‘Of course.’

Quin felt so tense he thought he might crack. He had to consciously breathe and relax his muscles, but it was hard when all he could do was look at Sadie and want her. In spite of what he’d just told her.

‘It won’t happen again.’

His brain might have formulated those words but his body did not agree. His blood was hot and heavy in his veins. And his groin.

She looked incredibly fragile right now. Pale. She’d changed into soft, worn sweat pants and another non-descript T-shirt, with a cardigan pulled across her chest. Her hair was still messy from earlier. But she was no less alluring than she’d been last night, when they’d come together like two starving people in the desert finding water.

When she hadn’t come for dinner he’d told himself it was a good thing. Since she’d reappeared in their lives he hadn’t felt fully in control. He’d been behaving instinctively. Reacting. The previous night was proof of that.

So he’d ignored the urge to go and get her, and had told Sol she needed to have some time for herself. He had done his best not to notice his son’s disappointment. But he’d been conscious of the guesthouse lights through the trees.

He’d had to shut himself away in his office after he’d put Sol to bed, because the urge to go to her again had been so strong.

And even now, when she was about to tell him why she had walked out of their lives, he still couldn’t focus fully. Damn her.

He forced his blood to cool and said, with as much civility as he could, ‘Please, sit down.’

He pulled out a chair and Sadie sat, stiff. She was obviously as tense as him. He forced himself to sit too, on a chair near her, and rejected an urge he had to tug her onto his lap and feel her close to him, to reassure her that she could tell him anything.

This was why he couldn’t touch her again. It clouded his brain. And he needed to be very clear now, when she was about to tell him why she’d walked out on her newborn baby and him. As far as Quin was concerned there was no reason on earth that could justify why she’d done that.

‘Can you stop glaring at me? This is hard enough.’

Quin cursed silently and forced himself to relax. She was clasping and unclasping her hands. She was nervous. She was avoiding his eye now.

‘Look, what I’m going to tell you is going to be a lot to take in and it’s going to sound...ridiculous.’

She looked at him, and Quin’s insides clenched at the sight of those amazing eyes.

‘But it’s all true. I promise you.’

The only true thing Quin knew in that moment was that, no matter what lurid tale fell out of this woman’s mouth now, he would never trust her again.

He sat back and forced his tense limbs to relax. ‘Go on, please.’

CHAPTER SIX

NOWSADIECOULDN’Tsit still. She stood up and started to pace. Where did she even start?

‘Sadie?’

She looked at Quin, who was leaning forward. This was it. No more hiding or procrastinating. She stopped pacing and took a breath.

‘In the year before we met...before I came to Brazil... I was working in a big house in London for a very rich man. I was a housemaid—one of dozens. The house was huge...luxurious...like nothing I’d ever seen. The owner wasn’t English, his accent hard to place. We hardly ever saw him. We weren’t allowed to look at him, in any case.’

She started to pace again.

‘One evening, I thought I’d forgotten to check that the lunch things had been taken out of his office—he was a stickler for that kind of thing. I was due to go home, and I didn’t want the girl taking over from me to get in trouble, so I went back to the office before I left, to check.

‘When I got to the door, it was partially open, and I pushed it open all the way. I saw that the owner was inside, with his back to me. It took me a minute to understand what I was looking at. There was a man on the floor in front of him, on his knees, with his hands tied behind his back. He was begging, pleading... I could see his face...he was young... I didn’t recognise him. I saw my boss...the owner...take something out of the back of his trousers and hold it to the man’s forehead. And then there was a sound...like a loud but muffled crack. I didn’t recognise it at first—it was such an odd thing to hear. But then I realised that he’d shot him. Just like that. Without even hesitating. I’ll never forget the mark on the man’s forehead, or the way he fell backwards. And then the blood...bright red...so much blood...all around his head, on the floor...’

Sadie stopped pacing and looked at Quin, not really registering his expression.

‘I must have made a sound, or something, because my boss turned around. He was still holding the gun, and it was pointing at me now. I could see him taking in that it was me, just a member of staff. Maybe he knew who I was...maybe he didn’t. But somehow I felt in that moment that he knew exactly who I was, and that I had no family, no ties. He could shoot me and no one would ever know. So I ran. All the way out of the house, out through the gate, onto the road. I kept running until I ran straight into a man who bundled me into a van. I thought it was someone attached to him. I was terrified. But it was the police...or not the police...a specialist unit. They’d been watching the house...they saw me run.’

Sadie stopped. She felt a little light-headed. She’d only ever told this once to the police, and then again for her video witness statement. She’d never told another soul.