Much Ado About Love

By Elizabeth Dunk

Opposites attract–but that doesn't mean the road to happy–ever–after runs smooth…

Trix Leon and Ben Anthony have two things in common–they don't believe in love and, together, they set the sheets on fire. Their relationship is safe, uncomplicated, and just what they both need–until John Aragorn shows up and gives them a third thing in common: an enemy.

When their friends decide it's time for Trix and Ben to admit to themselves–and each other–how they really feel, Trix and Ben are caught in a whirlwind of emotion, a promise of something more. But Aragorn is determined to destroy everything: Trix's hard work, her future, and her chance at something more with Ben.

Now Ben and Trix are left fighting for the one thing that neither of them knew they wanted: love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jan 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781760370015

Elizabeth Dunk

Elizabeth Dunk is the contemporary romance writing alter-ego of Nicole Murphy, who cut her teeth writing science fiction and fantasy. A long-time romance fan, Nicole couldn't resist attempting to sit fair and square in the modern world and bring two fabulous characters together and thus Elizabeth was born. As Nicole, she has dozens of short stories in print and published an urban fantasy trilogy, The Dream of Asarlai. As Elizabeth, she's published a couple of short stories. This is the first novel-length work under her new name and there are plans for many more.

Book preview

Act One

Scene One

The text arrived at 8.45am, as always, with the promise the lawyers would arrive promptly at nine. Trix deleted the message and put the phone back in her pocket with a wry smile. Petrea was the most punctual person she’d ever met and Trix liked it—it made her job very easy.

Trix turned around slowly, giving this last bedroom one more perusal. Bed, neat and cleanly made. The tiles of the bathroom glimmered through the open door. The carpet was fresh and vacuumed, and the small vase of flowers on the chest of drawers gave the right sense of welcome.

Satisfied, she walked out and down the stairs to the centre of the Frances wing. This was the flashiest of the two accommodation options at Messina—a circular building of two floors, each with six rooms. Each room has its own ensuite. In the centre, on the ground floor, was a lounge area with bar and pool table.

There was a sun-light in the roof, bathing the area in warm sunshine during the day and letting in the silvery moonlight at night. With copious plants scattered between the lounges it had the feel of a luxury hotel in the tropics, something all the visitors loved.

The wing was connected to the conference centre by a glass-enclosed hall. Roses grew over the top and trees sprouted nearby, so you had the sensation of walking in a garden even though protected from the elements.

It was little touches like this—something unique and special—that Trix felt were the reason for her success. People could go to any old conference centre and find chairs, tables, projectors, whatever they needed. Here, she offered an experience different to the everyday—a real escape.

In the conference centre proper, she watched the kitchen staff set up the urns for tea and coffee in the large lobby. She followed them into the smaller of the two conference rooms, which for this week was set up as a dining room. The majority of the space had been closed off to create a more intimate atmosphere for the thirteen about to arrive. The tables weren’t yet set for the day, but she knew the staff would see to that before they left. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafted from the kitchen. She took a deep breath and smiled—what a wonderful way to start the day.

On the other side of the lobby was the larger conference room. Again, it had been divided, but the spaces weren’t closed to each other. As soon as you walked in the door there was a long conference table with thirteen leather chairs. Pads and pens, bearing the Messina conference centre crest, sat ready to use.

A doorway led to the larger part of the room. In here, a studio had been set up—lights, backdrops, and sound equipment.

When Petrea had said that this week’s activity was going to be filmmaking, Trix had shaken her head with astonishment. While she liked most of Petrea’s staff, she’d never considered any of them remotely creative. Watching lawyers try to make films was going to be entertaining.

Trix walked back into the lobby and circled the space. Every surface had been dusted, every plant watered and trimmed of dead foliage. The place looked as pristine as it ever could.

‘All set.’

Trix turned to see Ro step out of the hall that led to the Balthazar wing, the least fancy of the accommodation choices. A couple of rooms in there had been modified to provide the editing studios for the budding filmmakers.

‘Great,’ Trix said. She looked at her watch. ‘They’ll be here in two minutes.’

‘Getting excited?’

Trix cast Ro a dark glance. The laughter in Ro’s tone told her what was being referred to. ‘I am always delighted to have clients on site.’

‘This particular mob especially.’

Trix shook her head, then checked her watch again. ‘It’s one minute to nine.’

On cue, the rumble of a bus sounded outside. Trix gave her skirt a twitch to ensure it was straight and then walked across the stone floor, her sensible black shoes not making a sound, and flung the doors open.

Ro clicked along behind her and the two of them stood at the steps and watched the doors of the mini-van open and the occupants pour out.

The driver ignored them and went around the back to start unloading the luggage. From the other side of the bus appeared a tall, well-built woman with a shock of black and white hair. She barrelled toward Trix, her hands outstretched.

‘Trix, always so eager to welcome trouble.’

‘You are never any trouble, Petrea.’ Trix took hold of Petrea’s hands, and the two women pressed their cheeks together.

‘Me? No. But I know some of my people are, and yet you come greet us.’ Petrea Aragon, co-founder of one of the most prestigious law firms in Sydney, released her and held her hand out to Ro. ‘Wonderful to see you again, Ro.’

‘And you.’ Ro shook with a happy smile. ‘We’re very much looking forward to this week’s happenings.’

‘As am I.’ Petrea winked. ‘So let’s get this started, shall we?’

Petrea bounded down the stairs to pick up a suitcase. Everyone else was milled at the back of the bus, bags in hand, awaiting instructions.

Trix turned to head into the building before her traitorous eyes could look for him.

‘Follow,’ she heard Petrea say. Within moments, the lawyer was walking by Trix’s side.

‘How’s Brian?’ Petrea mentioned Trix’s brother, who she’d dated in university. It was how Petrea had found out about Messina six years earlier and had become one of Trix’s most regular clients. Every six months since then, she’d brought the partners and top lawyers from her firm for a week’s retreat of team bonding to ensure they didn’t get too locked into their work.

‘He’s well. Sends his love. He and Helen have taken the girls up to Queensland for a few weeks.’

‘Lucky duck. I’m in need of a holiday.’

‘This isn’t?’

Petrea laughed. ‘A change is supposed to be as good, isn’t it? If only I didn’t have these ne’er-do-wells to look after.’

‘I’ll have you know I do very well.’

His voice was like chocolate, dark and velvety, and it flowed over Trix and awoke sensations that she tried very hard to forget existed.

‘I believe she was referring to out of the courtroom.’ The words were out of Trix’s mouth and directed over her shoulder before she’d really had time to consider them.

What was it about Benjamin Anthony that made her want to both hurt and seduce him at the same time?

‘Give me a chance, my dear Lady Disdain, and I’ll prove how well I can do out of the courtroom.’

Trix hoped the shiver that ran over her body wasn’t obvious to anyone. She was all too aware of one particular room where Ben did very, very well.

‘It has been my experience that men who talk themselves up do so out of insecurity.’

‘Have you had a lot of experience?’

Trix looked over her shoulder. He was grinning at her—the wicked, open smile that right now made her grind her teeth with frustration, but later would make her body turn to liquid.

No man deserved to be that gorgeous—black hair that fell casually to frame his blue eyes, a strong jaw and cheekbones, full lips. His good looks were a major part of why Ben Anthony was so arrogant.

Then there was his body …

‘More experience than you can handle, Mr Anthony,’ she said sweetly.

‘Are you trying to scare me or seduce me, Ms Leon?’

She wished they were alone so she could tear his clothes off. ‘If I was trying to seduce you, you’d know it.’

‘Then consider me shivering in my boots.’

‘And with that, I’m calling an end to skirmish one,’ Petrea said as they stepped into the Frances wing. ‘The two of you can pick it up later.’

Trix nodded and stepped aside so Petrea could start organising her troops. From the first moment Ben Anthony had set foot in Messina, this had been the way between them—sharp jabs, snarking, teasing and prodding. She’d never taken such an instantaneous dislike to someone, and he’d reciprocated in kind.

Until that one fight, during the second retreat, when for some reason Ben had decided their mouths could be better served in another endeavour.

She only had to think of that kiss and her knees turned to jelly.

A touch to her elbow—Ro had come to stand by her and Trix pulled her mind from the past to focus on the present.

‘Here’s the first of the retreat’s little surprises,’ Petrea said. ‘There are thirteen of us but only twelve rooms, and each of those rooms has just one bed. Each night, a name will be drawn. That person will not have a room allocated. They will have to arrange their own accommodation. Either they can convince someone to share their room and use that folding bed’—Petrea pointed to the bed that sat near one of the bedrooms—‘or they can sleep out here. It will be up to you. I have your names on a piece of paper in my pocket and will now draw the first one. It is’—she pulled a slip out of her trouser pocket and read it—‘Claudia.’

A woman Trix had never seen before stepped forward. She was almost as tall as Petrea herself, but slender. Her face was sharply hewn and yet with her full lips and blue eyes, she was nothing but beautiful.

‘Sorry that your first night on retreat will be like this,’ Petrea said.

‘Not at all—I welcome the challenge.’ Claudia had a soft voice that Trix found hard to imagine holding any clout in a courtroom. Yet if she was here on the retreat, she must be a major force in the company.

‘What will you do—find a roommate or sleep out here?’

Claudia looked over her shoulder and a small smile curved her lips. ‘A roommate?’

‘Delighted.’ Trix’s mouth dropped open as Ben stepped forward and put his arm around Claudia’s shoulder. Trix slammed her jaw closed and took a deep breath to tamp down the sudden rush of dark emotions through her.

It looked as if she wasn’t going to have to worry about any nocturnal visitations this time. No surprise—Claudia was beautiful, poised, a lawyer.

Just his type, really.

‘I thank you for saving me, good sir knight,’ Claudia said.

‘Never let it be said I didn’t rescue a damsel in distress.’ Ben bowed his head.

‘Excellent. Since the two of you are sharing, I’ll let you choose the first room.’

‘We’ll take that one.’ Claudia pointed to the door right next to where the folded bed stood.

‘Good idea,’ Ben said. ‘No point in moving that bed farther than it needs to go.’

‘I’ll help, if Mr Anthony feels he is not capable of moving it further.’ Damn it, Trix thought, as eyes turned to her. Why the hell did she say things like that? She was a calm, poised businesswoman. How did this man do this to her?

‘I wouldn’t dream of stopping an independent woman such as yourself from acting as she sees fit,’ Ben said. ‘If you wish to move the bed and have us take another room, by all means, do so.’

‘Oh, there’s no need,’ Claudia said. ‘I’ll be perfectly content in that room.’

‘And thus ends skirmish two,’ Petrea said. ‘Everyone else, take whatever room you wish. You’ve got ten minutes to be in the lobby for morning tea before we begin.’

Trix spun on her heel and stormed out of the wing, Ro clattering along behind her, across the lobby and up the stairs near the front door to the office above.

Inside, she stopped at the window that looked over the beautifully manicured gardens to her cottage. She took a deep breath and relaxed her hands, which had bunched into fists by her thighs.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ro said.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘About Ben.’

Trix spun around and cursed at her cousin’s big, brown eyes, wide with concern. ‘Benjamin Anthony is nothing to me but an irritant. How many times do I have to tell you?’

Ro shook her head. ‘You might have convinced yourself of that, but I know better. A shame. I was hoping that Claudia wasn’t into girls.’

Trix blinked. ‘You’re attracted to her?’

‘How could I not be? She’s beautiful.’

‘Could do with a few extra kilos,’ Trix muttered. Ro smiled and hugged her.

‘I’ve always liked my women slender, you know that. Just like you’ve always liked your men feisty and passionate. Seems in one fell swoop, we’ve both missed out. And you can say what you like, but I’m going into town later and I’m stocking up on ice cream and chocolate, and you’re going to have a proper grieving session over him tonight because even if you won’t admit it, your heart is breaking a little.’ With that, Ro swept out of the office.

Trix sat down on her office chair with a thump. Her heart wasn’t breaking over Ben Anthony. Sure, right now she was pissed—but that was because of the rudeness of flaunting your new lover under the nose of the woman whose body you’d been enjoying every six months for the past six years without telling her that was over.

Fuck him. Fuck him to the seven circles of hell.

Oh, she’d get over it—it was just sex, after all. There were entire months of the year when she didn’t think of him at all.

But right now she was angry, and she had a right to be, and when the opportunity arose, she was going to make sure he knew it.

Scene Two

Ben pushed the bed into the room and leant against it. Claudia stood in the middle of the large space, tapping her finger against her lip as she always did when thinking something through.

‘We won’t set it up now,’ she said in the quiet voice that often fooled opposition lawyers into thinking she was a pushover. ‘The best place for it is on the other side of the bedside table there, parallel to this bed but that’s going to take up a lot of room.’

Ben’s fingers rapped against the frame of the fold-up as he made the decision. He’d been internally cursing from the moment Claudia had looked at him and forced him into the position of coming to her rescue. Having a roommate would make his usual practice of sneaking out at night more difficult tonight, but there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to do it.

All he’d had to do was look out the bus window at Trix, standing so cool and calm on the steps of the centre, and he’d started to harden. She was so his type—blonde and curvaceous, with a polished exterior that covered a molten core of passion.

Keeping away from her, not sinking into the sweet warmth of her body, was not an option.

‘Actually, we won’t need to set it up at all,’ he said. ‘You take the bed. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.’

Claudia looked at him. He’d gotten to know her well enough in the four months she’d been working at Stratford, Aragon and Anthony to understand that the slight narrowing of her eyes was all the signal of confusion he’d get from her.

Claudia’s face, so arresting and illogically beautiful, rarely showed any emotion. When she did, it was so powerful that it had, he was sure, won her at least one case and possibly a couple more. Not that he’d tell her that—Claudia was a great lawyer and would want to believe that it was her arguments that won the day.

But Ben had learnt over the years that emotion played as much a role in court as the law did, and Claudia had an innate knowledge of when to show her feelings and when to keep them hidden.

If she wasn’t a partner at the firm within three years, he’d eat his best suit.

‘Where will you sleep?’

How much to divulge? He didn’t want everyone in the firm to know about he and Trix—her reputation was important to her, and he respected that.

‘I’ll be fine.’

Claudia smiled. ‘I don’t doubt that. I’ve never met someone so capable of being fine, regardless of the situation.’

They went to the lobby to find fresh biscuits and muffins along with the coffee and tea. By nine-thirty, everyone was sitting in their seats at the conference table, ready to begin.

‘Welcome, everyone,’ Petrea said. ‘Claudia, especially. I hope you’ll find this first retreat an educational experience. The aim of this, as I’m sure people have told you, is to take you a little outside your comfort zone, have you develop new skills, bond with your colleagues, and to ensure that we don’t all get stuck in ruts. A part of that is of course that we are self-catering here. The lovely muffins we just ate are the last thing that the staff of Messina will be providing for us. So the first thing we’ll do is work out what we’ll be eating and how we’ll go about preparing it.’

Ben looked across the table at John Aragon. Petrea’s brother was leaning toward his crony, Conrad Gentleman, and the two of them were whispering heatedly. John and Conrad always caused problems at this point—neither of them wanted to do the work. They always protested vociferously in the lead-up to the retreat, trying to convince Petrea to organise catering. Ben suspected that if they didn’t argue the point so vehemently, Petrea may have succumbed years ago.

Looking after oneself for breakfast and lunch was easily agreed to—there would be plenty of food available in the kitchen for them all to choose from.

Petrea’s suggestion was that they pair up to cook dinner—that meant everyone was responsible for cooking just once. The same pairs would then clean up after a meal as well.

To Ben’s astonishment, John and Conrad not only didn’t argue but actually volunteered to cook that night and clean the following night. It was a clever strategy actually—get their responsibilities out of the way so they could relax for the rest of the retreat.

He paired up with Claudia and the two of them were assigned cooking duties on day three and cleaning duties on day five. He and Claudia had made some plans before coming—she didn’t cook and his speciality was cheese on toast. So they’d found a recipe for spaghetti bolognaise which they both felt confident they could cook and would provide a sufficient amount to feed thirteen.

With that, the housekeeping aspect of the retreat was done and it was time to move onto the first activity.

As always, Petrea charged each person to speak about their successes, failures, strengths and weaknesses from the past six months.

Just as his turn was coming up, Trix came in, pushing a trolley to recharge the water on the table. Damn, he thought. She probably thought she looked the personification of poised professionalism. She didn’t seem to realise that the way her tailored shirts flowed over her breasts or the way her straight skirts hugged her butt made her look totally, completely fuckable.

He was going to have to control himself so he’d be able to stand and address the group without his arousal being clear.

Then it was his turn. He stood. Talking about his success was easy—he’d won a major celebrity trial in which a young actress had been found not guilty of the manslaughter of her lover after his abuse of her had come out. The girl had been new to celebrity and had been on the verge of turning her head, but the case had settled her down, and in the few months since Ben had become proud of the woman she was becoming.

Next was his failure. He liked to be honest about his flaws and generally didn’t have any problems with this part, but he was reluctant to say anything in front of Trix. She already found it easy to spit poniards at him without being given any ammunition. He looked at her, wondering why fighting with her was more arousing than the romantic seduction he favoured with any other woman.

‘Ben?’

He looked at Petrea and realised he’d stared at Trix a little too long. He was slipping.

‘Your failure?’

Trix had only changed over one of the three jugs on the table. Could he stall until she was gone?

‘Some might consider the fact I still have to look at your sorry faces all day a failure.’ He grinned and winked at a couple of the friendly folk around the table.

A couple chortled, most smiled. Petrea arched an eyebrow. ‘Is that really what you want to say?’

Trix put the second jug on the table. Dammit, why was she taking so long? Then he saw her fill the plate of mints next to it.

‘Perhaps he’s too scared to admit failure.’ John’s voice grated from the other side of the table.

Ben glared. John grinned. Conrad giggled.

‘Well, Anthony? You gonna be a big boy and admit it, or not?’

‘John,’ Petrea murmured. Her brother got away with a lot from her, but even she had her limits.

Worst of all was that a quick glance showed Trix had hesitated over the cart. It was clear that she was going to stay until she’d heard what he was going to say.

Fine, Ben thought. Let her hear the truth. Let them all hear the truth.

‘My failure was Kelly Hanson.’

Silence. Even the clicking of pens that was the usual background of all business meetings stopped. Thirteen pairs of eyes bore down on him. He refused to meet any gaze.

‘That wasn’t your fault.’ Petrea’s quiet voice spoke the words that she’d been repeating endlessly for the past two months, but they still had no impact.

He hadn’t been there, but he could still picture the scene—Matthew Hanson getting out of the cab in front of his ex-wife’s house despite the order that was supposed to keep him metres from the woman he’d attacked. Going around the side gate, finding his toddler daughter in the backyard. Little Kelly, thinking her father loved her, running to him. Matthew smiling as he gripped his daughter’s head and shoulder, twisted and then left her lifeless body on his ex-wife’s doorstep. On top, placing the letter he’d written, telling her that now neither of them could have Kelly.

‘He is responsible for his actions, Ben. Not you.’

He looked at Petrea. ‘I shouldn’t have got him bail. I should have supported the prosecution.’

‘You had a responsibility to your client. To the system.’

‘What’s the point of a justice system that doesn’t