wife…’ she trailed off as his expression turned grim and his knuckles turned white around the notepad. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meaning it. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She might not like the guy but she wasn’t a robot. There was genuine grief and regret on his face. One thing they had in common.
‘Its fine,’ he said in a taut voice, ‘it’s common knowledge. It’s not as if my family has any right to privacy or anything.’
She sidestepped the bitterness in the remark, choosing not to get into the debate. It was his choice to have a career that put him in the spotlight, so it was for him to deal with the consequences. It was just a shame if it affected the kids. ‘I appreciate it must have been difficult and I don’t want to pry. I’m thinking purely of your children’s welfare.’
‘I understand that. And I suppose you might be right about needing to know what happened. But how do you know my last nanny was a woman?’
She nearly lost her nerve but wouldn’t give in that easily, holding his gaze. ‘Statistically, the number of women in the field compared to the number of men makes it more likely your nanny was female.’ Pushing a strand of black hair behind her ear, she watched his deep green eyes flicker along her collarbone before returning to her face. That was interesting. ‘Seriously, I know I’d have to meet Aimee and Jasper and pass all the clearances and checks, but if you offer me the job I’d quite like to know what happened to the last employee in it.’ Forcing a nervous laugh. ‘She’s not buried under the patio or anything is she? Or chained up in the basement? What’s the big mystery?’
His smile was fleeting. ‘No mystery, just simply not pleasant. She, ah,’ he picked over his words, ‘did something I didn’t agree with that meant she was no longer suitable to be my children’s nanny. It turned out she wasn’t the person I thought she was. It was disappointing,’ he shrugged one shoulder casually as if he didn’t care, but there was something in the set of his chin that suggested otherwise, ‘but these things happen, and I need to replace her urgently. Does that tell you enough?’
‘I guess so,’ she replied through stiff lips, longing to jump up and yell at him. ‘Thanks for sharing.’ He really was an absolute bastard. It felt like every muscle in her face was clenching, but she breathed in and out deeply, striving to keep calm. Since when was falling in love such a crime that it meant you were unfit to look after children? And he could have said anything, taken the diplomatic line and said his nanny had left for personal reasons. Instead he was suggesting Melody had let him down, when the truth was that it was the other way around. Especially after all the time, energy and passion her sister had devoted to his children, who she’d grown to genuinely care about.
Zoe could hardly believe it. He clearly had zero conscience. Was it the industry he worked in that made him think he could treat people this way, or did the nature of the industry happen to support an arrogance that had already existed before he’d made it big? She resisted the urge to bounce out of her seat, grab his precious bloody paperwork and whack him around the head with it repeatedly, very hard and with great satisfaction. Fury didn’t even begin to cover it. Bloody, bloody men.
‘So, what about you?’ he asked, looking at her expectantly.
‘Sorry?’
‘Why have you just left your job after five years and come back to the UK? You must have liked it over there to stay that long? You still sound very British but I noticed you use American slang quite a bit.’
‘I guess it’s normal to pick things up when you’re living and breathing it every day,’ she said shortly. ‘And in answer to your question, personal reasons, including to be with my family again.’
‘Fair enough,’ he stood up. ‘Right, I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time.’
‘Can I have another glass of water before I go please?’ She needed a minute to think, as well as rein her anger in.
‘Sure,’ he checked his watch, ‘but it’ll have to be quick. The next candidate will be here any minute.’
‘That’s fine. Thanks.’
He nodded and picked up the glasses, leaving her alone. Springing off the sofa she strode across the room and flung open the nearest French door, propping herself up against the frame. Her heart beat a rapid ga-doom, ga-doom, ga-doom in her chest, pumping adrenalin around her body. What a bastard Matt was.
The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nose and normally the heady smell of British summer would be a lovely distraction, a balm to the last few years of homesickness. Not today. Her fingers clenched around each other, knuckles tight.
Then as if her system had used the last of its energy up with the hot blast of anger, belated jet lag hit hard again. A drowning wave of languor washed over her, making her eyes go gritty and heavy. Just like that, she couldn’t wait to get out of this house and away from the whole sorry mess. God, she was weary. Curling up in a ball and sinking into a deep slumber suddenly held massive appeal. She hadn’t slept properly for almost two weeks before leaving New York. There’d been too much to do, wrapping up her life and returning to her old one. The nights staring dry-eyed at the ceiling hadn’t helped either. Somewhere inside her there was a healthy need to grieve and cry, but she hadn’t been able to manage it before leaving the States.
It had been a mistake coming here, a knee-jerk reaction. Would it be better if she simply left? Went back to Melody and helped her put her life back together, while doing the same for herself? But then she heard Matt moving around the kitchen, whistling along to a pop track currently in the UK download chart, perhaps one that he’d produced. He sounded so happy, so unconcerned. It was completely unfair. Why should he be acting as if life was peachy when he’d practically ruined her sister’s?
She went to shut the door and her head jerked as she spotted a wooden bench tucked away in a corner of the manicured lawn, not far from a sturdy apple tree and rose-beds resplendent with pearl-white blooms. Her gaze zoomed in on a scrap of fabric draped over the seat. It was a rich mulberry colour. Melody’s cardigan, one Zoe had bought in Bloomingdale’s and paid to have shipped back to the UK for her last birthday. Next to it was a book, left open face down to keep the page. The spine would be permanently creased by now. They’d always argued about Melody’s inability to treat books with respect. Then it dawned that her baby sister had been ejected so quickly she’d not even been able to grab her things from the garden and she shook with regenerated rage, adrenalin boiling up and smothering her exhaustion.
It was time to give Matt, a guy too similar to Greg for comfort, what he deserved. He needed to feel humiliation and hurt on every level. She was sick of men who thought they could treat women like that, tossing them aside when they were done. It wasn’t right and it stung. It ripped apart your self-esteem so you were left wondering, what’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I good enough? It ripped apart your heart so you thought, I never want to go through this again.
Matt Reilly would pay, and not only for making her sister jobless, homeless and breaking her heart with the help of his brother, but for all the other women he’d hurt in the past. She’d read the articles. Sure, you couldn’t take everything you read in the tabloids as a given, but there had to be a grain of truth in them. If only a fraction of the hearts he’d reportedly broken since becoming a widower three years ago were true, the line of devastated women would stretch from London to Brighton and back again.
But how was she going to do it?
Then there was that sweet, magical moment when inspiration hit. As Matt swept back in and she turned to him, smoothing her hands down over her top, she saw an appreciative glint in his eyes, quickly hidden. Put that together with his near paranoia about the press and his desperation for privacy and she knew exactly what to do.
This was going to be so goddamn satisfying…if she could pull it off.
‘I