‘What makes you think that you would?’
‘Have you worked out how the flunitrazepam got into your system yet?’
His gaze left her face and Gabriel stared pensively at the floor. ‘No.’
‘Neither have I. Until we do, we need to assume that anything’s possible.’
‘Or maybe we should try not to jump to conclusions, and assume that things are okay until we know otherwise.’
‘And what would you consider a reliable warning that things aren’t okay? You ending up in hospital?’ Clara pressed her lips together. That point would have been better made calmly.
‘I don’t have an answer to that.’ Gabriel looked up at her, the knowingness in his eyes making her shiver. He seemed to see straight through her, past her veil of professionalism and right down to the moment when seeing him lying in that hospital bed had made her want to reach out and touch him.
‘Neither do I. But we’ll know more tomorrow, and until then I need to assume the worst. Which means that the only alternative to CCTV is that I stay here in the house tonight, with a full protection detail.’
Oddly enough, that didn’t seem to bother Gabriel too much. Maybe he’d come to the conclusion that, however good her team was, they couldn’t see through closed doors. ‘I’m always happy to have house guests. I have to make some phone calls and then I’ll make the spare room up for you.’
He’d be infuriating if it weren’t for that charm of his. Actually, he was infuriating, but the charm made it all too easy to forgive him.
‘The spare room won’t be necessary.’ Clara could catch a few hours in a chair, she’d slept in worse places. ‘And if you want to make any calls, would you use my phone? I’m still waiting to hear back about the checks on your landline.’
She slid the phone across the table and Gabriel nodded, turning to pour the tea. He put one cup down on the table in front of her, then picked up her phone and strode out of the kitchen.
* * *
She could handle this. She wasn’t going to mess up. Clara twisted her fingers together in her lap and took a breath. This was the chance she’d been waiting for, a make-or-break career move, looking after one of Gladstone and Sullivan Securities’ most valued clients. She couldn’t allow herself to lose focus.
She’d already come so far. Her parents’ divorce had turned her life into a constant trek between her mother’s and father’s houses, as both of them warred over custody and pretty much everything else. Clara had escaped that and made a home for herself. And then her life had collapsed around her again. When she was tempted to see only Gabriel’s handsome face and his smile, she should remember why she’d promised herself she would never be taken in by a man again.
* * *
Six in the morning, and she’d travelled all night so she could surprise her husband. After an eleven-month tour of duty as a paramedic with the Army Reserve, Clara had arrived home.
Tim would still be sleeping and she took her boots off and climbed the stairs silently. The Clara who had trusted reached out her hand and opened the bedroom door.
She could still feel the tearing pain as she’d seen Tim, sleeping peacefully in the light of early dawn, his arm around a woman Clara had called her friend. It had been at that precise moment that trust had become a thing of the past.
She’d run down the stairs, hearing shocked voices as Tim and Sandra had woken suddenly. Picking up her boots and bag, she’d been gone before Tim had been able to follow her, slamming the front door behind her. Out into a world where her marriage was in ruins and she had nowhere to call home.
* * *
That had been four years ago. Clara had taken that moment and let it drive her. She’d worked hard, calculating every move she made. No more moments of shocked betrayal. And a home that she could truly call her own that no one could take away.
She had a good job and a nice flat. She relied on herself, and there was no way that Gabriel’s smile was going to tempt her into risking all of that.
* * *
Gabriel retreated to his study, sprawling on the sofa. Resisting the impulse to access Clara’s photographs to see if there were pictures of dogs or children or anything else that might betray that she had a life beyond this, he flipped through the contacts. His father’s number was there, along with Sara’s mobile number and the main number of his charity.
The first call was the easiest. Sara and Grant brushed off his apologies, wanting only to know whether he was all right. The second was a little more taxing. Gabriel’s co-director at The Watchlight Trust, Alistair Duvall, had not been satisfied with blanket reassurances and had questioned him more closely. Then Gabriel called his father.
He lay on the sofa, studying the ceiling as his father swung into employer mode and issued instructions. This was a serious matter, and he knew that Gabriel shared his concern that the company should not be compromised. He was to follow the advice of his security team at all times. Gabriel mouthed the words of his parting shot, knowing them off by heart. He wasn’t to worry his mother. She’d already lost one son...
He knew. He’d been there. The last twenty years had been dedicated to not worrying his mother, and to trying to make up for the son that his parents had lost. To stepping into the shoes of the older brother he’d hero-worshipped. Gabriel did what he always did, assuring his father that he’d heard, and asking to speak to his mother.
That was a less demanding conversation. His mother’s fears could be assuaged by the sound of his voice, and the promise that he was fine, if a little groggy still. They chatted for a while, and when he was sure that his mother was content, Gabriel ended the call.
He closed his eyes, stretching his limbs, wondering whether it was time to take more painkillers. Perhaps he should ask Clara, she seemed to have pretty much every area of his life under control.
But tomorrow he’d take it all back. Tomorrow was a new day. One more day that his brother didn’t have, and Gabriel had promised himself a long time ago that he’d waste none of them.
CLARA OPENED HER EYES. This was a nice place to wake up, quiet, early morning sunlight filtering into the large guest bedroom. Maybe it was the lingering strands of a dream that made her feel that Gabriel had somehow only just left the room.
Gabriel had insisted she get a night’s sleep, and Clara had been too tired to argue. This morning she had to concede that he’d been right. She felt rested and equal to the task of finding a way to reconcile Gabriel’s urge to do whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased, with a workable security protocol.
She showered and dressed quickly, shaking the creases out of the smart trousers and blouse that she kept in the overnight bag in the boot of her car. There were guards stationed inside and outside the house, but it wouldn’t do any harm to take an early morning tour to make sure that everything was as it should be.
‘He’s up.’ Molly, one of the night guards, was at her post in the front hallway, and frowning furiously. ‘He’s been out...’
‘You went with him?’ Clara raised her eyebrows.
‘No, he must have slipped out through the back somehow. Walked back in through the front door. Sorry, Clara.’
Clara shook her head. ‘It’s not your fault. Where is he now?’
‘Kitchen.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Molly.’ Clara turned, taking a breath