as he packed away his files and papers into his briefcase. ‘To India’s. You can come too, if you like.’
He turned round and looked at her. ‘No. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ He turned away, pushing his chair back under the table.
‘Why not?’
He swung back round at her quick reply, not meeting her eyes because he couldn’t. He really couldn’t look at her and trust himself when talking about India.
‘Because, I… I just don’t feel like it, Layla. Maybe I am a little tired. I could do with an early night.’
‘Do you want me to say hello for you?’
He knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t really blame her. They’d been together for a long while now yet their relationship had all but stagnated. She wanted marriage; he just wasn’t willing to make that commitment to her. She wanted a baby, he just couldn’t go there. It didn’t feel right, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t right at all. Layla was a wonderful, beautiful woman, but she wasn’t India. Nobody was India, and even though he’d tried to stop comparing everyone to her he just couldn’t do it. From the second he’d laid eyes on her almost twenty years ago, when she’d been nothing but a shy and pretty twenty-two-year-old from the U.K., he’d been in love with her. That love hadn’t always been perfect, and he’d made some horrific mistakes that he was more than lucky she’d forgiven him for, but he’d never got over losing her. Not when it had taken him so long to win her love in the first place.
He’d overcome the obstacle of Kenny Ross – major movie star and India’s closest friend. Kenny Ross – India’s first husband, albeit for all of a few weeks. Kenny Ross – a man that would constantly be in her life. A man Michael had always seen as his biggest threat as far as India was concerned. But, when her short-lived marriage to Kenny had collapsed, Michael had been there to pick up the pieces, he’d made sure of that, and she’d eventually made every dream he’d ever had come true by falling in love with him in a way he could never have imagined. And they’d been happy. They’d been so happy, until he’d ruined it all with one act of terrifying stupidity that had caused her to cut him out of her life for so long; too long. And he was lucky she’d ever accepted him back, even if it was only as a friend. She’d done it for the sake of their son, he knew that, he was under no illusion it meant anything else. But he’d never stop hoping. Especially now it looked like her marriage to JJ Foster was coming to an end.
‘Michael?’
Layla’s voice shook him back to reality and he looked at her.
‘Jesus, Michael, you were miles away. I’m going now, alright?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, sure. You go enjoy yourself.’
She walked over to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek, feeling sad at the ever-growing distance between them. ‘Have a good night, okay? And get some rest. You’ve been working too hard.’
He watched her go before leaning back against the table, throwing his head back, sighing heavily as he pushed a hand through his hair. He was relieved she was gone, relieved to be alone.
Pouring himself a large glass of bourbon he went into his study and closed the door behind him, switching on the large TV on the wall opposite his desk, watching as the images flickered into life in front of him. The same DVD had been in the player for months now. He saw no reason to change it. It was something he enjoyed watching, something he could watch time and time again and never get tired.
Sitting back in his chair he swung his feet up onto the desk, taking a sip of bourbon, not taking his eyes off the screen, because there she was – the only woman he’d ever wanted. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His ex-wife. India Walsh. Movie star. Mother of his son. The woman he was still very much in love with.
CHAPTER 3
India quickly pulled on a T-shirt and ran a brush through her hair before zipping up her boots and running downstairs. She was going to be late for her own party at this rate, although, party was probably pushing it a bit. It was just a little get together for a few friends, very informal, and hopefully a chance