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Zoe picked up her bag from the table and began edging towards the door. She had done what she set out to do; it was up to Justin now. But she couldn't bear to be the third wheel in a lovers' quarrel; she hadn't the stomach for it.
'Zoe, where the hell do you think you're going?' Justin demanded, just as she was slipping out of the door and into the hall.
She stopped. 'I need to get back to my hotel; I need a bath, a change of clothes.'
She might have been tiny but she had an inner core of pure steel, and she had never needed it more than at this moment. She could not blame Jess for her fury; she felt dirty herself. But if the other woman's dagger looks were meant to unnerve her they would not succeed. Too much was at stake.
Zoe ploughed on bravely with her mission regardless. She firmly told Justin her room number. 'Call me when you're free. I'll be there until Monday.'
His black head tilted to one side and he studied her pale face with a chilling implacability. 'You're in no fit state to go anywhere by yourself, and I don't trust you not to disappear.'
'Disappear?' A glimmer of a smile twisted her lips, Margy's admonition ringing in her mind: 'Hog-tie him if you have to'. 'I can promise you there is no fear of that,' she said with a touch of irony. 'I'll be in all weekend waiting for your call.'
'Really, Justin, you're not going to fall for that?' Jess interrupted. 'You're far too intelligent.'
'Shut up, Jess.' Justin walked past her to Zoe, and, curling his fingers around the top of her arm, glanced back over his shoulder at his mistress. 'I'll call you later.' He looked down at Zoe. 'I'll give you a lift to your hotel.'
Zoe swallowed at the remote look on his darkly attractive face, and, with a brief nod of her fair head, she agreed.
She felt drained of all emotion as she walked with Justin through the underground car park to where a sleek black Jaguar was waiting. He handed her into the front seat and slid in beside her.
She watched him deftly manoeuvre the car out into the Saturday morning traffic with enviable ease. One hand rested lightly on the gear lever; the long fingers of his other hand curved delicately around the leather- bound steering-wheel.
She had a vivid image of those same fingers on her naked flesh last night and her pulse leapt with remembered pleasure.
He really was an incredibly sexy man, she thought, glancing sideways at his hard profile. Unfortunately he was completely lacking in morals where women were concerned. It was just as well, she acknowledged with dry irony, or she would never have ended up in his bed last night.
She sighed and stared out of the window. It was raining, the sky a dull, leaden grey and an accurate reflection of her state of mind. She sighed again.
'Valentine,' Justin drawled, 'What kind of name is that for my son?' He glanced at her, his face cold and expressionless. 'Though I shouldn't be surprised: you always were a fey, whimsical kind of child.'
She made no response, and they drove in a lengthening, tense silence that did not improve when they reached the Savcy.
'Get out,' Justin ordered curtly, and before she had gathered herself sufficiently to open the door and slide out he was around the car and taking her arm in a vice like grip. He passed the car keys to the valet and hustled her into the foyer as if she were an errant child.
When he demanded her room key from Reception, she tried to object. 'There is-'
'Shut up.' He was in a furious temper beneath his controlled exterior, and he flung her into the lift as if she were a rag doll.
But it was no more than she had expected, she thought with stoical resignation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Any hope of her ordeal being over quickly was squashed as Justin, granite-faced, pushed her into her own suite and closed the door behind him.
He came towards her. 'Now talk,' he commanded arrogantly. 'And you'd better make it good. I want to know everything about my son, and what you've done with him.' His hands dropped to her narrow shoulders and he stood staring
down at her, his black eyes burning on her. 'I've had it with you, Zoe; you've gone too far this time.'
For once the dynamic, powerful Justin had lost his poise; her revelations had clearly knocked him for six. But it gave her no joy. She had thought that after the night they had spent together. . . her realisation that she still loved him. . .
How naive could one get? She shook her head in disbelief at her own folly. The arrival of Jess had shown Zoe just how degrading her position was. Justin wanted nothing from her but his son.
She drew on her last reserves of strength, determined to concentrate strictly on Val’s welfare, and, wiping her own shame and humiliation from her mind, looked Justin straight in the eye and said flatly, 'Please let me go. I need the bathroom, and, in any case, what I have to tell you can't be discussed in a rage.'
She was a mother first and foremost and she refused to discuss her precious son in anger. Too much was at stake and it was vital that she win Justin's support.
A cruel smile smile curved his lips; he caught her face between his hands and pressed his mouth hard down on hers in a savage parody of a kiss, declaring his power and domination.
