‘I’m not Rob. I would never betray you, nor intentionally let you down.’
‘You can’t know that. I can’t know that.’
Frustration suddenly flared inside her. Why was he being so stubborn about this? ‘Well, like it or not, I think you do trust me.’
Alex tensed. ‘I don’t. I can’t.’
‘You can and you do. Why else would you have allowed me to work with Jo when all your instincts fought against it?’
‘Because you were the best person for the job.’
‘Has that ever influenced you in the past?’
‘I don’t allow my personal feelings to get in the way of business.’
Phoebe let out a hollow laugh. ‘Really? I bet you’ve let that sense of betrayal influence every single decision you’ve made since.’
‘I wouldn’t be so short-sighted.’
‘Yet you were so quick to think the worst of me.’
Alex went very still.
‘You know,’ Phoebe continued, chewing on her lip, ‘I’ve made mistakes—plenty of them—but I’ve learned from them. Made myself stronger. You’ve let yours eat away at you. You once accused me of hiding, but who’s hiding now?’
‘I’m not hiding from anything.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Absolutely.’ Alex got to his feet and shrugged. ‘Like I said, it’s nothing personal.’
The cool indifference of his tone sliced through her and Phoebe felt as if a steel band had suddenly wrapped around her chest and were slowly crushing the air out of her lungs.
She’d thought she could handle this, that a casual fling was exactly what she wanted. But the power he had to wound her, the depth of the cut, told her more clearly than any number of words that she’d been fooling herself. She didn’t want a mere fling. She wanted a proper relationship and she was convinced they’d been heading in that direction. But Alex clearly didn’t.
Phoebe felt her heart harden. What an utter idiot she’d been. Well, not any more. ‘If it’s nothing personal,’ she said quietly, ‘then I think you should leave.’
Alex leaned back against the front door, closed his eyes and waited for relief to pour over him.
Because Phoebe was wrong. Utterly wrong. About everything. He didn’t trust her. Or anyone. And so what if he had let the events of five years ago influence pretty much every decision he’d ever made? Look at the way Jo had turned out. And look at the way he’d picked himself up and rebuilt his fortune. Neither of those things would have happened if he’d allowed himself to trust anyone other than himself.
Even getting round to trusting himself, when he’d screwed up so spectacularly, had taken a heck of a lot of work. He’d had to shut himself off, hurl himself into some sort of emotional Siberia. Which was just fine. He was perfectly happy with that. Emotions were messy and he didn’t need mess in his life ever again.
Alex pushed himself off the door and strode down the path. He couldn’t afford to trust anyone. He’d never stand back and give anyone one hundred per cent autonomy. Never had and never would.
Except Phoebe.
He stopped, his hand on the gate, his heart suddenly pounding.
She’d been right. He did trust her. The realisation thundered into his head and with it came another flash of insight.
Maybe it was more than that.
One of the photos that accompanied the article flew into his head. He’d met Phoebe for lunch. They’d gone for a walk in the park. He’d slung his arm round her shoulders and they’d been laughing about something.
But it had been the look on his face and in his eyes that had put the fear of God into him. And then when he’d thought she’d betrayed him, he’d felt as if he’d been punched with such force he’d reeled back and crashed against the wall.
Suddenly something inside him collapsed. He was so tired of being cold, of not allowing himself to feel. He was tired of empty, meaningless flings. What he had with Phoebe wasn’t empty or meaningless. He’d shared more with her in the past week both emotionally and physically than he had with anyone ever before.