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CHAPTER ONE

IF ONLY there had been so on the horizon, perhaps, or a sudden chill hich iced your skin Like an oht, and ‘if only’ were the two e—Sienna knew that more than anyone

And even if she had knohat could she have done that would haveShe was as powerless as a leaf torn from its branch by a cruel autumn wind

Yet her ht as she slipped into the back entrance of the Brooke Hotel, via the garden The ivy-covered as her favourite way into the building, for when you stood in the secret courtyard it was difficult to believe that you were right in the centre of London—with the hubbub and bustle of the busy streets only a stone’s throay

Here the sounds of the city werebranches of trees which acted as a haven for all kinds of birds Bees buzzed drowsily around the flowers and little ladybirds landed on your bare flesh and so These days she was essentially a city girl, but this place reminded her of a country childhood which seemed another world away

Sienna loved the Brooke It here she had fled to Where she had been proo freelance—but the hotel still provided the bulk of her work As an events organiser, she organised weddings, birthday parties, book launches and barwell-known on the busy London social circuit Fros, she had certainly landed on her feet

And if she ever stopped to think how she’d got here…Well, that was the whole point—she didn’t ever think about it Thinking never got you anywhere It took you to all kinds of dark and disturbing places and in the end it changed precisely nothing In life you just had to learn froh the bad ti round the corner And there were Of course there were

Today, the dark onyx reception desk was e Bird of Paradise flowers mixed in with black irises and red lilies It was a dra violets—but then those kind of people didn’t tend to stay here

Money and power and a hungry desire for so forces behind the screaly influential clientele of the Brooke Film-stars Entrepreneurs Royalty Anyone as anyone

They all flocked to the converted eighteenth-century mansion where there was never an eh the nose for luxury and discretion

Sienna rode up in the penthouse elevator She wasa Mr Altair, and before she met a client she always allowed herself a little daydream about just what kind of party they would want A themed affair, perhaps? Like the time she had decked out a ed to persuade the trapeze artist not to flounce off in a huff because he hadn’t had star billing!

Or the time she had crammed a ballroom with a thousand red roses for one of the ement parties she had ever had a hand in

Sienna sanisational skills of an arue of a career diplomat

As the lift doors slid open, the door to the penthouse was opened by a tall, olive-skinned man Some sixth sense should have told her then—but ould it? With his black eyes and the expensive suit which didn’t quite disguise the gun in his breast pocket the n ‘uard—and she came across plenty of those in this line of work

‘Hello’ She smiled ‘My name is Sienna Baker and I have an appointment with Mr Altair’

A flicker of soer on passed over his impassive features, but he merely nodded and pushed the door to the apartment open He stood by to let her pass but did not follow her inside, and as the door clicked shut behind her Sienna felt inexplicably apprehensive As if she was closed in Trapped Though agoraphobia would be the last thing she should be suffering from in a room of these dimensions

She looked around her, her senses swaan to jostle for supremacy in her mind