“You should know, though, that I met Raf a long time after the two of you had broken up. Whatever might be going on with the two of you, my life is not your concern.”
“Just remember to keep it that way. Remember who you are, and who I am, and we won’t have a problem.”
Marcia sashayed back towards the door, at the exact moment one of the housekeepers appeared.
“Ma’am? Can I help with something?”
“No,” Elodie said breathlessly, forcing a weak smile. “My guest was just leaving.”
Marcia’s look was one of pure hatred, which Elodie supposed she could understand. If she’d once lived in this house, it would have been hard to come here now and be referred to as a guest.
But the second Marcia had breezed past and stepped out, Elodie closed the door and pressed her back against it.
“Ma’am?” The young housekeeper rushed forward. “Do you need help? Shall I call Mr Santoro?”
That had her forcing herself to stand, even when her legs were badly trembling.
“No,” she blurted out quickly. “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”
She slipped upstairs to her own room, her mind whirring with one thought, and one thought only.
She needed to get away. Out of Raf’s orbit, and the orbit of someone like Marcia. Away from the jealousy that was snaking through her, as darkly determined as Raf’s tattoo, at the uncertainty of her life, her future, of her place in Raf’s. Whatever else she knew, she knew this: staying here would just keep hurting her, especially now she knew she was in a house of Marcia’s creation.
CHAPTER 19
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, missing?” Raf demanded, staring down on the Mayfair streetscape that was visible from his window.
“Miss Finch went to bed last night, early, and then we presumed she was sleeping in, but when she hadn’t appeared by lunch time, I went to check. Her bedroom was empty. We’ve searched the house…”
Raf was already reaching for his jacket, stalking towards the hotel door.
“There was a woman here last night. Miss Finch seemed a little unsettled. Perhaps I was wrong, though. Perhaps she decided to go somewhere with her friend?”
A sense of ice ran through him. “Did you see the woman?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Describe her.”
He listened as the young woman detailed Marcia, including what she’d been wearing in this very hotel room. A grim line formed on his lips, and ice turned to a blade of fear. He’d told Marcia about the babies—finally—as a courtesy, and because it wasn’t the kind of news one could reasonably break over the phone, he’d invited her to his suite. He’d made it clear from theoutset that it was for a conversation, and nothing else, and he’d kept things as short and businesslike as he could. It was clear she’d had other ideas though, her fingers clipping to his shirt and unfastening a button before he could react, and then, when he stepped back, he’d seen a hint of the Marcia she’d become, in the end.
The version of Marcia he’d turned her into, by never meeting her needs. He’d been so selfish, and it had ruined her.
But had she taken her anger and lashed Elodie with it? Hurt her? God, kidnapped her?
“Have Raul check the security tapes. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
He disconnected the call and began calling Elodie. She didn’t answer, so by the time he arrived at his house—which at some point he’d started to think of as theirs—worry had turned into something else entirely. Raul met him at the door.
“She took a cab,” he said, as if he innately understood the direction of Raf’s thoughts.
“On her own?”
“Ten minutes after Marcia left,” Raul agreed.
Raf closed his eyes on a wave of something like relief. “I should have known Marcia would come here,” he said. “Damn it, I should have prevented that.”
Sympathy showed on Raul’s features but Raf didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to focus, to ignore the burning sensation in his lungs, the growing sense of ache that he might have lost Elodie for good. Having her around the corner from him had been a strange kind of balm, a connection, even when there’d been none. And now?
