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And when she’d seen those pictures of herself…
Guilt ripped through him, intense and unfamiliar as he dealt with the knowledge that he’d put her in a position that had allowed those pictures to be taken.
But the truth was that the media interest in his life was such that there would always be a photographer lurking, waiting to snap their picture. Even if he’d protected her from that one, he wouldn’t necessarily have been able to protect her from the next.
And every time the press printed something nasty about her, another layer of her confidence would be shredded.
To be able to withstand the media you needed the hide of a rhinoceros, and Millie’s flesh was as delicate as a rose petal.
She’d be torn, he thought grimly. Ripped apart.
And the decent thing would be to let her go—set her up somewhere new, where no one was interested in her.
From below in his courtyard he heard the roar of a car engine, but Leandro was too preoccupied to give it any thought.
Remembering that the last time he’d let Millie go had proved to be a mistake of gigantic proportions, Leandro strode back into the house and down the stairs, only to bump into the housekeeper, who was looking anxious and stressed.
‘Don’t tell me—more journalists?’ Leandro spoke in a rough voice, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘What’s happened this time?’
‘Millie has gone,’ the woman told him. ‘I heard her running through the house and then she said something like “No, don’t do this to me” and then she took your car and drove like a maniac out of the drive. Gone. Just like that. She almost ran over the journalists waiting outside the gates.’
Gone. Crying.
Don’t do this to me?
Remembering the roar of the car engine, Leandro’s jaw tensed. ‘Did any of the security staff follow her?’ But he didn’t need to see the appalled look on the housekeeper’s face to know the answer to that one.
‘It all happened so fast—’
Remembering what had happened the last time Millie had driven away from him upset, it took Leandro a moment to wrestle his emotions under control and think clearly.
He’d known she was upset but he’d given her the space she’d requested. And now he regretted it. He shouldn’t have left her alone.
Leandro ran his fingers through his hair, his tension mounting as he thought of all the dangers she could now be facing. She was in London, alone and unprotected with a pack of press as hungry as hyenas. She was alone in his highperformance sports car in a cosmopolitan city where driving could be a life-threatening experience.
His expression grim, he strode into the house and walked straight to his study. Once there he contacted his head of security, gave him a brief and then proceeded to get slowly and methodically drunk.
After his third glass he discovered that there were some pains that alcohol couldn’t numb, and he stopped drinking and closed his eyes.
How, he wondered, could he have made such a success of his life in every other area, and yet have made such a mess of his entire dealings with Millie?
Exhausted and anxious, Millie pushed the door open to Leandro’s study.
Leandro lay sprawled in the chair, his dark hair rumpled, his shirt creased and his jaw shaded by stubble.
‘Leandro?’ Her voice was soft and tentative and he opened his eyes and looked at her.
Then he gave a hollow laugh. ‘What did you forget?’
Thinking that it was a strange question, Millie gave him a rueful smile. ‘Just about everything.’ Not wanting to wake everyone else in the house, she closed the door quietly behind her. ‘I was in such a state, I ran out of the house with nothing.’
‘I know. The housekeeper heard you go.’
‘You must have been a bit surprised.’
‘Not really. Why would I be surprised? I know you were upset by everything. I understand that. What I don’t understand is why you’re back.’
Millie noticed the bottle and the empty glass by his hand. ‘What are you talking about?’ Confused, she took in his rumpled state and the lines of tiredness on his face. She’d never seen him anything other than immaculate before, neither had she seen him tired. He had endless energy and stamina. Only now he seemed spent. ‘Why wouldn’t I have come back?’
