He tugged her close and kissed her. Before mindless delirium took over, he swore to find the appropriate time to share the unfamiliar feelings threatening to take over his life. Maybe Belle could make sense of them, because he sure as hell couldn’t.
For now though, he’d tell her with his body.
Chapter Fifteen
LONDON, ENGLAND
Autumn held a firm grip on London, with golden rain-soaked leaves spread like an elegant blanket over the city. Belle pulled her coat more securely around her to ward off the morning chill after stepping from the car outside their Knightsbridge apartment.
Their departure from Athens had been so rushed, she hadn’t found time to pack suitable clothes. Nick had spent the time after lunch yesterday juggling endl
ess phone calls, dealing with nervous shareholders and repercussions of the news of her capture. He’d stayed up long after she’d gone to bed, and she’d woken this morning to the news that they had to return to London. More shareholders to pacify.
There were also her parents to see. But first…
Looking up at the tall apartment building, her old insecurities returned. Even with the knowledge that Nick was willing to meet her halfway, ease up on his need to control her every move, and had already started to do so, it was still difficult being here. But when he took her arm and led her to the elevator, closely followed by their bodyguards, she didn’t protest.
She was actually relieved when his butler, Bertrand, threw open the door in welcome. Her relief turned to surprise when the short, normally staid Frenchman bent over her hand in gallant greeting.
Nick looked on in amusement. “I think it’s fair to say Bertrand has missed you.”
“Oui, Madame,” Bertrand agreed. “And may I say how wonderful it is to have you back.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Bertrand,” she said.
“Merci, Madame.” With his usual efficiency, he took charge of their bags and disappeared down the hallway.
Looking around at the place she’d called home for six months, a bolt of shock went through her. Gone were the harsh chrome and black leather seats, the dark carpets, and the severe post-modernist paintings she’d felt very little affinity to. In their place, warm, comfortable sofas, bright scatter cushions, and expensive rugs covered the newly exposed and polished oak floor.
She turned to Nick. “You redecorated?”
He shrugged, but she noticed the quick look cast her way. “You hated the previous décor. You likened it to a playboy’s shag pad, or was it the devil’s bathroom? Something along those lines anyway,” he teased with a smile.
“I don’t recall the exact words, but you may be right,” the imp in her couldn’t resist saying.
He came to stand in front of her, a decidedly nervous look in his expression. “So, do you like it?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On if it’s just this room or the whole apartment,” she said.
“Why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” He held out a hand to her.
He showed her similarly decorated rooms, all done with comfort rather than ostentation in mind. It would’ve pleased her had it not been for memories associated with the master bedroom, the place they’d had that last, almighty row, prior to her walking out.
The room that Nick now led her to.
Her heart skittered, and her legs trembled as she entered, only to stop and gasp in surprise.
The bed was gone; so were the antique bedside furniture and the elegant tallboy which had graced the opposite wall. Gone were the heavy silk curtains that had adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows.
In their place, row after row of exercise equipment stood on a newly varnished floor just like that in the living room. In the exact place where their bed used to be hung the largest punching bag Belle had ever seen. Reaching out, she pushed it, bemused as it swung to and fro.
“Why?” She turned to Nick who had followed her across the room.
He shrugged. “I couldn’t enter this room without thinking of our last argument. I tried to, but I couldn’t sleep here without you. This is a much better use for it.”