‘They speak through their lawyers.’
Merida could hear a baby crying in the background and Naomi spoke again.
‘I have to go.’
Those lusty sounds of a newborn’s cries terrified Merida.
She had no money, no job, and no real idea what to do when she got back to England.
She couldn’t land on her friend. Naomi went from job to job, house-sitting or staying at bed and breakfasts in between.
And she thought of herself arriving unannounced at either of her parents’ homes but just couldn’t picture it.
So she looked up prices for airport hotels and was suddenly angry.
Angry at Ethan Devereux, who had walked away from her without so much as a backward glance.
Furious at a man who lived such a slutty life that his PA played gatekeeper to his calls.
And as she packed her case on the day she was leaving her temper bubbled over and she tried to call again.
‘Tell him,’ Merida said when she heard the well-worn line that Ethan Devereux didn’t take unscheduled calls, ‘that Miss Cartwright is leaving for London tonight and that what comes next is his doing.’
‘Now, listen. Don’t start threatening—’
‘No,’ Merida said. ‘You listen. If he won’t take my call, then he can deal with my lawyer.’
Big words indeed when she could barely afford a cab, but her words were borne of anger, fear and frustration, and the doctrines of her upbringing.
She had tried to speak with him face to face. Tried to sort it out with him like two rational adults.
Well, they could do it from opposite sides of the Atlantic now.
It was his fault!
And then Merida burst into tears, because she had never wanted it to come to that. She wanted to call Helene and retract her words, but it was too late.
And it was far too late for them.
Merida looked at the time and saw that she had to leave.
Instead of the yoga pants and baggy T-shirt that she had pulled on in preparation for the flight, Merida couldn’t help but think about the gorgeous black velvet dress she should be wearing tonight.
In the life she was leaving behind she would be about to make her way to the theatre, where flowers would be starting to arrive for the cast.
Merida had dreamt of this day for most of her life, but instead she was hauling her suitcase down the dingy stairwell and going into the restaurant to hand in her keys.
‘Ah, Merida!’ Maria gave her a hug and told her she would miss her. ‘Mi mancherai!’
‘I’ll miss you too,’ Merida said.
And she would.
Not just Maria but the whole city, which had truly won her heart.
She hailed a cab and once inside looked out of the window to the city that had been home for more than a year.
The home where she’d almost made it.
In a cruel twist, as if to remind her of all she was missing out on, the driver took her through the theatre district. And, rather than close her eyes, as perhaps she should, Merida looked out at the theatre. It was still a while until curtain up, but there were crowds starting to gather, all there to capture the star-studded opening night.
And, yes, flowers were starting to arrive.
It killed her not to be a part of it, Merida thought. It truly did. She would never have a chance like this again.
It would be nappies and sleepless nights and trying to juggle childcare while working at a job she didn’t love.
But she would love her baby.
Merida already did love it. Had she not, then she’d be getting ready to appear on stage.
Her hand moved to the slight swell of her stomach.
It wasn’t her baby’s fault and she must always remember that.
Never, ever must her child know how hard it had been to leave her Broadway dream behind.
Never.
It was done, it was gone, and it was time to move forward now.
She would contact Ethan again from England.
CHAPTER EIGHT
OPENING NIGHT.
The Devereux men, impossibly handsome, especially in their tuxedos, did not smile for the cameras as they climbed out of their cars and stood on the red carpet.
Abe had brought the long-suffering though ever hopeful Candice, who turned a blind eye to his numerous affairs in the hope, Ethan assumed, of a ring.
Jobe had not got back with Chantelle.
Ethan had not bothered to bring anyone.
There was no point.
Lately, since his father’s diagnosis, all Ethan’s dates had been taken home by his driver. Or rather, since that night with Merida. But he chose not to think of it like that.
Ethan did not do sentimental. He never had, and still swore that he never would, but being at the theatre was proving difficult tonight.
He missed her.
No, he told himself. Things had just been difficult of late.
Despite the dire diagnosis, Jobe’s sheer bloody-mindedness meant that he was at his desk most days, but at least the board knew now.
As they walked down the red carpet all eyes were on Jobe. He held up to the scrutiny well, but there could no denying his dramatic weight loss. And Ethan could hear him a touch breathless as they made their way up the stairs to their box.
It was a gorgeous old theatre, and as they took their seats the audience beneath craned their necks for a glimpse of the stunning Devereux men. They funded a lot of arts projects, and Ethan had also been made aware that the lead performer and several of the chorus had come through a dance school that they sponsored.
Ethan took a belt of Scotch and then thumbed through the programme. A flash of red in the photos caught his eye.
Her hair was always a stand-out, and even with the heavy make-up he would have known her anywhere.
Ethan was quite sure it was her.
She was dressed in black and knelt over another actor, a wicked smile playing on her face.
Merida hadn’t just been dreaming about Broadway. It would seem she really had made it!
He thumbed through the playbill and found her a few paragraphs down from the main leads.
Merida Cartwright—Belladonna
He read about her and found out that most of it he knew—she was from England and had an Art History and Drama degree. She had been acting since the age of twelve, when she had been cast in the chorus of a major West End production.
Ethan managed a wry smile at the omission, given he knew that she hadn’t actually made it to the show.
He read on about how, since moving to New York City, she had appeared in an Off-Off-Broadway production, and then found that he was properly smiling as he read she had also appeared in a prime-time TV show.
Merida must have got the part.
He thought back to the morning of her audition and how it seemed as if that was the last time the sun had properly shone.
Yes, it had been cold and foggy that morning, but it had felt to Ethan as if the sun had shone that day.
Even if it was summer now, the world seemed grey. Work had been hellish of late, with Ethan back and forth between New York and Dubai. And, despite his brusque appearance, he did miss Merida.
He’d caved once and called the gallery, under the guise of ordering a rug.
After a little probing a somewhat bitter man had told him that Merida had moved on to better things, and that she’d just been using the gallery as a stepping stone.
Good for her, Ethan had thought.
There was an announcement reminding everyone to switch off their cell-phones and he saw there was a missed call from Helene, but he chose to ignore it and turned off his phone.
If only his mind was as easy to switch off.
Ethan found that he couldn’
t wait for the curtain to lift and to see Merida again. He’d missed her far more than he dared to admit.
He’d take flowers to her after the performance, Ethan decided. He’d have no trouble getting backstage. And then, after the after-party, they would have a party of their own.
It had been weeks.
No, it had been months.
Four months, in fact, of sleeping alone.
Well, that ended tonight.
Ethan sat silent as the lights dimmed a notch, but then frowned when he heard another announcement.
‘Tonight, the part of Belladonna will be played by Sabine...’
It made no sense.
It was her opening night on Broadway, for God’s sake. No way would she miss it—unless she was sick, or she really had broken a leg. Or perhaps she was playing another part tonight.
The curtain was pulled back and the music struck up and he found that he was scouring the performers for Merida. When it was clear she was not performing Ethan knew that he could not sit through the show.
‘Where are you going?’ Abe frowned as his brother quietly stood.
Ethan didn’t know.
He slipped out to where the drinks were being set up for the interval, but of course none of the staff there knew anything.
He thought of going backstage to find out what the hell was going on—because something was. There was no way Merida would miss this.
Instead he headed the short distance to her home, but of course there was no answer at her door Then he remembered her giving the owner of the restaurant a wave.
‘Merida...’ The Italian owner shook her head. ‘You just missed her.’
‘When will she be back?’
‘No, no. She gone back to England.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
Back out on the street, Ethan did what he always did on the rare occasions when he had no clue what to do and called his ultra-efficient PA.
‘Helene, I need you to find out what flight a woman named Merida Cartwright is on...’
‘She flies tonight,’ Helene said.
‘How do you know?’
‘That’s why I rang. She’s called a couple of times and I’ve always put her off...’
‘Put her off? Why didn’t you put her through?’
‘When did that policy change?’ the assertive Helene checked. ‘Am I now to put through every woman who calls you?’
‘No,’ Ethan conceded. ‘So what did she say?’’
‘Well, she was angry. She said that she was leaving for England and...’ Helene hesitated.
‘Go on.’
He knew then the reason Merida had missed performing tonight. He knew it down to his bones, and what Helene said next only confirmed it.
‘She said to let you know that you’d be hearing from her lawyer.’
There was a moment of silence, and not just from Ethan. It was as if every car on the street had suddenly switched off its engine, every siren dimmed and every conversation around him had suddenly stilled.
Then he snapped into business mode. ‘Send me her number,’ Ethan said. His voice was utterly even, despite the fact his heart was galloping.
She didn’t pick up.
He spoke to Helene again as he walked to his car. ‘Find out her flight details.’
‘Ethan—’
‘Just do what you can.’ He got into the back and gave instructions to his driver. ‘JFK,’ Ethan said, and then wondered if she might be at LaGuardia.
‘Sure...’ Edmund drove off. ‘Arrivals?’
‘No—Departures.’
Such a horrible word, Ethan thought.
‘Do you know the airline?’
‘No.’ Ethan gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘I just know that the flight is tonight, to London...’
But so were several others.
‘Gatwick or Heathrow or...?’
‘I don’t know!’ he almost shouted, and for Ethan that was rare. He didn’t often raise his voice to get action, but his frustration wasn’t aimed at his driver, more at himself. ‘I’ve got Helene looking into it. Hopefully we’ll know more by the time we get there.’
He saw the grim look on his driver’s face at the lack of forthcoming information. And it was merited. Edmund was right to be concerned as there were endless terminals at the airport. Ethan lived in a world of private jets and first-class flights, where there was no standing in a long, snaking line. He simply rocked up to the private lounge and strolled onto his flight.
Tensions didn’t improve when the ever-efficient Helene called back to say that Merida’s cell-phone still wasn’t responding. ‘She might already be on board or have changed her SIM.’
‘Keep trying,’ Ethan said, but though his voice remained steady, hopelessness gripped his throat like a claw.
He ripped open his bow tie. As the car sped through the tunnel he raked his memory of the day he had been in her apartment and saw the tag on her suitcase in his mind’s eye. Perhaps if this was the return trip of that same ticket...?
He told his driver what was hopefully the carrier of her flight. It narrowed it down—though not by much.
He just hoped to hell she hadn’t already gone.
* * *
Merida was finally at the front of a very long check-in line. The airport was noisy and packed, and her flight was delayed, but finally things were moving.
She still didn’t know if she was doing the right thing by heading home. Leaving was agony. Not just her career, but the life and the friends she had made.
And by leaving she was removing absolutely any tiny, slim chance that Ethan might look her up again.
He’d had months to do that, Merida reminded herself.
She had the start of a headache. Once her case was checked in she’d find a shop—though she wasn’t sure what she could take that wouldn’t affect the baby.
The baby!
She jolted whenever she said that to herself. It still didn’t feel real.
And nor did the sound of Ethan calling her name.
‘Merida!’
She turned and there he was. Impossibly beautiful, suited but with his tie undone. His black eyes met and held hers as he impatiently indicated her to come over.
‘Miss...?’
She was finally being called to check in.
Ethan’s eyes didn’t leave hers, but in the moments before she had seen him the fact she was pregnant had been silently confirmed.
She was thin—too thin, really—but her breasts were bigger than they had been. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and her face was far too pale under the bright fluorescent lights.
It should have been a spotlight, Ethan thought to himself as he made his way over. She should have been on that stage when the curtain went up, not standing washed out with a case by her side about to leave.
‘Come on,’ Ethan said, as if he simply expected her to follow him out to the waiting car.
Which he did.
‘I have to check in. I’ve got a plane to catch,’ Merida said.
‘Not now you don’t.’
‘Miss!’ People were pushing past her and she was being told to move.
‘I have to go.’
‘Merida.’
His voice was incredibly cutting, and very firm, and she got a glimpse of the tough businessman she had heard he was.
‘You called me threating lawyers.’
Now his eyes dusted her body and she squirmed under his scrutiny—but not in the way she once had. His gaze told her that he knew.
‘I would say that we have rather a lot to talk about, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, we do. But I’m not like you, Ethan. I can’t just get another flight on a whim.’
She didn’t have the money to book another o
ne, and it scared her to think of simply walking away from her ticket home.
‘Merida, if you don’t come now, heaven help me, I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you to the car.’
He would.
Absolutely he would.
But he took a breath then, and did his best to fight fair. ‘If we can’t come to a suitable agreement I’ll arrange another ticket home for you.’
Merida didn’t know if she believed him, but she knew they at least had to try. She reminded herself of what she’d told Naomi—he’d always been a perfect gentleman with her—and so she nodded.
He took the handle of her case and negotiated it through the crowds far more easily than she had.
His car was there, waiting, and though she did not tell him so it actually felt like a relief to climb inside and have him join her. In recent weeks Merida had felt so incredibly alone.
The traffic was heavy and it was a slow drive back. They didn’t speak much.
On the drinks console she could see the theatre programme mocking her.
‘You were at the theatre?’
‘Yes,’ he responded tartly.
‘Did you find out I’d got a part...?’
He saw hope flare then—that he’d found out she was performing, that he’d gone to see her—but Ethan quickly quashed it. Certainly he would not be revealing how it had felt to see the curtain open and her not to be there, so he was dismissive instead.
‘Of course not. I’m here because I just found out from my PA about your calls.’
Only the terse edge in his voice stopped her crying. Merida did not want to be needy and emotional, yet lately she’d felt just that.
Still, as the car snaked its way into the city, she stared out of the window and could not stop thinking how tonight could have been.
Should have been.
Opening night! With Ethan watching. Acting her heart out while not knowing that he was in the audience.
And, yes, she far preferred the fantasy that burst into her mind—the one where he came backstage afterwards. That was how it should have been.
Not this.
She felt like a refugee as they returned to the stunning hotel, with Ethan still so dashing but Merida sans any black dress and pearls this time and in long-haul flight gear.
‘Good evening, Mr Devereux,’ the doorman said. ‘Madam.’
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