A Fragile Heart (BBW Billionaire Light Romance) by Juliet Michaels Page A
Authors: Juliet Michaels
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shouted, his eyes blazing.
She stood perfectly still, shocked to see him there and shaken by his obvious rage.
“What am I doing?” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice level. “I'm back home where I belong, not being deceived by you with your money and presents.” She paused. “Or being kidnapped and questioned by your mistress,” she added for good measure.
“I’ve spoken to Chiara,” he said gravely. “Why did you leave like that? No note or phone message. I was worried. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Something did happen to me! I was snatched from the street and frightened half to death, then told about a situation I could hardly believe in. I just wanted to get away.”
Guy remained by the closed door and Elena was dismayed to see him begin to cast his steely gaze around the tiny, scruffy flat. What a contrast it must appear to his usual lifestyle.
“And you didn't think to let me know you were coming back to England? Reception said you had taken a taxi to Naples Museum. I had no idea what had happened.” Guy was still furious, and Elena could tell that he was struggling to control himself.
“You didn't tell me about Chiara,” she replied. “What could I be expected to think after that?”
“I was going to tell you everything after the holiday,” he said. “To choose the right time. But we were enjoying ourselves, and I wanted it to go on, I didn’t want to spoil things.”
“There wouldn't be a right time to tell me something like that,” she snapped. “You kept it hidden. You didn't let me into your life.”
Elena sighed. Why was she even being expected to defend herself about running away when she wasn’t at fault?
Guy moved away from the door, taking a step towards her into the small room. He held her arms, looking deep into her eyes, his own gaze so intense, so searching. Feeling his firm grasp, Elena struggled to control herself. Because she wanted to lean against him and feel his strong muscular arms slip around her once more, but at the same time she was still so confused, so damn angry with him.
“And did you let me into your life, Elena?” he said softly. “Be honest. You’ve never let me come here, never introduced me to your brother or talked to me about meeting your family. You haven't mentioned me to any of your friends, as though I'm some kind of dirty secret. And you wouldn't come to my home either although I tried. What is it? Are you afraid of my money? You don't trust me and you don't trust yourself.”
It was too close to the truth. Elena shrugged out of his grip and pushed him hard in the chest, forcing back towards the door.
“It's over,” she said, choking over the words, afraid that the tears that were welling inside were going to escape. She wouldn't cry in front of him; she needed to be alone. “Please go now.”
“It’s your decision,” Guy said coldly.
He turned and pulled the door open, strode through it, slamming it behind him. The sound echoed through the empty flat as Elena stumbled to the cluttered sofa and sank down onto it.
It’s your decision .
The words echoed around Elena’s head as she began once more to sob.
It was over.
§
For the next two days Elena kept to herself, like a wounded animal licking its wounds. She tidied the flat and made a single short trip to the corner shop for essentials. She drank wine and watched TV, going to bed early and waking up several times during the night.
Again and again she turned over that last encounter with Guy in her mind: he’d come to find her, but was it just because he was so angry with her for running away, or had he really wanted to discuss the situation with her, and try to make amends?
Whatever the truth, she’d told him it was over and that she wanted no further contact from him.
Whenever she tried to phone, his phone was switched off. It would’ve been good to have company, even though he’d probably mention that he had warned her
She stood perfectly still, shocked to see him there and shaken by his obvious rage.
“What am I doing?” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice level. “I'm back home where I belong, not being deceived by you with your money and presents.” She paused. “Or being kidnapped and questioned by your mistress,” she added for good measure.
“I’ve spoken to Chiara,” he said gravely. “Why did you leave like that? No note or phone message. I was worried. I thought something had happened to you.”
“Something did happen to me! I was snatched from the street and frightened half to death, then told about a situation I could hardly believe in. I just wanted to get away.”
Guy remained by the closed door and Elena was dismayed to see him begin to cast his steely gaze around the tiny, scruffy flat. What a contrast it must appear to his usual lifestyle.
“And you didn't think to let me know you were coming back to England? Reception said you had taken a taxi to Naples Museum. I had no idea what had happened.” Guy was still furious, and Elena could tell that he was struggling to control himself.
“You didn't tell me about Chiara,” she replied. “What could I be expected to think after that?”
“I was going to tell you everything after the holiday,” he said. “To choose the right time. But we were enjoying ourselves, and I wanted it to go on, I didn’t want to spoil things.”
“There wouldn't be a right time to tell me something like that,” she snapped. “You kept it hidden. You didn't let me into your life.”
Elena sighed. Why was she even being expected to defend herself about running away when she wasn’t at fault?
Guy moved away from the door, taking a step towards her into the small room. He held her arms, looking deep into her eyes, his own gaze so intense, so searching. Feeling his firm grasp, Elena struggled to control herself. Because she wanted to lean against him and feel his strong muscular arms slip around her once more, but at the same time she was still so confused, so damn angry with him.
“And did you let me into your life, Elena?” he said softly. “Be honest. You’ve never let me come here, never introduced me to your brother or talked to me about meeting your family. You haven't mentioned me to any of your friends, as though I'm some kind of dirty secret. And you wouldn't come to my home either although I tried. What is it? Are you afraid of my money? You don't trust me and you don't trust yourself.”
It was too close to the truth. Elena shrugged out of his grip and pushed him hard in the chest, forcing back towards the door.
“It's over,” she said, choking over the words, afraid that the tears that were welling inside were going to escape. She wouldn't cry in front of him; she needed to be alone. “Please go now.”
“It’s your decision,” Guy said coldly.
He turned and pulled the door open, strode through it, slamming it behind him. The sound echoed through the empty flat as Elena stumbled to the cluttered sofa and sank down onto it.
It’s your decision .
The words echoed around Elena’s head as she began once more to sob.
It was over.
§
For the next two days Elena kept to herself, like a wounded animal licking its wounds. She tidied the flat and made a single short trip to the corner shop for essentials. She drank wine and watched TV, going to bed early and waking up several times during the night.
Again and again she turned over that last encounter with Guy in her mind: he’d come to find her, but was it just because he was so angry with her for running away, or had he really wanted to discuss the situation with her, and try to make amends?
Whatever the truth, she’d told him it was over and that she wanted no further contact from him.
Whenever she tried to phone, his phone was switched off. It would’ve been good to have company, even though he’d probably mention that he had warned her
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