‘After everything Boyd’s done? By all accounts, the man’s an animal.’
‘We’re not sinking to his level.’
He stares at me now, as if I’m mad, his eyes darkened to pitch, and suddenly it’s clear. Money can buy just about anything, apart from a decent, fully functioning moral compass. I look out of the window again, wondering if I can make my point some other way.
‘I don’t want to be an accessory to murder and I don’t want Dan in that position. I just want Boyd out of our lives, with no threats hanging over us … from anywhere.’
He says nothing, and I take his silence as acquiescence.
‘I want you to contact Bill for me. I want you to make sure his people don’t do anything stupid. They’re just to scare Boyd off.’
‘But this is an opportunity to end to it … properly.’
I’m too worn out to argue any more.
‘I’m not changing my mind,’ I inform him. ‘Just make sure Bill gets my message.’
I crash land in yet another penthouse suite. Another plush hotel. This time I’m cocooned in Edwardian luxury: heavy curtains, silk walls, expensive mahogany furniture, well-stocked bookshelves, antiques, a grand piano. I’m guided into a drawing room, offered coffee by a footman, and decline. I’ve had enough of today. All I want is to put an end to it, to sleep it all away. I’m shown to my bedroom and with my bag delivered, Gordon checks on me once last time before I’m finally left alone.
Immediately, I take myself to the en suite and sit on the toilet, gazing into space, wondering if I should try the pregnancy test. But there’s no point, not until I’m sure when my period’s due. Feeling utterly exhausted, I look up, focussing on an oil painting of Queen Victoria hanging on the opposite wall.
‘My life’s a mess,’ I tell her.
‘I know,’ she seems to answer with a disapproving glare. ‘And we are definitely not amused.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘Maya.’
Soft lips brush against mine. I already know it’s him. His scent is unmistakable. I open my eyes, finding his face right in front of me, those familiar blue irises so vibrant, I wonder if I’m dreaming.
‘You’re here?’ I ask, fuddled by sleep.
‘Yes, I’m here. And I love you.’
I don’t have time to tell him I love him back. Before I know it, his lips secure around mine, kissing me slowly, tenderly, and I’m back in my sanctuary, our special place. I shut my eyes, soaking up the quiet intimacy. He’s back, and any vestige of tension dissipates immediately.
‘I don’t love this sheep though.’
Ah, the sheep. I found it on my bed last night, all part of the strange quirkiness of the Royal Suite, I’m sure. I must have grabbed hold of it in my sleep, because now I’m clutching it tight.
‘I’m not into cuddly toys.’
‘Good.’ Gently, he prises it out of my hands and tosses it on the floor. ‘Nothing takes my place.’
‘I’ve missed you so much.’
‘I’ve missed you too.’ He gazes at me for an age before he speaks again, a boyish grin on his lips. ‘I tried a bath on my own. It was no fun.’
I blink, rub my eyes and look to the window. The curtains have been drawn slightly, allowing morning sunlight to pour through the gap.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
‘I’m fine.’
I shuffle into a sitting position, blink some more, and take a moment to admire my fiancé. Dressed in an outfit that always has me salivating – jeans and a black T-shirt – he’s sitting by my side, a little tired, but as delectable as ever.
‘I just got here.’ He nods to his suitcase, dumped next to the door. Clearly, he’s come straight from the airport. ‘What happened with Boyd?’
Okay, so we’re down to business. I focus back on his face, melted by the concern and love I find there.
‘You already know.’
‘And now I want to hear it from you.’
Manoeuvring himself on the bed, he lies on his side and pulls me into his arms, holding me close while I tell him everything about the mysterious rose in Liberty and the disastrous trip to the corner shop.
‘He asked me if I enjoyed New York. I think he knows.’
‘He suspects. That’s all.’
Something flits back into my head, a detail I need to sort out.
‘You’ve got one of his men.’
He nods.
‘Don’t worry. We won’t stoop to Boyd’s level.’
‘Really?’
‘You have my word.’ He holds my gaze, completely serious. ‘There are two ways of getting information out of low-life. One’s a good beating. The other’s a fistful of cash. Which one do you think we’re going for?’
‘The fistful of cash?’ I offer, hoping to God I’ve picked the right answer.
‘Bingo.’
Snuggling closer into his embrace, I trace a finger across his shoulder.
‘We’ll find Boyd,’ he whispers.
‘And then what?’
Despite of the closeness of our bodies, I can see the distance in his eyes.
‘I couldn’t live with that on my conscience, Dan,’ I tell him, determined to clear this up. ‘And neither could you. You’re not that type of man … not deep down.’
His eyes flicker.
‘And what if …’
‘What if what?’ He frowns.
‘If you do have him … you know … what if you get caught? What if the police trace it all back to you? You’ll go to prison, and I can’t lose you, not again.’
He nods.
‘I made a promise. I’ll stick to it.’
‘So, what will they do?’
He stares into my eyes, evidently searching for the right words.
‘Maya,’ he says eventually, ‘a fistful of cash isn’t going to work with Boyd.’
‘So, it’s a good beating?’
He nods.
‘Enough to scare him off … for good.’ His arms tighten around me. ‘There’s no other
