on a plate, but she’d stopped listening to me, or even giving a second thought to what would make me happy.  Yet I was supposed to just fall in line with her plans for this house that she’d been so adamant she didn't want.  She’d only gone to look at it because I’d practically forced her, before it was sold off to d
evelopers and it was too late to regret her hasty decision.  Didn't that prove that I knew what was best for her even when she didn't?

So what would I do if my gamble didn't pay off and I got the nothing part of all or nothing?

Fuck knew.

I was in a foul mood as I parked the BMW in my space at Butler’s Wharf, and I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings.  If I had been, I might not have been caught unawares by a vice-like grip around my neck and a vicious punch that took my breath away.

“I thought you ought to know what it feels like to be stabbed in the back by someone you once thought of as a friend.”

I knew that voice. 

Scott Franklin.

Somehow he’d got out of jail and had come looking for revenge, just as I'd always known he would.  Except it seemed he was going to take it out on me, rather than Seraphina.  Fine, I would rather it was this way.

Then I felt a blow to my head, and my knees buckled under me.  Just as my vision started to fade, I heard footsteps and voices shouting. 

The grip around my neck loosened, I felt myself sliding down to the ground - and then nothing.

“Please, Liam.  Please, just open your eyes or squeeze my hand so I know you can hear me.”

I could hear the fear in Sera’s voice, but I seemed to be in some kind of a deep sleep that I didn't seem able to stir from, so I couldn’t tell her not to worry.

Strange. 

“Why isn’t he waking up, doctor?  You said the surgery went well, that he was over the worst and out of danger now.”

What surgery?  What the fuck was Seraphina talking about?

“His vital signs are all good.  His skull wasn’t fractured, but he has concussion and he’s lost a lot of blood from the stab wound, so he’s very weak.  There’s no doubt it was a close call and he’s had a lucky escape.  He’ll wake when his body has recovered sufficiently, although the drugs we’re giving him for pain relief will make him drowsy for some time.  But as hearing is the first sense to return, talking to patients often helps them to regain consciousness.  So I suggest you sit and talk to him about anything and everything, see if
that helps to bring him round.”

Concussion?  Stab wound?  I guessed this deep, calm voice of authority must be a doctor, so I guessed they must be talking about me, and I guessed I must be in hospital. 

I tried to get my sluggish brain to work out what the hell had happened, but it refused to cooperate, and I drifted back into a deep sleep again for a while. 

When Liam had
his hissy fit and stormed off from the house viewing after delivering his ultimatum about us getting married, I wasn’t that worried because I thought he’d just been in a foul mood after a horrid drive back from his meeting, and that we’d talk more when he’d had a chance to calm down.

I stayed on a bit longer at the house by myself, surprised when he didn’t reply to my texts or answer my calls, because sulking wasn’t his style.  So I decided I might as well head back home and try and talk to him there.

As I pulled into Butler’s Wharf and rounded the corner to head my Mini towards my parking space, I had to slam on my brakes to avoid an ambulance and a police car, with all their blue lights flashing, right by where Liam's car was parked up.  Naturally, I wondered what the hell was going on as I got out of my car and looked over. 

Then I saw Andrew, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking desperately worried as he watched the paramedics working on someone lying on the ground.  At that point I couldn’t see who it was. 

Then Andrew glanced up. 

By the look on his face when he saw me, I suddenly knew with chilling certainty who it had to be.