Love notes (18 page)

With an act of will, he moved
away, his face pale and his tiger’s eyes troubled when he made the
break from her. He pulled aside the curtains and looked outside,
his expression changing instantaneously to one of anger.

“Marty’s sent a security guard
with the driver.” His body tensed as if he were reliving the scene
in the car park where he’d put his hands around Marty’s throat.
“That bastard treats you like a prisoner.”

Erika experienced a moment of
clarity and suddenly saw exactly what she had to do. “I won’t go
back,” she said, panicking now the moment of parting had arrived.
“We can run away and hide. Marty need never find us.”

Aiden looked tempted but daren’t
consider it for more than a moment. “I’d give anything not to send
you back but, if we run, you’ll never be free of Marty. I need you
to keep strong for a few more weeks while the lawyers put the case
together. We mustn’t let him know we’re on to him.”

“But I don’t care about the
money.” At the thought of leaving Aiden, everything else seemed
insignificant.

“Neither do I. If this case
leaves you barefoot and bankrupt, I have more than enough to give
you the best of everything.”

“Then take me away from here
now. Let’s get in your car and just drive.”

“We can’t.” He longed to put his
arms around her but didn’t in case it became impossible to separate
himself from her again. “You need to reclaim your music. It’s who
you are. And if you lost it, you’d lose a large part of yourself. I
can’t let that happen.”

He was right but it didn’t make
it any easier to leave, or make Erika dread facing Marty any
less.

“We’ll say our goodbyes here.”
Aiden hated the shape of the words on his lips. “I don’t want the
bodyguard reporting back. Marty mustn’t know we’ve been
together.”

Every last moment with Aiden was
precious and Erika felt cheated that he couldn’t now walk her down
to the car. She stepped forward but didn’t dare touch him, knowing
that letting him go would break her heart.

“I don’t know how I’ll get
through tonight without you,” she said.

He grinned and looked strangely
bashful. “I must admit, the bed will feel very cold without you.
But I suspect we could both use the sleep.”

Erika smiled tearfully at his
bravado but the lump in her throat prevented her from
answering.

“Call me as soon as you reach
London.” Aiden helped her on with her coat and wrapped her scarf
around her neck, his fingers brushing her cheek and lingering. “If
you need me, just pick up the phone. Any time, day or night.”

“I will.” She placed her hand on
his chest, right above his heart. It beat with a slow, melancholy
rhythm that her pulse duplicated. “Look after yourself, Aiden
Thirstan. You’re very precious to me.”

His eyes drank in her beautiful
face, memorising every detail. “In which case, I’ll be sure to take
extra special care.”

The car had barely stopped under
The Savoy’s canopy before the door was opened by her bodyguard,
letting a blast of cold air into the overheated interior.

Erika climbed out, feeling stiff
after the long drive from Yorkshire and wishing she could stretch
her legs, but half a dozen photographers already lay in wait. She
suspected they’d been tipped off by Marty to make her return to
London an open secret. Irritated, but conscious she might need the
press on her side soon, Erika posed beside the car and gave them a
brilliant smile.

Not that she felt like smiling.
The thought of facing Marty in a few minutes nauseated her and,
despite having slept for most of the journey, she felt bone weary
and unable to cope.

What she wouldn’t have given to
have Aiden walking beside her. But the one person she needed the
most, was the one most likely to make matters worse.

Erika’s anxiety redoubled when
she passed through The Savoy’s revolving door and into the lobby.
The excited expressions of the hotel employees, and the whispered
comments of passers-by, told Erika she was as instantly
recognisable in England as in America, and any hope of passing
unnoticed in London was immediately banished.

Even if she could escape Marty
and her bodyguards, there’d be little chance of her slipping away
to meet Aiden without having a hundred witnesses on her tail.

Her heart sank.

“Mr Cooper has reserved a river
view suite for you on our fourth floor,” the concierge told Erika
when she eventually signed the register, her luggage already having
been whisked away.

Although Erika disliked a great
deal about Marty, she had to admit he had a knack for securing the
most beautiful rooms a hotel could offer. The view from her suite
down the Thames to the London Eye was simply stunning, even on a
grey, overcast day, and Erika couldn’t help crying out in
delight.

She wanted to phone Aiden to
tell him about it but he’d had to detour into Birmingham to check
on a building project. Looking at her watch, Erika guessed he’d
either still be on site or on the road and, rather than leave a
message, she delayed calling until they could talk in private.

In any case, a heavy thump on
the door heralded the arrival of Marty and adrenaline surged at the
idea of being trapped in a room with him again. After three days’
freedom, she didn’t relish listening to his constant whining but
forced her face into a cheerful expression to hide her true
feelings and opened the door.

Without a word, he barged past,
barked at a security man to wait outside and strode across the
sitting room to the window.

Erika didn’t need three guesses
to work out that he was furious about something and slammed the
door after him.

“Good afternoon, Marty,” she
snapped. “Nice to see you too.”

Marty was back beside her in an
instant, enraged and struggling to speak. “How dare you?” he spat.
“You lied to me.”

Erika feigned innocence but her
heart pounded while she wondered exactly how much Marty knew. She
played for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aiden Thirstan is what! You’ve
spent the entire weekend with him. He crept back into the hotel
after I’d left, didn’t he?”

Rather than deny it, Erika told
him some of the truth. “OK. I admit it. But there’s no law against
it.”

“How far did it go?”

“What?”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“It’s none of your damned
business!”

“Anything that affects your
image is my business,” Marty reminded her, flipping open his iPad
cover. “Did you sleep with him?”

As lying was Marty’s speciality,
and Erika didn’t want to descend to his level, she told the
truth.

“Yes I slept with him. But
there’s no need to worry. He won’t say a word to the press. Had he
wanted to, he could have sold his story years ago.”

Marty turned the iPad toward
her, revealing a grainy photograph. The lighting was dim but it
showed a couple on a dance floor – him in a white shirt and her in
a blue silk dress – arms around each other and kissing
passionately.

“Where did you get this?” Her
heart clenched in horror as she recognised herself and Aiden,
completely lost in one another.

“It’s not me you need to worry
about. This picture’s in every tabloid newspaper and gossip
magazine on both sides of the Atlantic.”

So much for keeping their
relationship secret. She wondered how much else Marty knew and
nausea rose again.

“Seems your boyfriend hasn’t
exactly led a blameless life,” Marty said. “The press has gone to
town on his reputation as a womaniser.”

Aiden would hate that, Erika
knew, but there was little they could do about it now. She guessed
one of the wedding guests must have sold the picture and cursed
herself for not having been more careful.

“Aiden’s changed,” she told
Marty instead. “That’s all in the past.”

Marty laughed cynically. “People
rarely change. They just get better at making fools believe they
have.”

He thrust the photo at her
again. “This doesn’t look like a couple who’ve just met. There’s
too much history there. So exactly how long were you and Thirstan
planning this little reunion?”

“What?” There’d be even more
trouble if Marty believed Erika and Aiden were involved in a
long-term conspiracy. “Our meeting wasn’t planned. We met by
chance. I had no idea I’d see him.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re
very friendly considering you’ve not seen or spoken to him in five
years. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type to jump into bed
with a man on a first date.”

Enraged, Erika leapt to her own
defence. “How dare you? I’m twenty-seven years old. What I do in my
private life is no concern of yours.”

“Then how about this?”

He snatched the iPad from her
and opened a video on YouTube of Erika at the wedding reception,
belting out a Robbie Williams track and accompanying herself on the
guitar.

“Sore throat better, is it?”
Marty voice dripped sarcasm.

“Their singer couldn’t make it
so I filled in.” She hurried to minimise the damage. “I couldn’t
stand by and watch their wedding ruined.”

“…although you’re more than
happy to wreck your voice.”

“Not so. It was a small venue
and I took lots of breaks. My voice is precious. I wouldn’t do
anything to hurt it.”

Marty dismissed her protests.
“All this got me thinking, if you’ve lied about Thirstan and what
you were doing this weekend, what else aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. I swear.” Panic raced
through her. Had Marty stumbled upon her plans to escape? But how
could he know? Only Aiden and his advisors had access to the
information. “Meeting Aiden again was a complete fluke.”

Ignoring her, Marty searched
again on YouTube, coming up with a long list of videos, the first
dozen of which had been uploaded on Sunday morning. From the high
quality, Erika guessed the wedding photographer had been
responsible for sharing the footage of Erika dancing on stage with
the bridesmaids, leading a conga line and performing Bee Gees’
tracks. She groaned.

“You doing an impression of
Kylie Minogue isn’t what bothers me though,” Marty said, clicking
on another link.

As soon as Erika heard the
opening notes of Breach Of Trust her throat clenched shut.

Mesmerised, she sat through
Prove Myself and Hole In My Heart, wishing for all the world that
she didn’t have to look at Marty’s contorted face while the
beautiful lyrics floated from the iPad. She signalled she’d heard
enough.

“Where did they come from?” he
demanded. “And why didn’t I know about them?”

“Because I wrote those songs
years ago. Long before I even met you.”

“So what? When I signed you up,
I got complete control over your back catalogue.”

“But not these,” Erika argued.
“They’re way too personal. They’re my private feelings about Aiden,
not for recording.”

“Who cares? They’re solid gold.
They could have made us a fortune. You should have declared
them.”

“Why? That’s like asking me to
publish my love letters. I only sang them on Saturday because Aiden
was there. I thought it was time he finally knew how I felt about
him.”

“Then send him an email. Tell
him face to face. Send flowers. But don’t set it to music and let
someone post it to fucking YouTube for free!”

Erika recoiled, revolted by him.
“We were at a private function. I had no idea what would
happen.”

She heard her own naivety and
cringed. Wherever she went, there’d always be someone waiting to
share her every move with the rest of the world.

Marty could hardly draw breath
for rage. “We’re reduced to damage limitation now. I’ve spent this
morning trying to work out how we move on and get what the songs
are worth.”

For once Erika’s thought
processes outstripped Marty’s. “Oh no you don’t. There’s no way I’m
going to record them.” She grabbed her bag, preparing to leave but
Marty blocked her path.

“I can do anything I like. And
if I say I want you to record these new songs, you’ll do it because
otherwise I’ll sue your ass off.”

Erika flew at Marty, calling his
bluff. “Do it then!” she dared him. “Ruin me. Bankrupt me. Sue me
to high heaven. But I swear I’ll never sing another note for you as
long as I live.”

“Let’s just see about that,”
Marty warned before holding out his hand. “Give me your cell
phone.”

“What? No!”

Not prepared to argue, Marty
snatched the bag out of Erika’s hands and rummaged inside while she
fought to retrieve it. The last thing she needed was Marty seeing
the risqué texts and photos of Aiden stored on her phone. But, as
soon as he found it, he threw it on the floor and stamped on it,
smashing the screen with his heel.

“Try phoning your boyfriend from
that,” he sneered, ripping her laptop violently from her and
subjecting it to the same treatment.

“You bastard,” she raged,
shoving him out of the way and bending to collect the pieces of
broken plastic at their feet. “I’m calling a solicitor, right now.
Let’s see who’s getting sued.”

She picked up the house phone
and was on the verge of asking to be connected to Aiden’s advisors
when she realised it would play straight into Marty’s hands.
Talking to the top entertainment lawyer in London would only set
off alarm bells in Marty’s head when he started wondering how she
had the name so readily to hand.

She couldn’t jeopardise her case
against him so carelessly and hesitated.

“Well, what are you waiting
for?” Marty barked.

“I don’t know who to call,” she
lied.

Marty laughed derisively and
mouthed the word, pathetic. “Don’t push me, Erika,” he warned,
leaning his face so close to hers she recoiled from his tobacco
breath. “And don’t threaten me either. Not when I’m standing here
holding all the cards.”