‘He’s terrified of me,’ she murmured to Marcel.
‘And you don’t mind?’
‘Why should I mind? I don’t want to lead him down “dark and dangerous paths”. Hey, the girl’s looking at me now. I wonder if she’s taking warning.’
‘That your gaze might turn her to stone?’ Marcel hazarded hilariously.
‘No, that a woman can start out like her and end like me. Not that she’d believe it.’
She had a dizzying sensation of going too far. Surely now Marcel must be remembering the dark and dangerous paths down which they’d travelled together, and reading the truth in her eyes. But the time was not right. If things had been different she could have told him everything now, but that was impossible until he could bring himself to admit that he knew who she was.
And that day might never come.
Suddenly she doubted that she had the strength for this. She wanted to cry aloud and flee him. She even moved to rise from her seat, but his hand detained her.
‘Are you all right? You look troubled.’
His voice was gentle, his eyes warm and concerned. It was as though another man had taken him over, or perhaps lured him back to the past, and it was her undoing.
‘Look, I must go. It’s late and I’m tired—’
‘Of course. I’ll take you home.’
‘No!’ The word was almost violent. ‘No, there’s no need for that. I’ll be all right.’
‘I’ll tell Hotel Reception to send a car to the front for you. Then you’ll be free of me.’
‘It’s not that—’ she began wildly.
‘Yes, it is,’ he said. ‘It’s like that for both of us.’ His voice grew softer, more intense. ‘We both need some time to get our heads together.’ His eyes met hers. ‘Don’t we?’
She nodded dumbly.
He escorted her out of the hotel and to the waiting car, assisted her into a seat at the rear, then stood with the door still open, leaning in slightly, holding onto her hand.
‘It’s all right about going to Paris, isn’t it?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Then be ready to travel tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? But you said I could have the day off to sort out—’
‘I’ve changed my mind. There’s no time. You’ll have to do it long-distance when you get there. I’ll collect you at nine tomorrow morning.’ His hand tightened on hers. ‘You will be there, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘You won’t vanish?’
‘No.’
‘Promise me.’ His voice was almost harsh in its intensity. ‘I promise,’ she said.
His eyes held hers and for a moment she thought he would refuse to let go of her hand. But then he released her suddenly, slammed the door and stepped back. Her last view of him was standing there, completely still, his eyes fixed on the retreating car like a man clinging on to a vanishing hope.
He watched her until she was out of sight, then took out his phone and dialled a number given to him by his father. It was a private security firm. In a hard voice he gave her address.
‘These are your instructions. You park outside and watch. If she comes out with a suitcase and gets into a taxi you call me. Then follow her. And don’t let her out of your sight for a moment.’ In her time with Jake, Cassie had grown used to his ways of flaunting his wealth and what he fondly believed to be his status. He would book the most expensive seats on planes, then arrive at the last minute with the maximum of fuss.
Marcel, in contrast, reached the airport early, got through the formalities with courtesy and was driven quietly to the private jet that was waiting for him.
‘My father’s,’ he explained.
The plane was pure luxury. It could seat eight people in soft, comfortable seats, and had its own galley from which food and drink was served to the two of them by a steward who existed solely for their comfort.
As they began to move down the runway he said, ‘The weather’s fine so it should be a smooth flight. Nothing to worry about.’
So he remembered that she was afraid of flying, she thought. After one modelling job she’d returned home still shaken and distraught from a bumpy flight. How bright his eyes had been, how full of expectancy for the night of passion to come. And how quickly he’d forgotten all thoughts of his own pleasure to take her trembling body in his arms and soothe her tenderly. There had been no sex that night, and in the morning she had loved him more than ever for his generosity.
‘Have you ever been to Paris?’ he asked now. ‘No, but I’ve always wanted to. I’m looking forward to exploring it.’
‘You won’t have time for that. You’ll live in the hotel, and have a desk in my office. Everything will be provided to help with your work and you’ll be “confined to barracks”, forbidden to leave.’
For a moment she almost thought he meant it, but just in time she saw the gleam of wicked humour in his eyes. ‘Yeah, right!’ she said cynically.
‘You don’t believe me? Wait until you see the locks on the doors.’
‘Nonsense!’
‘That’s no way to talk to your employer.’
‘If you were any other employer I wouldn’t, but we both know that I’m not just here to study the facts of La Couronne. I’m here to absorb the atmosphere, and that means the atmosphere of the city as well.’
‘Very subtle,’ he said appreciatively. ‘So you’ll arrange the job to suit yourself.’
‘It’s what I’m good at,’ she said impishly. ‘Being in control.’
He grinned. She smiled back, happy in this brief moment of warmth and ease between them. But then a scream burst from her as the plane jerked and plunged a few feet.
‘Sorry,’ came the pilot’s voice. ‘Air pocket. It’s going to be a little turbulent.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Marcel took both her hands in his. ‘It’ll be over soon. There’s no danger.’
‘I know it’s not dangerous,’ she said huskily. ‘It’s just … being shaken.’
‘Just hold onto me.’ His hands tightened.
She did so, closing her eyes and shaking her head. It was foolish to be scared but she couldn’t help it. As the plane shuddered she whispered, ‘No, no, no—’
‘Look at me,’ Marcel commanded. ‘Open your eyes.’
She did so, and the world vanished. His gaze held hers as firmly as if he had her in chains. And they were the most dangerous chains of all because she had no wish to break them.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s finishing now.’
He was right. The plane’s juddering was fading, then ceasing altogether. But that wasn’t why the sense of peace and safety was stealing over her. She held him tightly because while he was there nothing could go wrong.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a shaking voice. ‘It’s stupid to be scared—’
‘We all have our nightmares. They don’t have to make sense.’
She managed an edgy laugh. ‘So much for being in control.’
‘We’d all like to be in control,’ he said quietly.