waiting for her reply, he pushed past her and raced up the stairs, aware of his heart thumping painfully in his chest as he willed it not to be so.
Please don’t let her have destroyed that room.
Reaching the landing on the top floor, he flung open the door and stared into the now immaculate bedroom, the stringent scent of cleaning fluid clogging his throat and making his stomach roll.
She’d stripped it bare.
Everything he’d been protecting from the past had been torn off or wiped away. The bed, as she’d said, now had fresh linen on it.
He heard her laboured breath behind him as she made it up to the landing and whipped round to face her.
‘Where are the sheets from the bed, Cara?’ he demanded, well past the point of being able to conceal his anger.
Her face was drained of all colour. ‘What did I do wrong?’
‘The sheets, Cara—where are the sheets?’
‘I washed them,’ she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. ‘They’re in the dryer.’
That was it then. Jemima’s room was ruined.
Bitterness welled in his gut as he took in her wide-eyed bewilderment. The woman was a walking disaster area and she’d caused nothing but trouble since she got here.
A rage he couldn’t contain made him pace towards her.
‘Why do you have to meddle with everything? Hmm? What is it with you? This need to please all the time isn’t natural. In fact it’s downright pathetic. Just keep your hands off my personal stuff, okay? Is that really too much to ask?’
She seemed frozen to the spot as she stared at him with glassy eyes, her jaw clamped so tight he could see the muscle flickering under the pressure, but, instead of shouting back this time, she dragged in a sharp, painful-sounding breath before turning on the spot and walking out of the room.
He listened to her heavy footsteps on the stairs and then the slam of her bedroom door, wincing as the sound reverberated through his aching head. Staring down at the soulless bed, he allowed the heat of his bitterness and anger and shame to wash through him, leaving behind an icy numbness in its wake.
Then he closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest and sank down onto the last place he’d been truly happy.
* * *
Oh, God, please don’t let this be happening to me. Again.
Cara wrapped her arms around her middle and pressed her forehead against the cool wall of her bedroom, waiting for the dizziness and nausea to subside so she could pack up her things and leave.
What was it with her? She seemed destined to put herself in a position of weakness, where the only option left to her was to give up and run away.
Which she really didn’t want to do again.
But she had to protect herself. She couldn’t be around someone so toxic—someone who clearly thought so little of her. Even Ewan hadn’t been that cruel to her when he’d left her after she’d failed to live up to his exacting standards. She’d never seen a look of such pure disgust on anyone’s face before. The mere memory of it made the dizziness worse.
There was no way she was staying in a place where she’d be liable to see that look again. She’d rather go home and admit to her parents that she’d failed and deal with their badly concealed disappointment than stay here with Max any longer.
She’d never met anyone with such a quick temper. What was his problem, anyway? He appeared to have everything here: the security of a beautiful house in one of the most sought-after areas of London, a thriving business, friends who invited him out for dinner, and he clearly had pots of cash to cushion his easy, comfortable life. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more incensed she became.
Who was he to speak to her like that? Sure, there had been a couple of little bumps in the road when she’d not exactly been at her best, but she’d worked above and beyond the call of duty for the rest of the time. And she’d been trying to do something nice for him in making the house look good—pretty much the only thing she could think of to offer as a thank you to a man who seemed to have everything. What had been so awful about that? She knew she could be a bit over the top in trying to please people sometimes, but this hadn’t been a big thing. It was just an empty guest room that had been overlooked.
Wasn’t it?
The extremity of his reaction niggled at her.
Surely just giving it a quick clean didn’t deserve that angry reaction.
No.
He was a control freak bully and she needed to get away from him.
As soon as she was sure the dizziness had passed, she carefully packed up all her things and zipped them into her suitcase, fighting with all her might against the tight pressure in her throat and the itchy heat in her eyes.
She’d known this opportunity had to be too good to be true—the job, working with someone as impressive as Max and definitely being invited to stay in this amazing house.
But she wasn’t going to skulk away. If she didn’t face up to Max one last time with her head held high she’d regret it for the rest of her life. He wasn’t going to run her out of here; she was going to leave in her time and on her terms.
Taking a deep breath, she rolled her shoulders back and fixed the bland look of calm she’d become so practised at onto her face.
Okay. Time for one last confrontation.
She found Max in the guest room where she’d left him, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, his hunched shoulders stretching his T-shirt tight against his broad back.
As she walked into the room, he looked up at her with an expression of such torment on his face that it made her stop in her tracks.
What was going on? She’d expected him to still be angry, but instead he looked—beaten.
Did he regret what he’d said to her?
Giving herself a mental shake, she took another deliberate step towards him. It didn’t matter; there wasn’t anything he could say to make up for the cruelty of his last statement anyway. This wasn’t the first time he’d treated her with such brutal disdain and she wasn’t going to put up with it any longer.
Forcing back her shoulders, she took one final step closer to him, feeling her legs shaking with tension.
‘This isn’t going to work, Max. I can’t live in a place where I’m constantly afraid of doing the wrong thing and making you angry. I don’t know what I did that was so bad, or what’s going on with you to make you react like that, but I’m not going to let you destroy what’s left of my confidence. I’m not going to be a victim any more.’ She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘So I’m leaving now. And that goes for the job, too.’
Her heart gave a lurch at the flash of contrition in his eyes, but she knew she had to be strong and walk away for her own good.
‘Goodbye,
