Page 17 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
He was dressed as he always was, in dark jeans, a dark long-sleeved tee shirt and loafers. Casual and effortlessly elegant.
God, how had she managed to forget just how stupendously good-looking he was? How tall? How achingly sexy? She’d replied to his emails as briefly and as politely as she could, firmly believing that the faster she broke off contact with him, the faster her head would stop filling up with images that made her think she was losing her mind with missing him.
He was staring at her with concern and she chewed on her lip.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Matt urged.
‘I wish I knew. He looked a bit peaky this morning, and I told him that if he didn’t feel right we should call the gig off, but he insisted, and when my dad gets something in his mind he’s an unstoppable force. But I knew he wasn’t feeling well. I could tell every time he looked at me that he wasn’t right.’ Her eyes welled up. ‘I know my dad so well. We should have called it quits long before the end. I should have insisted. Now...What if he dies?’
‘He won’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I have a hotline to the big guy up there.’ He smiled and Violet reluctantly smiled back and began to relax a little.
It was amazing just how calm his presence made her feel.
‘I’m being feeble,’ she ventured shakily. ‘What a coincidence that you’re here. I hope the stuff with the start-up gets sorted.’
‘Forget that. Let’s focus on what matters. Your father. You go and sit down over there and I’ll get you a cup of coffee, even though a good shot of whisky would probably be more helpful. And then I’ll hunt down a doctor or a nurse or a consultant and find out what’s going on.’
He was guiding her gently towards one of the chairs lined up against the wall like soldiers in formation. She obediently sat down. This, she knew, was a side to her he would never have seen. The side that wasn’t efficient, professional or calm under stress. The side that was currently wearing next to nothing under the jacket that thankfully he had given her.
She was vulnerable and tearful. She just wanted to lean on him and let him take over because she felt scared and fragile.
He appeared with a coffee, and then disappeared almost as quickly, and when he next returned he knelt in front of her and tilted her chin so that their eyes met. Deep blue tangled with sherry brown.
‘First of all, he’s going to be fine.’
Violet closed her eyes briefly to control the emotion that single sentence had evoked. ‘Did...did the doctor say that?’
Matt smiled. ‘One doctor, a consultant and the chart which I insisted on inspecting. He’s got, of all things, pneumonia. They’re going to have to keep him in for at least a week and monitor all his vitals, but the general consensus is that he’s going to be fine.’
‘Stress.’ The words were wrenched out of her. ‘It’s all been building up. I should have paid more attention, but my dad has always been good at hiding what he doesn’t want anyone to see. He’s been busy with a music school he started and then all the underlying worries about his health. He looked a bit peaky, and I know he seemed to be resting quite a bit, but...’
‘No point in looking back over what you could or couldn’t have done. Bottom line is that there’s nothing you can do here right now. He’s sedated at the moment. I’m going to take you back to your house.’
‘No, it’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of—’
‘You’re not and I am returning you safe and in one piece back to your house. You can don the secretarial hat another time. Right now, I’m in charge.’
Those words were like manna from heaven. She allowed herself to be gently led out of the hospital, as gently as if she were the patient and not her father. She was allowed to look in on him, make sure that he was okay, but that was about it, even though she would have set up camp next to his bed if she could.
She and Matt had arrived in an ambulance and now they headed back to her father’s house in a taxi. The house sat on a magnificent plot of well-manicured lawn, a two-storeyed concrete-and-glass building with both indoor and outdoor swimming pools and a dedicated recording studio where her father spent a great deal of his time tinkering on his guitar, composing.
‘Nice,’ was the only comment Matt made. The drive had been silent but the silence had been companionable and now, as the taxi swerved into the drive and pulled up in front of the house, Violet suddenly felt a swell of panic.
‘Don’t worry,’ Matt murmured, pushing open the car door but turning to look at her gravely for a few seconds. ‘I’m not going to leave you until I know that you’re all right—and don’t tell me that you’re all right. You’re not.’
They entered a house that was a tasteful palette of creams and greys, interspersed with abstract art on the walls and colourful silk rugs on the marble floor. She could feel his presence alongside her and, whilst she didn’t want him to go, not really, neither did she want him to stay.
She turned and their eyes collided, and her breath suddenly hitched in her throat.
‘I feel so tired,’ she murmured, fidgety all of a sudden. She couldn’t peel her eyes from him. She was still wearing his jacket and she politely reached to hand it over to him. ‘And you’re wrong. I’m fine. Just exhausted. You don’t need to stay here and babysit me.’
‘Maybe I want to,’ Matt murmured, his midnight-blue eyes guarded. ‘I saw a different Violet Dunn before you left.’ His voice roughened. ‘I’m seeing an even more different one now.’
‘I apologise,’ Violet said stiffly. Her eyes skittered away from his face, but nothing could hide the rapid beating of her heart.
