Her breath was fast and shallow, her heart hammering as she waited for his response, any response.
When the door had rolled high enough he stepped under and around to the side of his black BMW, tossed in the bag and finally turned, his features frozen, his eyes cold and hard.
‘I’m disappointed, Philly. For a woman who’s gone to the lengths you have to get pregnant, I would have expected something much more creative than that. Running out of ideas, are you?’
He lowered himself into the car and turned the key, kicking the black beast into life. She ran to the side of the car as he pulled his door shut, her voice rising to counter the engine.
‘Damien, it’s the truth. And no matter how much you don’t want my love and don’t need it, you’ve got it. And I don’t even know why. But it’s true. I love you.’
He gunned the motor, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tense over the gear stick as his window slid down in a hum. ‘Don’t bother, Philly. That’s hardly likely to change things, even if I did believe you.’
The window slid up and the car jumped forward out of the garage. Philly sprang back as the sleek car roared out.
‘Damien!’ But he was gone, in a cloud of rich petrol fumes and the powerful roar of an engine being given its head.
He couldn’t go—not like this! He had to believe her. She had to convince him. But how could she do that? She looked around, her eyes falling on the Mercedes coupé still parked just outside the garage, the large gold ribbon still tied around it. She touched the key at her throat, the key Damien had placed there earlier.
He must be heading for the penthouse, intending to spend the night alone there. If she could just talk to him—she needed time to explain, to put his fears to rest, and letting him stew on everything tonight was only going to cement his case against her.
She looked at the car. She hadn’t driven it yet and it was as different from her old sedan as satin was from serge, but it was still only a car. And right now it was her only hope.
She flipped the ribbon necklace over her head as she headed for the car. With two tugs the large bow came away and fluttered to the ground and, collecting her skirts in one hand, she slid behind the wheel, the soft leather seat wrapping itself around her. She took a few seconds to familiarise herself with the controls. Then she snapped on her seat belt and started the engine.
The sports car gave a throaty purr that spelt superb engineering and promised power. She wouldn’t need too much of that—she was more interested in making it to the penthouse in one piece than in catching him en route after all. With a final deep breath she found the headlights and released the handbrake, easing the car along the driveway.
There was at least twenty kilometres of country road to negotiate before reaching the highway that would take her straight into the city. She couldn’t wait to get there.
Thick clouds skudded across the sky, obliterating the moon until the night sky became dark and threatening. Gum leaves and bark danced across the road, whipped along by the rising wind which bowed the roadside trees in the car’s powerful headlights.
While the car was smooth and powerful, it was enough to concentrate on the unaccustomed journey and the worsening conditions and she longed for the familiarity of her old sedan. At least on that one she knew which side to find the wipers and indicators in a hurry if she needed.
She missed two turns on the narrow bush roads and had to backtrack to find the right route, but eventually the glow from the lights over the freeway on-ramp told her she was close. With a sigh of thanks she stretched back into the rich leather upholstery, knowing the worst was over and that the freeway would soon take her into the city and to Damien. The few first drops of rain splatted on to her windscreen. Slowly at first, before fast turning into a torrent.
She almost missed the car on the side of the road as she battled to find the wipers. For a second she thought it was Damien parked there and her heart leapt, but as she got closer she could see the dark colour belonged to a different, older make of car. The bonnet was up and a woman ran out in front of her, waving her arms in the rain. For a second she thought about driving on—it was dark and she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of stopping. But the conditions were awful and what if the woman had children in the car? If it was Philly herself who’d broken down the last thing she’d want would be people to just drive by.
If only she’d grabbed her bag before she’d rushed off. At least then she would have had her phone to alert the authorities. As it was, she had no choice…
She pulled up just behind the car and found the button for the window. Cold bullets of rain took advantage of the opening glass, crashing cold and hard on to her face and chest. The woman rushed alongside.