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I’ve sorted things out with your boss. Car arriving for you at eleven tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re ready to leave. Alek.
If she’d thought it would make any difference, she might have been tempted to ping back a stinging reply, but Ellie was too tired to try. Why waste energy fighting the inevitable?
She packed up her meagre wardrobe, then went round to Bridget’s hobbit-sized cottage for a vegetarian goulash. Afterwards, as she walked home in the warm summer evening, she looked up at the star-spangled sky with a feeling of wistfulness. She was going to miss the beauty of the forest—with all those cute ponies which wandered around and then stood in the middle of the road, regularly bringing all the traffic to a standstill as they swished their feathery tails. She’d always dreamed she might one day live in a big city, but never in circumstances like this. Her future lay ahead like a big uncharted map, and she felt scared.
Yet the sleep she fell into was deep and she was startled awake by the sound of a car horn beeping from beneath her open window. She staggered out of bed and hastily pulled on a robe. She had overslept and the driver was obviously here.
Except that it wasn’t the driver. Ellie waited until the sickness had passed before poking her head out of the window, her breath catching in her throat when she saw Alek himself. He was leaning against a dark green sports car and it was just like the first time she’d seen him—when he’d been off duty in the spa hotel and she’d been trying very hard not to stare.
Dark shades covered his eyes and faded jeans clung to the muscular contours of his long legs. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to display powerful forearms and his hair glinted blue-black in the bright sunshine. Liquid desire began to unfold in the base of her belly—warm and unwanted and much too potent.
‘Oh,’ she said coolly, because she didn’t want to feel this way when she looked at him. She wanted to feel nothing. ‘It’s you.’
Lifting up his shades, he narrowed his eyes against the bright light. ‘I’ve had better greetings,’ he said drily. ‘Why don’t you open the door and I’ll come up and collect your stuff?’
‘There’s a key on the top ledge,’ she said, withdrawing her head and grabbing some clothes as she headed for the bathroom. By the time she emerged, washed and dressed—he was standing in the middle of her sitting room, not looking in the least bit repentant.
She slammed her soap bag onto the table and turned on him, her growing temper fuelled by the arrogant look on his face. ‘How dare you ring up my boss and offer her money to release me from my contract, when I told you I wanted to work out my notice?’ she demanded. ‘Does it give you a kick to be so controlling?’
‘If you can give me a single valid objection,’ he drawled, ‘other than the mild wounding to your ego—then I’ll listen. But you can’t, can you, Ellie? You’ve been sick every morning and you look like hell, but you still want to carry on. Not the greatest advertisement for a cake shop, is it—unless you’re trying to drive away the customers?’ He glanced down at the two battered suitcases which were standing in the middle of the floor. ‘This all you’ve got?’
‘No, there are several Louis Vuitton trunks next door,’ she said sarcastically.
He picked them up as easily as if they were full of feathers, rather than the entire contents of her world. ‘Come on. The car’s waiting.’
She took the keys downstairs to the shop, where Bridget was showing the new assistant all the different cupcakes. The Strawberry Shortcake and the Lemon Lovely. The Chocolate Nemesis and the bestselling Cherry Whirl. It was farewell to a simple life and a great leap into a sophisticated unknown, and Ellie’s chest felt tight with emotion as the Irishwoman hugged her, before waving her off in the shiny car.
The car roof was down and the noise of the traffic made conversation difficult but that was a relief because Ellie had no desire to talk and, besides, what would she say? How did you start a conversation with a man you barely knew in circumstances such as these? Staring out of the window, she watched as trees and fields gave way to tall buildings which shimmered in the summer sunshine like distant citadels.
Their journey took them through South Kensington, a place she’d once visited on a school trip. Thirty-five boisterous children had spent the morning in the Natural History Museum and afterwards had been allowed to descend on the museum shop. Ellie had used all her pocket money to buy her mother an expensive little bar of soap in the shape of a dinosaur. But the gift had failed to please. Apparently, it had reminded her—yet again—of all the things which were missing in her life. Ellie remembered her mother staring at the tiny bar as if it had been contaminated. Her voice had been bitter, her face contorted with a rage which was never far from the surface. If your father had married me, you could have afforded to buy me something which was bigger than a walnut!
And wasn’t that memory reason enough to be grateful that Alek wasn’t washing his hands of his responsibilities? Despite his authoritarian attitude, he was stepping up to the mark and shouldering his share of the life they had inadvertently created. He wasn’t planning to never pay a penny towards his baby’s upkeep, or never bother keeping in touch, was he? She stole a glance at his rugged profile. He wasn’t all bad. And following on from that wave of appreciation came another, which was rather more unwelcome, especially when his thigh tensed over the accelerator. He was so unbelievably hot and she hadn’t really stopped to think about what the reality of that might be, when she was closeted together with him in his apartment. Could desire be switched off, like a tap? Or would close contact only increase her awareness of just how gorgeous the father of her unborn child was?
Alek lived in Knightsbridge and his apartment was everything Ellie had expected and more, although nothing could have prepared her for its sheer size and opulence. Even the relative luxury of The Hog paled into insignificance when compared to each high-ceilinged room which seemed to flow effortlessly into the next. Squashy velvet sofas stood on faded silken rugs and everywhere you looked were beautiful objects. On a small table was a box inlaid with mother-of-pearl and a small gilded egg studded with stones of emerald and blue. She blinked at it as it sparkled brightly in the sunshine. Surely those stones weren’t real? She wanted to ask, but it seemed rude—as if she were sizing up the place and trying to work out its worth. But it wasn’t the value so much as the beauty which took her breath away. Everywhere she looked were paintings of places she’d longed to visit—upmarket versions of the posters she’d had hanging in her room at the hostel. Leafy streets in Paris and iconic churches in Rome, as well as the unbelievable architecture of Venice reflected in the dappled water of the canals.
She looked at them longingly. ‘Your paintings are amazing.’
‘Thank you.’ He inclined his head—the tone of his voice altering slightly, as if her comment had surprised him. ‘It’s something of a hobby of mine. You are fond of art?’
She bit back the defensive remark which hovered on her lips. Did he think someone who worked in the service industry was incapable of appreciating art, or that you had to be wealthy to enjoy it? ‘I enjoy visiting galleries when I get the chance,’ she said stiffly. ‘Though I’ve never seen stuff like this in someone’s home.’
But then she’d never been in a home like this. She walked over to one of the windows which framed a stunning view of the park and when she turned round it was to find him watching her, his blue eyes giving nothing away.
‘I take it you approve?’
‘How could I not?’ She shrugged, trying not to be affected by the intensity of that sapphire gaze. ‘It’s remarkable. Did you design it yourself?’
‘I can’t take any of the credit, I’m afraid.’ His smile was bland. ‘I had someone do that for me. A woman called Alannah Collins.’
Ellie nodded. Of course he did. Men like Alek didn’t choose their own wallpaper or spend ages deliberating where to position the sofas. They paid for someone else to do it. Just as he paid shop owners to release their staff early from a contract. He could do what the hell he liked, couldn’t he? All he had to do was to take out his chequebook. ‘She’s a very talented designer,’ she said.
‘She is.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘So I take it you’ll be able to tolerate living here for a while?’
‘Who knows?’ she answered lightly. ‘We might be wanting to kill each before the week is out.’
‘We might.’ There was a heartbeat of a pause. ‘Or we might find infinitely more satisfying ways to sublimate our...frustrations. What do you think, Ellie?’
His words were edged with mockery but there was a very real sense of sexual challenge sparking beneath that cool stare, and of course she was tempted by that look.
