Page 46 of On the First Night of Christmas...

She’d expected surprise, maybe even shock, had been prepared for him to try to deny her feelings to protect the wall he had kept around his own for so long. What she hadn’t expected, or even considered, was his indifference.

He shrugged. ‘No,’ he said.

She frowned, the tears swelling in her throat making her feel even more foolish. Was she overreacting, being stupidly sentimental? ‘I just told you I’m falling in love with you,’ she said carefully. She bit down on her quivering lip, knowing that tears would only make this situation a billion times more humiliating. ‘Are you sure you don’t have anything else to say about it?’

‘I told you, I’m flattered,’ he said, stressing each syllable. ‘I’m glad you like me so much.’ But he didn’t sound glad, he sounded irritated. She could read him fairly well now, despite the way he always fought to keep his emotions hidden. She could see the slight tension in his jaw, the muscle in his cheek that flexed as he spoke. ‘It’ll make things more fun when we hit New York,’ he finished.

Fun!

The single word sparked something deep inside her. Some thing that she didn’t properly recognise, because she had never let it loose before. Not when her father had left her sitting on the sofa for hours with her best dress on and her hair carefully braided waiting for nothing; not when David had told her in a polite monotone he thought things weren’t working out between them; not even when Lance had leapt up from the sofa, his trousers round his ankles, and demanded to know what she thought she was doing walking into her own flat without knocking.

Jace took her arm, steering her towards the bedroom. ‘We can talk about this later.’

The curt words had the unfamiliar emotion burning up her torso, searing her throat and exploding through the top of her head.

‘Now go and—’ he continued, but the ringing in her ears got so loud it cut off the rest of the sentence.

‘No, we can’t talk about it later.’ She wrenched her arm free, glared at him through the mist of tears she refused to shed. ‘Because I’m not going.’

‘What?’ He stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. ‘Why not?’

How ironic, she thought as her hope shattered. That she should finally shock him out of his complacency, not with a declaration of love, but by the simple act of finally standing up for herself.

‘Because I don’t want to,’ she said, her voice rising as she let the surge of temper take over to drown the pain. ‘Because I told you I was falling in love with you and you don’t even care enough about me to pretend it matters to you.’ Her throat ached, her head hurt and her heart felt as if it were breaking into a thousand tiny pieces, but she made herself say what she should have said days ago. ‘I didn’t expect you to say it back. I’m not an idiot. We’ve only known each other ten days. But they’ve been the most wonderful ten days of my life … And I thought they meant something to you too.’

‘This is ridiculous, Cassie,’ Jace declared, mortified when his voice shook. ‘You’re overreacting.’

Unfortunately she wasn’t the only one, he realised as panic clawed up his throat at the hopelessness on her face.

‘Maybe from where you’re standing,’ she murmured, the brief magnificent show of temper dying as quickly as it had come. A tear dripped off her lashes, and sliced right t

hrough the charade of indifference he used to keep a tight rein on his temper. ‘But from where I’m standing, I can see now I should have been honest with you much sooner.’

He grasped her arm again as she turned to leave. ‘Damn it, Cassie. Can’t you see how ridiculous you’re being? What do you want me to say?’ he said, sickened by the desperation in his voice. ‘That I’m falling for you too? If you want me to say it I will.’

She faced him, the sadness in her gaze so much more painful than the anger. ‘But you’d be lying, wouldn’t you.’ It wasn’t a question. And how could he deny it when she was right? They were only words to him. A means to an end.

Maybe for a split second, when she’d said she was falling in love in that bright, excited tone, her body soft and pliant in his arms and her gaze glowing, he’d felt that strange sense of rightness, of completeness, but then the truth had registered. And he’d recoiled.

All he’d seen was his mother’s face, her lip bleeding, her eyes blackened, her face bruised. And all the guilt and unhappiness, and the crushing feeling of hopelessness had risen up to strangle that ludicrous belief in the impossible.

Cassie grasped his wrist, pulled away from him. ‘I can’t come to New York.’

‘Fine.’ He fisted his fingers and buried them in his robe pockets, determined not to give in to the urge to touch her, to cling onto her, to force her to stay. He’d survive without her. Just as he’d survived before. ‘I guess this is goodbye, then.’

He watched her lip tremble, but no more tears fell. Instead, she straightened, winning the fight for composure.

She disappeared into the bedroom, and he listened to the muted sounds as she got dressed and packed her bag while he clung onto the frigid control. So he could remain still and silent when she came out and said a quiet, ‘Goodbye, Jace.’

But as the front door of the suite closed behind her he marched to the breakfast table, swept up the teacup she had been using and hurled it against the wall. Shattered china bounced on the thick carpet and tea dripped down the silk wallpaper as the old anger and resentment—and a sharp new pain—ripped through his chest.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

‘HERE’S fine, Dave,’ Jace said tightly as the car slid into a space outside the imposing new glass-and-steel structure that housed Heathrow’s Terminal Five.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to park and help you with your bag, Mr Ryan?’ the chauffeur asked through the partition.

‘I’ve got it.’ Stepping out of the car, he grasped his holdall. ‘Thanks, Dave, you’ve done a great job.’ Pulling five twenty-pound notes out of his wallet, he handed the tip through the window.

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