Pawn of the Billionaire(49)

She stared over at me and said, “I’m sorry, could we do that another day? I just want to go home.”

“But it’s quite late, and the room’s all ready upstairs.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather go home. Can we do that?”

I was puzzled. “What’s the problem, Toni? I’m sure we can work through it here.”

She shook her head again. “Surely you can arrange it. I really, really want to go home. And we could have our coffee on the plane.”

She was right, of course. But I didn’t fancy it being another three hours before we got to bed. Still, the sooner the better, if we really had to go. I leaned back, and the waiter was beside me in a flash.

“Get Lawrence, please. My personal secretary.”

It was only a moment before he was beside me. “We’re going home tonight, Lawrence. As soon as possible. Could you organize it, please?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll let you know when the car’s here.” On his way out of the room, I saw him speak to the waiter, and shortly afterwards coffee was served.

“I thought we’d have coffee on the plane.” Toni still seemed a little on edge.

“We can do that as well, but we have to wait while Lawrence organizes the plane from standby to readiness and gets our bags repacked.” I wanted her to realize that she’d inconvenienced people by asking for a change in plan. Then I felt ashamed of myself. I’d done it often enough, and after all, my staff were exceptionally well-paid to be accommodating. I glanced over at her again, and realized she looked very pale.

“Are you all right, Toni? You don’t look so well.”

She straightened up. “I’m fine, thank you.” She didn’t look at me. And I looked away, proud of the way she wouldn’t use feeling ill or pretending to as the reason she wanted to get home.

She thanked the hotel staff well enough, and soon we were back in the air and on the way home.





Toni





I leaned back in the seat with my eyes closed. It was a way to get time to myself for a while so I could think. James sat quietly beside me. I could sense his solid presence, comforting and just there. I asked myself again what was the matter. I’d just had the sort of evening any girl would die for. I’d enjoyed it too, right up until the point where I’d had this shock, this sudden knowledge.

He didn’t actually care. The smooth, suave exterior, the gentlemanly manner, the polite listening. It was only as far as he wanted to go. People only mattered to him when things were going his way, doing his wishes, making his life comfortable.

I wondered idly if he’d ever cleaned a bathroom or made a bed in his life. But I didn’t need to wonder, I’d put money on the answer being no. And all this living the life of luxury, I’d thought I could get used to it. But I felt alienated, stripped from my past, from people. I was being made a plaything, a suitable wife for a man that I’d thought I was getting to know.

I wondered how Sam was doing. And Pete and even Marco. I wondered if they ever thought about me, if my time there had made a difference. I squeezed my eyes shut even harder, to try and stop the prickling feel of tears. They mustn’t show. Mustn’t.

His hand covered mine. Warm and comforting. But I should snatch mine away. I didn’t want to, and guiltily let myself feel as if he cared.

“James?” I didn’t open my eyes.

“Yes, Toni?” I felt his breath warm on my cheek. He must be leaning close.

“Do we know how Sam’s getting on? You were going to get him on a vet program or something?”

There was a moment’s silence. “I haven’t asked lately, Toni. But I got Lawrence onto it when I was going to ask you to leave the diner and I know he’ll be keeping an eye on how Sam’s getting on.”

His hand left mine, and I sat up and looked around. I missed James’ presence next to me, and I was angry with myself about that.

He was over on the other side of the cabin, having dropped into the seat next to Lawrence, and they were talking together. I watched them curiously. They seemed more like friends than employer and employee, although I’d never seen Lawrence anything but respectful.

Then he handed James an iPad that he’d been using, and James brought it over to me.

“Here you are.” He gave it to me. “Here’s the email trail from the non-profit that Sam chose to go to. They update Lawrence every week and Sam adds his bit, and a photo sometimes.”

I sat up straighter, and began scrolling through the emails. They were from someone called Bill, who was apparently Sam’s key worker, and there was a photo of him and Sam in a cafeteria, laughing together. I examined it. I could barely recognize Sam, he looked open, relaxed and happy.