The Greek and the Single Mum. Julia James

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СКАЧАТЬ universe had just stopped, the line of irritation strengthened.

      Then, abruptly, it was gone. He was moving, sliding his hand into his jacket pocket and gliding out a long, slim case. He placed it in front of her with a precise movement.

      ‘As I said—’ his voice still had that strange clipped quality to it ‘—I’ve appreciated you very much, and this is a token of that appreciation.’

      Slowly, very slowly, as if there were lead weights on them, she pulled her eyes down to the slim jeweller’s case in front of her, beside her coffee cup. Slowly she lifted her hands and opened the case. A long line of white fire glinted at her.

      Diamonds, she thought. These are diamonds. A diamond necklace. For me.

      He was talking again. His words came and went. She could hear snatches, as if through a thick, impenetrable fog.

      ‘Naturally I don’t want you to have any immediate concerns about accommodation. So I’ve taken an apartment for you, which is yours for the next month. That should give you ample time to make alternative arrangements—’

      The words were coming and going, coming and going…

      In strange, dissociated slow motion, she felt herself stand up.

      ‘Clare?’ His words had broken off. Her name came sharply.

      ‘Will you excuse me a moment?’ she said. Her eyes drifted to his. He seemed very far away. As far away as a distant star.

      She felt for her handbag and walked away from the table. It was the strangest feeling—feeling nothing. That was what was so strange about it. Walking through a fog of nothingness.

      She found the Ladies’ and went inside. There was no one else there. For a moment she just looked at herself in the mirror above the row of gleaming basins.

      She was still there. That was odd. She’d thought she had gone. That everything had gone.

      But she was still there.

      She blinked a moment. Her fingers closed around her clutch bag. For one moment longer she just looked at herself in the mirror. There was the faintest scent of lilies in the air, from the massive bouquet that adorned one of the vanity units to the side.

      A sudden, hideous spurt of nausea leapt in her throat.

      She turned on her heel.

      The door swung open in her hand, and she was in the carpeted corridor outside. To her left was the way back to the restaurant. To her right the corridor led to a side entrance to the hotel that opened into a quiet street off the main West End thoroughfare the St John was situated on.

      Her feet walked to the street door. It swung open at her touch.

      Outside, on the pavement, the night air should have felt chill. But she did not feel it. She did not feel anything.

      She started to walk.

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