by Orla Bailey
His frown, when he stares at me, is fleeting.
He’s right. I have trust issues. Why can’t I accept the words I’ve waited a lifetime to hear? Because I can’t help wondering why Jack is only willing to say them when he thinks I might leave him. Is he controlling me, manipulating a situation to his advantage, rather than truly loving me?
He nods slowly, consciously, as if he’s only just realising I have a problem with this sudden turnaround. He takes my head between his hands. “I love you. Trust me.”
I want it so badly to be true. “I love you so much.”
“I’ll make you believe me.” At that moment he looks like he could do anything.
Jack’s kiss is so thoroughly convincing my body dissolves. But when he strews my senses like this, I’d believe anything. The question is, can Jack convince my doubting heart he loves me, the way I love him? Like the air I breathe. I never could get enough of that inside me when I needed it the most.
Chapter Eleven
Jack takes me to work early before Blackstock drives him to the airport for his flight to Singapore.
“Don’t go.” I stupidly blurt it out before moving from the car. It’s as much a reprimand as a plea. So much for my claims of independence, my concerns over trust, but something inside has been niggling since he told me. This is the worst possible time for us to be separated from each other.
Blackstock discretely closes the door he’s been holding open as Jack pulls me to him and kisses me until I’m gasping for breath. “You’ll miss me.” It’s not a question.
I study the strange fusion of cool blue and hot ice warring in his eyes. “Do you have to go?”
He sighs, caressing my cheek with his fingers. “I do. Three days. You’ll have me by the end of the week.”
I presume, by the look of pure pleasure on his face, he’s hinting at all the sex he’ll owe me which makes my smile a little wicked too. He taps me on the nose with a fingertip. “Behave.”
“Don’t you trust me?” I slide onto his knee, loosening his tie knot and mussing his hair, flirting outrageously, sucking a forefinger between my pouted lips.
“Any more of that and I’ll be needing words with you in your office before my flight leaves.”
“With all those security cameras recording?” I adore teasing Jack. Especially when he can’t do much about it. Always safer that way.
“Might enhance my performance,” he suggests, looking sexy as hell.
I swat him. “Ego-maniac.”
He laughs and slips his hand inside my jacket and blouse, brushing soft fingertips over a nipple covered in nothing more than a flimsy silk bra. He pinches until I draw in a sharp intake of breath. “I want you.”
“I want you too.”
“Be patient but I’ll make it worth the wait.”
Steam practically rises from my body. As he plays with my breast and nuzzles my neck, I take his free hand and slide it up the inside of my thigh so he can discover I’m wearing hold-up stockings. He explores the extent of sensitive naked skin above the lacy tops.
“Christ, Tabitha. You know how to make a man uncomfortable before a long haul flight.”
I act innocent. “What have I done now?”
He takes my hand in his, moving it over a very thick, rigid part of his anatomy. “Plenty.”
“At least you won’t forget me for a while.” I feel femininely delighted I can make him react to me so readily. It’s a complete power trip.
“Forgetting you would be impossible. Happily, I don’t plan to. And in the spirit of our new level of trust for each other, I want you to know the security cameras have all been made non-operational.”
I plant a swift grateful peck on his lips. “Thank you, Jack. That means a lot to me.”
He cups the back of my head, pulling me to him for a much deeper, longer embrace as his tongue sweeps right through me, tasting and teasing until my lips are tingling and branded. We’re both breathing heavily by the time he ceases and I’m more than ready for things to go further.
“I don’t intend to lose you, Tabby.”
I demonstrate my gratitude by repeating his kiss. He’s really trying hard and I know it can’t be easy for him not to keep control of everything that’s happening. “I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”
“You’d better not.”
I adopt an uber-casual tone. “So where are we meeting again?”
“Nice try, kitten, but it’s a surprise, as you well know. You’ll have to wait and see.” He shakes his head, condemning my duplicitous attempt to extract information with a knowing look.
I screw up my face at him. “Meany.” I like the sense of fun Jack shows around me. I love the way he makes me feel.
My voice lowers seductively. “Just so you know, you’ve made a very happy girl pretty uncomfortable too.”
“Stay that way. I’ll sort you out when I see you next.”
Both of us breathe hard and fast. I’m seriously contemplating grabbing Jack by the tie and hauling him into my office for a morning quickie. I think he reads my mind as he removes his roving hand from inside my blouse, straightens my clothing up and takes my own wandering mitts into the controlled safety of his own.
Gently restrained, I settle for showing him the state of my heart instead. “I love you, Jack Keogh.”
A strange smile tugs at his lips but he won’t be pressured into returning the endearment to order. Can this man be so complicated he’s changed his mind between last night and this morning? He’s travelling all the way to Singapore and we’ll be apart for days. Why can he not say it before he leaves? My head thuds in confusion as the rug is constantly tugged from under my feet.
“Go to work. I have a flight plan to stick to if I want to be back on time. And I really want to be back on time.” He plants a final firm kiss to my lips; another, more tenderly on the soft skin at the inside of each wrist which strangely burn long afterwards, and compels me out of the car. “Go. Now.”
To hide my confusion and disappointment, I glance coquettishly over my shoulder and strut inside. It’s false confidence. As soon as the door shuts behind me I feel hollow. A feeling I’ve become intimately familiar with over the years. Has so little changed? Is this what life will be like again if I can’t make things work with Jack. I have to trust that I can.
Inside my office I find a young woman sitting at my desk with one of the drawers open. She jumps to her feet as soon as I appear and her hand snakes out to close it. It’s such an unexpected sight I stop for a moment to make sense of it.
I want an explanation. “Can I help you with something?”
She strides toward me with her hand out. “Hi. I’m Zoe Thorne. New intern?”
I take her proffered hand and shake it, guardedly. “Tabitha Caid. CEO. This is my office.” Might as well make the parameters clear. “Have you not been shown where you’re stationed?” I don’t want to be unfriendly but we might as well start as we mean to go on. “It won’t be in the CEO’s office.”
She looks round as if she can’t quite believe that’s where she’s found herself. “Oh. No. Sorry. I just had a free moment so I thought I’d make myself useful and tidy some desks. I did all the others so I thought I’d just do yours. Sorry if I over-stepped the mark. Won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” I relax my tense shoulders. I don’t suppose I was any savvier when I was the new intern. I expect people put up with a lot of my mistakes too. And I don’t want to take out my concerns over Jack on anyone else. I smile. “Have you been introduced to the others?”
“Not yet. Libby was busy with something and I didn’t want to stand around like a moron so I took the initiative. I really appreciate the opportunity I’m getting here, Miss Caid. I want to learn as much as I can.”
“Call me Tabitha. We’re all on first name terms here. It eases team-working. We want to make the most of your talents too. Libby will induct you over the next few days and I’ll get you in on some working groups so you can begi
n to learn the ropes.” I walk her to my door. “We’ll get to know each other quite well.”
“Looking forward to it. I can’t wait to get stuck in. Thanks.”
I close the door behind me and berate myself silently for being so tetchy and unwelcoming. I put it down to Jack leaving at such a crucial time. It takes me half the morning to shake off my feelings of disquiet. When Libby comes into my office she brings a surprise with her.
“I just signed for these beauties. They’re for you, honey.” She lays a huge stylish bouquet of ice-green Bells of Ireland and Arctic blue forget-me-nots, on my desk. They’re wrapped in cream chiffon and tied with a big coffee-coloured silk bow. The arrangement steals the breath from my lungs but in a good way.
“They’re beautiful. Irish Flowers and wild flowers together.” Wild and Irish. I beam.
“Do you think he’s trying to remind you of someone? Who’d have thought vivid greens and intense blues would look so amazing together.” Neither of us can take our eyes off them.
I run my eyes over the many cabbage-green bells on their tall structural spikes. Commanding yet not showy, they have impact and allure. They’re such perfect flowers to remind me of the man I’m missing so dreadfully. Woven throughout the gently arching stems are cascades of wild, frothy blue forget-me-nots. They’re the colour of Jack’s beautiful eyes. My wild, Irish man.
“He’s so thoughtful. He knew I’d be pining for him already.”
“He never picked those up on any petrol station forecourt,” Libby exclaims, touching them gently. “Flowers like these would have to be specially ordered. This was no afterthought. He planned it. Look how much he thinks about you. Lucky girl.”
“He must have ordered them as soon as he knew he had to fly to Singapore.”
“He’s gone to Singapore?”
“Only for a few days.” Three long, tedious, unbearable days. I blow out a sigh of frustration.
“You’ll miss him.” Libby doesn’t need to ask the question either. “Things will get pretty quiet without Jack Keogh around.”
“No kidding. I miss him already.” I’m beginning to think he’s showing me how impossible it would be for me to ever be able to walk away. How could I stand feeling like this for the rest of my miserable days?
Did he time the trip deliberately to deprive me, yet keep me anticipating our forthcoming weekend? It ramps up my longing to connect again. Is he still acting like the Boss, the ultimate CEO strategist who always gets what he goes after, in the end? Or is he simply being romantic and loving to the woman he really cares about, who doesn’t even trust him enough to accept it without question? I wish I could get beyond this suspicious nature of mine.
Have I been hurt so much, my heart won’t open? Won’t let go of its hard protective shell?
“Do we have any vases? I want them where I can see them.” To think about him and me. About us.
“I’ll fetch something. There’s a card too.” Libby heads off towards the kitchen.
I pull the card from the display and open the envelope. It’s handwritten by Jack and such a solicitous touch it melts my heart.
I’ll miss you so much, kitten. I know you’ll miss me too. Hope these show I think about you all the time. You’re the sun that brightens my dark Irish soul. A blue sky after a grey cloudy day. I trust you. Please trust me. Especially when I tell you I love you.
Forever, Jack x
So that was why he smiled. I got the words I wanted in the end and in such a spectacular, romantic way. I wish Jack was here. Why isn’t he here with me?
I take out my phone and send a text to thank him. After his spectacular gift to me, I feel pretty silly about the item I slipped into his luggage before Blackstock took Jack’s bags down to the car. He’ll think I’m a complete idiot.
I use the fact I can’t keep my mind off Jack to work on my presentation for the bid to win back Zee-Com’s advertising account. Whatever happens between us, I’m determined my company will thrive and one of the most important things I can do is recover Zee-Com’s professional trust in CaidCo. I gather the team together to work with me and as Zoe is practically champing at the bit to be a part of it all, I allow her to participate.
I almost forget the courier is returning to tell me what she’s managed to discover about the cash payment to Claridge’s until I hear the throaty roar of a motorbike outside.
“Can you show her to my office and offer her a drink?” I instruct Zoe. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Sure thing, Tabitha.”
I finish up with the bid team and go to find Zoe in animated conversation with Gail, the courier who’d agreed to help me. She was accompanied by an equally leather-bound companion. Zoe certainly seems keen to learn everything but I’m not sure I want her exploring this issue. It’s personal.
“Thanks, Zoe. I’ll take it from here.” I wait until she leaves, closing the door behind her. I’m glad to see the cans of coke on the desk. At least the girl can follow instructions. “Thanks for coming back, Gail. We can talk privately here.”
I pull the ring on a can for myself just to appear friendly. I’m too nervously keen to find out what she knows to swallow even a sip. This is where my investigation into Amanda’s involvement in my drugging either continues or comes to a grinding halt.
“I really appreciate this, Gail.”
“No worries.” She leans forward in her seat to shake my extended hand.
“Does your colleague know anything that can help me?” I presume that’s why he’s here and turn to the skinny young man sitting beside her and shake his hand too. A little bit of courtesy and respect can oil quite a few wheels, I’ve always found.
He blushes. “Steve.”
“Hi, Steve. Thanks for trying to help.”
“Cool.”
“What can you tell me?”
Steve speaks up. “I was the one who took the envelope of cash at the office and delivered it to the hotel as per instructions. The room booking, in your name, was already made.”
“By phone, I presume,” I speculate. Steve shrugs. “But you saw the person that brought the cash payment in?”
“Yeah, I did.”
My stomach flips. This is the moment of truth. It has to be Amanda.
Gail gives Steve a dig with her elbow. “Tell her then.” She sucks deeply on her can.
“Was it a woman?” I really need it to be Amanda. I so want to catch her out.
“Nuh. Some bloke.”
Damn. Of course, she’d never be that stupidly naïve. That’s my province. “Did you manage to capture him on security camera then?” Perhaps all security technology isn’t bad, I concede, thinking about Jack.
Steve digs inside his leather jacket and pulls out a printout. “Yeah, but not a clear picture. The security system at our place isn’t exactly up-to-the-minute.”
Unlike the one I have installed. Although currently non-operational, I presume. Or am I still being mistrustful? I focus back on the two people before me.
Steve hands the image across the desk. It’s a shot of a man, definitely, but only from an angled back view. It’s not much to go on. Despite peering and angling the paper to get a different perspective, I don’t recognise him.
“Don’t you know who he is?” Gail asks, as if I should.
“Not a clue.” I’m so disappointed.
She grins at me causing me to frown back at her. “What is it?”
“You ought to know.” She pauses and this time there’s no mistaking. It’s definitely for effect. “He seems to know you.”
Now I’m really confused. How can she make that presumption? I stare at the printout again and shake my head as I look back at her spreading smile. “What’s going on, Gail?”
I watch as she unfolds a magazine she has rolled up in her hand and flicks through to a particular page. When she finds what she’s looking for she spreads it out on the desk, swivelling it round to face me.
I stare down in horror. It’s one of those magazi
nes constructed entirely with photographs of society events and celebrity gossip. There, in full paparazzi glory, is a double-page spread of the night of the Commerce Ball. In the centre of all that sedate elegance of black and white couture is one gigantic picture of me in scarlet.
I can’t take my eyes away, reliving the shock of it. I’ve never allowed myself to explore the full horror of media frenzy that followed on from that night. I never even took a really close look when Brent Tapper had it splayed all over my computer as a screen saver. Instead I quickly deleted the evidence. This is the sort of stuff Jack reacted to when he dragged me back to Belvedere and decided to follow through with that sham damage-limitation engagement. Whatever he says.
I shut my eyes for a moment to centre myself.
I can still picture the rage on Jack’s face that morning; still feel the waves of fury crashing off his body into mine, like a stormy tide battering on the harbour wall, when he realised I’d allowed myself to be compromised so appallingly. I glance down again. There’s a huge photograph of Jack driving me against the wall, his hands all over me and his lips crushing mine. Right across the double page spread, in hideous comparison, is the shameful sight of Ben Gunn doing practically the same. His arms are wrapped tight as ropes around my squirming body and I have one awful flashback of him holding me against him as I fight to escape him, forcing his mouth onto mine. In the photograph my barren struggles look like the throes of passionate ecstasy.
I feel completely sick. Waves of nausea wash over me.
Even so long after the event, I’m absolutely mortified. I wonder Jack could even bring himself to speak to me again, let alone chase me to Lassec and bring me back. I look like a complete two-timing slut who couldn’t even wait for one night to pass before swapping sexual partners.
No wonder Jack went crazy. No wonder he jumped to conclusions when he caught me at the hotel. But it fires my resolve. I’m even more determined to get to the truth.
