‘Don’t.’ The single word was out before she could stop it, and it hung in the air as she forced herself to continue. ‘I mean, you don’t have to pretend now; I know you’re just being nice.’
For an age he stared at her. ‘I thought nice was what you wanted, Tabitha.’
‘It is….’
‘Well, then, don’t complain.’ He nodded to the house. ‘You’d better get inside. The neighbours’ curtains are starting to twitch.’
‘How did you know where I lived?’ It suddenly dawned on Tabitha that he had taken her home without direction, and her mind reeled from impossible scenario to scenario. ‘Did you have me followed? Have you been watching me?’
‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. I looked you up in the phone book.’
‘Oh!’ She let out a nervous giggle and Zavier smiled, but the drumming of his fingers on the steering wheel indicated her allocated time slot was over.
‘When will I see you again?’ It came out wrong, needy and unsure, and his idle drumming on the steering wheel stopped momentarily. ‘I mean, what do we do now?’
‘That’s up to you.’
‘So I passed the test back at the casino?’
A smile skated on the edge of his lips and Tabitha ached, ached to put up her fingers, to catch the glimmer of light in his tired, jaded face.
‘You passed,’ he said simply. Leaning over to the passenger side, he pulled the contracts from his briefcase, then flicked on the car light. She watched, her breath hot in her lungs, as he scrawled an extravagant signature on each of the documents before handing them to her. ‘Drop them off at my solicitor’s if you decide to go through with it.’
‘That’s it? That’s all I have to do?’ The simplicity of the action truly terrified her.
‘That’s it.’ Zavier shrugged. ‘Look, I really am going to the States tomorrow, to close off some deals. Anyway, it will be easier that way—playing the part of the devoted fiancé for the next month or so might prove a bit too hard. I’ll ring you with all the details once I’ve worked things out, and my driver will pick you up, take you shopping for the wedding and take you to Lorne. In the meantime keep your nose clean. I’ll be in touch.’
‘But surely I have to do something. What about invitations, my wedding dress…?’
‘It will all be taken care of.’
And with that she had to make do. Stepping out of the car, she half expected him to call her back, to pull her into his arms, to end the perfect evening in the perfect way. But he didn’t—just sat there watching as she let herself in.
She watched from the darkened lounge window as his car slid off into the darkness, the ring on her finger heavy and unfamiliar.
Unable to fathom what had just happened, the enormity of Zavier’s proposal only now truly registering, she expected to be awake for hours, to lie in the darkness staring at the ceiling, wrestling with her conscience. But for the first time since the wedding Tabitha fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, as if seeing him had somehow stilled the restlessness in her soul.
Only when the sun arose, when the trucks in the distance shifted their gears noisily and schoolchildren chattered excitedly outside her bedroom window as they passed by on the way to school, did her sleepy eyes open as the door below was pounded.
Her mind was whirring, the ring still heavy on her finger, her mouth dry from the champagne, her heart hammering as the previous night’s events repeated themselves.
Surely it was a dream—a strange, vivid dream? Surely it could never have happened?#p#分页标题#e#
Wrapping a robe around her, she pulled the bolt on the door, half expecting to see Zavier telling her it was a joke—a mistake, perhaps.
‘Delivery for Miss T. Reece.’ A huge white box was thrust into her arms, and as she wrestled to hold it and somehow sign the delivery note her heart-rate quickened as Aiden made his way purposefully up the garden path, his grim face a million miles from the gentle man she loved and knew.
‘What the hell have you done?’ Ignoring the delivery boy he burst past, slamming the door as she stood there in the hallway. ‘Page four,’ Aiden practically spat, flinging the morning paper at her. ‘The headline reads “Marriage made in Financial Heaven”.’
Shaking, she put down the box and struggled with the newspaper, a small gasp escaping her lips as she turned the pages. There she was—at least, there her hands were—lost in Zavier’s hair, the glint of the ruby on her finger, the searing memory of his kiss immortalised in a photo now.