“It’s not her I’m protecting. She wasn’t easy to put behind me. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I understand. No background digging.”
She raised her glass. “You have yourself a deal, Mr. Editor-in-chief.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jones. You have yourself your very first fan.”
“Let’s hope it won’t be the only one.”
“I’ll stand by you if it doesn’t work out.”
How easily he insinuated she’d fail. Shouldn’t a man who saw a long-term relationship in the cards have more faith in his partner?
“Are you inviting your dad?”
Alice looked up quickly. “No.”
“You don’t think he’d want to come?”
“What he wants is none of my concern.”
“He’s your father,” he said gently.
“He stopped being my father a long time ago.”
Henry studied her with a pained look. “I’m sorry, pumpkin. I know it’s been hard for you, but it’s never too late to forgive and pick up the pieces.”
“Don’t you dare defend him. He abandoned me when I needed him most.”
“Maybe the grief was too much for him to handle.”
“It was hard for me, too.”
He sighed and patted her hand. “I’m only looking at it from a father’s perspective. I know that’s what I would’ve wanted had one of my kids been in your shoes.”
Her ringtone interrupted their conversation. Normally, she wouldn’t be so rude as to take a call during dinner, but it gave her an excuse to drop the subject.
She glanced at the screen. “It’s Johnny. Please excuse me.”
“Alice?” Johnny sounded stressed. “You have to go to Ivan’s place. Something’s horribly wrong.”
Chapter 7
Every muscle in Alice’s body tensed. “What’s going on?”
“The doorman called Kate, and she called me.”
“What happened?”
Henry gave her a concerned look from across the table.
“He’s going nuts in the lobby,” Johnny said, “screaming at no one. The manager wants to call the cops.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Call the manager back and tell him to stay put.”
Johnny sniffed. “Thank you.”
She disconnected and gave Henry an apologetic look. “I have a crisis at work. I’m afraid—”
“I heard. It’s after hours. You can’t be expected to drop everything and run each time there’s a problem.”
“I wouldn’t interrupt our dinner if it wasn’t important.”
“I don’t like that you jump when Johnny flicks his fingers. Call him back and tell him you’re busy.”
Her stomach tied into a knot. She was territorial where her job was concerned. “Don’t do this, Henry, not if you want us to be friends. I’ll never tell you not to leave a dinner if important news is breaking. This is my job. Eighty percent of my nights, I spend at that theater. I’m not changing, not for anyone.”
He wiped a hand over his face and stared back at her with a disgruntled look. “This isn’t going to work if you can’t have a life outside the theater.”
“Then it’s best we stick to being colleagues. I like my independence. I’m not giving it up.”
“Is it a story I could use?”
“Definitely not.”
He lifted his hands. “Go.”
It wasn’t as if she needed his permission. She left a few bills on the table. “Dinner is still on me.”
Outside, she grabbed a cab and got out in front of The Ritz. A small crowd of people was gathered around the main entrance.
She spotted a doorman she hadn’t met before and took his arm. “Get these people out of here, now, unless you want all of London’s paparazzi descending on you like vampires.”
“Are you Ms. Jones?” he asked. At her confirmation, he uttered a relieved sigh. “Thank God you’re here.” He lifted a microphone to his ear. “I’ll tell the concierge to let you in.”
Leaving him to deal with the bystanders, she entered the building and stopped in her tracks. Ivan paced the floor, dressed only in a pair of well-worn jeans. His chest heaved, and his head hung low. Alternating between ripping at his hair and covering his ears, his bare feet slapped the floor hard.
“Stop your nagging! Leave me the fuck alone,” he said into the space, thankfully void of an audience except for the baffled concierge who kept his distance.
Alice skirted around the wall to the desk. “How long has he been like this?” she asked the concierge, whose nametag read Albert.
He licked his lips, his gaze flittering between her and Ivan. “He came downstairs half an hour ago. I can’t touch him. He tried to hit me. It’s only getting worse. Shall I call an ambulance?”
“I’ve got this.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
She grabbed the first thing that popped into her mind. “Tinnitus. Van Gogh suffered from it. That’s why he cut off his ear.”
When Albert’s eyes widened, she laid her hand on his arm and tried for humor. “Don’t worry. I won’t let Mr. Kray cut off his ear.” She tipped her head in the direction of the windows where hotel security pushed people back. “Good job in keeping the people at bay.”
“The manager told me to bar the doors until help arrived.”