t for ever.’
She blinked her tears away. ‘My sisters need me, they’ve always needed me, and I’m not there. I’m here, doing God knows what.’
‘You’re here with me.’
He could feel her start to shiver beneath his touch, in spite of the warmth in the room. ‘But I shouldn’t be. I should be at home. Everything’s always okay when I’m there. As soon as Cesca told me she was coming to London I knew I should have stayed. But instead I ignored that little voice in my head and got on a plane anyway. And now everything’s gone wrong and I have to make it right.’ She was hysterical, her voice thin and edgy. There was no softness in her face at all. It was like brittle glass, hard yet breakable – threatening to cut him with every touch.
He could feel the panic rising in him. ‘So one phone call from your sister and you’re leaving?’
It was as if she didn’t hear him. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking coming over here.’ She shook her head, staring into space. ‘I risked everything for what? A fling?’
Her words were like a kick to the gut. ‘What?’
Of course it wasn’t a fling. She knew that, didn’t she? Hadn’t she meant it when she said she loved him?
He thought of all the other people who were supposed to love him, too. His mother – disappearing every night – his father – who didn’t seem to love anybody but himself. And now Lucy was leaving him, too. The way everybody did.
Not this time.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, his voice firm. ‘Let me call Grant, he can get me on the flight.’
Lucy looked at the phone she was clutching tightly. ‘I’m leaving any minute now. The cab’s just around the corner.’
‘Then I’ll catch you up.’
She looked up at him. ‘No.’ Her tone was vehement. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t want you there.’
If her earlier words had felt like a kick to the gut, this time they were like a body blow. ‘You don’t want me?’
‘Don’t you see? We’re not good for each other. I’ve messed everything up. My sister hates me, my job is hanging in the balance. Even Grant told me that you were neglecting the business. And for what?’ Her telephone beeped and she swiped it silent. ‘That’s my cab, I need to go.’
‘And the gala?’ he asked her. ‘What about that?’ He was doing everything he could to keep his cool, but all he could see was red. ‘What about the dress you bought?’
‘I’ll transfer some money to you,’ she said. ‘As soon as I’m back in London.’
‘Don’t bother,’ he spat, the anger finally rising to the surface. ‘Consider it payment for services rendered.’ He turned his back on her, unable to look at her, squeezing his fingers tightly into a fist.
‘I’m sorry, I…’ She trailed off. ‘I need to go. I’ll call you when I get to London.’
‘If you walk out that door now, don’t bother coming back.’ As soon as he said it, he wanted to take the words back, wanted to spin around and look at her. Wanted to beg her to stay. But pride made him a statue, his back still firmly turned on her.
Lucy didn’t say another word. But the soft click of the door closing as she left told him all he needed to know.
With his lips pressed together into a thin, bleached line, he walked back into the bedroom. The closet door was closed, but he knew without needing to look that her clothes were no longer hanging there.
His eyes were drawn to a long, black dress carrier, with Bergdorf Goodman’s insignia printed on the front. He walked towards it, unzipping the plastic to reveal the dress hanging inside.
A champagne-coloured silk bodice was covered with lace, the boning of the corset clearly visible where it hung. It was tight by the looks of it, down to the waist, where it flared out to become full and flowing.
He stared at it without blinking. Could almost picture how beautiful it would look against her warm curves, her golden hair pinned up to reveal her creamy shoulders. Next to his dark colouring, and even darker suit, they would have made a glamorous couple. The kind that people stopped and stared at on the red carpet.
The kind that would have showed everybody he was a winner.
Reaching out, he took the dress in his hands, feeling the layers of silk and lace between his fingers.