Not-So-Secret

Chapter sixteen

The man behind her bore no resemblance to the man in her mind's eye. They looked the same, but they were complete opposites when it came to the heart.

What had happened to him? Was being around Jones enough to kill that humanity? She closed her eyes. Of course it was. If she'd stayed, who knows what would have happened to her? What was of much more concern now was what would happen to her baby. How could he ever come out of this unscathed?

"What did he tell you?"

She turned to face James again, hardening herself against the cool disdain in his gaze. "I have to dress. Go back to him."

"Then, what are you waiting for?"

He was actually more beautiful when he was like this. When his lip had that hint of a sneer and his eyes burned right through her. But she knew better than anyone that beauty was nothing. A trap. A web.

Without giving him the satisfaction of an answer, she headed for the bedroom. Jones wanted her hair down. She'd have to wear full make-up, which she hadn't done since the day she'd left him and were the awful lingerie that was sure to be in her dresser.

The bedroom, as large as her living room and kitchen combined, had been redecorated in the same motif as the rest of the suite. The four poster was swathed in sheer white drapes, the posts themselves sturdy brass.

Looking at the bed made her stomach clench as other memories came back, piling in her head like a car wreck.

When they'd first met, Jones had been a perfect gentleman. He'd courted her with respect, giving her all the time she'd needed to make her decisions. Even after they'd made love, he was patient, showing her a side of him she knew now to be a complete charade.

Only when she was well and truly trapped did he come out, show her his true colours. Sick colours. His cruelty became masterful in the bedroom. What he'd done to her, made her do...

She took a deep breath as she thrust the thoughts from her consciousness. Striding to the closet, she flung open the doors, determined to think of nothing but the task at hand.

The wardrobe was far sparser then she'd imagined. Half a dozen dresses, another half dozen negligees. High heels, of course and gaudy accessories. Furs, jewelled handbags. Not her taste, not her style. They made her feel cheap, despite the astronomical price tags.