Surely Jamie and Harry wouldn’t fall for his tricks? A hurried look at Jamie’s closed-off expression and his father’s bemused features unveiled nothing, and a surge of resentment swelled at the thought that they might be taken in. Even the most remote possibility of that happening could not be allowed. She had to find some way to make Roger reveal himself.
Heart racing like a tripped alarm, she steeled herself. ‘I don’t think we have anything left to discuss.’
For the tiniest instant, angry intolerance flared in his eyes then his mouth formed a sad smile. ‘Are you sure? I would have thought our son’s future was worth talking about.’
She could have screamed; he was acting so concerned when she knew damn well his interest in Drew was only as a weapon to use against her. She compressed her lips to stop the trembling as the chilling realisation of her total transparency set in. Her husband saw right through her attempt at defiance. There was only one way out of this no-win situation.
‘Okay, we’ll talk. In private.’ The idea of being alone with him was terrifying, but still preferable to this public farce.
‘Lead the way, sweetheart.’ The gracious sweep of one hand directly contrasted with the suggestive way his eyes lingered on her mouth then lowered to her breasts. Jamie and Harry, speaking in low tones, missed the wolfish grin that rippled her skin with revulsion. ‘Your room or mine, sweetheart?’
Uh oh. The evidence of lovemaking was all over her room: clothing cluttering the carpet, rumpled bedclothes, the lingering scent of sex on the sheets.
‘Yours. Mine, um, hasn’t been made up yet.’ She risked a look at Jamie, who returned her gaze with smoky-blue eyes afire with an unreadable message. What was going through his head? Pulse thumping in her throat, she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring nod, all the while wanting to kiss him so much her chest ached.
‘Suits me.’ Roger put out his hand and Harry, with a confirming glance her way, wordlessly handed him a key.
With a silent sigh of gratitude, she noted the room number was as far away from hers as it was possible to get. Careful to maintain a distance, she led her husband down the hallway to his door. He entered and left her to follow. She hesitated for only a second then braced herself. This had to be done.
The room was a mirror image of hers, a rounded cave-like space with walls of silicon-covered excavated earth and plush carpet underfoot. The wall lamps cast a warm glow, softening everything including Roger’s sharp but nonetheless good-looking features. The very nearness of him was enough to destroy her fragile composure but she forced back the fear fraying her nerves. The discussion that had to be had with this man she was still married to—much as she hated that fact—would require detachment and calm. Neither of which she possessed at the moment, but she’d do her utmost to keep it from showing.
While Roger deposited his suitcase on the bench, she perched on the edge of one of the large armchairs, heart thundering but face schooled into what was hopefully a mask of cool self-control. ‘Couldn’t discussing the divorce have waited until I got back to Sydney?’
Roger’s eyes fixed on her. The look came direct from the days of their marriage; a search for any weakness to leap upon and deal a verbal blow. She pulled her back up ramrod straight, refusing to give him the satisfaction of bending her to his will, even while unease continued to eat away inside her.
‘Yes, sweetheart, it could have, but when I found out where you were and figured out why you’d come here, I decided to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.’
His voice held no particular inflection, but the skin at the back of her neck tightened and a strange foreboding set her nerves fluttering. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re here for the opalised skeleton.’
Stunned disbelief swept over her, robbing her of breath and momentarily paralysing her thought processes. She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find any words that made sense. How the hell had he found out about Gracie?
When the numbness finally passed, her first instinct was to feign innocence. ‘What—what opalised skeleton?’
‘Oh, come on Gemma, I’m not stupid.’ His tone was one of deadly patience. ‘My boss has contacts everywhere searching out unique fossils for his private collection, including this godforsaken hole.’ He tossed an unimpressed glance around.
He had a contact here in Rainbow Cliffs? Who? A bitter taste soured her mouth. Surely not Lou?
‘Besides,’ he continued as he unpacked his clothes, ‘your boss as good as confirmed its existence by denying any knowledge of why you were out here.’
Fear clenched at her stomach. ‘You’ve seen Drew?’
‘No.’ He shrugged his lack of interest and she almost cried out in relief. ‘I caught Angela at work. She might be a good babysitter but she struggles with being less than truthful.’
Unexpected hurt swelled up, erupted. ‘Unlike you.’
‘Let’s not revisit the ugly past,’ he admonished. ‘Or try to change the subject.’ His eyes narrowed, interrogating her. ‘Have you seen the plesiosaur? Is it intact? Do you know who has it?’
The demands he fired at her shed at least a little light upon what he actually knew for certain. She knew better than to query him outright; Roger was almost pathologically secretive and direct questions were usually deflected. Clearly he was aware Gracie was a plesiosaur, but that’s all he appeared to know for fact and, thankfully, he had no idea Jamie was the one who’d uncovered her. She had to keep it that way.
Rather than answer with a barefaced lie, she slowly released a breath and attempted the same deflective ploy favoured by her ex. ‘I thought you wanted to discuss the divorce?’
He folded his arms across his broad chest and studied her, index finger tap-tapping at the thin line of his bottom lip, ice-grey eyes brooding. ‘I do.’
The almost immediate agreement took her by surprise. To keep her reaction from showing, she blurted out something that had been troubling her. ‘Before we start, did Angela tell you I was here?’
‘No, she didn’t,’ Roger headed into the bathroom, toiletries bag in hand. ‘But there isn’t anything I don’t know about your movements, Gemma,’ he called back over his shoulder.
A crevasse opened up inside and an icy shiver snaked its way up her spine. White-knuckled fingers gripped the armrests on either side of her.
Was he having her watched?
No doubt he had the means, working for this private collector of his, and she certainly wouldn’t put it past him. His entire life had always been one of manipulation.
He returned, and began pulling a suit bag from his case. ‘I like to keep track of my little family. For your own good.’
He made it sound so reasonable; control masquerading as concern that emphasised with a frightening strength the insidious nature of his emotional abuse. She felt sickened. ‘Our own good?’
In the act of hanging up his suit in the closet, he paused. ‘Of course. What if something happened to you while you were off gallivanting around the country? I’d need to know, wouldn’t I? I am Drew’s father, after all, and responsible for his wellbeing.’ The words, so softly spoken, culminated in a punishing glare.
Her insides plummeted. He’d hit on her most deep-seated fear—losing Drew—and he understood that all too well. In fact he clearly revelled in the knowledge. She fought down the panic pushing its way up into her throat. Breathe, Gemma. Breathe.
‘I ... I ... ’ She cringed inside at the return of the hateful, shaky tone.
‘What exactly are you trying to say, sweetheart?’ His pleasure at her distress showed on his face: the outwardly benign smile, the stare from his cold blue eyes. ‘That I’m right? And you’re sorry you questioned my motives?’ Without waiting for a response, he moved to stand in front of her, bent down and pinched her chin between his thumb and finger, forcing her to look into his eyes. ‘Apology accepted ... but don’t do it again.’ The flat delivery held more menace than if he’d yelled at her.
She sh
rank back from him. Oh, god. What level of idiot was she to have agreed to be alone with him? This was why she’d arranged for Drew to be picked up from Angela’s on access weekends; why she’d changed her mobile number, insisting email be their only method of communication. If she didn’t have to face him she could convince herself he no longer had power over her. How naive, how bloody stupid.
But then, what choice had she had? Whether she wanted to or not, the details of the settlement arrangements had to be discussed, and airing their dirty laundry in front of Jamie and Harry wasn’t an option.
‘I’m disappointed in you, Gemma.’ He let her go with a disapproving snort. ‘You really should have informed me you’d left our son with Angela. Again. This is—what?—the third time in the last six months?’
The guilt arrow he fired at her hit home, stinging with a bite that invoked an instant and unstoppable reaction. She jumped to her feet. ‘You know how much it hurts me to leave Drew, but my job requires it. I talk with him every day. He understands I don’t want to be away from him and that I’ll be home soon. Besides that, he loves staying with Angela.’ The rationalisations streamed out, a desperate attempt to justify herself.
He casually shook his head as he zipped closed his suitcase. ‘Is neglecting our son really worth it, your pursuit of this oh-so-important career?’
Was it?
‘Yes. I mean, no. I—I mean, I’m not neglecting Drew.’ To her distress, her voice quavered uncontrollably.
‘Well, which is it, sweetheart? Yes or no?’
When she hesitated again, Roger smirked. An overfilled balloon of pure resentment burst inside her. ‘I love my job and, hard as you tried to convince me otherwise, I’m damn good at it. My leaving Drew on the odd occasion is to provide him with a better life in the long run. If you paid even half of what you’re supposed to for child maintenance, things might be different.’ She sucked down a gasp. Had she gone too far?
Roger studied her, his eyes at first angry then narrowing in thought. ‘I gather life as a single mother isn’t all you’d hoped. That’s a shame, but there is a solution to that.’
She sank back into the armchair. ‘Yes, there is. It involves you actually paying maintenance instead of making unfulfilled promises through your boss’s lawyers.’
With the sweep of a hand he dismissed her remark. ‘Let’s not get into a discussion about the legalities of working for a foreign employer.’ He deposited his empty suitcase on the built-in bench then turned to face her, his chin tilted arrogantly up. ‘Our divorce isn’t official for another two weeks. It can be rescinded. If you agree to remain married—’
‘What?’ Utter shock tore the word from her throat. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
He moved towards her, his hands in a gesture of supplication. ‘I don’t want the divorce to go ahead, Gemma. We were good together. I didn’t realise how good until it was too late. I’ve learned from that. Please give me another chance.’ His velvety voice held just the right amount of contrition, but she’d been here before, totally taken in—face it, manipulated like a puppet on a string—by his pleas, his assurances of being a changed man. It never lasted.
And now she had Jamie—her first love, the only man she’d ever truly loved—back in her life. Just the thought of him gave her the strength she needed.
Heart thudding hard and fast, she jumped to her feet. ‘Our marriage is over.’
He followed her step for step as she backed away. When she hit the wall he placed his arms on either side, trapping her, and then leaned in with an indulgent smile. ‘But I miss you ... I miss us.’
He was close. Too close. And she couldn’t breathe without breathing him in. A suffocating pressure convulsed her chest and she had to pant to keep from drowning in the pall of his aftershave. It was too much. He was lying and she was sick of walking on eggshells around him.
‘Stop!’ She shoved him away. ‘What’s the real reason behind this?’
The smile slid from his face, quickly replaced by annoyed resignation; he’d been caught out and he knew it. ‘Okay, okay. I’ve got myself into a ... situation.’
‘What sort of situation?’
‘My boss isn’t aware of it but I’ve been sleeping with his daughter,’ he snapped impatiently.
If he expected his admission to affect her in any way, he was badly mistaken. She was long past that; he’d been a player throughout their marriage and a leopard didn’t change its spots. ‘And you feel the need to tell me that, why?’
‘I’m getting to it.’ His voice held a warning, a reminder not to challenge him. ‘Vanessa has it in her head I’ll marry her when the divorce becomes final.’ He shrugged his shoulders and sneered in his hateful, superior way. ‘I’m not interested. The girl’s pretty enough, but she’s also a headstrong, spoiled brat. The thing is, if I don’t follow through she’ll tell her father what’s been going on and get me fired. I have to find a way out.’ His face hardened. ‘I figure staying married is the best option.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘What’s not to understand, Gemma? She’ll eventually get sick of waiting and move on. I’ll act all broken-hearted and keep my job,’ he explained, not even a trace of guilt or regret in the tone.
Her face must have betrayed her disgust; his return withering glare dared her to say something. She cringed inwardly, knowing that speaking up would only poke the bear but with fear and outrage vying for dominance, outrage won out.
‘You continue to prop up your insatiable ego by leading yet another young woman on and you expect to use me to get out of it? Oh Roger, this is a new low, even for you.’
He carefully smoothed out a wrinkle on the bedspread with one hand. ‘But you’ll do it.’ The order was issued through gritted teeth.
‘What? No!’
Roger rose from the bed, flicking off her words with a sneer. ‘Well, well. Look who thinks she’s grown some balls.’
Heart still thundering so hard he must be able to hear it, she stood her ground as he approached, his mouth in a tight-lipped grin, eyes cold. She whacked away the hand he reached out. ‘Touch me and I’ll scream. Jamie will be here in seconds.’
‘Ah, now we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty. You haven’t grown balls, after all. No need when you’re holding your old boyfriend by his.’
‘It’s not like that,’ she said, fighting a losing battle to keep the tremor from her voice.
‘What is it like then? Tell me.’
Her words gushed out, an unstoppable torrent. ‘It’s wonderful. Perfect and loving and—and a whole lot more satisfying than our marriage ever was.’
Face contorted with fury, her husband grabbed her arm with one hand and made a fist with the other to tilt her chin up. ‘So you two are having it off?’
It was too late to take the words back. She nodded, swallowing loudly, preparing for the physical attack.
It didn’t come.
He released her and stepped back. ‘You leave me no choice, Gemma.’ His voice was ominously low and she shivered. ‘If you refuse to help me, I’m going for sole custody of Drew.’
The softly spoken threat hit like a punch. She sank to the edge of the bed, her stomach curled into a ball so tight she could hardly breathe. ‘You—you can’t. You’ve got no grounds. I’m a good mother.’ The tone was shrill, each word a struggle.
He gave a bitter, knowing smile, sending another chill rippling up her spine. ‘Does a good mother refuse counselling to try to save her marriage? You did. Does a good mother abandon her son to be with her boyfriend for a few days of recreational sex? You did. Oh believe me, Gemma, my lawyers will ensure I’ve got sufficient grounds.’
Whether he was right or not, the force of his words made her uncertain. What would she do if she lost her baby? Her heart squeezed in on itself, sending a surge of hot blood racing through her body—mother instinct kicking in. The safety of her child was under threat.
She knew what she had to do.
‘Drew is not your so
n.’
Astonishment crossed his face. A heavy silence settled between them as he studied her, his gaze unwavering. ‘Good try, Gemma, he said, finally, ‘but I don’t believe you.’
‘It’ll be easy enough to verify with a paternity test.’ The hard edge to her voice, despite feeling dizzy and sickened at her admission, surprised her.
‘I knew you couldn’t be trusted,’ he spat out, white-faced with rage. ‘So who’s the father?’
She shook her head in refusal, stared wordlessly at him as he puzzled through it. When the answer struck he looked so shaken that for a moment she almost felt sorry for him. But then he barked a short mirthless laugh and turned on her, his eyes bright with hostility. ‘Got to hand it to you, Gemma, you certainly fooled me. You and your boyfriend must have enjoyed some great laughs over the years, fooling me into believing Drew is mine.’
‘Jamie has no idea.’ The words were out before she knew what she was saying.
‘I see.’ Her husband’s eyes probed hers, calculating. ‘I think it’s about time he learned, don’t you?’ He headed for the door.
Oh god, what had she done?
‘Roger, no don’t, please!’
He stopped and turned. ‘What? You don’t want him told?’
‘I don’t know. I ... no, not like this,’ she cried, her quivering tone making her sick to her stomach. ‘At least let him hear it from me, not you.’
Arms folded across his chest, he leaned back against the door, in command once more. ‘On one condition. My silence for your agreement to stay married to me for the foreseeable future. All you have to do is sign this.’ He waved a form in front of her swimming eyes.
‘What is it?’
‘An Application in a Case.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘Sign it, and it means there’ll be no divorce. I’ll sweeten the deal by agreeing for you to have sole custody of our—sorry, I mean your son. I want nothing more to do with him.’
Blackmail.
Sole custody of her beautiful boy, the possibility to be rid of—in all but name—this man who’d treated her so abominably. In return she’d be granted a stay of execution on telling Jamie the truth about Drew. Would it be worth it?
Falling In Love Again Page 16
