The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,72

tomorrow,” Regan said, “or I will send Arthur away, and I will never see him again.”

Arthur looked at her in shock, his eyes wounded.

The fire in the gas fireplace kicked on, and the moment they both turned their heads to look, the portrait of Malcolm fell off the wall.

“He didn’t like that,” Regan said.

Arthur nodded. “Neither did I. You didn’t actually mean that, did you?”

“No,” she said. Thanks to her marriage, she knew how to lie and lie well. “Of course not.”

11

Mars and Venus

Arthur stayed the night with her in the penthouse bedroom. He held her to his chest as she fell asleep, his body wrapped around hers, covering her like a shield.

Sleep didn’t come easily for her, but it came more easily than usual in his arms. She might have slept the whole night through but for her phone ringing.

The first ring jarred her brutally from sleep. Regan sat up, hand to her head, looking around as if an alarm had gone off.

“Your phone,” Arthur said, his voice drowsy.

She’d left her phone on the charger in the bathroom and ran to get it. The call was from Zoot. And the time was nearly three in the morning.

“Zoot? What’s wrong?” she asked. Arthur was already sitting up in bed, waking up, ready to do what needed to be done. She sat beside him and put the call on speakerphone.

“Sorry to wake you, Boss, but the security blokes called. Alarm at Ferry Hill’s gone off. They drove by, gave the place a twice-over and didn’t see anything but some lights on that shouldn’t be on—master bedroom, they said. They got their orders not to go in without permission.”

“Those were Sir Jack’s orders, not mine,” Regan said. She sighed. “He’d rather his wife be murdered in her sleep than allow the riff-raff to step foot in his precious house.”

“You want me to go and see what’s what?”

She looked at Arthur who quietly mouthed, “Malcolm?”

Malcolm? Yes, maybe. He’d already shown he could cause trouble anywhere he wanted.

“No,” Regan said. “We’ll go.”

“You and me?” Zoot said.

“Arthur and me. He’s here.”

“Ahh…”

“Stop ahh-ing.”

“Ooh…”

“Zoot.”

“Be safe. Probably just a rat running around, tripping the sensors, but you never know.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She ended the call. Arthur was already out of bed and pulling on his clothes. “I can go alone, if you—”

“Don’t,” he said as he tugged his t-shirt down and grabbed his wallet. “Get dressed. I’ll drive.”

A sudden lump formed in her throat. She had trouble getting off the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, brow furrowed in worry.

“I suppose I didn’t realize you really meant it when you said you’d protect me.”

He stood in front of her, cupped her chin in his hand. For a moment, she felt like the younger one, like a girl again, scared and shy, and he was the older one, the one in charge.

“I meant it,” he said.

After that, she was able to get up and get dressed. She put on jeans, boots, and her favorite grey cashmere jumper. Arthur helped her into her black trench coat and in ten minutes they were in his car on their way to Ferry Hill.

Arthur drove a black Land Rover, which was exactly the sort of car she expected he’d drive—attractive but practical, sturdy and steady, high quality but not ostentatious. No flashy sports cars for him. And he drove it expertly and carefully like he was transporting precious cargo.

“You’d make a very good father,” she said.

He glanced at her before putting his eyes back on the road. “I’d make a good teacher, doctor, and lawyer, too, according to the stupid aptitude tests they made us take in school, but I’m not going to be any of those either.”

“Do you have any idea how young you are? No one regrets not becoming a lawyer. They do—”

“Everyone regrets becoming a lawyer. And I won’t regret anything if we’re together.” He paused. “I hated being a child. I hated childish things. A life without children sounds more than fine to me, all right? End of discussion.”

He reached over and squeezed her knee to show he wasn’t cross with her. No need. She knew. She knew and she’d never felt so loved. If only she could let herself love him back.

They drove on through the night on roads dark and empty but for the occasional lorry. The last time she’d been out at three in the morning was the night Sir Jack died, and she’d driven alone from the hospital to The Pearl, unable to