‘You’re looking better.’ Her smile was kind, but just enough to let him know that she was happy with the way things were going, rather than giving any indication that she was here for her own pleasure.
‘Thank you. It’s good of you to say so.’ Gabriel sat down on the bed, picking up the half-bottle of water that Clara had left on the table, and she tipped the tablets from the dispenser into his hand.
‘I’ll be better when these kick in. And when I get home.’ If Clara had any thoughts of taking him anywhere else, she could think again. Gabriel had an almost irrational longing to be able to shut his front door behind him and come to terms with all of this.
‘You’ll be needing these.’ She reached into her handbag, which was large enough to contain all manner of things and probably did, and produced his keys and his wallet.
‘Thanks. You have my phone?’
‘Your father gave us permission to send it to our labs and get it checked over for any... intrusions.’
Gabriel rolled his eyes, regretting the movement almost immediately as pain shot through his temples. ‘And how long did my father say you could keep it?’
‘I’ll make sure you have it back tomorrow morning.’ She had the grace to sound a little embarrassed about it.
He’d argue that one out later. And since Clara was obviously acting on instructions, he’d take the less inviting option of sorting the matter out with his father, and not her.
‘Okay, fair enough. Can we go now?’
Clara nodded. ‘Yes. Ian Anderson’s outside. I think you know him.’
‘Yes, I know him.’ Ian drove his father when he was in London, and Gabriel knew and liked him. It seemed that Clara had done her homework and was making a comprehensive effort to reassure him. ‘Is a doctor available to discharge me?’
‘No need for that. You can leave whenever you feel up to it, you just need to sign this form.’ She put the clipboard on the bed beside him.
He read the form. Advice on possible complications after ingesting drugs...he knew that. Counselling and other follow-up...he’d take that under advisement. Clara handed him a pen and he scribbled his name at the bottom of the form.
‘Is that it?’ This was far more straightforward than usual, even for a private facility.
‘Yes, that’s it. Are you ready?’
He was more than ready. He followed Clara out of the room, nodding to Ian, who fell into step behind them. She handed the clipboard to a nurse at the reception desk, who gave him a smile before Clara hurried him away. Outside, an SUV with tinted windows drew up, and Ian opened the back door, waiting for Gabriel and Clara to climb in, before he rounded the car and got into the front passenger seat.
They were well organised, he had to give them that. But the overwhelming probability was that this was all some kind of mistake, and that his father had done the expected and overreacted. Gabriel closed his eyes, leaning back on the leather seat, as the car drew away.
‘I assume the bill’s paid. I’d hate to think we were doing a runner.’ He decided that teasing her a little couldn’t hurt, and it made all of this seem a bit more normal.
‘Yes, we’ve paid.’ Her voice betrayed a hint of humour. ‘It’ll be itemised on your account when you receive it.’
‘Good. And who did you tell them you were? Mata Hari?’ In truth she didn’t have the air of a femme fatale, although she could probably pull the look off without any trouble at all. But his father’s protection officers generally blended into the background, only betraying their presence when needed. In her summer dress and low heels, Clara could easily have passed for a concerned girlfriend. A very attractive one at that.
‘I said I was a friend.’
‘One who’s armed and dangerous?’ Gabriel opened his eyes. The accompanying pain in his head was a small price for taking another look at her.
‘No. Carrying a concealed weapon would be illegal.’ She gave him a bright smile. ‘I can be dangerous, though, if I put my mind to it.’
He’d take a bet on it. Gabriel was under no illusions that Clara Holt’s smile could be extremely dangerous, even if she didn’t go to the trouble of putting her mind to it.
GABRIEL HAD BEEN silent for the rest of the drive back to his house. When they drew up outside the three-storey town house, situated in one of London’s most exclusive Georgian terraces, Gabriel moved to get out of the car, and Clara stopped him, laying her hand on his arm.
‘I’d like you to stay here for a moment while Ian and the other members of my team check the house.’ She indicated the car parked across the street, containing four more security officers. ‘Is that okay?’
She felt the muscles of his arm flex under her fingers as his hand clenched into a fist. Then Gabriel puffed out a breath, reaching for his keys and handing them to Ian. ‘All right. When we do get inside you’ll have some questions to answer...’
Clara knew that. Ian flashed her the briefest of looks, which said that he wouldn’t want to be in her shoes, and got out of the car.
Her team knew what they were doing, and they didn’t have to wait long before an all-clear was signalled to Clara. Gabriel was stony-faced as she accompanied him up the front steps and through the panelled front door into a large, bright hallway.
‘You’ll join me for a cup of tea.’ That didn’t sound like an invitation but an order. Clara followed him through to the kitchen.
The room was obviously designed with some serious cooking in mind. A large double hob with pans of all shapes and sizes hanging to one side, all of them well used. An array of herbs and spices was contained in a rack full of jars, and a wine cooler was well stocked with bottles. At the far end, a breakfast table stood in a semi-circular bay and Gabriel strode towards it, drawing the blinds against the sunlight that streamed in through the French doors. Turning to inspect the supermarket bag that her team had left on the counter, he raised an eyebrow.
‘What’s this?’
‘Since we don’t know where the flunitrazepam came from, it’s wise to view your existing food stocks as suspect for the time being.’
He shook his head, taking teabags and milk from the bag and making the tea. When he put the two mugs on the table, sitting down opposite her, she found herself shivering in the heat of his dark gaze.
‘There’s one thing I want to get straight.’
‘Of course.’
‘You’re managing me. You’re very good at it, and I appreciate that you might find it necessary in a lot of the situations that you encounter, but I want you to stop.’
Clara swallowed hard. His file hadn’t prepared her for this. Gabriel DeMarco was the son of a man who was so rich that most people couldn’t get their heads around the scale of his wealth. Gabriel ran a medical charity, which no doubt gave him the sense that he was doing something useful, and the rest of the time he did what he pleased. He was undoubtedly charming, and the file had hinted that he used his not inconsiderable talent for seduction on a regular basis. Nothing...nothing had prepared her for his incisive mind and his determination.
But she could adapt. ‘Yes, I am managing you. This is a...sensitive situation.’
‘I understand that. But if we’re to have any kind of relationship, I want all the facts. Even the ones you think I can’t handle.’
‘Very well. I’ll tell