‘I’m going to take an early lunch.’ She rose out of her seat. ‘Can you message when he’s gone?’
EJ started, ‘Come on, Zara, just one conversation?’
‘Please, EJ—leave it alone.’
Her PA’s gaze wavered, and Zara wondered whether she would push again, but then she gave a resigned nod.
‘Okay, boss.’
* * *
Daniel had known she wouldn’t be there, had felt it in his bones, but it didn’t help the disappointment that slugged him when Elizabeth confirmed it. ‘She had to go out,’ she’d said, but he’d read the silent reason well enough.
She knew you were coming.
And he got it. He knew he’d screwed up. But it was driving him crazy. How could he prove he loved her if she wouldn’t let him anywhere near her?
He looked to the envelope weighing heavy in his hand—it was his last hope. It had to work. He flew to Sweden imminently and he had to make sure she had this before he left.
‘Can you give her this when she returns, please?’ he asked, passing it to Elizabeth.
‘Of course.’ She gave him a small smile that smacked of sympathy and he wondered at just how much she knew, just how much Zara had told her—did she know how Zara felt about him?
‘How is she?’ He asked the question before he thought better of it. Prying while standing in front of the entire office staff was not a great move, but he had to know.
‘She’s been better.’
He could sense the ears in the office pricking, the eyes being cast discreetly their way, and reined himself in. It wasn’t the time or the place. But Elizabeth had said enough—Zara wasn’t in a good place and, as much as it hurt that she wasn’t happy, it gave him hope.
It was that hope that had him drawing out his stride as he left, taking a phone call in the lobby that could have waited until he was in the car, praying she might return before he left and he’d finally get to speak to her.
But she didn’t.
And he left, hope still there, no matter how small.
He still wasn’t giving up.
Not yet.
* * *
Zara waited another twenty minutes after EJ’s ‘all clear’ message before risking her return, and by that point she was an emotional wreck. Just knowing he had been here, in her space, only moments before had her throat choking up. She could barely acknowledge EJ as she passed by her desk and headed into her office, knowing that words alone would break the seal.
‘Sorry, Zara,’ EJ said, coming into the office behind her, ‘but he left this for you.’
Zara turned to see an envelope in EJ’s outstretched hand. She swallowed hard, her hand reaching to take it, almost fearful. ‘What is it?’
‘No idea, he didn’t say.’
Her fingers shook as she lifted the letter opener off her desk and slit it open. She tapped out the contents and the air escaped her lungs in a rush—no way.
EJ bent forward and gave a low whistle. ‘Flight tickets?’
Fingers quaking ever more, she sifted through the papers: three tickets, to Nice.
Three? Nice? What’s he playing at?
And then she saw the dates—next week...the Monaco Grand Prix. She was transported back to their car journey, to the moment when she’d told him of her plans for her father and had accidentally led onto her history with Charles. He’d remembered it all. He’d listened and...