Blind-Date Marriage

by Fiona Harper

  Jake’s father? It had to be. The likeness was striking.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, tentatively.

  He smiled. Jake’s heart-melting smile.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Dove. Could you spare me a few moments of your time?’

  ‘Erm…of course.’ Behind her, she was aware of Maggie standing down from bodyguard duty and marching back to her vacuuming.

  ‘Please, come in.’ She opened the door wide and gave him plenty of space to come into the hall, then waited until he was well clear before she shut it again. He followed so close behind her on the way to the sitting room she was tempted to pick up speed.

  She chose an armchair, feeling the need for her own space, and indicated that he should take a seat on the generous sofa. He eased himself onto the wide cushions, stretched his arms along the back and hooked his right foot across his other knee.

  The smile came again. She sat up slightly in her chair and studied him. It was similar to Jake’s smile, but it wasn’t the same—something was missing.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t really understand why you are here, Mr Jacobs. Can I help you somehow?’

  He slouched even further into the sofa, and took his time looking around the room.

  ‘Oh, yes. I think you can help me. Most definitely.’

  Serena’s heart began to pick up speed. ‘Is there something the matter with Jake?’ She started to rise, but sat back down abruptly when he shook his head, hand raised. His eyes gleamed. Her level of distress seemed to please him.

  ‘No. Jake is fine. And he’ll continue to be—with your help.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Charles Jacobs leaned forward, his smile knowing and self-satisfied.

  ‘I know you’ve been seeing my son, Serena. And I think some of the gossip mags would pay well for that little titbit. However, I could forget about that kind of windfall with the proper…incentive.’

  Serena laughed. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re wasting your time. Jake and I went out for a while, but we broke up months ago. Hardly front-page news. Your threat doesn’t carry any weight, Mr Jacobs.’ She rose from her seat and held the sitting room door wide. ‘I think it’s time you left.’

  He didn’t even make a pretence of getting up. ‘Not so fast. If it doesn’t matter to you, it might matter to Jake.’

  ‘I can’t see how—’

  ‘Especially if I get a bit chatty and start to recount stories from his childhood. I don’t think his titled clients would appreciate learning of his arrest for robbery and drug possession, do you?’

  She let the door swing closed.

  Drugs? Robbery!

  ‘I don’t believe it. Jake would never steal. He’s just not like that.’

  ‘Ah, well, I’m sure Jake has told you all about that little misunderstanding.’

  Of course he hadn’t! There was so much of himself he kept under wraps, so much he refused to share with her.

  ‘But there are the records, you see. Someone could get the wrong idea. You know what they say about mud sticking, don’t you? Who knows what damage a rumour like that could do?’

  The man was pond scum! Ready to sell his own son for a quick buck.

  However, she couldn’t ignore him. That kind of information could hurt Jake’s career, and the last thing she wanted was to see him suffer. Blood pounded in her temples.

  Could she? Could she give in to him and make this all go away for Jake? His firm was everything to him. He’d built a career and a reputation, despite his father’s actions. She couldn’t let this slimy little man destroy all of that with one idle rumour, it just wasn’t fair.

  ‘How much reimbursement would you need?’

  ‘Twenty grand.’

  She blinked. He was slick, but he hadn’t done his homework. He could have asked for a lot more. It would be easy. She was a joint signatory on several of the bank accounts, and her father would begrudge her nothing.

  She walked to the window and stared outside. Dad was sitting on the bench where she’d left him. Could she really take his money and give it to Charles Jacobs? A pang of guilt speared her.

  Jacob’s beady eyes had been on her the whole time; she knew that without looking. Now she turned to meet his gaze. Eyes that same boundless blue, but lacking in any warmth or humanity.

  He smiled, and her stomach churned.

  ‘It’s not much to ask for the man you love.’

  She started. The man she loved. Heat rose in her cheeks.

  ‘I told you. We’re not seeing each other any more.’

  It was too late. He knew. Betrayed by the fear in her eyes.

  Her suspicion was confirmed when he settled himself on the couch again, a satisfied smirk on his face. He had her exactly where he wanted her.

  ‘I presume you’ll want cash? It’ll take me a day or so to make the necessary arrangements.’

  ‘Clever girl! I knew we’d get on famously.’

  ‘How will I contact you?’

  ‘I’ll give you my mobile number.’ He pulled a crumpled scrap of paper out of his coat pocket. ‘Pen?’

  Serena opened a drawer and threw a ballpoint in his direction. She wasn’t going to get any closer than absolutely necessary. He scribbled something on the back of what looked like a bus ticket and crossed the room to hand it to her.

  She took the ticket and stuffed it in her pocket, still keeping her eyes on him. He was too close, but her back was against the window and there was nowhere else to go.

  He reached for a strand of her hair and let it slide between his thumb and forefinger. ‘My son is a fool. He should never have let you go.’ His breath warmed her cheek. Stale beer and dog-ends. She crunched her neck back in an effort to keep as much distance between them as possible.

  ‘Never mind. We’re like peas in a pod, me and Charlie. How about trading him in for an older, vintage model?’

  She turned her head and his lips made contact with her cheek, leaving a slimy trail. While surprise had him at a disadvantage, she shoved him away with every ounce of strength at her disposal and rounded the sofa. It was a hell of a lot safer with a barrier between them.

  She was so furious her voice cracked when she shrieked at him. ‘Get out! You are nothing like Jake! Nothing! He’s everything that you’re not—good and kind and honest.’

  ‘That’s his reputation now! Wait until I’ve finished with him. It’ll be the messiest trial by media you’ve ever seen.’ He paused and allowed himself a sneer. ‘If you love him, you’ll pay. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. Take it or leave it. It’s that simple.’

  ‘I’ll leave it.’

  ‘What?’

  Under any other circumstances the look of pure bewilderment on his face would have made her howl with laughter.

  ‘I said, I’ll leave it, thank you very much.’ Then she did laugh, but it was short and hollow. ‘You know what? I bet if you tried this on Jake he’d send you packing.’

  The steely glint in his eye told her she’d hit the bullseye.

  ‘Well, I’m not playing your little game either, Mister Jacobs. So you can take your pathetic little blackmail scam and try it on someone—’

  He lunged towards her, and everything seemed to slow to half-speed. She had a split second to consider the fact she’d pushed him too far before he made another grab at her. The sofa didn’t stop him after all, as it turned out. She almost got away, but he caught the end of the crushed velvet scarf that was looped around her neck and pulled it tight, arresting both her escape and her air supply.

  She stumbled, and the side of her face crashed against a bookcase, sending shooting pains across her cheekbone. The fingers of his free hand tangled in her hair and he yanked her back towards him. Her roots screamed for mercy.

  As he swung her round to face him all that crossed her mind was how odd it was that a face blessed with good looks and bone structure could contort itself into such a picture of hatred. She was still staring at him, coughing and struggling for breath, when th
e door crashed open.

  Jacobs almost dropped her in surprise.

  ‘Get your hands off my daughter or I’ll rip your head off!’

  Never had she been so glad that her dad was a solid-set man with a glint of danger in his eyes. It was just that hard edge that had kept the band popular for so long.

  The hands that had been merciless a few seconds ago now pushed her away. He might be tough with a woman half his size, but it was a different matter when he was faced with her father, the pit-bull.

  She hardly noticed him scuttle from the room. All she could take in was her father. Suddenly he seemed bigger and stronger, just like when she was little and he had ruled the world.

  They clung to each other for a few minutes. He held her tight and stroked her hair away from her face, the way he’d used to, and looked down at her with fierce protectiveness.

  Her lips crumpled into a smile.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Any time, petal.’

  He had to know.

  If his own father was going to sell him to the highest bidder then he had a right to be forewarned. She stared at the doorbell and, not for the first time that night, wondered if she’d made the right decision.

  Fine time to discover a belated need to stand up for herself! Her moment of victory might send Jake’s career into a nosedive. The tug of anxiety in her stomach was double-edged. There was the churning anticipation of the pain her confession might cause Jake, but also the more urgent, dragging need just to see him again, the sheer indulgence of being close to him.

  She jammed her thumb on the button before she could think herself into chickening out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JAKE looked up from the mound of papers on his desk. He’d been adding a column of figures in his head, and was only vaguely aware of a foreign noise. Although the flat was silent again, the subliminal memory of the door buzzer still hummed in his ears. The old leather chair creaked as he stood up.

  He didn’t need to ask his visitor’s identity when he reached the intercom. A huge pair of searching eyes looked up at him, their beauty undiluted by the grainy black and white picture from the CCTV monitor.

  The figures he’d been holding in his memory fluttered away.

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her eyes said it all.

  Let me in.

  But he knew that opening the door meant more than giving her entry to his home. Two whole weeks he’d managed. Two whole weeks of ignoring the phone number he kept doodling in the margins of his spreadsheets. Not only was he putting himself in danger by letting her into his life again—letting her go had hurt too much to repeat the experience—but he was putting her happiness at risk too. She’d made that quite clear. And he wouldn’t do anything to make her unhappy.

  He waited a moment or two before he pressed the buzzer with an unsteady finger. When she turned the corner at the top of the stairs he was waiting for her at the threshold.

  There were no hellos. They both knew they were way beyond small talk, were communicating with each other on a much deeper, more instinctive level. She spoke to a part of him that hid behind the logic and iron defences. For the first time in years he wished he were different, capable of saying I do.

  He didn’t want to break the silence. The air was charged with whatever was pulsing between them, and words would only break the bubble.

  Serena looked away, and he knew she was ready with a pin.

  ‘We need to talk, Jake.’

  He smiled and reached for her hand, reluctant to make his mouth form an answer. Then she looked back at him and he knew there was no putting it off.

  ‘Must we?’

  She let out a breath and her shoulders drooped. ‘You’re not going to be smiling like that when you’ve heard what I’ve got to say.’

  Her fingers slid out from between his and she folded her arms across her front.

  ‘I’m listening,’ he said, and motioned for her to go inside. She went through to the lounge and perched on the edge of an armchair without taking her coat off.

  The eyes looked at him, pleading him to understand. Begging for forgiveness?

  What on earth could she have to confess to? Only one horrible thought jeered inside his head. She’d found someone. The husband-hunt was over. His stomach knotted at the thought, which was very hypocritical of it, considering he had declined the role. He could hardly gripe if she’d found a more suitable candidate.

  But the fact that she was here at all acknowledged something…unfinished between them.

  She leaned forward slightly, her hair falling in dark sheets either side of her face.

  ‘I had a visit from your father today.’

  ‘My father?’

  ‘Yes. Charles Jacobs the elder. Not a very uplifting experience.’ Her hand shook as she tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘I think I may have made the most awful mistake.’

  A smudge of deep pink lay at the point where her temple met her cheekbone. Immediately he was across the room, crouching in front of her. His fingers gently explored the bruise and raised area beneath. She flinched.

  Blood began to pound so hard in his head he could barely see straight.

  ‘Did he…did my father do this?’

  She nodded, and her eyes glistened. ‘I’m sorry.’

  In one swift movement he launched himself to his feet. ‘God, that man is a piece of work!’ Long strides propelled him around the room. Where he was going was anyone’s guess. He just needed to move.

  ‘See—this is what he does. It’s his MO. He acts like an animal, then makes you feel it’s your fault. He twists it all around so you’re not sure of your own motives any more. You start to doubt yourself…He’s poison.’

  He managed to slow himself down enough to sit on the edge of the coffee table opposite her. His knees brushed hers.

  ‘Nothing about this is your fault! Nothing. Look at me.’ He waited while she edged her eyes to meet his gaze. His voice crept into a whisper. ‘It’s not your fault—got it?’ She nodded, but his words didn’t seem to have soothed her at all. ‘I knew he could be violent, but I never dreamed…How could I have known he would take it out on you? He didn’t give any indication…’

  Before he knew it, he was striding again.

  ‘Actually, I think I earned this little trophy all on my own,’ she said quietly. ‘It was nothing to do with you. Not really.’

  He stopped to look at her, but she was staring at the grain on the wood floor.

  She didn’t get it. He could hardly expect her to. It had taken him years to unravel his father’s lies and see them for what they really were. The man was a master manipulator. It was how he earned his living, after all. He sucked dry anyone unlucky enough to cross his path, then moved on to the next victim.

  When he spoke, although his voice was low and emotionless, the words scared him. ‘I could kill him.’

  Never before had he felt such pure hate. He’d thought he’d scraped that barrel well and truly dry. But, true to form, his father could always sink lower, and he realised there were depths to hatred he had never imagined.

  ‘I’m going to find him and I’m going to…I don’t know what I’ll do, but he’s not getting away with this.’

  Where was his coat?

  He ran into the kitchen and grabbed it off one of the high-backed stools, only vaguely aware of the sound of Serena’s heels coming closer. When he turned she was right behind him.

  ‘You stay here,’ he ordered. ‘He won’t dare come here. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’ He swung his coat on.

  Too many words. He was wasting time. He just had to get out through that door and do something. His father was a creature of habit. The events of the last few weeks confirmed the old leopard’s spots were still firmly in the same place. He had favourite pubs and betting shops. It wouldn’t take long.

  Serena was still keeping up with him as he neared the front door.

  ‘Jake, you can’t…Will you just…?’ She gr
ipped his sleeve and gave it a violent tug.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. ‘I won’t let him touch you again.’

  ‘Jake! Stop! Listen to me!’

  He stopped halfway through the door. Something in her voice demanded he obey.

  Her breath was coming in gasps. She inhaled deeply, then continued. ‘I haven’t told you what I came here to tell you! If you go off half-cocked now it will only make things worse!’ Her eyes pleaded with him. He was a total sucker for that look. ‘Come back inside and sit down, and let me explain everything. Please?’

  She was right. He hadn’t let her talk. It was just such a stab in the gut to think of anyone hurting her. The fact that it was his flesh and blood that had done the damage just twisted the knife further. He let her pull him back into the flat.

  Now he’d capitulated, all the fight went out of her. She closed her eyes and massaged the lids by dragging the flat of her hand across each eye.

  ‘Get us a drink, and let’s discuss this like rational human beings.’

  When he appeared from the kitchen, a glass of red wine in each hand, she had taken off her coat and was right in one corner of the three-seater sofa, back straight, ankles crossed. She took the wine when he offered it, and placed on the coffee table in front of her without tasting it.

  He opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a look.

  ‘Just let me talk. It won’t take long.’

  He nodded, then sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and turned to face her. She didn’t look at him, but straight ahead.

  ‘I came to warn you that your father is ready to ruin your career. He came to ask for money, to buy his silence.’

  ‘About us? I told him we were—’

  ‘Jake!’ Now she turned to look at him.

  ‘Sorry. Listening.’

  ‘Not about us. About you, and something that happened when you were younger.’ She picked at a nail. ‘Something to do with the police.’

  It was so hard to keep quiet. He was practically bursting to explain. Surely she didn’t believe…?