Page 113 of The Surrender
“Not today, Stan.” I walk the line of prestigious cars and head round the back to the staff car park, aiming my fob at my Jaguar. Not taking a moment to admire the newly repaired and polished paintwork, I hop in. Jude’s request not to drive these roads in the dark taps at the corner of my mind. It’s hard to ignore it, but I start the engine and reverse out of the space, knocking it into drive and pulling away. I hardly make it twenty feet before I’m braking, Anouska appearing and waving for me to stop.
“Shit,” I curse, letting down my window.
“There’s a man at the gates saying he’s here to see you.” She puts the phone to her ear again, listening. “Nick Phillips. Do you know him?”
My heart crawls into my throat and chokes me. “Yes, I know him.” How? How did he know where to find me, or that Jude Harrison—a man he’s just been introduced to—owns Arlington Hall? My unease is making me feel nauseated, especially when I suddenly recall something else. Nick knew of Arlington Hall. When I mentioned my spa day with the girls at that painful birthday dinner all those weeks ago, he recognised the name. And come to think of it, he was a little weird. None of this helps my wariness. I don’t know what to do, my head spinning.
“Amelia?” Anouska calls quietly.
“Umm.” I shake my head, trying to find some sense.
“He’s blocking the way,” she goes on. “What should I tell Nelson to do?”
“Tell him to let Nick know I’ll call him.”
Anouska, a full frown in place, goes back to her phone, relaying my instructions. Listens. “He’s refusing to leave.”
My eyes clench, along with my hands around the wheel, and I hiss at the sharp pain that radiates through my palm. “Let him through,” I say quietly, reluctantly. “I’ll deal with it.” My mind’s racing with questions. “Can you ask Stan to direct him to this car park?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Anouska.” I reverse back into the space and take a moment to wonder how the fuck I’m going to handle this and what the fuck Nick is going to say, as I stare out the windscreen, my heart beating wildly.
Nick’s white Audi S4 rolls around the corner slowly, and the swooshing, sickly feeling inside grows. I get out of the Jaguar, looking around as I wander over to where he’s rolled to a stop. I need to keep this contained. Whatever this is. And I’m praying Jude doesn’t wake up and come find me.
Apprehension feels like a vise around my throat. “Nick,” I say, stopping on the opposite side of his car to him. “You were tracking me.” He must know I know, assuming he got a notification when I stopped sharing my location with him. “And now you’re not, so how did you know where to find me?”
“Nice car,” he says, with no sentiment at all, as he shuts his door, nodding to my Jaguar.
I ignore his insincere comment. “How do you know Jude?” I fold my arms over my chest, my instinct to protect myself overwhelming me, which only makes me more anxious. Something deep and unstoppable is telling me I’m about to feel even sicker. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” I ask. “To tell me how you know him.” What the hell is he going to hit me with? And can I take it?
Nick makes his way around the car to join me on this side, observing the protective barrier I’ve got in place. I keep my arms folded. “I love you, Amelia,” he says quietly.
Oh, Jesus, stop.“Nick, no.” He didn’t come here to tell me that again.
His lips press together. “I want you back. Please, we can work this out.”
“Nick,” I snap. “How do you know Jude?”
He moves closer, but I make sure the space remains, stepping back. “How doyouknow him?”
“I’m seeing him—you know that.”In love with him.
“He’s not interested in you, Amelia.”
The pressure in my head is becoming too much, my patience hanging on by a thread. “Why would you say that?” I ask, my voice surprisingly even. “To hurt me?”
“I just know.”
“Tell me,” I grate.
“Come back,” he implores. “Please, come home with me. I can make you happy, Amelia.”
“Tell me!” I yell, losing my shit.
“Amelia!” Jude’s distant bellow of my name has me whirling around, my trepidation rocketing. He’s jogging this way, his feet bare, his hands midway through pulling a T-shirt down his torso. The button fly of his jeans is only half fastened. All signs he was in a rush. Jude’s alarm is screamingly obvious, his worried gaze batting back and forth between me and Nick as he hurries over.
I raise a hand, halting him in his tracks before he makes it to me. “Don’t come near me,” I warn, needing space. Needing information. Keeping my hand held up as a pathetic barrier, I give my attention back to Nick. “Tell me how you know him,” I order.
