Such was the power of her words. The earth moved and tilted against its axis. Stars were born and stars died. Julian came with such force he swore he blacked out for a few seconds. He found himself collapsed on top of her, his dead weight pinning her underneath him. Like a dying man finding his last strength, he shoved himself off her and clumsily dropped face down beside her. He feared he wouldn’t be able to move ever again. She had paralyzed him with her words.
He felt her stroking his back, his hair, soothing him as if she sensed the tumult she was subjecting him to. If he pretended not to have heard, they could go on as they were.
But she had to bloody well repeat it.
“I love you,” she whispered achingly. “It’s always been you.”
Her words doomed him.
He rolled away from her, sat on the edge of the bed, and began pulling on his trousers with shaking hands. “Take it back.” He hated sounding like a petulant child, the smell of fear washing over him like the odor of urine-soiled linens. He faced her, his eyes pleading with her to rescind the words.
She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him unflinchingly. His sweet and brave Imogen.
“That wasn’t part of the agreement, Imogen.”
“I know.”
He disguised the mounting panic that was overtaking him. He looked away from the hurt in her big brown eyes. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow. I’m tired. I need to sleep.”
He averted his gaze and prepared to leave. He couldn’t bear to see what would be reflected in her eyes.
The word coward rang in his head and taunted him all the way to his room.
* * *
Julian would get used to it. He had to. No way was Imogen going to take it back. She had named it. Named the glorious and painful beast that consumed her. And named it love.
She was sure Julian felt it too. Every glance, every little thing he did for her all spoke of something deeper. It was hard to see him fighting it. But the alternative was worse. She couldn’t leave him. She didn’t want to. She still hadn’t told him she would marry him.
“Sir Julian has already left.” Mrs. Nero answered her unspoken question when she sauntered bleary-eyed into the kitchen after a night of tossing and turning. “He left something for you in his study.”
A folded note was propped on his desk along with a shiny shopping bag. She glanced at it like a ticking bomb, dread making her go cold all over. But what if he had put into words what he couldn’t say to her last night? With trembling fingers she smoothed the paper open, scanning it hurriedly. The words made no sense at first.
…maybe we should reassess our relationship.
…too hasty.
…someone who could love you as you deserve to be loved.
Then all at once it did, ripping her heart out of her chest.
Numbly, she opened the paper bag and took out the contents. It was a silken robe and a jade bracelet, the exact celadon green of his eyes. She walked out of the study robotically, went to the living room, and peered into the fish tank. Clark swam by some new silk plants and a little Chinese pagoda ornament. She was surprised to find herself sitting on the couch without any recollection of getting there. She marveled at the feel of wetness on her cheeks, astonished that a person whose heart was now a big gaping hole could manage to feel anything at all. She dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.
Chapter 24
“What the fuck do you mean they still haven’t got anything?” Julian barked at the head of his security detail over the phone. His secretary, who was in the process of stepping inside his London office, quickly backtracked and closed the door.
It had been a month of pure hell, and it seemed it wasn’t about to end anytime soon. Julian had called in favors from several friends in law enforcement and had hired several private investigators in L.A. to search for Imogen, but they had all turned up with nothing. He dreaded it every time his mobile rang, fearing it would be news of Imogen, hurt, in a hospital or as his tormented mind would like to torture him with, found dead, lying in a ditch somewhere. The only thing preventing him from full-blown panic was the fact that she called Maggie every week to let her know she was okay. For him there had been no calls. The last call had been six days ago. Maggie would be flying back to China tomorrow to a remote village where there would be no cellular signal. He had commandeered her mobile, now lying silent on his desk, and had forwarded all SMS and calls to Maggie’s new mobile number except the ones from Imogen. He had tried calling the number several times but it remained inaccessible.
In between meetings and numerous commitments, he spent all of his free time jetting to the U.S., hoping his sheer presence and will would somehow help them find her. She hadn’t gone to Kansas as he had hoped. Maggie had ripped into him when she found out Imogen had disappeared. She had rightly blamed him even without knowing the reason she left. He doubted she would be speaking to him if she knew the real reason behind Imogen’s disappearance.
Julian didn’t know how it happened, but the press found out about his search for Imogen.The papers dubbed Imogen as the Duke’s Runaway Girlfriend. The media went into a frenzy trying to locate her. There were several photos of Imogen “sightings” but they were all false leads.
A month and a half into her disappearance, Gray walked into his Los Angeles office to pick up his quarterly check. He wasn’t surprised Gray knew where to find him at ten in the evening. Julian rarely went to the penthouse now except to crash.
“You look like shit,” Gray said without preamble.
He was sitting behind his desk in the darkened office. It amused him perversely to find out how he felt inside was also how he appeared outside. “And a good evening to you too,” Julian answered flippantly. His clothes were hanging loose and he had forgotten to shave. Again.
“If you keep this up, People will knock you off the sexiest list.”
He shrugged. “About time you got one over me.” He felt snippy and small, pretty much the way he was feeling all the time. His partners were worried about him but gave him a wide berth. His façade was cracking.
“Not in the way that matters.” Gray regarded him steadily then swore. “You’re in love with her.”
Julian opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t stand the pity in his brother’s eyes.
“Just get your check and get the hell out.” Julian couldn’t be too sure if it was a trick of the shadow or a flicker of hurt that passed across his brother’s face.
“Don’t worry, Jules,” Gray uttered coldly, “I won’t outstay my welcome.” He grabbed the small envelope off the desk, took out a piece of paper, and signed it with an angry flourish. He slammed the paper palm down on the heavy table and fixed him a stare filled with loathing. “You don’t deserve her, but it seems she doesn’t have a choice now.”
Julian watched Gray walk towards the door, his shoulders stiff and his strides angry. In a few seconds he was out of the office and Julian had lost his chance to apologize.
Gray’s parting shot sounded cryptic, but he was too disheartened to demand an explanation. He slumped against the executive chair and rubbed his face wearily. A few minutes later, his SMS alert pinged. It was from Gray. He scanned the message quickly, his body going on full alert. Julian was out of his chair in a shot and on his way to West Hollywood in minutes, barking orders to Jenkins to put his F1 driving style to good use and drive as fast as he was legally allowed to do so.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Stella asked for the third time. She had caught her leaning against one of the posts inside the West Hollywood bar.
Imogen had called in Stella’s debt to her and moved in to her apartment. She had been desperate and needed a place to stay while she planned her next move. She had thought of going to Kansas in the beginning, but her aunt had flown suddenly to Florida to attend the funeral of a friend. Besides, it would be the first place where Julian would try to find her, if indeed he was looking for her at all.
To help with the rent, Stella had gotten her the waitressing job. Imogen had done well at the start. Lately though, she had been feeling tired all the time. Even Stella had noticed her dragging her feet at work. Stella was nervous that her boss might notice and would be mad at her for recommending a slacker like Imogen. She dreaded how Stella would feel if she found out the real cause of her fatigue.
“I’m fine.” She pulled her lips in parody of a smile. It was a Friday and the bar was full. The pace tonight was making her out of breath and dizzy. She couldn’t walk out and leave Stella in the lurch, risking the ire of her boss.
“If you’re sure...” There was doubt in Stella’s eyes, but she was hailed by a customer and hurriedly left to take orders.
Imogen was glad the heavy make-up hid her pallor and together with the wig, hid her identity from anyone who might recognize her. She had been photographed several times in Julian’s company when they were out in public. She took a deep breath, picked up the heavy tray, and put steel in her spine. Only four hours to go before her shift was done.
Tomorrow she would go and see Julian. She had to swallow her pride. The baby came first. Nothing else. Not her foolish dreams. Not her broken heart.
Besides, it would only be a matter of time before she was found out. And though she knew at the start Gray would be the last person who would tell Julian where she was, her pregnancy changed things. For all his defiance, he had balked at the idea of her keeping her pregnancy a secret from Julian. Gray had issued an ultimatum. Either she tell Julian personally, or he would tell him about the baby. She had two days to do it.
She was grateful it was her day off tomorrow. She had to finally go see a doctor for a spot of blood she had seen on her underwear this morning. It was probably nothing, but it was better to be sure. After, she would go see Julian.
With a big sigh, she hefted the heavy tray and made her way to the tables.
* * *
Gray was getting back at him. Why else would he text him that he had spotted Imogen in this seedy establishment last night, if not out of spite? Imogen wasn’t the kind of girl who would patronize such a bar. He was already striding to the exit on his way to kill Gray when his senses tingled.
The petite blonde waitress weaving her way unsteadily between the tables caught his eye. The way her sweet curves filled out the too-tight French maid’s costume. The relief that washed over him almost sent him to his knees, to be replaced by rage when he saw a burly, middle-aged man looking down her neckline. He ate up the several feet that separated them in long angry strides, shoving some customers who were standing in his way. Expletives followed his rough progress. He brushed off a meaty hand that landed on his shoulder. His eyes were locked only on her, uncaring of the couple of drunks he had pissed off and left in his wake.
She was turning away from the table, away from the leering stare of the patron, and carrying her tray still filled with some beer mugs that she wouldn’t be able to see it in the dim lighting. A customer’s leg was sticking out under a table. It was directly in her path. In a flash, Julian was at her side. He snatched her tray with one hand and had an arm snaked around her waist to prevent her from taking another step farther.
The waitress raised indignant brown eyes. At the sight of his face, she swooned promptly.
Chapter 25
“I’m okay,” Imogen repeated for the nth time.
Julian was crouched in front of her, pressing a wet handkerchief to her face. He was wiping off the gunk covering her, judging by the smears of make-up she glimpsed on the damp cotton. Her wig lay like roadkill on the floor. They were in the stockroom, and she could hear Stella arguing with an angry male voice. Probably Steve, the bar owner. Right now she was too distraught to care. “How did you find me?”
“Gray.”
Rat. He had been eager enough at the start to help her escape Julian and his bodyguards, but her pregnancy became a game changer. For one crazy, foolish moment there she had thought Julian had come for her. That he had realized he had finally come to love her after all. But no. He had only come after her because he had found out about the baby.
“I told you to wait for me. That we would talk.”
Funny how the same pattern repeated itself. Two years ago he had said he wanted to talk. She ran. He raked a hand through his already-disheveled golden hair. He looked gaunt and exhausted. His hands were resting on her knees and her traitorous body was responding to their heat, remembering how they played her. She wanted badly to wrap his arms around her and feel his solid strength against hers. Then she remembered what was in the letter.
“Your note said it all.” Steve was shouting to be let in the stockroom. It sounded like a riot outside. “I’m not stupid.” She blinked several times, stemming the flow of tears. “I know when someone’s dumping me.”
Julian flinched. “I’m the one who was stupid. I didn’t realize−” He took a ragged breath. “I didn’t know how−”
Imogen couldn’t bear to see this proud man being reduced to such a state. “Sshh. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. It doesn’t matter anymore. I know why you’re here.”
He searched her face. ”You do?” His tone was odd.
A scuffle sounded outside.
“Sir, things are going to get rough pretty soon. We can’t hold them off longer without anyone getting hurt.” It was the bodyguard’s voice coming through the door.
Imogen felt nausea rising up her throat. She usually threw up in the mornings, but the tension of the past few minutes must have thrown her body in a loop. She threw off Julian’s hands and rose on unsteady legs to burst out of the exit that led to the back alley. One of the security detail standing guard outside reached for his gun automatically but relaxed when he identified her.
“Imogen!” She could hear him saying her name urgently, but she threw off a hand to stave him off. She was finally sick all over the alley pavement. When it was over, she slumped against a wall weakly, wiping her knuckles across her mouth.
“Genie!” His voice was alarmed. His hands descended on her shoulder. “Are you ill?” He brushed off the damp tendrils of hair that had come loose from her ponytail and clung to her moist, clammy face.
“I’m not ill,” she said feebly to reassure him.“It’s just the pregnancy.”
Julian staggered backwards, as if from a blow. Must be the puke all over the floor that had him rearing back as if in shock. His tanned face paled, leaving him sallow looking.
“Sir! We must leave now!” The bodyguard’s tone was urgent. The other beefy security man was holding off the back alley exit door where somebody was pounding furiously. “This way, sir. Follow me.”
Julian stood in the middle of the alley, looking oddly lost and defeated.
“Julian?” She tugged at his hand. “We have to get out of here.”
He snapped out of his trance and seemed to regain his composure quickly. The bodyguards flanked them as they made their way to the waiting vehicle and sped away from the chaos they left behind.
* * *
Imogen was pregnant?
She was staring resolutely out of the window, her hands fisted on her lap. The silence in the car was oppressive. No one had been inclined to be the one to break it off.
The penthouse had also been eerily silent when he had come home from a two-day weekend trip to San Francisco a month and a half ago. Julian had wanted to cut short his meetings, but he couldn’t do it without disrupting the other entrepreneurs’ schedule. He had sent Imogen messages but she hadn’t responded. He decided to give her some space. When he called the penthouse, Mrs. Nero had told him that Imogen had called to say she was staying over at Maggie’s. On his first day back in L.A. and Imogen’s third day of absence in the penthouse, he had finally called Maggie, who was puzzled and then alarmed and furious.
“What did you do, Julian?” Maggie had demanded.
What have I done?
He had panicked that morning. He felt he was being suffocated. It w
asn’t part of the bargain. Those feelings she had been professing, what was he supposed to do with them? The way he felt completely stripped of his defenses when he was with her, he didn’t like it. That path led to sure heartache and Julian had had enough of it. Imogen was not to be allowed inside. She was not allowed to slice open old scars and create new wounds.
And since he couldn’t let her in, he would have to let her go. Let her find someone who was capable of loving her back. He had felt edgy and restless the morning after her confession. If he didn’t get it out of his chest, he was going to explode. He had written the letter, loath to wake her up. Julian had wanted to tear it up the minute he was in the car and on the way to the airport. He wasn’t usually this impulsive, this emotional. She was already wreaking havoc with his judgment and they weren’t even married yet.
Imogen deserved someone better. Someone who could return her feelings one hundred and one percent. Julian couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk stepping on the line beyond friendship. That area was a quagmire of murky emotions, all of which threatened to suck one whole.
Unfortunately, her pregnancy meant she would now be stuck with someone like him. Someone who had a serious case of arrested emotional development. Someone who didn’t fucking deserve her.
He had this speech all prepared for when he found her. How he was sorry he couldn’t be the man for her. How he couldn’t shortchange her. That to prevent her from being unhappy, he was letting her go.
That it wasn’t her. That it was fucking him who was the problem.
That if he could love someone, it would be her.
Instead the words that came out of his mouth showed just how far he had sunk. “Is the baby mine?”
The Duke Takes a Bride (Entitled Book 2) Page 18