But Chloe shook her heads. There was a steely determination in her eyes. “No. I think it’s better if you don’t.”
So did he, and yet again, he offered, “It’s fine. Nothing I can’t make up another time.” His frown was borne out of genuine confusion. “I want to be there for you.”
Her smile was distracted. “Thank you.” Her blue eyes met his. They were fearless now, but also sort of cold. Unemotional. Distant. “I need to do it on my own.” She squared her shoulders.
The pit in his stomach was growing bigger. He hadn’t wanted to go to her meeting; at least not initially. But now, the thought of Chloe facing off against William filled him with a strange lurching sensation. The ground was no longer completely steady beneath his feet.
It was a feeling that didn’t go away. The whole morning, he went through the motions of his schedule, but his mind was firmly on Chloe. In his mind, he saw only her. And he knew he’d feel like a tightly wound spring until he could touch her again.
* * *
Clint Douglas was a kindly man in his late twenties. Chloe had warmed to him instantly – and all the more so because his voice had a quiet softness to it. It was completely at odds to the way William spoke, and even to Hendrix’s overt confidence. Not a single fibre of her being was threatened by Clint. He was easy. Easy to talk to, and easy to be around.
She sat beside him now, and his banter about his weekend almost had her completely relaxed. She could almost, but not quite, have forgotten that she was about to come face to face with her husband for the first time in years.
But the rushing in her veins served as a reminder. Life was not calm sailing. Not yet. Yes, she’d met Hendrix, and for the first time in a long time, she was allowing herself to want things from life that were just for herself. But there were still a lot of difficulties to be got through before she could really allow herself to think of the future.
“Don’t be nervous,” Clint assured her, apparently aware that her thoughts had drifted.
She nodded slowly. “I just want it over,” she said with a shrug.
“And it will be.”
Her look was one of pure scepticism. “We’ll see.”
“Your ex-husband can’t force you to stay married.”
“Perhaps not, in theory. But he could make it difficult for me to have a clean break.”
He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Try not to worry about that.”
Her smile deepened. “Oh, okay,” she responded with polite sarcasm.
His response was stalled by the opening of the door. A male assistant stepped in to the sparsely furnished boardroom, and announced (unnecessarily), “Mr William Ansell-Johns Junior, and his counsel, Ian Walsh.”
Chloe’s eyes moved swiftly passed the other lawyer. He was an unremarkable looking man in his early fifties with thinning hair and a slate grey suit. But it was William that had her attention.
For the first time in years, she came face to face with her husband, and she felt … nothing.
Her head cocked to the side, as she took her time to study him anew. Yes, he was very handsome. He always had been, with his thick blonde hair, dark brown tan and shining green eyes. He was broad and muscular, and very, very strong; as she’d experienced first hand. But he no longer made her feel anything but contempt and frustration.
“William,” she greeted, surprised at how cool her voice sounded.
“Chloe.” His eyes held hers, and it was impossible for her to understand the strength of emotion that was being pushed towards her. He kept his eyes locked to hers the whole time it took him to walk through the room and take his seat opposite. Beneath the table, whether by accident or design, his foot brushed hers.
She fought the urge to jerk her legs away swiftly.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Clint spoke first, joining his hands together on the table and leaning forward a little.
“Yes, let’s,” William responded, speaking before his lawyer could.
Chloe knew that tone of voice. It was stubborn and recalcitrant. He wasn’t going to play fair. Her stomach lurched and she wished then she hadn’t been so dogged in her response to Hendrix. The thought of him sitting beside her instantly buoyed her. If only!
“We’d like to reject your grounds for divorce,” Clint said, moving swiftly over this point as though it were inconsequential. “Given the volatile nature of your relationship, Chloe would be within her rights to file under far more serious terms. However, she’s prepared to be reasonable and cite irreconcilable differences…”
“No.” William leaned forward, his green eyes like copper. “No.” His gaze shifted to Chloe. “You abandoned me. And I have every right to name that on the divorce.”
Chloe’s stomach was aching. She felt a surfeit of disgust and grief. “You know why I left you.”
His lips flicked in a sardonic drawl. “And why’s that?”
She refused to be cowered by him. “Because you hit me, and you threatened me. And our child.”
“Careful, young lady,” Ian chimed in. “You’re getting very close to slandering my client now.”
“Slander?” She glared at the lawyer with impatience. “You’re actually going to deny it?”
William’s laugh sent a shiver down her spine. “Where are the police reports? The hospital notes? Where is there any proof that I ever laid a finger on you – except in the way you wanted?”
Her cheeks flared with a bright pink. “You know you hit me,” she responded, her cool tone slightly weakened by the shaking in her voice. “You might want to lie about it here, but you hit me.”
“I’m afraid that’s your word against mine. And who would believe you? A broke single mother, with dubious friendships.”
“Oh my God!” She snapped, rolling her eyes. “You’re unbelievable. You emptied my bank account! That’s why I’m broke. And I’m a great mom, single or not. As for my dubious friendships, you can talk! Jeez, William. What’s this all about? What do you want from me?”
The room was so silent, a falling pin could have been heard as it dropped to the carpeted floor. “That’s simple, Chloe. I want you back.”
Her legs were shaking beneath the table. “No.”
“Yes,” he demurred. He turned to his lawyer and nodded. Ian reached into his briefcase and pulled out two documents, stapled together. He handed one to Chloe and one to Clint. “This is what I’ll be seeking in our divorce – if you decide to proceed.” He leaned back in his chair, his smile supercilious on his handsome face. “If, however, you come down off your high horse and move back into our home, I’ll forget all of this ever happened.”
Chloe felt the breath evaporate from her body, as she lowered her gaze to the document and began to read it. Disbelief piled upon outraged disbelief as the lengths William was willing to go to were revealed in black and white.
“You honestly think you’d get full custody?” She asked sharply, her eyes enormous in her face. “You don’t even want her, Will. You don’t know a thing about her. You haven’t even asked for so much as a picture!” She sucked in a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?”
His laugh was like fingernails on a chalk board. “Because I want you, darling. Back in our home. Back in my bed. Back in my life. If that means she has to be part of the deal, then so be it.”
“Oh my God.” Chloe turned beseeching eyes on Clint, who was frustratingly calm beside her. Say something, she implored him, but he only shook his head slightly from side to side.
“We’re playing to win, Mrs Ansell-Johns. You need to think long and hard about just what you hope to achieve by going through with this.”
“I hope to achieve my freedom, Mr Walsh. My freedom from a man I married when I was a stupid teenager, far too young to know any better.”
“But you’ll never be free of me,” William pointed out coldly. “Not while we share a daughter. You’ll forever have to put up with me in your life in some way or another.”
Nausea made her vision blu
r.
“Thank you for the information,” Clint responded with a curt nod. “We’ll review it and be in touch.”
Three of the four of them stood. Chloe couldn’t. Her legs were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure they’d hold her weight.
“Chloe.” It was William. His voice cut through the room, and scored marks straight into her heart. “Come with me. Let’s have coffee and talk. Maybe the two of us can work this out.”
“My client won’t be having any conversations with you without her representation present,” Clint responded forcefully, before Chloe could express her own disgust.
“Fine,” Ian said, baring his even, white teeth. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of yellow paper. “Here’s our petition for immediate access to the child. We’ll see you in court.”
The words were still slamming through her mind when she took the lift to Hendrix’s office afterwards. “Oh my God,” she said to herself, moving through the spacious foyer without taking anything in. “Oh my God.”
It couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. No. A nightmare.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” One of his assistants forestalled her, but Chloe didn’t hear.
Here’s our petition for immediate access to the child. Ellie! “Oh my God.”
“Ma’am? Mrs Ansell-Johns?”
Chloe’s hand was on the door to his office. All she needed was to see Hendrix. She needed to feel his arms around her. Hell, she needed him. In every way. She was kidding herself to pretend that she wasn’t hooked on him.
“Ma’am! Excuse me! Do you have an appointment?”
Chloe finally startled, shaking her head and focussing her attention on the woman. “Yes,” she said simply, pushing the door inwards.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the assistant followed behind Chloe. “I know you said you weren’t to be interrupted, but …”
Hendrix’s eyes dredged themselves from his desk, to his obviously rattled assistant. Grace wasn’t used to being gain-said, but that wasn’t his concern. Chloe looked about three blinks away from passing out. “What the hell happened?” He demanded, shooting up and storming across the office. He dismissed Grace with a wave of his hand and slammed the door shut behind her. Chloe flinched at the loud noise and Hendrix pulled her into his arms, holding her tight in the protection of his grip.
She breathed in deep, and then began to shake. “He’s going to petition for access to Ellie. Immediate access.” Her teeth were chattering. “He’s going to take her away unless I go back to him.”
Hendrix groaned against her head. The game was changing. He had to move with it. “He won’t win. I promise you that.”
She sobbed now, finally giving into the grief and worry, as she reached for the yellow piece of paper and handed it to him. “You don’t know him, Hen. He wouldn’t be doing this unless he knew he had me.” She swore softly and went to pull out of his embrace. There was reality to face, and it wasn’t going to happen if she stayed snug in Hendrix’s office.
“Chloe …”
She shook her head, refusing to be placated. “I can’t lose her. Don’t you get it? Damn it! I can’t let anything happen to her.”
He put his hands on her upper arms, holding her steady. When he spoke, it was more emphatically. “Do you trust me?”
She shrugged away from him. “Yes. But it’s…”
“Good.” He interrupted, kissing her gently, and then lifting her head, so that he could stare into her eyes. “My driver is going to take you home. I want you to pack a bag for you and Ellie, and then meet me at my apartment. You’re going to stay with me while we work this out.”
A line formed between her brows. “Stay with you?”
“Yes.” He nodded, as everything fell perfectly into place. The answers he’d been looking for – all of them – brightened in his mind’s eyes. “You and Ellie will move in with me.”
“No,” she laughed uncertainly, as though maybe he was going a little crazy.
“Oh, yes,” he overrode her. “Not only that, Chloe, you’re going to agree to be my fiancé.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Take them out,” he said with a gentle insistence, his black eyes fixed on the diamond studs she habitually wore. He’d looked at them like that earlier that day, when she’d been getting dressed in her apartment. Had it really only been that day?
How much had happened! From her meeting with William, to Hendrix’s strange suggestion that they become engaged, to her even stranger acquiescence. And now, this. Sitting on his leather lounge, fire crackling gently in the grate, Ellie fast asleep in one of the many guests room his penthouse boasted, being told to remove her earrings.
So much for keeping a little distance between Ellie and Hendrix! So much for making the right choices for her daughter! She swallowed guiltily, her cheeks flushing as she thought about how quickly she’d agreed to his suggestion. As though it were as simple as moving in with him! And pretending to be engaged! Her weakness made her heart hurt, because she knew it was a weakness. A selfish, indulgent craving to take whatever Hendrix Forrester could give her, while he was willing to give it.
“Please,” he added, mistaking her hesitation as a reticence to remove the earrings.
Curious, she lifted a hand and toyed with one of the gems. “Why? Why do they bother you?”
He reached for her hand and lowered it. Then, he leaned forward and undid the butterfly clip, sliding first one earring out, and then the other. Chloe was too completely absorbed by his proximity to care.
“Because, Chloe, I am not the kind of man who is happy for another man’s gifts to adorn your body.”
Was it possible that the great Hendrix Forrester was actually jealous? Of some gift that had long ago ceased to have meaning but the aesthetic to Chloe? “But … really?”
His eyes flared with the strength of his emotion. “Yes. Really.” He put the earrings carelessly onto the coffee table, and then stood. “Stay here.”
She watched as he moved with his easy athleticism across the lounge. Dressed in his black suit, he reminded her of some kind of panther – strong, powerful and lithe. He returned a moment later with a small, turquoise bag. Ellie recognised it instantly, of course. Not because she made a habit of shopping at Tiffany & Co, but because she passed bus shelters plastered with their posters, and she was a woman alive in the world.
She swallowed, anticipation at war with consternation. “What is that?” She asked, before he could hand the bag to her.
It was a flicker of emotion that betrayed his amusement, rather than a smile. And it reminded her so strongly of the first time they’d met. Had it really been a month ago?
“It’s a present.”
Her heart began to race in her chest. Her blood was pounding in her ears. “You don’t need to do this,” she rushed. And the suspicion she’d been carrying all week began to crack over her; like an egg breaking its shell, she felt it glide over her skin. The worry that she’d fallen in love with him was with her constantly. And at times like this, it was worst. Because she knew it was true. She did love him. It was the only explanation she had for why she’d behaved so rashly. It was completely out of character for Chloe to entwine her life so completely with a man she had only known for a short time. And yet she’d done it, because she loved him. It terrified her and it excited her all at once.
“No. Of course I don’t need to.” He reached into the bag and selected a small black box. “But the moment I realised that you still wear his jewellery, I vowed to correct that.”
“I don’t wear his jewellery,” she denied. Her fingers lifted to the bare lobes. “I don’t think of it like that, anyway.”
“He gave them to you. He chose them out. I don’t like it.”
She couldn’t help the small smile of surprise that sculpted her lips. “Are you jealous of my husband, sir?”
His black eyes glittered with a strength of feeling that stole Chloe’s breath away. “I am far more than just jealous of him. I
hate him.” The passion in his speech made her heart stutter.
“But why?”
“Men like him, who treat women as he does, are the lowest of the low.”
She nodded. “Yes. But …”
“Don’t defend him,” he implored, his voice gravelly.
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t about to, believe me. It’s just that you’re …”
“Yes?” He prompted, when she paused, mid-revelation.
Her cheeks glowed with a hint of pink. “That first night we, um … at my place.”
“Yes?” He smiled at her teasingly.
Chloe punched his arm playfully, but he captured her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “You said, I sleep with women who want a great fuck. Or something like that.” Her whole body heated up at the memory of that night. His fingers were running over her hand, stroking her soft skin.
He dipped his head forward. She took it for a nod, but actually, it was shame. Shame that he’d said that to her, when she had been trying to make sense of the tumultuous feelings that they sparked in one another. “I was angry.”
“At me?” She asked, curiosity making her blue eyes wide.
“No,” he lifted her hand to his mouth once more, and kissed each knuckle gently. “At the situation we found ourselves in.” It was true. The murkiness of what he wanted from her as a man, and what he needed from her as a grieving, vengeful brother, had become a confusing mesh of emotions. Even then, he’d known it was unsustainable. He couldn’t be true to both needs, and what he owed his sister had burned inside of him for a long time. It was impossible to ignore.
Knowledge of his duplicity sickened him. He covered it with a confident smile. “I wanted you.”
She swallowed, her pulse firing rapidly. He lowered his gaze to the slender column of her neck, and the necklace she always wore. She followed his gaze and burst out laughing. “This one you have to let me keep. This one was from my mother.”
“Ah,” he nodded, fingering the small pendant. “It’s beautiful.” She wore the necklace because it meant something to her. It was from her late mother. Did she wear the earrings because they too meant something to her, despite what she said? Because William still had a power over her?
Betrayed by the CEO Page 9