He reached the reception room and was immediately struck by the sense of emptiness which lingered over the room that hadn’t been there the night before. Where was the warmth, the touches of personality and hospitality he had noticed yesterday when he had walked in here? The spray of wild flowers in a glass jar on the mantel? The scent of rosemary and lavender? The erotic aroma of Cara herself which had invaded his senses and driven him wild?
‘Cara?’ he shouted again, the hollow ache tangling with the heavy weight of foreboding which sat in his stomach. ‘Stop hiding, we need to talk.’
‘She is gone,’ the lawyer interrupted softly, the bitter accusation in his voice replaced with weariness. ‘She left this morning before the media hounds arrived, thank God.’
Maxim swung round. ‘Where did she go?’
‘I do not know,’ the man said, then lifted a sheaf of official-looking papers from the briefcase he had open on the table. ‘But she left you these.’
Maxim frowned down at the papers and shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t want to take them, whatever they were.
Cara had left? Without contacting him? Without giving him a chance to explain?
‘Take them,’ Marcel said, the edge of accusation returning. ‘It’s what you wanted.’
The harsh stab of regret dug into Maxim’s stomach. Whatever those papers contained, this was not the outcome he had planned.
What if he could never hold her again? Hear her sighs? Her sobs? Feel her body close around his?
What surprised him, though, was the realisation that it wasn’t just the chance to have her back in his bed that he regretted the most.
What if he never saw her face again? So open, so trusting, the flags of colour on her cheeks when she was aroused? What if he never heard her voice again either? Crisp and smoky, arousing him and antagonising him at one and the same time...
Caron dumped the papers onto the table. The thud yanked Maxim out of the unfamiliar reverie. The lawyer let out a hefty sigh. ‘She has relinquished any claim on the de la Mare estate and this property. I will file the papers with the court tomorrow morning and the estate will be put up for auction to pay the debts very soon.’ The lawyer’s gaze met his, the accusation back full force. ‘I realise you are a ruthless man, but I never realised you were this ruthless.’
He could refute the man’s claims. He hadn’t intended for the affidavit to become public, certainly hadn’t planned for it to be leaked to the press. And he hadn’t seduced Cara with any ulterior motive. But he didn’t really care what Marcel Caron thought of him. The threat of public or private censure had never stopped him from doing what he had to do to grow his business, and destroy his rivals, before now.
Which only made the numbness spreading through his body all the more confusing, and unexplainable. How was it that he found he did care what Cara thought of him?
‘Here—’ the lawyer lifted a sealed envelope with his name written on it in neat black lettering ‘—she left you this too.’
He snatched the envelope from the man’s hand and ripped it open.
Maxim,
I realise what happened last night was simply a means to an end for you—and it was naïve of me to think it was anything else.
I hope you can be at peace with your father now.
Goodbye,
Cara Evans
He let the paper drop, then thrust his fingers through his hair. His guts churned as the numbness was replaced with anger. Not just with himself, but with Cara.
Did she think he’d planned this? That he’d seduced her to get hold of the estate? That he would stoop so low as to use his body to further his business ambitions? Did she think what had happened between them hadn’t been as spontaneous for him as it had been for her?
She’d run without listening to his side, without giving him a chance to explain, but, worse than that, she had folded her hand because of what? A few press enquiries?
Yes, his legal team had made a catastrophic error, and heads would soon be rolling because of it, but why hadn’t she stayed to fight this thing? Why had she given up so easily?
And that nonsense at the end of the letter about his father. He didn’t give a damn about that old bastard. He’d moved on from that rejection a long time ago. Why hadn’t she believed him?
‘You need to tell me where she’s gone,’ he demanded, focusing his rising fury on the only person there. He needed to find her, to get
her back. To get rid of this growing emptiness inside.
‘I told you, I have no idea,’ Marcel said.