“So you have to go along with them? I understand.” Her heart dropped like a stone.
“Oh, come off it!” he bit off. “I can take the heat. The whole business, you must admit, is ghastly. The press must be giving you hell?” He hadn’t willed or wanted falling in love with this woman. But he had. He had a terrible longing to be with her. But he couldn’t shake the crush of guilt. Or the knowledge he knew so little about her. She hadn’t been given an opportunity to make a final decision. It was possible she could have actually accepted Marcus’s proposal. Lack of trust was a sharp knife in his chest.
“The press are doing their level best,” she told him, aware of his ambivalent feelings towards her. “No wonder celebrities hate them. The hounding is appalling.”
“That’s why I want you to shift. I have an apartment lined up for you. Somewhere very secure.”
“Thank you, David,” she said with icy politeness, “but I can’t take advantage of your kind offer. I’m staying here. And I’m coming to the funeral. Your parents can bawl you out all they like. They can bawl me out too if they want to. I have backbone. I know enough about you to believe you’re every bit as tough as your illustrious parents. I can promise you I’ll keep a low profile. I won’t do a thing to draw attention to myself.”
His discordant laugh echoed down the phone. “Sonya, you must have learned by now you only have to show your face to draw attention.”
“Did I ask to have this face?” she burst out angrily. “Blonde women get too much attention, all of us bimbos. We both know I intend to pay my last respects to Marcus. If your family thinks they can try any stand-over tactics, they won’t work. I’ve known some truly horrible people, David. Your parents would be the good guys compared to them.”
“Don’t you worry the press will uncover these horrible people?” he warned her. “They’re pursuing you, and they’re going to keep it up. I would think Marcus has taken care of you in his will.”
“What, you don’t know already?” she asked witheringly.
“It’s the waiting game.” A stinging heat assailed him. He so wanted to see her, despite all that was happening. “Sonya, I want to help you. You need protection. You’re going to be hotly pursued in the days ahead.”
Pain shot through her right temple. A bad headache coming on. “That seems to be my fate, David, to be pursued. I’ll say goodbye now. You must do what you have to do. I know you mean well, but I refuse to be deterred. I will be at Marcus’s funeral. I don’t intend to disguise myself either, like don a black wig. I am who I am.”
“Then let’s get your damned name right!” he retorted.
“That would be a big mistake!” She slammed down the phone.
One minute later she was in floods of tears.
She had met a man who was perfect to her. But all he wanted was to be rid of her.
CHPATER SEVEN
SONYA had hoped the crowd would be so large she would have a good chance of slipping into the church unnoticed. As a necessary mark of respect to the Wainwright family she had done her best to look as inconspicuous as possible. Her giveaway white-blonde hair, she had all but concealed, fastening it in coils at the back, then topping it off with a wide-brimmed black hat. She had thought the inexpensive hat would be an excellent disguise. Unfortunately the result wasn’t as low key as she had wished. The hat looked great on her. She already had a black dress and suitable accessories. Nothing ultra smart, but good quality. Part of the problem was, black suited her. It made a showcase of her colouring. Her hair wasn’t on show, but she couldn’t hide her white skin. But for this very sad occasion, black it had to be. She had no real status even if Marcus had given her that magnificent ring.
On and off for nights she had cried. She felt the tears coming now but she had to fight them back. She had to find and maintain her composure. A young woman in tears would only bring unwelcome attention. Mourners were everywhere. In its way it was a spectacular turnout. Among the dignitaries present, the State Premier, and a representative of the PM, who was out of the country. Marcus Wainwright had been a much respected man, a member of one of the richest and most influential families in the nation.
She made it up the stone steps on shaky legs and through the door of the cathedral. She looked to neither left nor right. A strong arm took hold of hers. She looked up quickly, anticipating trouble. What she saw was a heavily built man filling out a black suit. It was his job, she realized, to keep crowd control. He drew her aside. “Ms Erickson, isn’t it?” he asked, very politely.
“Please take your hand off me,” she said, keeping her tone low.
“You’ve done yourself no good coming here, miss.” He was having difficulty not staring at her, she was so beautiful. “The family, I’m afraid, don’t want you.”
“I’m not here for the family, sir,” Sonya said very quietly. “I’m here for Marcus Wainwright, my dear friend. Now, if you don’t want me to raise my voice—I would regret the necessity, but I will—you’ll take your hand away. Marcus would have wanted me here. Who do the other Wainwrights think they are, anyway?” Her green eyes flashed fire.
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