‘Well, you found me.’ She put her hands on her hips, raised just one eyebrow. If there was one thing Alex couldn’t resist it was a challenge.
She hadn’t thought it possible for him to be more of a foreboding presence towering over her, but in his stillness he hardened further and his eyes narrowed.
‘I came for two reasons… There are things you need to know and, frankly, I think you owe me an explanation.’
An explanation. He wanted an explanation?
Her jaw muscles squeezed themselves into knots. ‘Is that all?’
She hated herself as she waited for his answer, knowing that a small part of her still wanted to hear him say he’d come for her, that he needed her. Those arctic-blue eyes looked her up and down.
‘Possibly. I’m not sure yet.’ From the look on his face, anyone would have thought he really didn’t care.
Jennie’s insides crumpled uncomfortably, as if she were a piece of paper that had been squashed into a ball and discarded. The only way she knew how to stop herself disintegrating was to unleash the rage she’d been nursing for the last few weeks.
‘Go to hell!’
At that moment Jennie wished she hadn’t been brought up so well, because she’d have dearly loved to wipe that condescending look off his face with a stinging slap, the kind that would probably have hurt her as much as it hurt him. The satisfaction at seeing him lose his cool, just for a nanosecond, would be worth it.
She turned on her stilettos and strode off in the opposite direction, no destination in mind, just needing to get as far away from him as possible.
Two things happened at once—she heard her stepmother’s disembodied voice coming from above her and a large hand shot out and shackled her wrist. Her skin burned against his as she tried to twist herself free.
Only one thought filled her mind—she wasn’t ready for this. None of it. Which was strange, because all she’d wanted for the last few weeks was to see him. She’d fantasised about it so many times. At first, she’d dreamed about throwing her arms around him and showing him enthusiastically how much she’d missed him. After that, her imagination had turned more to stamping her foot and screaming. Lastly, she’d envisioned herself looking stunning and aloof as he grovelled for forgiveness. But now she realised she wasn’t even close to being ready to see Alex. It was as if someone had reached a fist down inside of her and pulled her inside out. She needed time to put everything back in its proper place.
And she certainly wasn’t ready for her family to find out. She could imagine the look in her father’s eyes, the utter disappointment. Humiliation washed over her in a warm wave.
But Jennie knew how to pull herself together, knew how to suck all that negative energy in and turn it into something bright and glittering. It was what she did best—what people loved her for.
She looked up to see her stepmother descending the large oak staircase and, with great effort, flicked the inner switch that converted all the dross caking her insides into dazzling pure gold.
‘There you are,’ Marion said, her gaze wandering over Alex and then returning to Jennie. ‘I was just coming to find you.’
There was an awkward moment when nobody looked anybody truly in the eye, then Marion noticed Alex’s hand clamped around Jennie’s wrist and what was left of her serene smile melted away. She looked back at Jennie, a question in her eyes. Jennie did her best to send back an SOS, tempted to bat it out in Morse code with her eyelashes. Marion’s head didn’t move, but Jennie saw her agreement in a tiny blink that only went halfway.
Marion stepped forward and offered a hand to Alex, the picture of a gracious hostess—apart from her pinprick pupils. ‘I’m sorry, I know I should be able to put names to faces after all the poring over seating charts and guest lists I’ve done, but with a wedding this size it’s been hard to keep track. Are you one of Alice’s friends?’
Alex didn’t react straight away, unwilling to release his grip on his runaway bride. It was the first time he’d had any physical contact with her in weeks, which certainly hadn’t been what he’d been expecting when he’d booked a romantic honeymoon in Paris as a surprise for his bride-to-be.
He glanced at Jennie, at the open door at the other end of the hotel foyer, and reckoned he had a ninety-nine per cent chance of snaring her again if she bolted the minute he let go. With anyone else he’d have estimated a hundred per cent chance, but this was Jennie—a woman with a gift for the unpredictable.
How different it had been the last time he’d touched her, when he’d woken her and told her about the call that had lit up his mobile phone in the early hours of the morning, of the family emergency that was about to change his life for ever. She’d been warm and fuzzy with sleep, and she’d pulled him back to kiss him before he left and they’d said their goodbyes with the keen sense of desperation only newly-weds truly understood.
He peeled his hand from around Jennie’s wrist and felt cool air fill his palm as she snatched her hand away.
He’d promised her he’d be back as soon as possible and, even though that had been much longer than either of them had anticipated, he’d kept his word. But she hadn’t believed him.
That had stung. It had also pulled the loose end of a string of doubts that had been unravelling in him ever since. Surely, if his wife knew anything about him at all, she knew he was a man who kept his word, honoured his commitments. It was part of the reason he was here tracking her down.
While in his darkest moments he’d wanted to wash his hands and walk away from this whole mess, he couldn’t do that. Or at least he wouldn’t be able to do that with a clear conscience until he found out that there truly was no way forward. And, to do that, he needed to discover why Jennie had so little faith in him, and why she hadn’t kept her side of the bargain.
He wasn’t the only one who’d made promises. They both had. But it had seemed he’d picked a wife who’d struggled to keep them for much more than a week. Heat flashed behind his eyes, spiking through him. Why had she let him make the most life-altering, soul-wrenching promises a man could make to a woman if she didn’t trust him to keep them?
‘Marion Hunter,’ the woman in front of him said, startling him a little.
Jennie had mentioned her stepmother a lot during their brief relationship, always with affection and respect. Marion’s hand was delicate, but her shake was firm and Alex knew instantly that he liked her. She was no pushover, no matter how cultured and elegant she seemed.
He’d been so consumed with finding Jennie that he realised he hadn’t thought about anything past that, his mind a carousel of all the imagined excuses she’d have for her abominable behaviour. He hadn’t even considered what he’d say or do if he met a member of her family this evening, and that just wasn’t like him—he always saw the big picture, always planned ahead.
What had she told them when she’d returned from her honeymoon on her own? Especially when she’d eloped to Las Vegas with a man they hadn’t even met.
Marion Hunter scowled slightly as she slid her hand from his. He’d bet Jennie hadn’t painted him in a flattering light. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t care about being the villain; he just wanted answers.
He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts he realised he hadn’t even opened his mouth to speak, and now he rectified his lack of manners. ‘Alex Dangerfield,’ he said, with a hint of a smile in his eyes, even if it didn’t reach his mouth. But Marion Hunter looked at him blankly, as if the name meant nothing to her, and he guessed that as the scowl lines on her forehead returned she was mentally scanning guest lists, seeking a match. He decided to help her out.
‘Jennie’s