her bodyguard stood by. She’d assumed he would put her into the car and follow separately, but he climbed into the warm interior with her. The guard went into the front seat, and then they were rolling away from Mayfair, the darkened London streets still alive with sound and traffic even at this late hour.
The kilometers ticked by in silence, other than the street sounds coming from outside. Veronica turned her head and watched as snow drifted silently down. She thought about making small talk, but could suddenly think of nothing to say.
“You will have to tell me eventually,” Raj said, his voice like the crack of a gun in the silent car, though he spoke in a normal tone. It was the sound coming after so much silence that startled her and made her lift a shaking hand to her throat to fuss with her scarf.
“Tell you what?” she managed to respond. Her voice was even. Calm. She was proud of that.
Raj’s fingers suddenly threaded into hers, closed tightly. They both wore gloves, but the pressure of his grip was warm, soothing. Comforting.
He squeezed softly, as if he were imparting strength. “About the baby.”
SHE didn’t say anything for so long that he wondered if she’d heard him. But of course she had. She sat stiffly, her head still turned away from him. In the light of one of the buildings they passed, he saw her throat move.
Raj pulled off his glove and put his fingers against her cheek. She turned to him, her eyes filled with tears. His fingers were wet and his heart constricted at the pain on her face.
“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He didn’t want to push her, and yet he had to know. “But it could be important.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head slightly. Her platinum hair gleamed in the dim light, and he thought of her last night, standing by her bed and calling for him. How vulnerable she’d looked, how innocent. Such a contrast with the woman he’d gotten acquainted with on paper.
Her chin dropped, as if she were surrendering. He found a box of tissues in a nearby compartment and handed them to her. She snatched a few into her hand and dabbed at her face.
“How can it be important?” she finally said. “No one really knows about it.”
“Someone does. Andre does.”
She sucked in a breath on a half sob. “Of course he knows. He was the father.”
Somehow, though he’d expected it, that news sliced through his gut like a sword. He didn’t want to think of Veronica with Andre Girard, didn’t want to imagine that she could have loved the man once. But she must have done so.
“Was he angry?” He still didn’t quite know what they were talking about, but he could tease the details from her if he worked gently enough.
Her laugh was bitter. “Angry? God, no. More like relieved. He didn’t want a child, so he’s not in the least bit upset there isn’t one.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Veronica.” He squeezed her hand again. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, but he wasn’t sure she wanted him to do so. Instead, he sat and waited.
“You’re good,” she said, dabbing at her eyes again. “You’ve managed to get me to talk about it after all. No matter that I don’t want to.”
“I have no wish to cause you pain,” he said. “But I need to understand who could want to hurt you. Whoever it is knows about the baby. And this person sees it as the perfect way to get to you.”
Her free hand clenched into a fist on her lap. “I wish I could understand why. It has nothing to do with anyone but me and Andre.”
“Was there another woman? A jealous ex, perhaps?”
“There’s always a jealous ex. But why would anyone care enough to be so cruel when we’re no longer together? We weren’t even very serious, but then I got pregnant and—”
“And what?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.
She bent forward as if she were in pain, rocked back and forth, her face turned away from him. It alarmed him. His throat felt tight as he waited.
A sob escaped her, but she stuffed her fist against her mouth and breathed hard, as if trying to cram the rest of them down deep.
Raj put an arm around her, pulled her toward him. She turned instantly, buried her face against him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled and broken.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “It’s all right.”
A lump formed in his throat as he watched the lights of storefronts go by. He had no idea where they were, or how long they were silent, before she pushed away from him and dabbed her eyes.
As if she hadn’t just cried her heart out. As if she hadn’t turned to him for comfort while she did so.
She was an enigma to him. Soft and hard at once. Strong and weak. Filled with sadness and pain. Not at all what he’d expected from the party girl in the tabloids.
If anything, he realized how very fragile she was beneath the layers of steel she cloaked herself in. He had no right to try and break through those barriers.
“I lost the baby soon after I learned I was pregnant,” she said. She shook her head, swallowed hard. He could hear the audible gulp as she pushed her sobs down deep again. But then she speared him with a look. “I won’t break, Raj. I’m stronger than you think. And I won’t let anyone use this to stop me from doing what’s best for Aliz.”
Her mind worked much more quickly than he’d given her credit for only yesterday, when he’d watched her work the crowd from his position in the bar. He’d thought her pampered and shallow, but he had to admit that she had depths he’d never guessed at.
“Who is the woman in the tabloid reports?” he asked. “Because I can hardly credit she’s the same person as the woman sitting beside me now.”
“Oh, no, she’s definitely the same. Some of it is exaggerated, of course. But much of it is true.” He wondered if she knew she was rubbing her thumb along the underside of his palm. The pressure was light, but it made him want to strip her glove off and see what her touch would feel like on his skin.
“I can hardly believe it,” he said, trying to lighten the conversation once more.
“That was my version of acting out,” she said quietly. “My rebellion against my father. The worse I behaved, the angrier he got. Did you ever act out, Raj?”
Her question surprised him. A dart of pain caught him behind the breastbone. “I think everyone has,” he said.
Except that he hadn’t. Not really.
He’d
