The Mistresses Collection. Оливия Гейтс

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       TWELVE

      Part of the condo was almost complete—the kitchen. In the couple of days they’d had away the builders had installed the cabinetry and the beautiful marble slab for the counter. Caitlin barely glanced at it as she dashed upstairs. She flung herself face down in pillow mountain and let the tears fall from her eyes.

      Five minutes. Five minutes of moping. Then she was pulling herself together.

      But she hurt so much inside. She squeezed her eyes shut. It didn’t make the world go away. What an idiot. She sat up and scrubbed the tears from her face with her palms. She looked around the lovely room. Then her gaze rested on the slim black rectangle he’d left on the beside table.

      It was the last thing she should do. She knew that. But she couldn’t help it. She might as well see the worst. She switched it on and opened up the Internet.

      Yeah. There it was. Caitlin swallowed and quickly closed down the programme. Put the iPad back. Then stood and raced to the bathroom. But as if she could run away from it at all? How could she hide from that?

      How could it be that this latest round of Internet abuse upset her more than the mess with Dominic? Why was the public pillory worse this time?

      Because this time it was true.

      Caitlin wasn’t good enough for James. He was too good for her. But not only that, he didn’t feel the same about her. Once more she’d put her hopes in someone who cared more for his career than he did for her. Would she never learn?

      Now she was left to deal with it alone. Again.

      She couldn’t stay here. She refused to take what he’d offered her. It wasn’t enough. The question was where she was going to go.

      She’d never ask her father for money. Or Hannah. She’d never be a leech. Hannah mightn’t see it like that, but so many others definitely would. And Caitlin wasn’t giving anyone any reason to doubt her—especially the sister that she’d seen so little of. With Caitlin working so much as a kid, and Hannah so much since, they’d really never had a normal kind of sibling relationship. Not the teasing and laughing James had with his brothers. She wished she could be a better sister, but for Hannah’s sake Caitlin believed it was better to be an absent sister. Then she could pretend it didn’t hurt so much.

      She stared at her reflection and told herself to suck it up. She’d known she couldn’t call on the little family she had, and she’d known she shouldn’t fall for James. It just wasn’t going to happen for her.

      She was going to have to figure her own way through her finances, through her heartbreak. To do that she needed to go back to London as soon as she could. She’d find a job. She’d survive. She was smart. She could sew. She was strong.

      She could come up with a plan.

      * * *

      Four days later James landed back at JFK airport. Shattered again after another flight with no sleep. But that didn’t matter. He had to get home asap. He had a bad feeling. He’d called the landline at the condo several times while he was away—at the oddest of times.

      She’d never picked up.

      He paid off the cabbie and raced inside. The refurbished kitchen in the condo looked beautiful. But empty. The whole place felt empty.

      ‘Caitlin?’ He ran up the stairs, his heart thudding.

      He didn’t want this. But he already knew. His sanctuary of a bedroom was empty. And huge. And lonely. His massive bed was made—the covers unrumpled. As if they’d never been touched.

      Cold.

      He didn’t need to look in the wardrobe to check for her clothes. She was gone. Then he saw it—the note she’d left on top of his pile of damn T-shirts.

      Thanks so much, I had a fabulous holiday.

      James swore. What the hell was that? Some courteous note a schoolgirl might write? It was so nothing.

      His chest burned as if he’d been overdoing a sprints session. He’d underestimated how much he’d been looking forward to seeing her again. Now panic seized him as it hit him. He’d been aching to see her. Only he hadn’t realised it. Hadn’t let himself. But now? Now he knew he’d been missing her every waking and sleeping moment. And he wanted to see her. He wanted her here—right now, giving him one of her defiant, teasing looks as she cut him down to size with one of her quips. And he wanted her flushed and sparkling and welcoming him with her warm body—all the while still teasing him in the way only she did.

      He wanted that warmth. That acerbic СКАЧАТЬ