But her body said otherwise. And the slightly open bedroom doors channelled their want as they both lay alone in the oppressive silence. Ainslie, her body twitching with desire and thick, greedy need, lay there rigid, almost in desperation for the escape they had briefly found, willing herself to relax, to sleep. Trying to ignore the man who lay just metres away, who was, after one kiss, the only man who had utterly moved her.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WHEN did all that come?’ Exhausted, dishevelled, and still coming to terms with yesterday, Ainslie had tripped over a pile of luxury luggage in the hall.
‘While you were sleeping,’ Elijah said, not looking up. Dressed only in a pair of grey hipsters, unshaven and tousled, he still managed to look absurdly sexy as he shared a bowl of cereal with Guido—one spoon for his nephew, then a larger one for Elijah. ‘I arranged some belongings to be couriered over yesterday.’ He glanced up at her raised eyebrows—raised because, with all that had taken place, how could he even think about clothes? ‘I couldn’t face putting on my suit again today.’
‘Oh!’ Ainslie said, feeling horribly small all of a sudden, as she tried to work out the kitchen. She knew how adrift she felt without all of her belongings—but at least she had clean knickers.
Elijah turned to face her. ‘I’ve also arranged a driver—Tony. He’s going to be staying in a room on the third floor, so he’s available whenever you need him—that is if you stay.’
‘A live-in driver!’
‘It’s impossible to park in London.’ Elijah shrugged, lying easily. She didn’t need to know he’d actually arranged a bodyguard for Guido—there was no way he was risking the Castellas coming to take him. ‘And I don’t like walking. Actually,’ he conceded slightly, ‘he’s just broken up with his wife and he needs a live-in job. It was either him or rely on taxis.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
‘I always am.’ Elijah waited till she came over before continuing. ‘Look, I really don’t want to push, but I need to know if you are willing to work for me.’
His eyes met hers when finally she joined him at the breakfast table. There had been no mention of what had taken place last night. He’d shown not a trace of awkwardness when he’d greeted her. In fact he was so cool, so completely together, Ainslie even wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing—like some strange erotic dream that made her blush to think about it. She was actually starting to wonder if anything had happened, because Elijah didn’t look at all fazed or embarrassed.
Or maybe he was just used to it, Ainslie mused as she sugared her coffee. Perhaps he was so used to snogging the hired help whenever it took his fancy it didn’t merit a second thought.
It had merited more than a second thought for Ainslie. Problems like finding work and somewhere to live in a strange country just a few days before Christmas, like coming up with some quick money to pay off her debt, had all become mere irrelevancies as she’d lain in bed and relived his kiss over and over.
And now he was asking for an answer as to whether she would work for him—an answer that, on several levels, she was hesitant to give.
‘Can I have some time to think about it?’
‘Unfortunately, no—I have already received a rather irate call from Guido’s case worker. It would seem that I should not have taken him without the Social Services department’s approval.’
‘Well, that would have gone down well!’ Ainslie couldn’t keep the note of sarcasm out of her voice.
‘It didn’t.’
‘So how did you respond?’
‘I said that perhaps they should question their procedures rather than me!’ He gave a tight smile. ‘That didn’t go down too well either! And Marco and his wife, Dina, have arrived, and have made it clear that they will be applying for custody. Guido’s case worker is coming to meet with me here this morning—it would be helpful to say that I already have arranged childcare, and if you can’t work for me I can at least call an agency and be able to say that I have lined up some interviews.’
‘I understand that …’ Ainslie stirred honey into some porridge and attempted to feed a less than impressed Guido, who was far happier sharing his uncle’s bowl. ‘I just don’t think it’s going to be possible for me to work for you.’
‘Because you have another job to go to?’ She could hear the sarcasm in his voice.
‘No.’
‘Because you would rather spend Christmas in a youth hostel?’
His arrogance didn’t faze her.
‘Maybe because I’d prefer to have a few days off over Christmas and New Year rather than being treated like dirt while I mind some rich family’s child!’ She gave him a sweet smile over Guido’s porridge, but it didn’t meet her eyes. They both knew that wasn’t the reason.
‘I would not treat you badly. And there would be no repeat …’ He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. The colour roared up her cheeks as for a dangerous second they both revisited last night, as her erotic dream was confirmed as reality. ‘The top floor is self contained—you could have that. We could draw up a contract …’
‘That’s not the only issue …’ Ainslie swallowed hard, her face burning as she wondered if a lie was a lie if it was by omission. It would be so, so easy to accept his offer. The thought of spending Christmas at a youth hostel, of searching for work at the most impossible time of the year, was daunting to say the least. She knew Elijah was desperate, that he probably wouldn’t get around to checking her references for a while, but still integrity won, and Ainslie knew she had somehow to tell him her truth without revealing Gemma’s indiscretion. ‘You might not want me looking after Guido.’ Two vertical lines deepened on the bridge of his nose, but that was the only reaction she took in before she quickly looked away. ‘It wasn’t a mutual parting of ways—I was actually sacked yesterday.’
‘For?’
It was a reasonable question—a very reasonable question—and one Ainslie didn’t know how to answer. To tell him the truth, the whole truth, felt disloyal to Angus and especially to the children—privileged information gathered when you worked in someone’s home, whether good or bad, wasn’t hers to divulge. Yet to be labelled a thief, to have her own reputation tarnished, posed for Ainslie an impossible conundrum.
The shrill of her mobile broke the strained silence, and Ainslie cringed when she saw it was Angus.
‘Ainslie?’ His voice was worried. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘What happened?’
‘Just leave it, Angus.’ Her face was one burning blush. She was wishing, wishing Elijah would show some manners, would get up and leave the table so she could take this exquisitely difficult phone call in private.
‘I can’t just leave it. Gemma says things have been going missing for weeks … is that true?’
And here was the horrible junction one invariably came to when lying—to claw back from the pit and admit the painful truth, or to cross the point of no return and fully embark on a lie.
‘Look, Angus … just give me a moment …’
Despite giving him a rather pointed look, it was clear Elijah wasn’t going anywhere, so it was Ainslie who left the table and headed into the kitchen. Closing the door, she let out a long breath, wondering what on earth she could say to make things if not better for herself then no worse for him. For Angus to believe her she had to lie convincingly—it was that or let him know his wife was cheating.
‘You know I needed money.’ She screwed her eyes closed as she said it. ‘Nick hasn’t kept up with the loan payments. I didn’t think Gemma would miss a few things.’
‘Ainslie—this just doesn’t sound like you—you’re one of the most honest people I’ve met, and the kids just adored you. I thought you were happy working with them …’
He didn’t believe her—wouldn’t take the out she was offering. So, taking a deep breath, Ainslie attempted to be more convincing, tried adding a bit of spite to her voice as tears streamed down her face.
‘Well, I wasn’t happy, actually! And I got sick of seeing Gemma parading her nice things. I decided I wanted some nice things too. I’m surprised she even noticed the necklace was gone—it’s not as if she’s spoilt for choice.’
There was a horribly long silence, but that was preferable to hearing him speak—the disappointment evident in his voice as he bought her lie.
‘Where are you now?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘Unfortunately I do.’ Angus let out a tired sigh. ‘We owe you some wages—and there’s your Christmas bonus …’
‘I’m not going to be working for Christmas.’
‘You’ve been great with the kids these last three months—and you’ve done a lot of babysitting at short notice. I’d rather do this right.’ Angus’s voice was resigned. ‘Look, can we meet? I’ll bring the rest of your things and—I’m sorry, Ainslie—Gemma wants the phone back. And—well—the kids were pretty upset. They’ve made you a card …’
‘I’m sorry, Angus …’ Her voice was thick with tears.
‘Meet me in half an hour.’
‘That was my boss.’ Red-eyed, Ainslie returned to the table, where Elijah was sipping on disgustingly strong coffee. ‘My old boss,’ she corrected. ‘I have to go and meet him.’
‘To obtain a reference?’ Tongue firmly in cheek, Elijah looked at her—and she knew, just knew, what he was thinking. Her employment had ended because she’d been found having an affair with her boss. If only he knew the truth!
‘I doubt it somehow.’
‘Did your termination have anything to do with your work with the children?’
‘No.’
He watched a salty fat tear spill down her cheek.
‘His wife—well, she wanted me gone. She said that I …’
Her voice trailed off. She knew, just knew, what Elijah must be thinking and struggled to rectify it. ‘It’s not what it seems.’
‘It never is!’ Elijah said dryly, and she gave a helpless shake of her head. ‘So what happened?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘You’re behind with a loan?’
‘You were listening!’ Ainslie gasped, appalled not just that he had listened, but at how blatantly he’d admitted it.
Elijah just shrugged. ‘I have no qualms listening through the door—not where my nephew’s safety is concerned.’
‘You had no right!’
‘I don’t see it that way—some of the best decisions I have made have been based on information others would rather I hadn’t heard. So, I ask again—you are behind with a loan?’
Ainslie gave a miserable nod. ‘I was relying on my Christmas bonus to make some payments.’
‘And Nick is your ex? You have debts with him?’
‘Debts I didn’t know about …’ Ainslie was struggling and failing not to cry. ‘I found out a couple of weeks ago that he’d taken a loan out while were together—in both our names. I didn’t know anything about it till I got some forwarded mail. He hasn’t paid the last two payments, and I’ve rung him a few times and it doesn’t sound as if he’s got any intention of meeting them.’
‘So now you’ve found out why you left him …’ His insight halted her tears. ‘Something really wasn’t right. Have you contacted a lawyer?’
‘A lawyer would probably end up costing more than the loan …’ Ainslie gave a worried shake of her head. ‘It’s easier to just keep paying it for now. I’ve spoken to the bank, but they haven’t been very helpful …’
‘So you have a motive, and you’ve admitted to something you didn’t do. The question remains, why would you admit to something you didn’t do?’
Her eyes shot to his, her face colouring under his scrutiny. ‘What do you mean? If you were listening properly you’d have heard me say that I did steal.’
‘Thieves never admit, though.’ Still he stared. ‘I know because I was one—and I know that you are not.’
That he believed her, that somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, he believed her, brought a fresh batch of tears to her eyes.
‘So why did you just lie?’
‘It’s complicated …’ His interrogation flailed her—his insight, his questions, confused her. She was tempted, so tempted to tell this stranger her truth, yet even knowing she couldn’t, but that he believed her, brought strange comfort.
‘Angus—he’s a doctor. He’s quite famous, actually; he’s on television, in the news. When I took the job I signed a contract … I promised them that …’ Ainslie shook her head. It was hopeless. ‘Look, I’m sorry that I can’t answer your questions, and understand that you may want to reconsider your offer. I have to go and meet Angus now—if I could leave my things for a couple of hours …?’ God, why didn’t he just say something—anything? Ainslie thought. His scrutiny was unnerving her.
But even when he answered he left her hanging.
‘Guido’s social worker will be arriving soon—I will let you know my decision on your return.’
He’d already made it. Whatever had gone on, or was still going on between herself and her old boss, at least she was discreet. For a man in Elijah’s position, a female with discretion was a rare commodity—and one, amongst other things, he was going to need to win Guido’s case worker over.
He’d met Ms Anderson at the hospital yesterday, and had disliked her instantly. Normally Elijah could charm any woman. He had flirted from the cradle, and quickly worked out that with the right flash of those blue eyes he instantly got his way—not with Ms Anderson.
‘Your lifestyle really isn’t suited to such a young child.’ Ms Anderson got straight to the point once he’d shown her in. ‘While I appreciate you can afford the best in childcare, what we are seeking for Guido is a more nurturing family environment for him to thrive. His uncle Marco and his wife, Dina, already have two children, and understand more what they are offering to take on …’
‘My sister was explicit in her wish—and that was that I had custody of Guido.’
‘Your sister was dying when she made that wish. She was no doubt in pain and emotional too …’ Ms Anderson said, slightly more softly. ‘And while of course her wishes must be taken into consideration, there are Guido’s father’s wishes to consider too.’
‘His would have been the same.’
‘Without a will, we’ll never know.’
‘I know!’ Elijah flared, but fought it. He knew he had to keep his emotions in check if he was going to put across his point. ‘Rico didn’t talk to his family—that is why they were here in London. They wanted to be away from them.’
‘That’s not what the Castellas told me.’ As he opened his mouth to argue, Ms Anderson overrode him. ‘I am not getting into a pointless debate of “he said, she said”. In the absence of a will, all we can look after is the best interests of the child—that is our primary concern.’
‘It is my primary concern too!’
‘It wasn’t yesterday!’ Ms Anderson was resolute. ‘You walked out of the hospital yesterday evening with Guido—you just took him …’
‘There was no reason for him to be there. He wasn’t involved in the car accident. He has an ear infection and croup! It hardly merits a hospital bed!’
‘His immediate care was supposed to be discussed prior to his discharge.’
‘He is my nephew.’ Elijah glowered. ‘You speak as if I kidnapped him, as if I am depriving him of medical care, when in fact, I told a hospital doctor my intentions, and he himself prescribed medicine.’
‘You waited till the Social Services department was closed, though, and you spoke with a very junior doctor! I’m sure you can be quite intimidating when you want to be!’ Ms Anderson held his glare. ‘The department wants Guido’s passport …’
‘Well, they can’t have it. I have no idea where it is.’
‘Then it looks as if I might be here for a while. Do you want me to help you look?’
Of course it was in the second drawer she opened—there in
the dresser, amongst wedding photos, birth and marriage certificates. Elijah’s lips pursed. His clothes arriving, employing a supposed driver and a nanny, were all intended to make it look as if he were planning to stay—yet his intention had been to leave straight after the funeral. Back to his lawyers, his contacts, to the power he held in his home town—power that would cut through this senseless red tape in a matter of days. For a second Elijah rued the fact he hadn’t headed straight for the airport this morning—but that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. So instead of dwelling on a past that couldn’t be altered, Elijah treated it as a business problem, handing over the passport without comment as he was forced to move swiftly to Plan B—or rather quickly come up with a Plan B.
‘Surely he should be here …?’ Elijah said, his hands gesturing to the impressive lounge. ‘Here amongst familiar things? At least for now, till a decision is made …’
‘It’s a big house …’
Ms Anderson gave a nervous cough as Elijah’s face hardened. Clearly the cosy family scenario she had just mentioned was not going to eventuate here.
‘It is my house,’ Elijah clipped.
‘Your house?’ Ms Anderson frowned, peering down at her notes. ‘The Castellas said that it belonged to Maria and Rico—that they had just taken possession of the title.’
He was about to deliver a smart reply, but something halted him.
‘They said that?’ His mind was whirring at the fact that they would even know—but then his home town was small, and even if his lawyers were discreet, who knew about their secretaries, or the typist, or whoever was cleaning the desk? ‘Don’t you think it strange that within weeks of Maria and Rico—?’
‘Mr Vanaldi …’ Her voice bordered on the sympathetic. ‘The police have said that the accident wasn’t suspicious, and the Castellas were in Italy when it occurred.’
He was sounding irrational, Elijah knew that—but she didn’t know the Castellas, or the levels they’d stoop to. Instead of arguing his point Elijah chose to play his cards close, to stay one step ahead just as he always did.
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