The journey back was far different from the one before. She woke up feeling dizzy and lightheaded to find that he had left the cottage with a terse note that he was going to a meeting.
"I have requested that Sophia pack all our things and send them off to the plane. Will be back in time to leave."
She showered and dressed, putting on a trim dark blue dress pants and a cream cashmere sweater. The efficient Sophia had prepared breakfast, but she didn't do the flaky croissant and fruits much justice.
By the time he returned she was ready to leave. His face was granite and expressionless, giving nothing away and not allowing her to make amends.
He never touched her either. And when he spoke to her, his tone was scrupulously polite and distant. She had hurt him and ended up hurting herself.
It was for the best or at least that's what she was trying to tell herself.
They boarded the plane and he went straight into the area she had seen before and assumed was his office. When jet lag and lack of sleep from the night before washed over her, she went to the cabin and fell asleep.
Giving into the need to see her, Rodney abandoned all thoughts of work and slipped into the cabin. She was curled up on her side, still fully dressed. Her hands were cradling her cheek, and she looked wan and tired.
She had brushed back her hair into a neat bun on top of her head, leaving her face and neck bare. And he was aching for her.
Last night had been the most miserable time he had ever spent. Sleep had been elusive until the early hours of the morning. The thought of her in the next room had tormented him to the point where he had simply gotten up and sat there staring out into the darkness. This morning, he had showered and left before she rose.
The need to slide in next to her was so great, he had to physically stop himself from doing so. She had hurt him in ways he had never imagined. He had laid his heart at her feet and she had crushed it.
What she said about just having fun and never asking for his love or his proposal had cut like living hell.
She had played him. He could not believe this was happening to him again. He must be a sucker for bloody punishment, he thought bitterly.
But something was not right. Unless she had missed her calling as a superb actress, he knew she returned his feelings. No one could fake such passion. And there was passion, of such high intensity, he wondered it didn't consume them.
And she had been crying. He had seen the evidence on her face. What the hell was going on?
Shaking his head, he took one last longing look at her and slipped away.
*****
He called the driver to transport her home and used the car he had left at the private hangar.
"I have to go and see my mother." He waited until John the driver had loaded her numerous packages into the trunk of the long town car.
He escorted her to the door and opened it himself.
He stood there for a minute, inscrutable eyes sweeping over her face. Stepping back, he nodded curtly to the driver.
"I'll call. Goodbye Melanie." Turning on his heels, he strode towards his vehicle.
Sliding in before her jelly like knees gave way, she closed her eyes and battled back tears. It was over and she had gotten what she set out to get. The jewels would be worth several thousand dollars and selling the high end clothes and shoes, not to mention accessories, would net her quite a bit.
If she decided to leave the dead end job, she would be set for a couple of years. Free to do whatever she wanted to. Free to buy her son new clothing, new shoes, take him to the orthodontist. And she had forgotten the painting.
In her own way, she was a wealthy woman.
It felt empty and shallow. She felt dead inside. She would gladly trade everything for the man. She wanted the man.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Turning her head, she sobbed quietly.
*****
"Darling, you're not even listening."
Forcing his dreary thoughts away, Rodney smiled at his mother and took the glass of wine she handed him. She had been delighted that he dropped by, even though he looked weary and incredibly sad.
