AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And now he was back in the office where his sometime lover also worked. Her heart twisted. God, she hated this feeling. Unrequited love. What a romantic phrase for a really shitty feeling.
She took Nick’s advice and went for a long walk in the fresh air. Maybe it was the walk, or the tablets finally kicking in, but she felt better for it as she strode back towards the barn. That was until she was accosted by two men, one carrying a camera with a giant zoom lens.
‘Miss Donavue, how would you describe your relationship with Nicholas Templeton?’
She glared at him and continued to walk.
‘Is he your new lover?’
She was used to dealing with the press, especially speculation about her love life, so this shouldn’t be fazing her, but it was. She didn’t feel like Elizabeth Donavue any more. She felt like Lizzie. And Lizzie didn’t want to discuss her personal life with this man. Nor did she want that prying camera lens shoved at her face.
‘Does he mind that you were recently photographed in bed with two other men?’ The journalist continued, keeping pace with her. ‘Are you planning on making it a foursome?’
‘Leave me the hell alone,’ she bit out angrily, immediately breaking her first rule of dealing with the press. Never let them see they’ve upset you. She ran the remaining way, opening the door with shaking hands and slamming it shut behind her. Then she slumped to the floor, wrapped her arms around her legs and began to cry.
The sound of a ringing phone cut into her misery. After wiping crossly at her wet cheeks, she stumbled to her feet to answer it.
‘Hello?’
‘There you are. I’ve been trying to get hold of you. How’s the head now?’
How did Nick seem to know when she needed him? Was he psychic? ‘It’s much better, thanks.’
There was a pause. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’ Despite her best efforts, she heard her voice crack.
‘No you’re not. What’s happened?’
She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She couldn’t go moaning to Nick every time she had a minor crisis.
‘You can’t fool me, Lizzie. I can tell you’re upset.’
A lump lodged in her throat and she suddenly forgot all about trying to be strong and independent. ‘There was another reporter here this morning, asking about our relationship. Wondering if you’re my latest lover.’
‘Damn.’ She could almost hear his brain ticking. ‘What did you say?’
‘I lost it and told him to leave me alone. I should have stuck to no comment. Or simply put them straight.’
‘Hey, don’t worry. They’re just trying to needle you into admitting something that will give them a story. Though I hardly think the supermodel dating an accountant qualifies as one.’ He let out a short, sharp breath. ‘Or maybe it does, because it’s so unbelievable.’
‘Why? Because supermodels aren’t bright enough?’
He snorted with disbelief. ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.’ This time the breath he let out was deeper and longer. ‘Look, stay inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘You don’t need to rush back on my account,’ she muttered, still not sure what he meant by his previous comment. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Of course you are. You always cry when you’re doing okay.’ He paused and when he spoke again his tone was much softer. ‘It’s okay to feel upset, Lizzie. Having people prying into your private life is bound to be distressing. Go and take a bath, read a book, or do whatever you usually do to chill out.’
‘Eat chocolate. Though most of the time I have to make do with thinking about eating it.’
He laughed, breaking the tension. ‘Okay then, go and stuff your face with a bar of Dairy Milk. I’ll see you later.’
Unsettled, Lizzie stared at the phone. Men. They were nothing but trouble. Even the good ones, like Nick, were capable of scrambling a woman’s mind, tearing at her emotions. What she needed more than anything was a chat with a member of her own sex.
Knowing just the woman, she dashed up the stairs to her bedroom and plucked her mobile phone from her handbag. The phone she’d kept turned off ever since the scandal had broken. After waiting for it to find a signal she watched with trepidation as it bleeped and buzzed, updating with all her messages. There were hundreds. Missed calls, voice messages, texts. It looked like everyone she’d ever worked with had been in contact with her. Lizzie ignored the lot of them and went into her contacts. She had one really good friend in LA — an actress she’d met at a charity event. Though she was a fair bit older than Lizzie, they’d hit it off immediately. She was the one woman Lizzie felt able to talk to about things other than fashion and make-up.
‘Catherine, it’s me, Elizabeth.’
