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‘Travis, did you ask Rene to come here?’ Isabelle said as she stood, the concern in her tone making the emotions in Mel’s stomach twist into a tight knot.
‘Of course not, Belle. The last damn thing I want is that guy making this even worse,’ he said. He cradled his wife’s cheek, the tenderness in his eyes so vivid Mel’s stomach rebelled more. ‘But don’t you think he ought to take some of the flak?’ he added, casting a fierce look at Mel that made her feel both grateful for his support but also ashamed. It felt wrong, not just to need Travis Lord’s protection but also to accept it, considering she’d doubted his integrity only a few hours ago.
‘Because, let’s face it,’ Travis continued, ‘if that bastard hadn’t taken advantage of your best friend—and had made more of an effort to protect her in the twenty-four hours since those photos were taken—she wouldn’t be in the press’s crosshairs in the first place.’
Taken advantage of?
Mel was still struggling to process that assertion when Rene strode into the room and her emotions went into freefall again, for the second time in a single day.
He’s shaved off the beard that made him mine.
The idiotic thought popped into her aching head as she struggled to contain the inappropriate thrill at seeing him again.
He looked commanding and unapproachable, like the Prince he was—the autocrat who had insisted he drive her into the storm—instead of the man she had discovered, or thought she had discovered, in their cabin.
‘Leave us, Arne,’ he demanded, then marched across the room, straight towards her, unaware of Isabelle’s tentative greeting and Travis Lord’s furious scowl.
‘You need to pack,’ he said without any greeting. ‘I have a plane fuelled and waiting at the airport in Saltzaland to take us to the Caribbean,’ he went on, the clear, calm tone making it hard for her to process the command, or even what he was asking.
‘What?’ she murmured, wondering if she had somehow leapt into an alternative reality and this was all an insane dream that she would wake up from… Hopefully very soon. Because the pain in her stomach was getting worse, the knots of tension and panic and hurt now tangling with a surge of longing which made no sense.
They were over. In fact they had never even begun. He’d made that very clear by disappearing yesterday.
He took her arm to haul her off the couch.
‘I’m taking you to a private island my father owned near the US Virgin Islands. But we need to go now.’
Everything was happening so fast she couldn’t even formulate a question before he was marching her out of the room, his grip firm on her upper arm.
‘Rene, what are you doing?’ Isabelle began, her voice rising. ‘You can’t just…’
But then Travis laid his hand on his wife’s shoulder and stepped into Rene’s path.
‘Back the hell off, buddy, and let the lady go, right now,’ he demanded, the sharp tone finally snapping Mel out of the weird dream state she seemed to have lapsed into.
‘The hell I will…’ Rene shouted back.
Mel wrenched her arm free.
‘What are you even doing here?’ she managed, her voice surprisingly lucid considering her insides were in turmoil. Seeing him again, which had triggered the inevitable physical response, had been humiliating and shocking enough, but having him drag her out of Isabelle’s study as if she were a piece of baggage was even worse.
She concentrated on her anger to control the new wave of pain and panic.
Why had he appeared now? Was he concerned about her reputation or his own? He hadn’t even said goodbye at the cabin and now he felt he had the right to order her about.
And why on earth would she want to go anywhere with him when she knew he didn’t care for her, not really?
‘We need to talk,’ he said, his voice grave and his eyes dark with something she couldn’t even begin to process, because it looked weirdly like possessiveness and concern. ‘But we’re not doing it here. A press release is going out today, and I want to be on that plane before it happens, so we don’t have to deal with the fallout.’
Mel’s mind was still reeling, her heart galloping full tilt into her throat, when Travis stepped between them and grabbed Rene by the lapel of his suit jacket.
‘You seem to forget, pal, the lady gets to decide where she goes and who she goes with. Not you.’
‘Take your hands off me, pal,’ Rene roared back, his eyes wild as he slapped Travis’s hands away, ‘or I will knock you flat. The lady ismyconcern, not yours.’
‘The hell she…’ Travis began.
But then Isabelle flattened a palm on her husband’s chest to stop him from retaliating. ‘Travis, back off,’ she demanded like the Queen she was.