Читать книгу The Scandal Behind the Wedding - Bella Frances - Страница 10

JUST WHEN SHE’D thought she was in the clear. Just when she’d thought she could go home and soak away the mind-blowing night she’d just had. The shock of that party. The raid. The run. The man. The man …

She felt his hand wrapped round hers. Felt the firm, unyielding strength seep right into her. She walked at his side, matching his stride. Heads turned to watch them. She kept her gaze high. He drew glances and glares from the people exiting their cars and heading into the hotel. And there at the corner, where limos were disappearing to be valet-parked, was a posse of photographers.

‘There are more of them,’ she said, panic ringing clear in her own ears.

‘Yep.’

He was focussed. Intense as the sultry night.

‘Car’s here.’

‘I have a car.’

‘I know. But we’re not going to start discussing whose car we travel in now, are we? We’re going to get in mine and get the hell out of here.’

For a heartbeat she wavered. She could still call the valet for her own. Get in it and head back to the complex. Close the door and hope for the best. But the change in Danny as he strode forward to the sleek black sports car was making her think that they were by no means in the clear. And though he seemed to have the police in his pocket the paparazzi were a whole different animal.

‘Okay. I’ll come with you.’

He raised one of those perfect brows as if to ask if there was any other choice.

Slipping into the bucket seat took her aback. So low her knees knocked against the dashboard.

He slipped his hand to the side, pressed a button that sent her seat back. ‘Comfortable?’

She grasped the seatbelt that had slid itself forward and clasped it in place, looking at his face, reading it for clues. He was utterly composed. There was even a hint of a smile. But she sensed the change in him—even if he masked it better than a black veil.

‘Thanks. Where are we going?’

‘To limit some damage.’

‘What damage?’

‘That’s the part I don’t know yet.’

‘You’re saying words that scare me but you’re acting as if we’re off for a picnic.’

‘I don’t think it’ll be a picnic, but there won’t be anything scary.’ He turned and fired his stare at her. ‘Have no fear about that.’

She continued to watch the side of his face in the flare of streetlights that shone as they passed. They scooted effortlessly along Sheikh Zayed Road. Alongside the road signs and streetlights huge illuminated monoliths loomed, then passed. Taxis, SUVs and the occasional truck switched in and out of lanes. His driving, like everything else, inspired confidence, and she let herself sink back into the leather, sure that he’d be able to negotiate any of the manic moves that sometimes had to be dealt with on the roads out here.

‘We’re not being followed.’

She stared at him. Then turned her head to try and peer out of the tiny rear window. All she could see were lights. ‘You thought we were? Being followed?’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘It was possible.’

Another somersault in her mind. ‘Why? Who cares about us? Why would anyone want to follow us?’

His jaw was definitely tight and getting tighter. He drew in a breath, then twisted her a bemused look. ‘When they’ve taken enough pictures of the WAGs they come looking for the rich.’ His hand tightened on the wheel. ‘And rich ex-pats in trouble—beautiful ex-pats in trouble—sell papers. Here and at home.’

‘But you said we weren’t in trouble!’

‘With the police—no. But if those snappers have pictures of me or you anywhere near that suite then both our reputations will be in question.’

She stared. Her mouth had dropped. ‘So I could still lose my job?’

He took his hand off the wheel. Laid it on her hand, resting on her thigh. Rubbed and soothed. ‘Yes. You could lose your job. And I could lose myself the biggest contract I’ve been working towards for the last ten years. That’s why we need to get our mitigation.’

He cut a swift track into another lane and took them off on a slip road to another row of illuminated sky-high obelisks. He slowed, pulled in and stopped. An avenue of palms. Staff in attendance. Another exclusive hotel.

‘Public, but very restricted. Definitely no photographers. Come on.’

She was struggling to keep up but he was already out of the car and heading round it. The valet opened her door and she did her best to get out. No need as Danny hooked a hand under her elbow and steered her up and into the hotel so quickly she was sitting in a booth and sipping mineral water before she could even catch her breath.

His phone rang. He excused himself with a look and walked away, talking quickly. She watched him pace, overawed all over again. She felt as if she was playing catch-up, just being in his company. He seemed to move so fast—assured and swift. His mind raced as fast as his car. Tenacious and fiercely intelligent—you could tell just by looking at the concentration in his face even as he took his call.

So she’d thought she could climb into her own life raft and row herself to safety? Make out with the most amazing man she had ever met—would