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‘That’s no excuse. There’s a difference between assistance and taking over. I spent all our marriage fitting in with whatever it was you wanted.’ Her expression was strained and so unutterably weary it sucked the fight out of him. ‘That’s not for me, Jack. I thought I could handle it but I can’t. Not anymore.’
Jack felt his breath snare in his lungs and had that panicked sensation he recalled from childhood, that he couldn’t breathe. Tight bands crushed his chest but it wasn’t the lack of oxygen that worried him so much as the crashing sense of failure.
Dismay gripped him, and a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories bombarded him. Of the many times as a kid when he hadn’t been good enough or important enough to win his parents’ attention much less approval. Of how he hadn’t been able to make them care or even just stay with him.
He’d told himself the problem had been with them, not himself.
Had he been wrong? Was he tainted with some fatal flaw?
Jack gritted his teeth. If he had one core quality it was determination. Sheer obstinacy had seen him rise above the vagaries of his early life and make something of himself. That determination to make a positive mark in the world, as well as make money, had been behind the success of his business. Determination had won him this alluring, intriguing woman and it would get her back. He vowed it.
The car turned into a narrow residential road with lines of parked cars on either side. The three-story houses here had been broken up into flats, all the same. But halfway down the street one stood out from the rest because of the people clustered on the pavement.
He pressed the intercom. ‘Slow down a little.’ He turned to Elisabeth. ‘Are you ready to confront that mob?’
The footpath was so full that a woman with a pram had to walk out onto the road to pass. From a first-floor window he saw a dismayed face pressed against the glass for a moment before it disappeared. If he wasn’t mistaken that was Elisabeth’s flat.
‘Your flatmate doesn’t look impressed.’
His wife sent him a fulminating glare then bit her lip. ‘Can you blame her? This is a nightmare. She can’t go out without being pestered.’
‘And you want to go back there and add to the furore?’
For a moment she was silent then she sighed and slumped back in her seat. ‘Okay. You win. Take me to a hotel while I call my flatmate and explain.’
Jack gave directions to the driver who turned at the next intersection and took them smartly away from the area.
Today had brought unexpected insights from Elisabeth. Disturbing insights.
But knowledge was power. At least now he knew why she’d walked out on him.
And brutal as it was, this situation with the press meant she had to stop running from him.
Jack felt a flicker of excitement ignite. He could work with that.
CHAPTER NINE
‘SO,TALKTOME,ELISABETH.’
Bess looked up from her contemplation of the manicured private garden at the back of the gracious London town house. She managed not to wince as she met Jack’s assessing stare. Despite his relaxed demeanour, sprawled in an armchair across from hers, his eyes were laser bright.
He’d been silent since he’d won the argument about her not returning to her flat, only speaking to give their driver a new address, then introduce her to the housekeeper who opened the glossy black door of this gorgeous mansion in a part of London favoured by the very rich.
He hadn’t explained whose house this was, nor did she ask. She had more important questions on her mind. Like where she was going to go while her flat was a magnet for photographers. And how she’d support herself now she’d lost her job.
Bess looked down at the porcelain teacup in her hand and found it empty. She couldn’t even remember drinking the tea. She put it down on an antique side table, then wished she hadn’t because she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
‘Thank you for rescuing me, Jack. You were right.’ How it went against the grain to admit that. ‘I didn’t have a plan to deal with the press. I find this whole situation overwhelming.’
His expression softened. ‘Anyone would find it overwhelming, even frightening.’
Yes, frightening. That was the word. She wasn’t merely annoyed, flustered and indignant, but scared.
It was only now that she was safe, at least temporarily, from the press pack that she realised how scared she’d been. There was a fine tremor in her hands and her shoulders bunched high and tight.
He might have read her mind. ‘You’re completely safe here. You have my promise that I won’t leave you to cope with that sort of aggressive behaviour alone.’
The gratitude that filled her was immense, until she realised her predicament. How could she accept protection from the man she was determined to cut from her life?
