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As Daniel worked, the sounds of his efforts – the metallic clang of tools, the scraping of wood against wood – proved. The door had been a minor inconvenience in her life, but now that Daniel was fixing it, she warred between gratitude and resentment.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked, unable to suppress her doubt.
"Believe it or not, I can handle a simple repair job," he huffed, though his furrowed brow and pursed lips betrayed his own uncertainty.
"Of course," she muttered sarcastically. "You always were full of surprises."
He shot her a sideways look, but kept working. As Daniel continued to work on the door, Charlotte's conflicting emotions churned.
"Almost done," Daniel announced, breaking her reverie.
"Good," she said curtly.
With one final twist of the screwdriver, the door creaked open more smoothly than it had in weeks. Daniel stepped back, admiring his handiwork with a hint of smug satisfaction that only served to fuel Charlotte's irritation.
"See? I can be useful," he said, wiping his hands on a rag. "I'm not just a heartless financial advisor, you know."
"Right," Charlotte replied, rolling her eyes. "Next thing you know, you'll be fixing leaky faucets and broken marriages."
"Maybe I will," he retorted, his eyes briefly meeting hers before they both looked away.
"About those divorce papers," Daniel began, his voice breaking the stillness like the sudden crash of a wave. "I really do need you to sign them."
"Fine," Charlotte said tersely. "Just leave them here, and I'll take care of it."
"Actually," he hesitated, "I was thinking we could discuss them over dinner tonight."
The suggestion caught her off guard, and she looked up sharply. "Dinner? Why?"
She had already told him no once, on dinner.
"Because," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, "I think it would be best if we discussed things face-to-face. And I don’t have the papers on me now."
Charlotte studied him warily, her artist's eye taking in the flicker of uncertainty that crossed his features before he managed to smooth them into an impassive mask. She weighed her options, acutely aware that agreeing to dinner meant opening herself up to emotions she had worked so hard to bury.
"I don't know, Daniel," she said, her voice wavering between reluctance and determination. "I just want this to be over with."
"Charlotte," he implored, "it's just one dinner. We'll talk about the papers, and then I'll leave you alone. You have my word."
She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest as she considered his offer. The thought of sitting across from him, sharing a meal and engaging in polite conversation made her stomach churn with anxiety. But the lure of finally obtaining the divorce papers – of putting the final nail in the coffin of their marriage – was too strong to resist.
Charlotte clenched her jaw. She was tired of his mysterious lurking around. She had had enough. "Well," she said, her voice tight with emotion, "I'm glad you could help me out with the door. I appreciate it." She paused for a moment before continuing in a more forceful tone, "But I want your assurance that tomorrow night after our dinner, you will be leaving England and going back to where you belong."
Daniel gave a small nod in agreement. He seemed to understand that this wasn't just about the door anymore. This was about them and what he wanted from her.
"You have my word," he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting hers and lingering there for a few seconds before he turned away again. Charlotte felt her heart skip a beat as their gazes locked, but she quickly shook it off.
Here for work? Work, yeah, right, she thought.
"Fine," Charlotte conceded, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. "But I want this to be strictly business, understood? We discuss the papers, and that's it."
"Agreed," Daniel said, nodding solemnly.
As the door closed behind him, leaving her once again alone, Charlotte was filled with trepidation. She knew that sitting down to dinner with Daniel would force her to confront feelings she had long sought to suppress – the hurt of his leaving, the cold betrayal. But if it meant finally gaining her freedom, she was willing to face him down.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sun was just beginning its ascent as Simon pulled up in front of The Old Crown Inn, the next morning. Charlotte stepped out of the manor house, her eyes bright with anticipation. She approached his car, an old but well-maintained Range Rover, and climbed into the passenger seat.
