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Bess drew herself up to her full height. ‘Thank you, Jack. That would be very helpful.’ She turned to the others. ‘Again, I’m so very sorry to bring all this down on you.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Zoe. ‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. Besides.’ She shrugged. ‘Some of us have come up with a way of capitalising on that lot out there.’ She held up a large piece of cardboard with the name of the centre in capitals and below it in red the wordsDonate Nowfollowed by the charity’s phone number. ‘We thought one for each front window.’
Janusz nodded and smiled and Jack took out his phone to copy down the number. ‘Great idea. And to make up a little for all this inconvenience, I’ll have my assistant ring through to organise a donation.’ He named a sum that had the others reeling in shock.
Bess was torn between pleasure at the thoughtful gesture and annoyance that Jack’s wealth allowed him to deal with most of life’s problems so easily.
He never let anything get under his skin. If he had a problem he simply strategised a way out of it.
How is he going to strategise his way out of fatherhood?
Bess had no doubt that was his aim. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t contemplating a family any time soon and therefore she shouldn’t either.
Her heart dipped. Was he here to pay her off and ensure that she and their child never bothered him again? Would he suggest a termination?
Once again her stomach churned with nausea.
Before they’d married, and in the early days after that, she’d fooled herself into thinking one day he’d fall in love with her. In her fantasies, having Jack’s baby had been one more highlight in the wonderful life they would share together.
Instead they were trapped in a draughty hall with a pack of photographers outside, baying for attention.
She caught Jack’s gaze. Far from being ardent, his expression made her remember a documentary about a bomb specialist about to try defusing a land mine. Wariness, calculation and coolness. That’s what she’d seen in his eyes and what she recognised now in Jack.
Had she really expected warmth or tenderness?
She shut her eyes, shivering as the nausea intensified.
A hand closed around her upper arm. She would have known his touch blindfolded because of her body’s response. That little thrill of pleasure, the hitch in her breathing, the warmth that spread from his touch.
Bess swallowed hard, feeling the absurd rush of wetness against her lashes. She hated her weakness for this man and despised herself for it.
That attraction should be dead. His behaviour should have killed it, his machinations, his deliberate plan to seduce her then put her back in that gilded box where he made every decision and she was mere window dressing.
‘Elisabeth. Bess.’ His voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear. To her disordered senses it sounded as if he were in pain too. ‘Trust me. You’re safe, I won’t let them hurt you.’
It wasn’t the paparazzi she feared.
It was him, or more accurately, herself. Her eyes snapped open and he was close, close enough to kiss, leaning down with a frown on his face. Even now she imagined tenderness in those impossibly blue eyes and that whisky-and-honey voice.
That wouldn’t do. She couldn’t allow such self-delusion.
Bess blinked back the unwanted tears and stiffened her spine. She conjured up the smile her mother had taught her so she could appear delighted even when bored by the conversation at some formal event.
It was the smile she’d perfected following her mother’s death when her father had relied on her so much. A smile tested when, a bare year later, her dad remarried, to a woman who barely tolerated Bess. A smile that had become second nature through her own marriage as her so-called social life deteriorated into a PR exercise for her husband’s business.
‘Of course they won’t hurt me. They’re just after photos and maybe an unguarded word.’
She shifted her weight, slipping her arm free, watching a knot form on his forehead as if he didn’t like her stepping away.
He should be used to it by now.
Bess turned to address the others. ‘Thank you for everything. I’ve so enjoyed working here. I hope, with me gone, things will quieten down.’ She nodded in response to their good wishes and moved towards the front door.
‘Not that way.’
This time Jack didn’t touch her, but he moved to stand between her and the entrance.
At her raised eyebrows he nodded towards the back of the building. ‘As soon as you’re ready I’ll have a decoy limo pull up at the front with a couple of security staff to clear a path. That will keep the press occupied.’ He pulled his phone out again. ‘Meanwhile we’ll go out the back where I have a driver waiting.’
