Alex escorted the policemen out of the office and she sank into a chair feeling utterly drained. Her face was pale with misery when he returned. This latest disruption to his day was no doubt the last straw; he would never keep her on now.
‘I suppose you want me to leave,’ she murmured, and he spared her a brief glance before turning his attention to his computer screen.
‘Excellent idea. Go and collect your things.’
As she struggled to push her aching arm into her jacket she debated going back into his office to admit the truth—that far from being happily married and childless she was a single mother, struggling to juggle a career and care for an almost four-year-old—but it all seemed too complicated and she just wanted to go home.
‘Goodbye.’
The voice from the doorway was curiously deflated, and Alex felt compassion snag his heart as he studied the small, forlorn figure. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he said calmly, and something flared in her eyes.
‘You don’t need to see me off the premises. I feel humiliated enough that everyone knows I was interviewed by the police.’
‘Never mind what anyone else thinks,’ he replied cheerfully, and that just about summed him up, she decided. He was confident to the point of arrogance—but then he was the boss; he didn’t have to care what anyone else thought.
She half expected him to frogmarch her out of the office block, but when the lift came to a halt she discovered that they were in an underground car park.
‘My car’s over there.’ He was already leading the way to a silver Bentley, and as they approached a uniformed chauffeur sprung out and held open the door.
‘There’s no need for all this. I’ve got a return train ticket,’ she said faintly as she sank into the supple leather upholstery. ‘Just drop me at the station.’
Alex ignored her and leaned forward to speak into the intercom. ‘Harley Street, please, Barton.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘I’M NOT getting out of the car.’
Jenna folded her arms across her chest, belligerence thrumming from every pore, and Alex fought to keep a lid on his temper. Until today he hadn’t been aware that he even possessed a temper. Even when annoyed he was able to deal with issues in a calm, controlled manner, but where Jenna was concerned it seemed that any sense of control flew out of the window.
‘I’ll decide whether or not I need to see a doctor, and if I think it necessary I’ll make an appointment with my own GP, not yours. I can’t afford a private Harley Street practitioner.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’ Alex closed his eyes and briefly pictured newspaper headlines that screamed Top Barrister Commits Murder.
‘Anyway,’ Jenna continued stubbornly, ‘the only reason we’re here is so that you can appease your conscience. I told you I wasn’t a liar.’
‘Either you get out of the car or I’ll drag you out.’ Any vestige of control disappeared in a cloud of molten fury. Her husband must have the patience of a saint, Alex decided, ignoring the fact that her jibe had hit home.
There was no warmth in his eyes now, his face was a rigid mask of irritation, and Jenna realised that compliance was her only option if she was to retain any dignity. She didn’t doubt for a minute that he would carry out his threat to drag her bodily from the car, and so, with her head held high, she opened the door.
‘He’s probably busy anyway,’ she muttered as she was ushered into a plush reception area that bore scant resemblance to her own doctor’s drab surgery.
‘Hello, Alex. Go straight through. Guy is expecting you.’ If the receptionist was surprised to see Alex leading his companion along like a badly behaved puppy she was far too discreet to mention it, and Jenna pulled her hand free and stomped into the inner office.
‘Alex—good to see you. We must meet up for a game of golf; my club, Saturday?’
‘Actually, I’m flying to Cannes this weekend. But another time certainly.’
‘Hoping to prolong the summer, huh? And no doubt enjoy the company of some tanned blonde beauty. You need to settle down and get married, Alex.’
‘Why?’ Alex queried with a grin, and Guy laughed.
‘There must be a good reason, but it beats me.’
Jenna hovered in the doorway, feeling superfluous. This was not her world, and it was safe to say that she wouldn’t be playing golf or sunning herself in Cannes at the weekend. From the knowing glances that had passed between the two men it was obvious that Alex had a reputation—hardly surprising, considering his stunning looks, she reminded herself. But the thought left her feeling curiously flat.