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His insulting offer to renew their ‘deal’ had simply made that fact undeniable.
She let out a long, slow breath. Facing the facts, while not pleasant, at least made her options clear. She had made a mistake—a stupid, humiliating mistake—by agreeing to his stupid, humiliating deal. But at least she had only traded sex for money. To stay would be a far bigger mistake, for she would be trading her self-respect for a bunch of worthless dreams.
She wasn’t going to give her heart to a man who thought a woman’s role was to look beautiful and glamorous and provide sex. Nor was she going to shed any more tears.
Catching sight of her handbag, she snatched it up gratefully. It had everything she needed: money, and most important, her passport. She wanted nothing else—not even her own clothes; all of them were unwearable now anyway—sullied by that horrible, insulting offer he’d made to her.
Stepping into the waiting lift, she squared her shoulders. But as the lift slid slowly to a stop she felt some of her bravado fade. Now what? She couldn’t just sit around in the reception area. But the hotel was nowhere near the airport. And although she might have braved public transport during daylight, she didn’t feel confident about tackling the metro on her own in the early hours of the morning.
There was no avoiding it. She was going to have to speak to someone at the main desk about ordering a taxi. She certainly wasn’t going to get to the airport otherwise. Her chest tightened. But there was no other way.
She walked quickly across the foyer. Behind the desk, the young receptionist looked up from her computer screen and smiled, and said in near perfect English, ‘Good morning. My name is Carolina. How may I help you?’
Addie was about to reply when the girl’s smile faded, a blush colouring her cheeks and brow. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s Ms Farrell, isn’t it? You’re staying in the Cruz-Rojas suite with Mr King.’
Nodding, Addie gripped the edge of the desk and forced herself to smile.
‘Yes. That’s right.’ Horrified that the girl might be about to start asking questions about her stay, she said quickly, ‘I wonder, would it be possible for you to order a taxi for me? To take me to the airport?’
Her lungs seemed to shrivel inside her chest as the girl shook her head apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Farrell. We don’t actually use taxis at this hotel. Most of our guests prefer their own transport.’
Addie felt her heart start to race. Of course they did. Like Malachi, they probably all had private cars with chauffeurs to take them wherever they wanted to go. She shivered. She would rather crawl over broken glass than go back upstairs to ask that monster for anything.
‘But...’ The receptionist looked at her earnestly. ‘We do operate a complimentary limousine service to the airport. Would you like me to arrange one for you?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, please.’ Addie felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. ‘As soon as possible.’
She wasn’t worried that Malachi would try and stop her. He hadn’t even come after her when she’d stormed out of their wedding, and he hated scenes. But she felt so tired, and her self-control was slipping. She wasn’t going to be able to hold it together for much longer—
‘Miss Farrell?’ It was the receptionist—Carolina. ‘We have a limousine waiting for you outside. Your driver is Luis. Have a good trip.’ She smiled shyly at Addie. ‘Are you going somewhere nice?’
Addie nodded, emotion choking her.
Yes, she was. She was going home.
Everything was going to be all right. Soon Malachi King would be just a distant memory and she would marvel at the fact that he had ever had the power to hurt her.
* * *
Eyes narrowed, Malachi stared angrily across the empty roof garden. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. What did she expect from him? In fact, why did
she expect anything from him anyway?
His mouth curled in frustration. Throwing all those accusations at him and storming off like that. It was just like their wedding all over again.
And saying she wanted him to divorce her? The blood pounded in his ears. He had never even thought about a divorce. Probably he never would have if she hadn’t thrown it in his face—
That thought was still uppermost in his mind when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Skin tingling, half expecting it to be Addie, he pulled it out. Glancing at the screen, he felt his stomach tighten. It was a message from his father.
We’re in New York, at the Aviation Club. Serena says to tell you we’re having a party on Saturday. If you can behave, you’re welcome to join us. Bring that sweet little redhead if you like. I attach a peace offering—
Malachi stopped reading. There was more—something to do with a money transfer—but he didn’t care enough to finish the message. Opening up the attachment, he watched the bodies on the screen in silence. Abruptly, he switched it off.
He could almost hear Henry’s cool, detached voice inside his head. Bring that sweet little redhead if you like. It knocked the breath out of his body that his father could actually suggest that. He had tried so hard to make it clear to Henry that Addie was out of bounds. So why—?
Lifting his head, he stared bleakly up at the moon, its pale, pure beauty making his heart contract. He knew why; he’d known why since he was a small child, only he had never wanted or been able to confront the truth before. But it was simple really.
For Henry and Serena drama and tension were more important than love and loyalty. For them life was a series of spectacles for which anything could be sacrificed—including their son’s happiness. And when things—or people—got messy or boring, they simply got rid of them and moved on. The ground felt suddenly unsteady beneath his feet as he remembered what it had felt like: the unspoken threat, the fear that one day they would get rid of him.
