Where the hell was she?
Andrew paced the generous expanse of his city office. It was just as well he was rich. If he’d been any poorer and unable to afford what most people would consider an ostentatious office, he’d be climbing the walls right now.
Not that he’d ever had this problem before he’d met Juliet, he reflected. Before Juliet, he would have settled for an office half the size.
He’d still demand the view though. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Sydney’s leafy Hyde Park and beyond. From the thirtieth floor of what was popularly known as ‘Temple Towers’ he had one of the best views in the city and he knew it. Just like he knew he was one of the city’s richest and most powerful men, but that wasn’t helping him right now, was it?
He growled and hit ‘end’ on his cell phone. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d called Juliet’s number the past few days. She wasn’t picking up and her phone kept putting him through to voicemail. He hated voicemail. He particularly hated Juliet’s voicemail, having become far too familiar with it during their brief marriage. For one of the city’s best event managers, she was surprisingly relaxed about letting calls go through to voicemail. Or perhaps it was just his calls? He suspected it was the latter, and didn’t that just infuriate him further?
Juliet had always been able to get under his skin, which was probably why he’d fallen for her in the first place. She was the first, possibly only, woman who’d been able to. He knew it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He’d have been much better off chasing a celebrity, model or socialite. It would fit with his image and his growing profile as next in line to his father’s media empire, once his father handed over the reins.
Instead he’d fallen for the British backpacker.
He swallowed at the memory of Juliet in that inner city bar the night they’d first met. From a distance, she appeared unassuming and just another nobody. He hadn’t even noticed he’d spilled beer on her when buying a round of drinks for his group of friends.
It was that cutting British accent that had stopped him in his tracks.
‘Well, aren’t you just the gentleman?’ she’d muttered under her breath. He could still remember those elegant fingers calmly wiping the beer from her bare arm—it had been summer and overheated in the small bar—with hardly a glance at him. Despite the softly spoken words, her accent sent a jolt right to his groin.
God knows why. Well, actually he did know why. It was that English nanny he’d had when he was about eleven or twelve. He’d had a serious crush on the genteel young woman. At that age he’d been shy and serious, and very unsure about women.
By thirty, when he met Juliet, he could have had any woman he wanted. At least he thought he could until he’d met Juliet.
His grip loosened on the phone and he smiled to himself. Damn stubborn woman. He’d apologised after spilling the beer and then tried to start up a conversation. She’d merely shrugged and given him no more than a brief glance.
It was the biggest turn on of his entire life.
He’d been so used to women flocking to him. For his looks, for his money—he’d given up caring which. It was obvious straight away that Juliet had no idea who he was. So he let her think he was just another nobody like her. It took the rest of the night to convince her to give him her number.
Then when she had, he played it cool. He didn’t call her until about a week later. They met for a beer. By the end of their first beer he knew he wanted her. No—needed her. Sure, staring into those thoughtful golden eyes had his cock twitching in his pants, but it was more than that.
Juliet was like a rare diamond. The sort you discovered after years of sifting through shit, your frustration growing after each new find revealed yet another worthless gem. Juliet was the real deal. Sitting there in her worn jeans, a fitted T-shirt that was stretched around the neck after months on end of backpacking, she still oozed refinement. It was in the way she held herself, her watchfulness, her thoughtfulness. In the way her tongue delivered sharp observations and a wry wit. It was the first time he’d truly met someone who was beautiful inside and out.
He knew, right then and there, he’d discovered something monumental. All he needed to do was polish her a bit and Sydney would be able to see what he knew was a fact—she was the woman equal to him, to rule his empire and help build his profile.
The smile deepened when he remembered finally telling her who he was. He’d waited another couple of dates. Until then he’d been considered one of Australia’s most eligible bachelors. Juliet, of course, couldn’t have cared less.
His duplicity angered her. But her anger was the sort to simmer dangerously below the surface and flare hot in those glowing eyes. Another huge turn on for him, he’d discovered.
He’d had to wait another two weeks before she spoke to him. Another week after that before she agreed to see him.
Apparently riches and notoriety were not important to her.
So he’d been forced to beg. By that stage he’d been happy to, he was so desperate for her. Andrew pressed his lips together at the memory of it. He should have been concerned about his pride, but he had none when it came to Juliet. He would do anything for her.
Eventually she told him she’d been rattled to see herself in the pages of Sydney’s papers. A shot taken by a photographer during one of their earlier dinners. He was used to it by now. Barely took any notice of it. Provided he wasn’t doing anything stupid, the publicity was always good.
But for Juliet, he agreed to no public appearances together—nothing—for a full month, while they got to know each other.
It had worked in his favour. His smile turned to a satisfied grin. Intimate dinners in the privacy of his home or Juliet’s rented accommodation left them with little else to do but get to know each other better. And he’d been delighted to find out that beneath Juliet’s calm exterior, his precious diamond was anything but cool. By the end of the month, they hadn’t even bothered with dinner, they’d just gone straight to the bedroom. Sometimes they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.
His skin heated at the thought of what he’d done to Juliet on those evenings. What he still wanted to do to her despite the fact they were divorced.
He looked down at the phone in his hand again with frustration.
It was his own damn fault, he knew now. He’d been raised this way, and stupidly he expected Juliet to indulge his eccentricities. He wasn’t referring to the time he cheated. That had just been foolishness. No, it was his expectation he could control all aspects of their lives that had eventually pushed her away.
He expected her to drop everything for him. To always be available when he called. To do what he asked. And when she didn’t, he grew more and more annoyed.
Her events business had been growing. She’d been busy. As busy as him, if he were honest. Ironically, in seeking out an equal, he hadn’t known how to treat her as one. Yes, he’d given her a leg up with Temple Events, but that was for purely selfish reasons.
Despite Juliet’s fervour in the bedroom, she remained shy of the media and reluctant to take on all that his life entailed. So he bribed her. Not obviously, of course. He gave her a chance to start up her company. He’d been prepared to throw money at it, lots of money, but she’d refused. It didn’t surprise him by that point. So he offered her something she couldn’t refuse.
His contacts.
From there, her business grew in a short time. With his name and her acumen, she was in high demand.
And he’d gone and ruined it all.
Jealousy, pettiness. Call it whatever you wanted. He’d acted like a little boy acting out to get attention. Drunk and frustrated one night, he’d gone and fucked someone else. He couldn’t even remember her name. But the girl he’d fucked had remembered, and she was quick to milk the media with her story.
Juliet filed for divorce within the month.
And now he was standing here pacing his office wondering where the hell his ex-wife was. It wasn’t motivated by control this time. His need to know where she was manifested itself as a deep, pulsing fear that throbbed painfully in his head.
The media had just announced that Alex Benedetti had been taken in for questioning related to the murder of an underage girl. A girl suspected of being forced into sex acts at Alex’s party.
A murder that had occurred at the party Juliet had organised. A party he’d attended and had rescued her from, pale, unconscious and alone in a bedroom in the Benedetti’s house in the early hours of the morning.
When she’d woken hours later, groggy and incoherent at his house, she’d been scared. That hadn’t lasted long.
She’d been suspicious at first. Had even accused Andrew of what he already suspected—that she’d been drugged.
That she thought he could have been the one to drug her hurt him beyond words. He’d smashed a glass in response. He was still angry at himself for that. The fear in her eyes had amplified when he did it, and he knew he couldn’t take it back. During their entire relationship Juliet may have been pissed, angry, furious, but she’d never ever been scared of him.
She wanted to call the police. He urged her not to. He would take care of it, he’d said.
She hadn’t believed him. Then she started to remember things. Alex’s odd behaviour. A dark room downstairs. And the girl. The young, Asian girl later identified as an underage prostitute going by the name of Crystal.
He hadn’t urged her then. He’d demanded her to stay out of it. To forget about it.
‘Forget about it?’ she’d whispered in disbelief. ‘How do I know I wasn’t raped, Andrew? And what about that girl?’
That had stopped him. Not the bit about the girl, but about the possibility of Juliet being raped. He’d thought it, of course he had, when he’d found her that night. Lord knows, he would personally take down anyone who so much as dared to hurt her, but she’d appeared unhurt.
She’d looked almost peaceful when he found her. Her dress was carefully arranged as she lay on the leather sofa.
So carefully arranged that he started to feel physically sick.
So he agreed, but on his terms only. He knew the Police Commissioner personally. They would go directly to him and keep the whole thing quiet, which is exactly what they did. They had Juliet tested and to his absolute relief she was unharmed. If only that had been the end of it.
Twenty-four hours later they learned Crystal had been found dead in the pool at Alex Benedetti’s party. The girl Juliet claimed she’d seen that night. Due to his connections with the Police Commissioner he also discovered initial investigations were pointing to the fact that the girl had been harmed before she’d entered the water.
As the only person to have seen the girl the night of the party, Juliet was now considered an invaluable witness—even if she had been drugged at the time. Until the police learned more, Juliet was the best lead they had. Fortunately, the Police Commissioner agreed to keep the fact Juliet was a witness quiet during the ongoing investigation into the murder.
Juliet went back to work. She did her best to ignore the media coverage around Alex and the deceased girl, especially when reporters started using the term ‘murder’. When the media named Juliet’s company as the event organiser, Andrew helped her to put a stop to further headlines. Juliet made a brief, heartfelt statement about the events of that night—leaving out the bit about her drugging and seeing the girl—and she was left alone after that. References to Juliet or Temple Events were factual from then on.
Then two weeks ago she was involved in a car accident driving home from the office. The car that hit her hadn’t stopped to exchange details and she swore it had been following her. Andrew immediately called the Police Commissioner. He’d advised Juliet to stay at home for the night and assured her he’d have a police detail watching her house.
And now Andrew couldn’t get in touch with her.
He searched for Commissioner Gordon Roberts’ number and hit dial. He couldn’t care less if the man was busy dealing with the fallout of the Benedetti coverage.
‘I’ve been expecting your call.’ Gordon’s grave voice was clipped but not entirely unfriendly.
‘Then hopefully you can tell me where the hell my wife is then?’
There was a pause. ‘Your ex-wife if I’m not mistaken?’
‘Gordon.’
‘Just reminding you I deal with facts. She’s safe.’
It was Andrew’s turn to pause. ‘I need more than that.’
‘That’s all you’re getting.’
Andrew stiffened. ‘May I remind you who I am—’
‘May I remind you any further involvement on your part could be considered interfering in our investigation. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it doesn’t matter who you are. But I can tell you this. I have two priorities right now. The first is to ensure the person who is responsible for that girl’s death is brought to justice, and the second is to keep Juliet safe.’
‘Are you’re telling me she’s in danger?’
‘She’s a witness.’
Jesus. He didn't sugar coat it did he? Then again, he wasn’t considered one of the city’s best commissioners for his ability to play politics. It was down to his ability to do his job.
‘I can help protect her.’ Andrew attempted to sound more respectful, although it pained him to do so.
‘You have already, and we’re thankful for that. But we need to take it from here, Andrew. Trust us. She’s safe. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.’