Baby On The Tycoon's Doorstep

The idea shocked her. ‘Of course she will come back. Emily is her daughter. She won’t abandon her.’

‘You don’t know that.’ She glanced at him, saw the grim set to his lips. ‘You don’t know her any more. Can we contact her? Do we even know where she is?’

Isobel shook her head. ‘She’s going to call me in a few days.’

He drummed his fingers on his thigh. ‘I think we should call the police.’

‘No.’ Her reaction was straight from her gut, born of visceral fear. ‘You can’t do that.’ Isobel forced herself to remain still, to project calm. ‘If we call the police, they will call social services.’

‘Maybe social services need to be involved—maybe they can help.’

Now panic spiralled and she reminded herself that Jake didn’t know how the system worked, didn’t even know that Isobel had been in care. Because she’d never told him. She hadn’t wanted his pity, hadn’t wanted to further highlight the stark contrasts between their different backgrounds. ‘How do you work that out?’

‘Martin could persuade Caro that he is a changed man; she could get Emily and go straight back to him. You said it yourself. She has forgiven him time and again.’

‘She won’t do that to Emily.’ Her voice was low as she tried to inject optimism into it, but she knew it was misplaced; Isobel’s mother had loved Isobel, but that love hadn’t been strong enough to withstand her dependence on Simon, nor had it enabled her to protect Isobel.

‘You can’t know that and the most important thing is Emily’s safety.’ His voice was inexorable.

Safe. Isobel knew what it felt like to not be safe; it was a knowledge wired into her very being, her bones, her soul and she never wanted Emily to have to feel that. Images crowded in on her. Herself as a small child, huddled under her bedclothes, sounds through the walls, raised voices, the thud of fist on flesh, her mother’s cry. Isobel’s hand stuffed in her mouth to keep silent, the taste of her own fear, the weight in her gut at her own cowardice, that stopped her from flying into the other room to claw and fight and kick to protect her mother. The knowledge of what would happen if she did, the thud of the fist in her stomach, the shove, the twist of the arm. The loom of her stepfather’s face before her, flushed and mottled, the words in her face, spittle flying.

Her own terror, the knowledge that she was defenceless. Just as Emily was now.

A conflict of emotions battled inside her but she knew her priority. ‘I swear to you that I would never hand Emily back if Martin is in the picture. But please let’s give Caro a few days. If there is any chance that she and Emily can be safe together we owe her that. Owe them that.’ There was silence as he continued to pace. ‘Right now, Emily is safe. Here.’

‘That we can agree on. I will keep a full security detail on the suite; we have surveillance cameras here and there’s me. I won’t let Martin anywhere near Emily. That’s a promise. I hope he turns up. Trust me, I’ll enjoy meeting him.’

His voice was hard and as she looked at him she knew he meant every word. Her gaze lingered on the ripple of muscle in his arms, the sheer bulk and strength of him and a funny little thrill shot straight through her and warmed her veins.

Stop right there.

Yes, Jake was big and strong, but surely she could accept that without this daft, stupid reaction.

‘Then Emily can stay with us? No police?’

There was a long silence and she could see the shadows chase themselves across his grey eyes, wondered what dark thoughts streamed through his mind. Then he nodded. ‘OK. Let’s give Caro a chance. You’re right—she does deserve that.’

‘Thank you.’ Relief ran through her, along with reluctant gratitude. Enough to make her smile at him. ‘Really.’

‘That’s OK. As long as we are clear that I will change my mind if circumstance dictates.’

Before she could answer, a knock on the door heralded the arrival of their food.

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