THEIR NEXT STOP, within walking distance, was his communications supplier. Somehow the end result was a new mobile for Alina with her account bundled with his. Ethan James had a charming way of overruling objections, leaving you feeling as if you’d done him a favour.
Like the way he’d cajoled her into an exclusive perfumery store after claiming that he’d noticed her spray bottle was nearly empty. When had that happened? Well aware that the one she wore, a Christmas gift, was too strong for her; she was delighted with the new delicate spring fragrance. She’d been aware of the surreptitious looks he’d exchanged with the assistant. What else was he planning?
The arrangements, phone calls, et cetera had all taken time and effort, yet he made it seem simple. To him it was. Decisions were made. Actions followed. Tangible proof of the attributes that had ensured his phenomenal success. Skill and diplomacy would ensure the optimum outcome: a healthy son or daughter.
On their way back to the apartment the car pulled in to the kerb and Ethan unclicked his seatbelt. ‘Won’t be long.’
He hopped out and the driver moved off. One lap of the block found him waiting to be picked up, now carrying two plastic bags containing rectangular objects with a delicious exotic aroma.
He laughed at her puzzled stare. ‘Thai takeaway. Best in town.’
‘But...’ Of course—the call he’d made while the salesgirl had been demonstrating functions on her new phone.
‘Nothing hot or spicy. And what we don’t finish tonight we’ll have tomorrow. I’ve had many a breakfast of reheated Asian food.’
So had she—more from the need to stretch a budget than for pleasure. She laughed as her stomach rumbled. ‘I’m hungrier than I thought. Thank you for remembering about the spicy.’
‘I remember everything you’ve told me, Alina.’
His eyes caught hers, held her spellbound. She fought to break the hold, had to stay detached. Letting him in was a risk with too high a cost.
* * *
She was happy when he opted to eat in the lounge, claiming casual dining made takeaway taste better. Watching television would provide a break from personal questions and conversation.
At his request she carried two glasses and a carafe of iced water into the lounge, while he brought china, cutlery and the food.
‘Tonight it’s your choice—apart from reality shows,’ he remarked, scooping special fried rice onto two plates.
‘I haven’t watched much at all these last few years. Hey, not too much on mine.’ She stilled his hand, preventing him from overloading the second plate. ‘The news is fine by me.’
During the ad breaks they discussed the events of the day—small talk which gave her invaluable insight into the man she’d committed her immediate future to. He wasn’t as complimentary about the present government as she’d expected, and spoke sympathetically about lower income earners.
The latter didn’t surprise her; she’d experienced his attitude to shop assistants and his own hotel staff. He did surprise her when he patiently explained the intricacies of a technology breakthrough. So she chose a documentary next, figuring it would interest him, knowing she’d like it too. His avid interest in the excavation of an ancient English church which had revealed a former king’s remains proved her right.
Ethan’s attention strayed during the advertising breaks. Alina would have plenty of time to watch anything she liked in the coming months. It suddenly occurred to him that she’d need something to occupy the hours while he was working. Even if she did sign up for a course or two.
How many people in Sydney had she kept in touch with? Was there anyone she’d confided in? He couldn’t imagine how he’d have got through his teens, resisting his parents’ expectations, without Leon to confide in. Even Louise, five years younger and flighty as a cuckoo fledgling, had listened and supported him.
Alina had stayed away from Australia. Did that mean there were no close friends here? It was obvious that she carried a deep-seated torment inside. Damn, he knew so little about her, but he couldn’t bring himself to push too much. He was supposed to be good with people. If he earned her trust maybe she’d confide in him. When he knew the details he was convinced he’d be able to find a way to ease her pain.
Alina stretched as the final credits rolled, then carried their plates to the dishwasher. Ethan followed with the glassware and caught her yawning.
‘Ready for an early night? It’s been a full-on day for you.’ Sympathy showed in his eyes, warmth in his tender expression.
A restful soak in the bath with an intrigue novel appealed more than bed. Did that seem rude? As if she wanted to get away from him?
As if sensing her confusion, he gently took her in his arms, hugged her and let her go.
‘Goodnight, Alina. Thank you for being so cooperative. I know it wasn’t easy. Sleep well.’
‘I survived. Goodnight.’ She walked away.
‘Alina?’
She turned at the doorway.
‘I swear I’ll take care of you and our child. Believe me?’
She looked into sincere blue eyes and her doubts subsided. ‘Yes, I do.’
This time he didn’t stop her, and went back to the lounge. Trying to read reports was a futile exercise. A few strides along the hall was a beautiful woman who stirred him as no one ever had. A woman whose soul-destroying sorrow influenced every decision she made.
Today she’d begun to react naturally—the way he needed her to if they were to convince everyone they’d been lovers. Their supposed affair might have been short, but their mutual attraction had to be evident. On his part it was becoming less of a pretence every time she was near. And from her tentative responses he suspected her buried feelings were beginning to emerge.
* * *
Ten past nine. Past morning rush hour. Alina leant on the island, checking her notepad, and glanced down at her well-worn jeans. Added two items to her list. She drank her ice-cold juice, scrunched her nose. Pushed the credit card Ethan had given her in a circle on the granite. Having it didn’t mean using it.
He’d knocked on her door early this morning to tell her he was going to his office. Drowsy, needing to use the bathroom, she’d barely acknowledged his remarks. When he’d leaned in to brush her hair from her eyes, his unique smell and the touch of his fingertips had blown her lethargy away, leaving her wide-awake, tingling.
She dropped the pen. This was ridiculous. What could be simpler than writing a list of clothes and accessories to be worn by the wife of a hotshot billionaire? Or was he even richer? Any woman he dated would have no problem filling the page. But she was a nomad, with a meagre pile of cheap, easy-care clothing. Her serviceable underwear would never grace a magazine page or stir a man’s libido.
Hey, what was she thinking?
Focus. You only have to buy enough to be presentable for a few weeks.
As she put on weight she’d have to shop again. More expense.
For a second her mind flashed to the investment account. Another buried secret.
* * *
Sometime after twelve she sank wearily into a window seat of a busy café. Two bags containing the pathetic results of her attempted retail therapy took the chair beside her. This was hopeless. She’d chickened out every time she’d tried to enter any of the high-fashion boutiques she’d found. Embarrassing Ethan in clothes from the stores she normally frequented wasn’t an option. At this rate she’d be in track pants and baggy jumpers right through autumn.
She needed help...didn’t know who to ask. She was used to