Chapter 9 #2
“It all matters. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just stay. Just talk to me. Please.”
“No.” Her smile was sympathetic now. “You don’t understand. I feel nothing for you. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I’m not jealous. Everything I ever felt for you has disappeared. It’s just not there. I can’t snap my fingers and bring it back. You killed it, but I’m glad.” She walked towards the door.
“Stop.” He followed and put his hand on it. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes were darting around the room now. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go to my father,” she said gently, understanding his fear. “But don’t worry. I have no interest in dragging your name through the mud. I’m only going to inform him of our pending divorce.”
“He can’t act for you. That would be a massive conflict of interest.”
She had to bite down on her tongue to stop from rolling her eyes.
“I don’t need him, or anyone, to act for me.
This will be a simple divorce proceeding.
Draw up the papers and I’ll look them over.
” She curled her hand around his cheek. “I need to tell dad before he hears it from someone else. He’ll be furious — with you — if he’s caught unawares. ”
Jordan had the good grace to look mortified. “What can I do to change your mind?”
Her smile was wan. “Go back in time, and don’t sleep with my best friend.”
He shook his head. “What else?”
“Nothing.” She tilted her head to one side and dropped her hand.
“This isn’t a reaction, Jordan. It’s an acceptance of a fact you and I should have appreciated a long time ago.
We’re not in love. We don’t love one another.
We’re a terrible couple.” She pulled the door inwards and flashed a final smile in his direction.
“Email me a copy of the papers when they’re ready. ”
He nodded, too shocked to speak.
Saphire moved further down the corridor to the large glass doors at the end. She knew them well. She’d spent so much time in her father’s office that she’d joked it was like a second home. She’d loved it as a child; the smell of stationery and the background sounds of efficient work.
She tapped on the door briefly and then pushed it inwards. His personal assistant inclined her head and then smiled. “Saff, darling, how are you?” She asked, standing and moving around the desk to place a kiss on Saphire’s cheek.
“Hi, Linda. I’m great, thanks,” and surprisingly, the words felt sort of true. “Can I grab a minute with him?”
Linda nodded. “He’s got a board meeting in ten … but he can be a little late.”
“That’s fine,” Saphire shook her head. “This won’t take long.” Coward, she thought with a small smile. Would her dad be even more pissed off when she dropped the bombshell and ran?
“Go on in,” Linda nodded towards Angus Morrison’s doors.
Saphire pushed them in, noting the obvious differences between her husband’s office and that of her father.
Despite the fact Jordan’s office was an executive space, Angus’s was something else.
His view over London was incomparable; she could see all the way over the Tower, the Shard, towards the park.
Her eyes glossed over the details gratefully.
London was beautiful and she’d always loved it, though it was nothing now to the place l’isola Ourano occupied in her heart.
“Dad,” she smiled at him as he unfurled his slim frame from behind his enormous desk.
Papers were everywhere. There was no computer.
Only a barely used iPad perched perilously on the very corner of the table top, as a grudging concession to technology.
Angus Morrison was, and always would be, old school.
“Saphire,” his voice was rich with pleasure. “To what do I owe the visit?” His lips tightened a little. “I suppose you were here to see Jordan?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she nodded. “Coffee?”
“Always,” he preceded her, moving towards the kitchenette across the room. He pushed a cup under the nozzle and waited for it to begin to drain. He set it aside and then repeated the motion. Sapphire scooped the first cup up and cradled it in her hands.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“So? How’s things, kiddo?”
She winced. “Well, I guess there’s no easy way to tell you this …”
He angled his head towards her and his skin had a grey pallor beneath his summer tan. “You’re pregnant?”
Saphire arched a perfectly shaped brow enquiringly. “No. I gather that wouldn’t be good news?”
He recovered quickly. “Of course it would be,” he denied, but Saphire had caught his first reaction.
“You really don’t like Jordan, do you?”
“How many times have you asked me that, Saphire? He’s only a year or two shy of being made head of corporate litigation. I’ve mentored the guy. He’s my son-in-law.”
Her smile was distracted. “Because I know you and I know you don’t like him.”
Angus made a sound of frustration. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again, darling. It’s fruitless now that you’re married. Any doubts your mother and I had were erased by your commitment to him. Besides, what matters is how you feel.”
“Yeah, I know.” She bit down on her lip. “Which brings me to the reason I’m visiting.”
“Go on,” he nodded towards his own suite of comfortable armchairs and Saphire walked by his side.
She settled into one of them and sipped her coffee, then placed it on a glass topped table to her left. “I don’t want you to blame Jordan.” God, those words hurt to say, but she knew it was the right way to handle things. “I mean it, daddy. I’m just asking you to be fair, okay?”
“Of course,” he dipped his head forward, but something like hope was beginning to flare in his chest.
Saphire expelled a breath. “We’re getting a divorce.”
Angus was an excellent lawyer. He hadn’t been handed a damned thing in his whole life; he’d worked hard at university, then built an illustrious career all for himself.
He’d worked hard, and he’d hardly slept for a decade, and now he was one of the most renowned solicitors in the country.
He prided himself on his poker face, but holding it in place in that moment was a feat almost beyond him.
He managed, just, to keep any emotion off his features as he digested her statement.
“Say something,” she begged finally.
He nodded, and sipped his coffee. “Does your mother know?”
Saphire shook her head. “No. I’ve just seen Jordan. It’s all happened very quickly.”
Another nod. “What happened?”
She sighed. “You and mum were right,” she said finally. “We should never have got married. I was too stubborn to see it.”
He pulled a face. Something wasn’t adding up. “So you and Jordan just decided …”
“Yes,” she nodded. “It was mutual. Amicable.” She leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee. “And I don’t want this to have any impact on his career path here.”
Angus’s laugh was a deep, booming noise that resonated through to Linda. “Hell, I’ll promote him if you’re finally rid of the wanker.”
“Daddy!” Saphire stared at her father in surprise, but a smile quirked at the corners of her lips. “I knew you didn’t like him.”
“Of course I don’t. He’s an arrogant prick. I’ve come across my fair share of Jordans in my time, all of them with that same pretty-boy sense of entitlement. He doesn’t understand you, Saphire. You’re an ornament to him. Nothing more.”