The Prisoner(28)

My fingers were shaking so much I could barely zip up my dress. What would Carolyn think when she heard that Ned and I were married? I needed to tell her face-to-face—and in spite of what Ned had said, I would tell her the truth. There was no way I was going to pretend that Ned and I had been in a secret relationship and that I was so in love with him I’d said yes when he proposed. Our deal was off. I didn’t want his money; the thought of it made me sick.

I’d have given anything to be able to say that I hadn’t been thinking straight when Ned had put his proposition to me, that the champagne and wine I’d drunk had clouded my judgment. But I couldn’t lie, not to myself, not to anyone else. I had gone into our arrangement with my eyes wide open, and my head turned at the idea of living a life of luxury for a month. Waves of shame rolled through me. How could I have been so stupid?

And now there was Justine to worry about. Carolyn had said that she wasn’t answering her phone. I suddenly remembered what Ned had said, that she had gone to Paris to interview Ophélie Tessier. Maybe that was why she wasn’t answering Carolyn’s calls. Or had she never gone, after Ned assaulted her? Because if she’d filed a complaint against Ned, why would she continue working for him? On the other hand, why should she give up a job that she loved, or hide herself away, when she had done nothing wrong? And what about Ned? Did he know about the complaint Justine had filed?

A knock at the door made me jump; it would be someone to collect my luggage. My suitcase was still open on the bed, I closed the lid quickly and opened the door.

Ned was standing there.

“Good morning,” he said, then stopped. “Is everything alright? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

I had to stop myself from backing away from him. “I—I thought we were meeting downstairs,” I stuttered, my heart crashing in my chest.

“It wouldn’t look very good if we arrived in the lobby separately,” Ned said, amused. “Now that we’re married.”

I couldn’t look at him. I moved to the bed, zipped my suitcase shut. I wanted to attack him, tell him that I knew about Justine, shout and scream at him. But Carolyn had said not to mention anything, and I couldn’t make it worse for Justine, so I bit my tongue.

“We need to go,” he said, coming into the room and taking my suitcase from me. “The car is waiting.”

In a trance, I followed him out of the room. We got into the elevator and as it descended to the lobby, I stared at our reflections in the mirrored wall. I recognized Ned but I didn’t recognize the girl standing next to him. It looked like me, but it wasn’t me.





CHAPTER THIRTY


PAST

On the flight home, the hostess congratulated us on our marriage.

“A glass of champagne for you, Mrs. Hawthorpe?” she asked.

I flinched. I was not Mrs. Hawthorpe. And then I realized that in the eyes of the world, I was.

“No, thank you,” I said stiffly.

I pretended to sleep during the flight so that I wouldn’t have to talk. When we touched down in Farnborough, Hunter was there to meet us.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Hawthorpe,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “On your marriage.”

I frowned, confused by his unfriendliness, until the enormity of what I’d done hit me. How could I have forgotten about Hunter, about the drink we were going to have together? My stomach churned. I wanted to grab his hand, tell him that my marriage to Ned wasn’t real, that it was just an agreement. But Ned placed a hand firmly on my back and pushed me toward the open car door.

As I got into the car, I tried to catch Hunter’s eye. But without looking at me, he handed Ned a newspaper, open to one of the inside pages. Ned glanced at it and then showed me, and I saw the photograph of me and Ned outside the chapel, and the caption Hawthorpe Heir’s Secret Wedding.

Ned smiled. “Perfect,” he said as Hunter slammed my door shut.

Ned got into the back of the car next to me.

“Straight home, please,” he said, and my heart fluttered. I was sure we’d be going to my apartment first to pick up my clothes and I’d planned to lock the door and refuse to come out.

“Can we go to my apartment to pick up the things that I’ll need?” I asked.

“Hunter already has them, they’re waiting for you at the house,” Ned said.

My stomach knotted. Again, I tried to catch Hunter’s eye, this time in the rearview mirror, but his attention was on the road ahead.

“How did you get my key?” I asked.

But they both ignored me.

Ned’s phone rang. He cursed under his breath and let it ring out. It rang again immediately. I glanced at the screen and saw Dad. With another curse, Ned answered it.

Jethro Hawthorpe’s voice was so loud and angry that I could hear every word he was saying. Realizing, Ned turned away from me. But it didn’t make any difference.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?

“I’m in the car,” Ned said tersely. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

I’m coming over to the house.

“No, don’t come over, I said I’ll—”

Jethro Hawthorpe had cut the call.

Ned’s phone rang again, and again, and again, and again. Eventually, he snatched it up.

“Stop phoning me, alright?” he said angrily, and I was shocked that he would speak to his father like that. “I mean it, Lina,” he added, before cutting the call.