Caught on Camera with the CEO (13 page)

‘I know.'

‘Oh, please.' She turned on him, striking out in her agony. ‘You're still upset about your parentage? Come on, Alex, get over it.' She hurt so much and she wanted to hurt him more.

‘Dani—' His fingers were painfully tight on her shoulders now and she was sure he was about to bodily chuck her out. And she'd be glad. She wanted everything to end.

But all he did was say softly, ‘You're not taking it out on me.'

 

Alex badly wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to kiss her to stop the hurtful words. Like a trapped, wounded animal, she thought the only way to escape was to attack.

But he didn't draw her closer. Instead he stiffened his arms, holding her away so he could read her expression.

What he wanted was for her to lower her guard again and let him in. He ached to comfort her. She was so obviously devastated, but she was denying everything.

‘You're right,' she said. ‘Sorry.'

He watched, helpless, as she shut down—freezing him out completely. His fingers instinctively pressed harder into her bones—as if it were some way to bring her back to him—but she didn't even flinch. It was as if she were turning to marble before his eyes—a version of herself but with her beauty, her vitality, sucked out.

It crushed him. Already she was gone. And whatever closeness or intimacy he thought they'd been building over the last few days was revealed to be the sham it was. She trusted him no more than she had on day one. She was no less afraid.

Her brown eyes were almost black, like bottomless holes in a face too pale to be well. His heart contracted. ‘Dani—'

‘I'm going to…check my lipstick.' She twisted away and he let her go.

‘You've just done your lipstick.' Her wretched lipstick was on the table. She was running away—not facing what he'd told her.

‘We have this play to go to, don't we?' She picked up the lipstick and reapplied.

‘No, I'll cancel—'

‘There's no need to do that.' She carefully replaced the lid.

No. She wasn't one to crumble, was she? She denied all the way—refused to admit to weakness, hurt or need. But it would come out some time—it just had to. And he was damn sure he was going to be there when it did. He sighed. OK, maybe a little distraction might help. An hour or two in a
theatre might give her a chance to think. No way would she concentrate on the play—her mind would wander.

And he was getting nowhere with her now and he didn't want her packing her bags in the next five minutes, which she'd probably do if they stayed at home. ‘Are you sure you're up to it?'

‘Of course I am.' She shoved her feet into her shoes.

Yeah, of course she was. Alex stuffed his fists into his pockets. ‘Then let's go.'

It was a living hell. Ten minutes into it Alex was ready to leave. Dani was doing her zombie impression beside him. He covered her hand with his, hers was freezing. A trickle of dread slid down his spine and his eyes hurt from trying to read her expression in the dim light.

‘Let's go,' he murmured in her ear as soon as the curtain went down on the first act.

Deathly pale now, she swayed as she stood. Was the shock wearing off and the reality hitting her? He wished she'd talk to him. He needed to get her home so he could make her talk to him.

‘I'm just going to freshen up.'

In other words go put on her armour. She'd run away for a few minutes and try to pull herself together. Except she was so on edge he didn't think it was going to work this time. The sooner he got her home, the better. He'd hold her close, just hold her in his arms and cradle her until those tears came. She needed it. Hell,
he
needed it.

 

Dani blindly followed Alex to the car. Trying really hard not to think. But her brain was screaming—she had to run, she had to hide from this truth. ‘I'm going back to Australia,' she said as he drove home.

‘Not yet, Dani. You've had a shock—you need time to take it in.' His eyes were dark.

‘I want to move out.'

‘You don't want to talk?' He looked at her searchingly. ‘Don't you think we both could do with a little comfort right now? Some companionship? At the very least, aren't we friends?'

His words thickened the ice around her heart. He'd said they couldn't be friends. And they couldn't. He was much more than that to her. ‘You have other friends. You have Lorenzo.'

‘I haven't told him about my father. I haven't told anyone but you.'

A tiny bird fluttered its wings, wanting to fly in her heart. Silly to be so moved by that one little comment and its implication of intimacy, of trust. Surely she couldn't trust it—it was just that she'd been there at the time when he'd needed to share. She couldn't believe it was anything more than that. She couldn't believe in anything right now. ‘I really want to go, Alex.'

‘Not tonight.'

Dully, she supposed he was right. Where would she go? It wasn't practical. He was so generous, wasn't he? But she didn't want any more of his tender pity. ‘OK, but I need to be alone.'

He swallowed. ‘Sure.'

‘I promised Sara I'd go to the meeting on Monday. I said I'd be there when she delivered her presentation. I'll go after that.' It was all she could think. She couldn't let her down.

She'd let her mother down.

When they reached the house, she took far too much care undoing her seat belt but he didn't even move. When she looked at him he was staring at the garage wall, his face so expressionless she wondered if he'd even heard her. She slipped out of the car and suddenly picked up speed. She'd meant it. She needed tonight to be alone to lock away her demons.

But he moved faster, grabbing her hand as she got to the lounge. She stopped. Eyes closed, she kept her back to him. ‘Don't—'

His fingers squeezed hard.

‘You know where I am if you need me.' His voice was so husky it shattered her. She swayed, holding on by the last thread.

But he let her hand go and walked past her, going straight up the stairs, not looking back.

She stared at nothing as he disappeared, utterly unable to move. She couldn't let herself need him.

 

Hours later she stumbled to the kitchen, poured a glass of iced water and didn't look at the tray on the table she knew was meant for her.

‘You're staying home today.' He walked up to her and touched her nose with a light finger. ‘You're tired.'

So was he, but he was in his suit and ready to go. She was no less capable than him. ‘I can go.'

‘Stay home, Dani. You need to.' He was gone before she could reply.

She sipped the icy water and glanced at the plates he'd prepared for her—fruit salad, a bagel, juice. Then she saw the file on the other side. She didn't need to open it to know what it was—the information from the private investigator. Alex had left it deliberately for sure. She stared at it as if it were more terrifying than an armed intruder.

Jack Parker.

Could she bear to know any more than that?

She perched on the edge of one of the dining chairs. Pulled the folder towards her. She turned the cover, read the words. Dates, school—it was like a CV. How could someone's life be reduced to a couple of A4 pages?

She turned the next page and stopped.

Photos. A baby, a boy, a youth. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Like hers. So much like hers.

She slammed the file shut. Pain burning her inside out. She couldn't do it. Couldn't bear to see what she'd lost before she'd even been able to find it. Couldn't bear to face the fact that she'd failed her mother.

She stood. Ran. She wasn't going to sit here and mope all day. There was work to be done at the Whistle Fund. She wasn't going to let Cara down.

Cara looked up when she walked in, a surprised smile brightening her face. ‘I didn't expect to see you today. Alex called to say you weren't feeling well.'

‘Just a slight headache,' Dani covered. ‘Gosh, if you can work with morning sickness then I can manage a mild headache.'

Cara laughed. ‘I haven't had a single bout of morning sickness. Been eating like a horse from the moment I got pregnant.'

Dani sat sharply. ‘You haven't been sick at all?'

She watched Cara shake her head. Saw how her eyes sparkled, and her skin glowed. This was a woman for whom pregnancy was a piece of cake. Painful realisation dawned. ‘You don't really need me here, do you?'

‘Well…' Cara blushed ‘…there's always too much work to do. I mean, usually we get other volunteers, but now we have you…'

Dani rubbed her head and felt the icy sweat beading on her brow. ‘Do you do this voluntarily?'

‘They insist on paying me something, but I give it back to them by buying lots of tickets to whatever they've got going. I, um…' she was blushing even harder ‘…I don't really need to work.' She said it as if it were something to be ashamed of.

Dani forced a smile to reassure her. But inside she was trying to process the info that should have been blindingly obvious before now. How could she not have worked this out already? Cara was a nominally paid volunteer, working part-time hours. Whereas she was getting paid top temp dollar—full-time.

But it wasn't the charity paying her wages at all. It was Alex. And
she
was the charity. She cringed. The whole thing was a charade. He'd felt bad about what had happened, and this was him taking care of it. He'd said duty to the Carlisle business had been instilled in him from birth. But his sense of duty extended in all areas of his life too. And when he'd played a part in her life being stuffed up, he'd taken every step to help. Duty—not desire.

And now pity.

While he might have wanted to play with her for a bit, she bet he hadn't meant for it to turn into this almighty mess. For she wasn't Alex Carlisle standard—she wasn't like those princesses at the charity—like Cara. She couldn't even begin to compare.

‘Cara, I'm really sorry, but my head actually is a bit bad.' Dani stood.

‘Oh, do you want me to—?'

‘I'll be fine. I'll just go home again.'

Except there was no home, was there?

She raced to her room as soon as she got back into his house. It only took moments to throw her belongings into her pack. But she'd barely started tugging on the zip when she heard the garage door.

He was up the stairs with Superman speed.

‘Lorenzo called.' He walked into the middle of her room. ‘Cara said you'd come to work and then gone again almost
immediately. She was worried.' He looked at her bag. When he spoke again, his voice was colder than ice. ‘Were you going to leave a note?'

‘Yes.'

‘Written it yet?'

‘No.'

‘So tell me.'

‘There's no need for me to stay anymore. I've found out all I needed to.'

‘What about Sara and the meeting?'

‘She doesn't need me. She probably won't even notice I'm not there. And
Cara
doesn't need me, does she?' she said bitterly.

His mouth tightened. ‘What about me?'

‘You don't need me, either.' And in another week he'd have someone else in her place.

‘What if I told you I did?' He stepped closer. ‘What if I told you I wanted you to stay? Would you?'

She shook her head. Not trusting her voice. For how long would he want her—how long 'til they became ‘just friends'. She couldn't do that.

‘What if I said we have something special?'

‘What we have is good sex. That's all.'

‘So you're just going to run away? From me? From this?'

He threw Jack's file at her.

She turned away as the pages scattered on the floor. ‘I don't want it.' Her voice broke. ‘I don't want…'

‘Don't want what?'

She turned back. ‘To stay.'

He walked right into her space. ‘I won't let you go.'

‘You can't stop me.' She pushed past him and picked up her bag.

‘You think you're so tough. But you're not. You're scared. You're that total chicken.'

So what if he was right? So what if she was dying inside? She wasn't going to hurt herself more by lingering in an affair that had no future. She couldn't handle any more of the agony burning her through now. ‘I told you from the start I don't do relationships.'

‘What the hell do you think we've been doing? We've been living together, being together,
making love
together—that's not a relationship?'

‘We didn't make love. We had no-strings, uncomplicated sex!' How could he say otherwise? It was him feeling bad for her—his caretaker duty on full steam ahead—but she wasn't his new pity project. ‘We were flatmates trading favours—nothing more than that. Not a relationship.'

‘That's ridiculous. What is it going to take, Dani?' He gripped her arm. ‘When are you going to face up to your fears? When are you going to let yourself trust someone? When are you going to let someone in? Because until you do, you're going to be alone and lonely.'

‘Alone is exactly what I want to be.' Alone meant there'd be no more loss. No more crippling heartache. She yanked her arm free and raced down the stairs.

‘I want you to stay.' He kept pace. ‘I want you.'

She ran to the front door.

‘Did you hear what I said, Dani? I want you.'

Yeah, but the want wouldn't last—the want would die. Everything else had been based on him feeling responsible, feeling guilty, feeling pity. None of which would last, either. So she turned, faced him down. ‘Well, I don't want you.'

‘Liar. You want me just as much as I want you. You can't say no to me.'

‘No!' she shouted. ‘I'm saying it now. I don't want you.'