He snatched the phone up, cutting short what she had been going to say as he snapped his name into the mouthpiece.
It was like a replay of the day before, Nell thought as she stared at the long, lean length of his dark-suited figure standing in profile against a backcloth of an unrelieved grey English sky.
Beautiful, she observed helplessly, and with an almost masochistic need to feed the ache throbbing inside her began absorbing every elegant inch of him from handmade shoes to the breadth of his wide, muscular shoulders dressed in the best silk tailoring money could buy.
The man with everything, she thought, and had never felt so bitter than she did at that moment. The sensation crawled along her flesh like icy fingers and she knew suddenly that she had to get away—from him, from this raw feeling of utter betrayal, from the sound of his deep velvet voice that was twisting her up inside because she loved that sound even while she hated him.
‘I’m going out,’ she announced in a breath-shaking whisper and headed jerkily for the outer office door, not caring if he’d heard her, not caring if he would have the usual objections ready to voice at her going anywhere without his say-so.
The telephone crashed with a slam. He moved so fast she’d barely taken two steps before he was catching hold of her wrist and swinging her round. The whole quick manoeuvre brought back memories of the way he’d done the same thing on the island only yesterday.
Her face paled, lips trembling as she released her breath. ‘Don’t manhandle me.’ She yanked her wrist from him.
That he was totally taken aback by the venom in her voice showed in his shock-tautened face. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he bit out.
‘I am not some object you can push and tug around as your mood takes you,’ she hit back.
He stiffened up. ‘I never meant—’
‘Yes, you did,’ she cut in. ‘You think you own me right down to my next thought. Well, you don’t.’
‘This is crazy,’ he breathed in total bewilderment. ‘I left a beautiful, warm and contented woman only an hour ago, now the shrew is back.’
Nell deigned not to answer that. She had been warm and contented. She had been nicely, carefully, patiently seduced into being that pathetic creature again. She despised herself for that.
‘And why are you wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday?’
The sudden flip in subject sent her vision oddly blank as she stared down at the summer-blue suit. It took a really agonised effort to make herself reply without flinging the why at him. But she didn’t want to tell him. She did not want him to start explaining and excusing his rights over her rights.
‘It’s all I’ve got to wear unless you want me to wander around in the turquoise dress,’ she said. ‘Whoever packed for me at the island packed for the Greek climate, not this one. So I am going out—to shop.’
It was thrown down like a challenge. Xander’s dark head went back as he took that challenge right on his cleft chin. He knew what she was saying. He knew which particular gauntlet was being handed out this time. As the tension built and he fought to hold back the instinctive denial that was lodged in his throat, Nell stared fixedly at nothing in particular and hoped to goodness that the fine tremors attacking the inner layers of her skin were not showing on the outside.
‘Wait for me,’ he said, cleverly couching that denial in a husky dark plea that, in spite of everything, touched a tingling weak spot. ‘We will go together. Just give me a couple of hours to free myself up and we can—’
The telephone began to ring. His dark head twisted to send the contraption a look of angry frustration but his fingers twitched by his sides and Nell almost managed a mocking laugh because she knew he was itching to answer that call. His priorities were at war. She twisted back to the door. Behind her she heard Xander hiss out a curse about irritating women.
‘Have you any money?’ he sighed out then, work winning over his marriage, though to be fair to him he didn’t know that—yet.
‘I have credit cards.’ A dozen of them linked to his accounts.
‘Nell …!’ he ground out as her hand caught the door-handle. She turned her head to find him already back at the desk with his hand covering the shrilling phone. ‘Don’t be long,’ he husked.
She nodded, lips pressed together to stop them wobbling, then she let herself out of the room. As she braced herself for the walk down the long corridor towards the lift, she said a silent goodbye to him.
Back in his office, Xander was ignoring the ringing phone and snatching up his mobile phone instead. He hit fast dial. ‘My wife is just leaving. See that she’s protected,’ he instructed.
Then he was stepping to the window, hands dug into his pockets, fingers tightly clenched into fists while he grimly waited for Nell to appear on the street below while the telephone continued to ring off its rest.
He did not understand any of that, he decided tightly. He’d thought last night that they’
d called a pretty effective truce. Suddenly she was back to sniping at him and evading eye contact. He missed the eye contact. He didn’t like the tingling feeling that was attacking the back of his neck.
He saw her step out onto the busy pavement, continued to watch as she paused and looked around as if she had no idea where she wanted to go. His heart gave him a tug, yanking at his gut and contracting it because even from way up here she looked so—lost!
As she seemed to come to a decision and struck out to the left Xander watched Jake Mather slip into step behind her. He remained where he was with his eyes fixed on the top of her shining head until she had disappeared out of sight with her bodyguard safely in tow. Then he turned away from the window and stood grim and tense, feeling unfathomably like a man who’d just made the biggest error of judgement he was ever likely to make.
The phone had finally given up though, he noted, and, straightening his wide shoulders, he stepped up to the desk, hovered on another few seconds of inner restlessness, then the manila file Luke had brought in caught his eye.