You never have to return here and you never have to see him again. Or me, for that matter. You’re free to do as you wish.’
Her fears melted away. She bit her lip. She didn’t know how to thank this man. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes; he was so gorgeous, and now he’d done this?
‘Your uncle is a greedy gambler and poor businessman. He thought our marriage would mean I’d committed to his company. He didn’t bother asking me to draw up any binding documents in regards to any investment. He thought he’d won the lottery and showed just what he was capable of.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘He thought he could sell you.’ He pulled up outside the hotel and sent her a small smile. ‘But we got him, didn’t we?’
He was so handsome and, in that moment, almost mischievous...
* * *
On a whim she’d probably never fully understand, he’d offered her an escape and she’d sold herself to him that very afternoon.
But he’d never actually wanted her. He was too much the maverick for that. It was his distaste for her uncle that had forced him to act. In less than forty-eight hours Tomas had gotten her out of there and then disappeared from her life.
She lifted the tray and made herself lift her chin. She did owe him. And now it seemed she was going to owe him for yet more—a night’s accommodation to wait out the storm.
As she walked back along the corridor and headed up the wide staircase, she realised his wing of the house was warm. The luxurious thick carpet was plush and intricate. It truly was a stately home with its antique furniture and polished wood. On the first floor she glanced at the walls, expecting gilt-edged frames of the family portrait gallery.
That was when she paused in amazement. There were pictures, but they weren’t in frames. Slowly she progressed along the gallery towards the lit room at the end that she assumed was his office. But she was unable to look away from the pages and pages pinned to the wall. Pictures of people with notes written underneath all of them—dates, times, messages about meetings, details about the individuals pictured.
Her heart pounded. It was like the case room in some FBI movie. Was she in a house with a total psychopath or was he some kind of overachieving stalker?
Of course he wasn’t. She knew that about him. She knew he was ruthless, yes. But he was also kind. And he was ferociously good at his job.
She looked again and saw there was a rough timeline to the wall. It covered almost a decade. There were pictures of Tomas as well and hand-scrawled notes in pencil beneath. Press clippings about himself as if he were a total narcissist? It just didn’t make sense.
A horrible feeling sank into her bones. All these people pictured were people connected to him, mostly through business. They were people he knew.
Or had known.
She replayed that conversation they’d had only minutes ago on his doorstep—remembering his abruptness, his defensiveness. And when he’d asked that question—‘Do I know you?’
He hadn’t looked angered as much as guarded. He hadn’t wanted to ask her that question. What had he been wary of? Her answering yes?
Why would that have been a problem? Because he hadn’t remembered her?
If he’d asked ‘have we met?’ she wouldn’t have lied. But she’d hidden behind semantics. Now she registered that there was more than an arrogant aloofness to him, there was a barrier. He was locked away. She remembered Jasper’s agitation and insistence that Tomas was still suffering since that accident. Her own hurt pride had blinded her to the obvious.
She knew Tomas had carried Jasper to safety seconds before the car had exploded—that had been well documented in the press. It had been reported that Tomas had been thrown to the ground with his leg shredded. And his head?
He didn’t welcome guests, didn’t want intrusion. Why? Because he didn’t want to talk about anyone, or himself?
She feared there was a very good reason for that and she was furious with Jasper for not telling her the truth. What else hadn’t he told her?
‘What are you doing in here?’
She jumped at the furious demand and almost dropped the tray she was carrying. Turning, she saw Tomas had come up behind her. The iciness in his eyes was impenetrable. He was livid.
Her blood quickened. ‘Looking for you.’
But the plush carpet had masked his footfall.
‘You do not come up here. Ever,’ he snapped.
Zara’s anger flared—a mixture of guilt and outrage. He was rude and arrogant and she didn’t care how much of a hard time he’d had, there was no need to be so vile to someone. She’d been spoken to like that too many times in her life and she no longer stood for it. Ever. ‘No wonder you can’t keep staff when you speak to them like that.’
He visibly recoiled and then blinked. ‘The Kilpatricks have been loyal to me all this last year. They’re only away this weekend to attend a family celebration.’
She gaped at him for a second. ‘That wasn’t what I was told.’
‘And what were you told exactly?’ He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. ‘And by whom?’
‘I told you. Jasper. He said you’d been left without any staff. That you needed someone for a week or so.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘I told you that already too. He helped me out a while back.’
‘Helped you out?’
She threw him a look as she heard the insinuation in his tone. ‘He’s old enough to be my father.’
‘That doesn’t stop many women. He’s very wealthy—’
‘You just can’t stop insulting me, can you?’ She glared at him. ‘I’m here to help you, because your friend asked me to come. If you have an issue with it, take it up with him.’
‘I intend to.’
Biting her lip, she glanced at the wall again. She couldn’t help it. And the thing was, she had taken Tomas’s money.
But that was partly why she was here. To make amends and show her gratitude. Only now did she realise just how impossible that might be.
‘Don’t ask,’ he said shortly as he followed the line of her sight to the picture-strewn walls.
‘I wasn’t going to.’
Because now she thought she understood. Her anger melted as her heart broke for him. She was so very sorry. ‘This part of the house is cosy.’
‘I’ve put the heating on in your room.’ His expression became remote and he released her to step away. ‘And in the kitchen. It should be better in a few more minutes. The whole house temperature is controlled to protect the art and furnishings that are in storage. I’m not into wasting resources.’
Tomas
