Sealing her fate.
Colin was waiting for her patiently as she turned. He was also idly stroking Mallory’s soft, black-faced head while the dog sat next to him in contented silence.
And lastly, Colin was carrying a briefcase.
She felt her knees go weak.
She lifted her arm to motion him toward the dining table and followed him when he moved. He still said not a word as he placed the briefcase on the table and turned toward her.
She walked toward the briefcase.
She had no idea what to do. What was next? Should she say something?
Good goddess, how did women do this sort of thing for a living?
She felt like wringing her hands but put every amount of energy and attention into keeping them still and tremor-free.
Sibyl was so concentrated on this trying task, she didn’t hear him approach.
Then he was there, he was so close that she smelled his cedar-spiked cologne. He lifted his hands toward her head and she flinched.
His fingers found the two carefully placed clips that held her hair up (clips it took her twenty minutes to secure). He pulled them out and her hair tumbled around her shoulders.
She turned stunned eyes to his to see his were drilling intently into hers while his fingers ran through the hair on one side of her head then on the other, pulling its mass away from her face.
“You’ll not wear your hair up when you’re with me.” He voiced this demand smoothly, in a calm, even tone before he tossed the clips on her dining room table.
Her mouth dropped open and then she could do nothing but nod because, from that moment on (or at least for the next two months), his wish was her command.
He turned, flipped open the latches to the briefcase and inside there were carefully arranged twenty-pound notes. Just like in the movies.
Meg and Annie’s minibus.
Overwhelmed with relief, not lifting her eyes from the money and not realising how strange it would sound, she whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
When she eventually looked at him, he was staring at her quizzically.
After a brief hesitation, he replied quietly, “You’re welcome.”
She reached out and slapped the top of the case down. She wanted to grab it and throw it into the night, find a deep lake and toss it into the middle, gather all the money and fling it into his face, screaming, “This is not really me!” and do everything to make him believe.
Instead, she just fastened the latches.
“It warms the heart that you don’t intend to count it,” Colin drawled.
She closed her eyes which were still trained on the case.
She just knew she’d forget something.
Then she squared her shoulders and turned to him without a word. He was watching her so closely and so intently it made her entire body quiver.
Then, suddenly, he asked, “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Um… what?” Her voice was scratchy, like she hadn’t spoken in a year.
“Bedroom?”
“It’s… my bedroom’s upstairs.”