Like—just what was he doing in the Granchester dressed like that? And what right did he have to walk past her with that haughty look on his face as though she were something the dog had dragged in?
Every right, she admitted to herself gloomily. She had known instinctively that he would have a strongly possessive and jealous streak, and wasn’t it part of his charm that he would use passion before logic? Perhaps to Constantine it might have ap- peared that the pose she struck with Russ Robson was intimate. And what else would she expect him to do while an ageing rock-star gave a display of the wandering hands syndrome? Rush up and ask to be introduced?
‘Jade?’ Brent, the Daily View’s staff photogra- pher, who had been clicking away furiously, was now staring at her curiously. ‘Do you know that guy?’
I thought I was going to marry him, thought Jade, which all goes to show that you can never be too old to believe in fairy-tales. ‘You could say that,’ she answered in a flat tone.
Brent’s mouth had dropped open, but she scarcely took in the expression of disbelief on his face. ‘How the hell can you—?’
She couldn’t face his questions; not when she didn’t have any answers which made sense; not even to her. She felt like opening her mouth and howling in disbelieving anger. What was Constantine doing here? she wondered in total confusion, feeling so dazed that she automatically sought solace in work. ’I have an interview to do,?
?? she bit out crisply. ‘And Mr Robson is waiting—’
‘Call me Russ,’ came a drawled voice by her side, and she looked up to find him surveying her with curiosity. ‘Though perhaps I’m now making sense of those “keep off” vibes you keep sending out.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the lift which Constantine had disappeared into, and grinned. ’Rich pickings, huh, baby? But it don’t look like he’s interested to me. So let’s go up to my suite, huh?’
Jade’s stomach turned over in revulsion. For two pins she felt like telling Mr Russ Robson what he could do with his interview; it was very tempting indeed. But she supposed that would be the height of unprofessionalism, and you didn’t just throw in your job at the height of a recession without another to go to. She thought quickly, then gave him a briskly efficient smile.
‘It just occurred to me, Mr Robson, that if we do the interview right here in the foyer,’ and here Jade gestured to the exquisitely pillared seating area, ‘then surely it would get you—er—noticed. And you know what they say about there being no such thing as bad publicity…’
Jade watched as the canny blue eyes considered what she’d said and wondered if he was remem- bering his last album, which had bombed so badly.
‘OK.’ He shrugged.
It took the most superhuman effort to put Constantine out of her mind, but an hour later Jade had her interview, in which she had somehow managed to discover that Russ Robson’s main passion in life was breeding guppy fish!
‘I can think of the headline already! “From Yuppy to Guppy”!’ laughed Brent as he pocketed a used roll of film in the top-pocket of his denim jacket.
But Jade felt sick at heart and couldn’t even raise a smile. She found Brent staring at her unrespon- sive face as if sensing gossip. ‘Let’s share a cab back to the office,’ he suggested, but Jade shook her head.
She couldn’t face going back. Not yet. She wanted to be alone with the turmoil of her thoughts. She shook her head. ‘Not just now, Brent—I’ll catch you later—I’ve just had an idea for another feature.’
Brent shrugged, looking unconvinced. ‘OK,’ he said easily. ‘See you later.’
At last he was gone and Jade stood hesitantly in the foyer. What should she do now? She needed to talk to Constantine more badly than she had ever needed anything before in her life. But would he agree to see her, and was he actually staying here? Presumably, as he had taken the lift. Should she enquire at Reception?
Unless… and here a cold, clammy sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Unless…
What could be the other perfectly legitimate reason for a man taking a lift to one of the hotel bedrooms? What if he was having an assignation with someone? Some beautiful woman lying naked and waiting for him? As willing a capitulation as hers in Greece had almost been…
But surely to believe that would be to believe that all Constantine’s words to her had been lies. And yet perhaps the most logical explanation was that they had been lies. For what was the owner of a restaurant on a small Greek island doing walking around in costly clothes in one of London’s best hotels?
But you lied to him, prompted the voice of her conscience. Letting him believe that you were some little goody-two-shoes office-worker instead of a tabloid journalist.
Well, she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life wondering what might have happened. I have to know, she decided, and, determinedly drawing her shoulders back, she walked over to the recep- tion desk.
‘My name is Jade Meredith,’ she began.
‘Yes, of course, Miss Meredith,’ said the recep- tionist smoothly. ‘Mr Sioulas is expecting you.’
Jade’s heart hammered, though she couldn’t decide whether it was with excitement or sheer fright. ‘He is?’
‘Certainly. He’s in the Garden Suite. I’ll get someone to show you the way.’
‘Please don’t worry,’ said Jade hastily. ‘I’ll find it myself.’
The receptionist made no demur; he was obvi- ously used to the capriciousness of guests. ‘Cer- tainly, Miss Meredith. You’ll find the Garden Suite on the ninth floor.’
‘Thank you.’