Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Zara
W hen we finally land in London I want to kiss the ground. But I’ve already noticed a few curious glances coming my way from my fellow passengers, even through the haze of grief. Have they never seen a woman cry before?
I stop in the bathroom and rinse my face with cold water. There are a couple of young women in there talking but when I come in they stop, then start whispering, watching me. I resist the urge to make a face at them in the mirror. What on earth is going on?
Then, as I pass a newsstand, I realise.
Oh my God.
On the front page of one of the tabloid papers is a slightly blurry photograph of Myles and me.
Sitting in the restaurant at La Coeur, our heads close together, laughing about something, while the sun sets over the ocean behind us.
It’s a really nice photo, actually. The headline reads ‘Playing away? Billionaire Brandon spotted riding the waves with mystery woman, pg 7.’ What the hell?
I hastily grab a copy, keeping my head down as I pay for it. I’ve been crying so much I probably look nothing like the radiant woman in the picture, the one with her hair loose and her eyes bright.
I go back into the bathroom and sit in one of the stalls, locking the door. I open the paper to page 7. Oh God. There are more photos, one with Myles touching my hand, another where I’m laughing, my head back, and another where we’re just gazing into each other’s eyes. I hastily scan the copy.
Not much is known about the mystery woman, though our source tells us she’s apparently an employee of MB Holdings.
Myles’s current love, supermodel Katya Evanovna, was spotted at the airport on her way to Morocco.
She declined to comment, other than to say that she and Brandon are still together and that everything is fine.
So… is this a business meeting with a twist, or something more?
One thing’s for sure; this is an unusual slip by Brandon, a notoriously private man.
The question remains: is the mystery woman a fast flame, already burnt out, or is there more smoke with this fire? Stay tuned to find out more.
There’s a photo of Katya walking through the airport, her long legs bare, hint of green silk peeping out from under a huge jumper. Her head is down and she’s wearing sunglasses, yet still looks like a supermodel. I put my head in my hands and groan. This is even worse than I thought.
Then I frown, scanning the article again. Cold washes through me.
That absolute bastard.
Beneath the images is a photo credit. ? Jared Banks Photography.
Jared. Tears prickle my eyes at this latest betrayal.
He must have been pissed that I didn’t introduce him to Myles, so decided to do this instead.
I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t tell them my name but honestly, he’s done enough.
I’m sure it’s already all over social media and it’ll just be a matter of time before people find out who I am.
This is so messed up.
The glances from my fellow passengers make sense, now, and the whispering girls in the bathroom. Oh God. I pull out my phone.
There are about twenty messages from Eloise.
And one from Myles, along with a missed call.
Choking back sobs, I click on his message.
Don’t worry about the photos. I’ll sort everything out.
Nothing else. No explanation about Katya, nothing about when he’s coming back, or that he wants to see me.
Even if I did believe him, I can’t face him now.
It’s my fault the photographs are out there, my fault his face is splashed all over the news, my fault that Katya is probably tearing strips off him, right at this moment.
If I hadn’t spoken to Jared, or if I’d just given in and introduced him to Myles when he asked me, none of this would have happened.
I start typing, barely able to see the screen for tears. A minute or so later, before I can talk myself out of it, I press send.
Then I call Eloise.
“Zara! Oh my God, are you all right?” The sound of her voice sets me off crying again, and it’s a moment before I can answer.
“I’m at Heathrow. Can you come and get me, please?”
Myles
I sit on the plane, staring out the window, not really seeing the landscape flashing past below.
Instead I see Zara, laughing in the medina, reading on the sun lounger, smiling across the table from me.
Dancing in the bath, soap trickling down her glorious curves, then falling asleep in my arms, everything I’ve ever wanted.
I stifle a groan, resting my head in my hands.
I’d had to wait at the airport and, while sitting in the comfortable lounge, I’d struggled to compose a message to her. I had so much to say, but couldn’t find the words.
Then my phone had rung. I’d stared at it for a moment, even though I knew it wouldn’t be her. When I picked up I heard the familiar voice of my lawyer, Martin. “What the fuck is going on, Myles? How many times have we gone through this? If she decides to sue you are screwed, reputation-wise.”
It had taken me a moment to work out what was happening. Then I remembered Katya saying something about photos. “She won’t sue,” I said. I knew that, somehow, knew it in my gut. Zara wasn’t like that. “But you need to send me whatever you have.”
As soon as I’d seen the photos I’d sent Zara a message. Even if she never wanted to see me again, I wanted her to know I would take care of her.
I stare out the window once more, wishing more than anything she was here with me, that we were going home together.
My phone buzzes.
It’s a message from Zara.
My heart pounding, I click on it.
Fuck. I drop my head in my hands once more.