When Holly replaced the receiver a few minutes later she was shaking. The call hadn’t been for her. It had been for Connor—to let him know a final report was on its way by boat and, more important, that it held urgent information that Connor had been waiting for.
Holly drew in short sharp breaths through her nose, feeling her chest rise and fall with each intake and exhalation and willed herself to calm down. Had Connor had her investigated as he’d investigated Carla, his ex-wife? Why? And since when?
Anger lit within her, burning with a steady glow. It stood to reason that he’d want to know some background for his baby’s lineage. But to order an investigation behind her back? And all along the investigator had been working for both of them—had even deliberately been stonewalling her own repeated requests for more information.
She felt invaded. Violated. And fiercely determined to get to the report before he did. For the first time in days she was glad Connor wasn’t around. In fact, right now she wondered if she ever wanted to see him again.
Later, instead of taking her usual afternoon nap, Holly anxiously watched and waited from the master suite’s sitting room as Thompson met the courier at the end of the private jetty and accepted a large white envelope. Her heart plummeted. It wasn’t very thick. It didn’t seem right that something that possibly held the key to her past—her life—could be so insignificant as that single large envelope.
As Thompson made his way back to the house, she shot silently down the back stairs that led to the informal sitting room. Beyond that lay Connor’s office. She hid, poised behind the open door, and listened as Thompson came back inside. He went straight into Connor’s office where she heard the telltale snick of a key in a lock and the faint slide of wood as he opened then closed a drawer.
That was it? She listened carefully as Thompson left the office again. She replayed the sounds she’d just heard in her head. There’d been no sound of a key being turned in the lock to secure the drawer. Connor would have to beef up his home security if he thought one little drawer would keep her from finding out what secrets lay inside that envelope. A new and more startling thought occurred to her. Had he even planned to share his findings with her? She seriously doubted it.
For an infinitesimal moment she wondered how different her life would be now if she hadn’t made love with Connor that night and, even if they had, if she hadn’t fallen pregnant? She’d still be at her desk, doing her job better than anyone else could. Still being his trusted right-hand person, instead of someone he now endured only for as long as completely necessary. Holly sighed and pushed her hand against the ache in the small of her back. All the what-ifs in the world wouldn’t change anything. She wasn’t good enough for Connor Knight. She never would be.
The sound of the French doors being pushed closed caught her attention. Thompson was stepping out for his afternoon walk—a trip she knew would take him at least thirty minutes. Now was her opportunity.
Her heart pounded as she retraced Thompson’s steps. If he came back sooner than expected, she’d be clearly visible through the French doors. Holly’s hands trembled as she opened the drawer. To her surprise, there was not one, but two identically addressed envelopes. She frowned as she tried to remember exactly what she’d seen from the window upstairs. No, there was nothing wrong with her eyesight. Thompson had definitely received only one. That could only mean one thing—Connor already had a report on her. Holly swiftly removed both envelopes and jammed them under her loose, long-sleeved shirt before heading for the stairs.
On the day bed in the baby’s room, she slid her finger under the flap of the already open envelope. Now she had it in her hands, she almost dreaded what the news would disclose, but she had to know. Her hands shook uncontrollably and her heart thundered in her chest, filling her ears with the cacophony, as she tipped the papers from the envelope where they fanned haphazardly onto the lemon-coloured bedcover. She gathered up the loose-leaf typewritten sheets.
The report dated back to just after Christmas and listed, in minute detail, her financial dealings including the regular payments she’d made to the hospital for Andrea. How dare he? He’d obviously requested this information before they even knew she was pregnant. What had he been playing at? She wanted to scream and rant and hit something. Preferably Connor Knight. Holly threw the information back down on the bed in disgust.
All his concern for her when Andrea had died suddenly rang unbelievably false. All along he’d been playing her for a fool. There was only one thing on his mind and that was the baby. Right now, she hated him more than she could have believed, and deep inside, her heart splintered into bleeding shards. Holly’s anger drove her to snatch the sealed envelope from the bed. What other secrets had been exposed? Her eyes scanned disappointedly through the first few pages. It was nothing she didn’t already know. Summaries of social workers’ reports detailed how difficult she’d been to place in a foster home after the incident with the Mitchells’ son. Was this all he’d been able to find out?