by Lucy Clark
Dart put both his arms around her, drawing her closer, inhaling her scent and forcing himself to remain calm. It was different and it was Emerson’s world, not his. He had known things would be different when they returned to Australia, just hadn’t expected things to be this different. He had no idea what the night was going to contain but the fact that he could hold Emmy close went a long way to helping him deal with the prying eyes they would no doubt encounter.
When they reached their destination, it was to find they were at Manly, near where the ferry docked. They left the limousine and quickly ran to board the Manly ferry, which would take them into the city, going between the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House, docking at Circular Quay. Being night-time, everything was lit up, glowing brightly, and Dart did appreciate its beauty. It was nothing, however, in comparison to the way Emmy’s face lit up with delight at being able to show him around.
They stood at the rail, looking out across the water, Emmy pointing out interesting landmarks and recounting memories while Dart looked at her. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she asked, turning to face him.
‘Absolutely.’
Emmy blushed shyly. ‘Dart, you’re not even looking at the sights.’
‘Yes, I am.’ He leaned forward. ‘I’m looking at the most important sight to me.’ He brushed his lips against hers, unable to get enough of this incredible woman. After the ferry docked, they took a taxi to Darling Harbour, content just to be with each other. Dart was just starting to feel a little more relaxed when a flash went off behind them. He turned and looked over his shoulder and, sure enough, there was a photographer.
‘Just ignore him,’ Emmy said softly, having felt Dart’s arm tighten around her shoulders. On the short monorail trip to Darling Harbour they received quite a few interested glances and Dart was sure he heard one woman whisper, ‘Isn’t that Emerson Jofille? The socialite?’
He clenched his jaw and tucked his emotions deep down inside. As they strolled around the science museum, a few people even stopped Emmy and asked to have a photograph taken with her. Dart politely refused to join in.
‘Things will settle down,’ Emmy said again as they entered a small, quiet Italian restaurant. The owner greeted her with such friendliness that Dart gathered the impression she ate here quite often. When she introduced him, the owner clasped his hands warmly.
‘Dr Freeman, we are honoured to have you and dear Emmy as our guests tonight. Come. I have a quiet table where you will not be bothered.’ As they were led to a candlelit table near the rear of the restaurant, Dart couldn’t help but notice there were quite a few other well-known people eating there—politicians and stars of the stage and screen.
‘See? We’re not the most important people in the world,’ Emmy pointed out once they were left alone, sipping glasses of excellent wine. She took his hand in hers. ‘Just the most important to each other.’
Dart slowly found himself relaxing and even when other patrons came over to greet Emmy quite warmly, he wasn’t annoyed. After enjoying a fantastic meal, being invited back to the kitchen to personally thank the chefs—something he’d never done in his life—Dart started to think that perhaps he and Emmy could make a go of a relationship after all.
They sneaked out through the rear kitchen door into a back alley filled with bins and scraps. ‘Voilà!’ Emmy waved her hand with a flourish as she stepped over cabbage leaves on the ground. ‘I give you the real lifestyles of the rich and famous.’
‘It most certainly is different,’ Dart agreed, slipping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to him. As they headed out of the alley, back to the main streets, Emmy once more pointing things out, Dart started to become aware that they were being followed. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that there were at least four men, all with cameras around their necks, dogging their steps.
‘Em,’ he said, interrupting what she was saying. ‘We have company.’
Emmy sighed. ‘It’s not usually this difficult for me to enjoy a night out.’ She spoke quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Dart. Best we deal with them and give them what they want.’ She slowed her steps.
‘What do they want?’
‘Pictures? Interviews? The juicy details on who you are and what you do.’
‘I’m not the person of interest here. You are.’ The tightness was back in his body, the annoyance returning to his tone. Emmy knew she couldn’t expect miracles in one night and where she thought he’d been nice and relaxed in the restaurant, perhaps coming to see that this was indeed her life, she wondered whether it hadn’t been the calm before the storm.
When she turned to face the paparazzi, Dart dropped his arm from her shoulders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Emmy felt instantly sad and bereft at the way he was withdrawing from her, not only in a physical sense but also on an emotional level.
‘Hi.’ She pasted on a smile for the cameras, stepping slightly in front of Dart in order to shield him from the flashes that were now going off, left, right and centre. ‘How are you all tonight?’ she asked in that polite tone Dart had heard her use on several occasions.
As he watched her talk to the photo-journalists, listening to the way she evasively answered their questions, laughing with them and giving them what they wanted without really revealing a thing, Dart felt completely out of his depth.
This was Emerson’s world. Emerson-Rose Jofille, socialite, television presenter and daughter to business mogul Sebastian Jofille. She wasn’t his Emmy. Here, in her beloved Sydney, she couldn’t be the woman she’d revealed to him in Tarparnii. With him by her side she’d be in the papers more than ever and while he felt so uncomfortable now as the flashes continued to go off, the journalists more than a little curious about him and how he fitted into Emmy’s life, the earlier sense he’d had that they might be able to work out a future started to disappear.
This was Emerson’s world. Not his.
As her driver Tom pulled the car up at the rear of his hotel, Dart turned to look at Emmy.
‘Sorry to cut the night short,’ he said. They were sitting side by side in the rear of the limo. Dart wanted space to figure things out and wrap his head around the events of this crazy evening. ‘I know there were more things you wanted to show me.’
‘It’s fine.’ She wished he’d draw her close; she wished she wasn’t able to read the ‘stay back’ sign above his head so clearly.
‘You’re lying,’ he said easily and without malice. ‘I can tell because you’re wearing your polite smile, but thank you anyway.’
‘I guess tonight didn’t go exactly as I’d planned. I’m sorry, Dart. I didn’t realise we’d get that much interest.’ How many times did she need to apologise for being who she was? It wasn’t as though she’d planned to have the paparazzi follow them around.
‘Perhaps you always have that many photographers trailing after you and you’re simply used to it. You handle them very well.’
She shrugged, not wanting his praise but wanting his arms about her, his mouth on hers, so she could lose herself in the sensations they created. She also wanted his reassurance that he would stick around, that he’d wait out the inquisitive storm of the general public and choose to be with her. ‘I’ve been raised to handle them well.’ Her tone was again polite.
He nodded. ‘OK.’ Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The space around them filled with an uncomfortable silence.
‘Dart?’
‘I’d better go.’
They spoke in unison and before Dart put his hand on the doorhandle, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. ‘Thanks for an…interesting night.’
‘Dart?’ Emmy couldn’t help herself and reached out to grab his arm. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ She hated the way he was making her feel, hated it that she wasn’t in control of her emotions.
‘I’ll be at PMA again for most of the day—paperwork.’
‘After that? We’ll do something quiet. Together. The two of us.’
�
�Hmm.’ He sounded as though he didn’t believe her. ‘Bye.’ He kissed her again and this time climbed from the limo and shut the door.
Emmy sat there for a moment, biting her lip, her mind working quickly. She loved Dart and she was almost sure he loved her back but was too apprehensive to admit it. She needed to find a way to prove to him that she was serious about being with him, serious about finding a way they could be together where they could both be themselves with no paparazzi, no passers-by asking for photographs and no journalists bugging them for interviews.
After a moment she picked up her mobile phone and pressed a speed-dial number. As she waited for the person to pick up the phone, she slid the partition down between herself and her driver.
‘The Blue Room wine bar, please, Tom,’ she instructed. ‘Ah, Felix,’ she said as her call was answered. ‘Can we meet?’
Dart headed to his room, startled when the hotel manager, Mr Pfeiffer, appeared at his side again.
‘You’re back earlier than expected, Dr Freeman,’ the man said. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of moving you to one of our more elite rooms. This way, if you please, sir.’
Dart stopped dead in his tracks. ‘You did what?’
The hotel manager faltered. ‘We’ve upgraded your room, sir. I’ve had the concierge move your belongings. Don’t worry, nothing was damaged. I supervised the entire event.’
Dart clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, unable to believe what was happening. He opened his eyes, about to demand they put everything back into the room he’d booked when a photographer came along the hotel corridor and snapped his picture. ‘Lead the way,’ he said, his priority now to lock himself away from all prying eyes.
The instant his hotel room door closed behind him, Dart leaned against it, flicking the plastic key-card onto the desk. There were fresh flowers in vases on every table, the room almost smelt like a florist’s. There was champagne chilling and a box of chocolates with little complimentary cards attached. No doubt the hotel manager had expected him to return with Emerson in tow.
Dart pushed this crazy night to the back of his mind and headed to the bed, kicking off his shoes. He slumped down and flicked on the television, willing to watch anything so long as it took his mind off his immediate dilemma.
The one thing he’d realised tonight, even after seeing Emmy in her world, and realising that he didn’t belong there, was that he was definitely in love with her—the way she made him feel during their conversations, the way she touched his hand, the way she snuggled into him, the way she filled the void in his life. What he felt for her was stronger than anything he’d felt before, even for Marta, and that surprised him.
He loved Emerson-Rose and that only gave him bigger problems to deal with.
When he woke, to a knock at the door, it was to find the television still on and him still dressed in his clothes from last night.
The knock at the door came again, this time accompanied by the call of ‘Room Service’.
Dart flicked off the television and headed to the door. ‘I didn’t order any—’ he started to say as he opened the door, but in came a waiter, wheeling a small table with silver food covers. Dart stopped talking, waiting for the waiter to do his job of setting things up, a curious glint in the young man’s eyes as he personally handed Dart a morning tabloid paper.
‘Have a good breakfast, Dr Freeman,’ the waiter said before disappearing.
Dart threw the paper down on the bed, barely glancing at it, but a second later he did a double-take, eyes widening as the photograph on the front page caught his attention. The phone on the desk started to ring but he ignored it.
The words ‘Emmy’s Love Triangle’ were blazoned across the front of the paper. Below were two pictures. One was of Emmy and himself as they’d exited the Italian restaurant and the other was of Emmy sitting at a flashy Sydney bar, drink in her hand, smiling engagingly at another man.
Chapter Thirteen
EMERSON thanked the woman at the airport check-in desk before hitching her bag more firmly onto her shoulder. She was clutching her boarding pass. She walked to the boarding gate and sat down in a chair, not seeing anyone around her, not caring. Two full days had passed since she’d dropped Dart off at his hotel and she hadn’t heard one word from him.
When she’d contacted the hotel the following morning after their date, she’d been informed by the manager himself that Dr Freeman had checked out. Emerson had been shocked and without asking anything else had disconnected the call. Where was he? Why hadn’t he said anything to her? She didn’t know if Dart had a cellphone or not. She didn’t know where he lived in Brisbane or how to contact him other than through PMA. They’d been so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t even exchanged basic information.
So she’d called PMA, only to be told that Dr Freeman had cancelled his appointments for the next few days and had headed back to Brisbane. Even though Emerson had received clearance from PMA to work in Tarparnii and even though she was a well-known celebrity, PMA weren’t legally able to pass on Dart’s contact information. They could, however, pass on a message for him to call her.
After she’d put down the phone, completely perplexed, confused and very hurt about Dart’s sudden departure from Sydney, she’d picked up the morning tabloid and had nearly hyperventilated from the shock at what was splattered across the front page.
‘“Emmy’s love triangle”?’ She didn’t even bother to scan the article, the pictures told her enough. Dart had probably taken one look at that and all but sprinted to the airport. Not only was he on the front page of the paper, the picture of her with Felix looked as though she’d gone from one man to the next.
Emmy had called PMA, had been assured that a message had been sent through to Dr Freeman. She’d received no call in return. She’d called three teaching hospitals in the Brisbane area and had finally found the one where Dart was a consultant. Thinking she’d hit the jackpot, she’d been told that Dr Freeman was unable to take her calls and that a message would be passed to him.
That was two whole days ago and now Emmy had had enough of him not returning her calls and was taking matters into her own hands. She was going to Brisbane, to sit stubbornly in the hospital until Dart agreed to talk to her.
‘Miss Jofille?’
Emmy looked up at the flight attendant, bringing her thoughts back to the present. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you all right?’ The woman held out a tissue to Emmy and it was only then that she realised she had tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘Uh…’ Emmy accepted the tissue and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Thank you. Sorry. Just thinking.’
‘They don’t seem to have been happy thoughts.’ The woman’s tone was sympathetic and Emmy knew she didn’t have to say anything. Her life, or her life according to the media, had been a hot topic for the gossips for the past few days.‘Here,’ the woman said. ‘Come with me.’ She led Emmy to a small room with a little kitchenette. ‘You can sit in here and wait, if you like. I’ll come and get you once the plane is ready for boarding.’
‘You’re very kind. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure. Help yourself to tea and coffee.’ The woman smiled before closing the door and leaving Emmy alone.
Emmy sat down, feeling drained, desolated and depressed. How could Dart have left just like that? Why hadn’t he given her the opportunity to at least explain the picture in the paper? Why hadn’t he trusted her? Why hadn’t he told her that he loved her?
A fresh bout of tears started to prick behind her eyes and she quickly sniffed them away. She’d cried enough during the past few days but had found that if she kept busy, she could keep the tears at bay. Standing, she headed to the sink and made herself a cup of tea. She’d just taken a sip when the door opened and she realised her plan to enjoy a relaxing drink in order to steady her nerves before she confronted Dart was lost.
‘If you’d just like to wait in here,’ Emmy could hear the same flight attendant saying. ‘I’ll go make sure you have a
paparazzi-free path to the front of the airport.’
‘I don’t really care about that,’ a deep male voice said. Emmy looked at the doorway, her hands starting to tremble, her breath catching in her throat, her heart trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement as she recognised that gorgeous, wonderful, sexy voice. She quickly set the cup on the sink so she didn’t scald herself and turned to face Dart.
‘I need to get—’ Dart stopped speaking as he came further into the room and saw her standing there. ‘Emmy! What are you doing here?’
‘Me? What are you doing here?’ she countered, her anger and annoyance, due to his departure, coming to the fore.
‘I’ve come back to see you.’ He frowned. ‘How did you know I’d be here? I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.’
‘Seems to be a habit of yours.’
‘You’re angry.’ Dart slowly lowered his carry-on luggage to the floor and took a step closer, not even realising the flight attendant had left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. All he was conscious of was the way Emmy looked. So good. So incredible. So…his Emmy.
‘You’re darned right I’m angry. How could you just disappear like that? How could you put me through the pain of not knowing where you were?’ Tears started to well rapidly in her eyes and she dabbed at them with the tissue, angry at herself for not being cool, calm and collected. ‘I called the hotel only to be told that you’d checked out. PMA wouldn’t pass along your details and I had no way of contacting you and…’ She stopped, hiccupping over her words as she tried desperately to control the tears. She failed. Covering her face with her hands, the floodgates opened.
