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Ever polite, he thought with a harsh twist in his gut.
‘Beatrice?’ He had no idea what he was going to say, but he knew it didn’t feel right to let her leave like this.
‘Thank you for everything. With Danica.’
Her eyes shifted to his shoulder. ‘I loved spending time with her.’ Her lower lip wobbled and he moved quickly, opening the door to the helicopter, understanding the small kindness he could show her now. She just wanted to escape. Trapping her here to talk was further proof of his inability to be the man she needed.
‘Let me know when you’re back in London,’ he requested. ‘So I know you arrived there safely.’
She grimaced. ‘I’ll be fine, Ares. You can start forgetting about me right now.’
What could he say to that? He’d practically boasted to her about that being the wise thing to do. He couldn’t deny it now, or she might read something into it. But as the helicopter lifted off, becoming a distant, gleaming speck of black against an azure blue sky, he knew he’d never forget Bea, and strangely he was glad of that.
Bea was in a fog. She managed, somehow, to buy herself a ticket on the next plane leaving for London, and to contemplate sending Amy a quick text to let her know she’d be home soon. Except Bea didn’t want to see Amy or Clare. For the first time in her adult life, Bea truly felt that she didn’t want to talk to her best friends. Not about this. She simply needed to be alone.
Amy would know within seconds that something serious had happened, and Bea couldn’t lie to one of her best friends. She had to be stronger before they had that conversation.
If Amy had been a less worthy friend it would have been possible to presume she’d be too wrapped up in her own life to notice anything amiss with Bea. But Amy was loyal, kind and compassionate and she’d likely take one look at Bea and realise that her heart had been shattered. Hell, she’d probably insist the London Connection drop Ares as a client after this, and Bea knew they couldn’t afford that. She had to heal a bit before she saw either Amy or Clare again, knowing their loyal streaks would be invoked. No one was expecting her back in London for a few more days. She’d sneak home to her apartment and lie low, just until she was ready to drag her brave face back into place.
Decision made, she went through Security and waited near the boarding gate, trying not to think about Ares, about Danica, and about how much she was already missing them both.
It was a stunning sunset. All the colours streaked across the sky, the deepest oranges and reds with a shimmer of gold, purple glowing from behind the scant covering of silvery clouds. Ares stared at it and felt a gut-punch of sorrow. He was sorry that Bea wasn’t with him; she’d have loved it. Sorry that they weren’t going to see another sunset together.
Sorry that he’d hurt her so badly.
Sorry that he’d never see her again.
Just horribly, regrettably sorry.
She never texted or called to let him know she’d arrived in London but, given the lack of news about a plane crash or the kidnapping of a twenty-nine-year-old executive, he had to presume she’d made it there and chosen not to contact him. A wise decision, but he yearned to hear something from her. Just to know she was okay.
As a child, his grandfather had told him often that ‘time heals all wounds’, and Ares had generally felt there was truth in that. But the more time that separated him from Bea, the worse he felt. Danica was unsettled and, two days after Bea left, Ellen moved into a guest room so she could be available to help around the clock.
Ares took that as an opportunity to leave Porto Heli, where everything, everyone and everywhere, reminded him of Bea. He needed to get away from her, any way he could.
