Everything You Are (30 page)

It was past seven o'clock in the evening when Ian’s limousine drove through the iron gate and stopped before the columns of Ann's house. Ian climbed out of the car and went up the stairs to the entrance door, disappearing from Jane's sight. She had been sitting in an armchair in one of the empty rooms overlooking the front of the house. Except for the armchair that she had dragged before the window, all the furniture in that room was covered with sheets. For a week now, she had been occupying this room every day from five until Ian came home.

A vibration of the phone shook the breast pocket of her tunic. She took it out and then when she saw Mark's name flashing on the display, she answered it.

“He went to the apartment,” Mark said instead of hello. “He stayed there until seven, the same as he did yesterday and the day before yesterday. I didn't follow him after he left, since I assumed he would go straight to his grandmother's house.”

“You were right. He just crossed the threshold,” Jane said. “Thank you, Mark.”

“See, I told you he wasn't cheating on you.”

She had never believed that he was. She had just used that as an excuse to get Mark to tail Ian, to learn why he had suddenly started to come home so late. “Yes, I should have never doubted him. You don't need to follow him anymore.”

“I didn't intend to,” Mark said. “Hey, I have to go now. I'm meeting my guy at nine; we’re going out for a night on the town, and I have to make myself presentable.”

“Have fun, and don't forget to take notes so that you can report on how it went later.”

“I won't.”

Jane smiled. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Mark hung up.

Jane pocketed the phone and then stayed seated in the armchair, her gaze lost in the distance. Why was Ian going back to the apartment? And why was he withholding that information, lying to her that business had been detaining him in the office? And what was she going to do about it?

Her phone vibrated again and this time it was Ian who was calling her.

“Where are you?”

“On the second floor.”

“What are you doing there?”

“The same thing I do day after day: lounging around, reading and gazing through the window.”

“Have you sorted out the data that Richardson sent you?”

“Yes.” A few days back, when she had complained to Ian that she was bored to death, he proposed that she help Richardson here and there with organizing data, which only took her an hour or two in the morning.

“Are you planning to come down, or should I come looking for you?” Ian asked.

“I'll come down.”

“Use the elevator, please. Or maybe it would be better if I came for you. Which room are you in?”

“Stop fussing. Just because I'm a little clumsy lately that doesn't mean that you need to treat me like I'm an invalid.”

“But Pukki --”

“I'll come down,” she said and cancelled the call. Pukki, indeed. She sighed. She got irritated so quickly lately. With her hand against the armrest she pushed herself up. She padded out of the room and across the hallway into the elevator. She pressed the button for the first floor and then strolled toward the wing where their rooms were. She didn't go to her room, but to Ian's, where she made herself comfortable on his bed. They had spent so little time together this past week, two to three hours before going to sleep. They had patched things up, but there was still an invisible barrier between them, one that she wasn't able to cross. It could be her fault; she was still nursing her heart and she hadn't been able to completely trust Ian. If she had, she would have never asked Mark to follow him around. But there was something else. A ghost of a scowl that marred Ian's forehead when he lost himself in his thoughts. He was up to something, something he wasn't willing to share with her. She just needed to figure out what.

The door of the room opened and Ian walked inside, Harold behind him.

“Here you are.” Ian's blue eyes glittered, he strode to her.

“Here I am,” Jane said before she looked past Ian. “Hey, Harold.”

“Miss.”

Ian bent over the bed and kissed her forehead. “You cut me off.”

“Yes, I did.” She pushed the pillows higher against the headboard and rolled onto her back.

“You’ve been moody lately.” Ian slipped out of his jacket and gave it to Harold, who carried it past the bed into the walk-in closet. The blond unbuttoned his cuffs.

“You would be too, if people treated you as if you're incapable of tying your shoes.” Which, with the way the size of her belly was increasing, she would soon have problems with.

“I thought it was because of Pukki.” He pulled the edges of his white and blue striped shirt out of the waistband of his pants and started to push the shirt's buttons out of their loopholes.

“If I minded that stupid nickname I would have said something about it the first time you called me that.” Her eyelids lowered as she watched him undress. “What I mind is people acting as if I can't get out of bed without help.”

Harold appeared in the room. “Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you, Harold.” Ian gave him a small smile before he turned to Jane. “It's not that bad, is it?” He went into the wardrobe on the left side of the bed.

“Worse. There's this maid, Sophia, who drops by my room every two hours, asking me if I want anything, Ann's orders. I'm quite capable of using the intercom or going to the kitchen on my own.”

“What can I say? My family likes to overreact.” Ian returned to the room wearing only a white top and dark-grey cotton slacks. He sat on the mattress and set his hands on each side of her body as he leaned over her. “They are crazy about you, like me.” He gave her a short kiss.

When he lifted his head she framed his face with her hands and stared at him. Sometimes she forgot how beautiful he was, as if she got used to it.

“What is it?” He smiled.

“You came home late again.” She released him and folded her hands on the top of her belly.

“Home?” He arched his eyebrows.

“It's home for now. Where were you?”

“I told you that I'm working on a big project.”

“At your apartment?”

He straightened.

“I know you were at the apartment. And not just today.”

“Ann?”

She shook her head.

“How?”

“I asked Mark to follow you.”

He sighed and his fingers went over the stubble covering his jaw.

She pulled herself higher on the pillows. “Why are you going there?”

“Why did you ask Mark to follow me?”

“Because I was worried.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

He sighed and after a moment of tense silence in which he gazed at her with furrowed eyebrows and pinched lips, as if he was weighing what he should do, he told her what was going on.

She listened to him silently and with each word that he uttered, her heart became heavier. She sat. She didn't interrupt him, but waited until he finished before saying to him, “Are you crazy? There's no way you’re going through with it.”

“Of course I am.”

“Why? There are people looking for Martha, why do you need to be the one playing the hero?”

“We can't find her, and there's not a single clue that could help us with our investigation. This could drag out for months, and you’ve already complained how confined you feel, stuck in this house.”

“Tell me you're not doing this for me.”

“I'm doing this for us.”

“No, you're not.”

“What if we never find her? I have no intention of glancing over my shoulder, afraid that she will appear some day and hurt you. Jane, you know what I'm doing is right.”

“No, I don't.”

“I'm not some defenceless and careless weakling. I know how to defend myself, I have been training in judo since I was little and I know how to handle a gun.”

“Which came in very handy that day in the elevator, didn't it?”

“My sprain is almost healed.”

“Of course it is.”

“You have to listen to reason.”

“To reason? You have this stupid plan and you're demanding
I
listen to reason.”

“That's enough,” Ian said in his obey-me-or-else voice.

“Don't use that voice on me!”

“What voice?”

“Your business voice. I'm not one of your employees.”

“Technically, you are.”

“I'm your father's employee, not yours.”

A dry chuckle escaped his throat. His fingers brushed the outline of her cheek and his voice softened. “Jane, please, I don't want to fight.”

He was so stupid in his stubbornness. Couldn't he see how dangerous playing bait might be? Jane pressed her lips tightly together, and she was tempted to slap his hand away. But being angry wouldn't solve anything, so she swallowed the irritation and tried to calm down by silently counting to ten. She took Ian's hand and put it over her belly. “You plan could backfire and make this child fatherless.”

“You're playing dirty.”

He wasn't even aware how dirty she could play, but she could show him. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed herself against him. Her mouth brushed over his jaw, his 5 o'clock shadow tickling her lips. “I love you. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“Yeah, really dirty.” His hand went to her back and his fingers tiptoed up her back until they reached her neck and he buried them in her hair. He drew her up and kissed her, passionately. Their tongues met and slid against each other in a dance of raw pleasure.

She pushed herself onto her knees and then swung her leg over his hips; she straddled him, her hand going between their bodies. She cupped him and rubbed him with the heel of her hand.

He sighed into her mouth, his hands skimming over her back, pressing her closer to him.

It would be so easy to melt against him, knowing what kind of pleasure he could give her, but she couldn't allow that. She wiggled out of the circle of his arm and moved away from him.

“Jane?” He reached out for her.

She evaded his hand. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.” She shifted backwards on her knees until she reached the end of the bed. She was being mean, leaving him like that, but she wanted to punish him, and this was a better way to get her point across than yelling at him.

“We are in the middle of -- Why?”

“I know you’re counting on this continuing,” she said in a soft voice. She stood. “But if you're stubborn enough to ignore my objections, then I'm afraid that I'm not willing to cooperate and help you with your...” Her gaze went to his erection. “Your
problem
.”

His eyes lowered to the tent in his pants then lifted up to her, his face blank. “You're going to leave me like this?”

“I'm afraid so.” She turned around and walked to the door of the room.

“When did you become so diabolical?”

“When you stopped valuing your life.”

“Jane.” He climbed off the bed.

“No. You're being stupid and you want to convince me what a good idea this is.” She was already through the door and in the hallway.

“Jane!” He used his business voice again.

“Which it’s not!” She wheeled around to glare at him as he strode toward her. “Don't come near me, not until you come to your senses.” She slammed the door shut. Ian might not be open to her opinion, but he might be willing to listen to his grandmother.

She expected him to come after her, but he didn't, probably thinking that she only needed time to cool off. She had no intention of calming down. She knew what she had to do. She called Ann, who told her to come to the library.

The library was on the ground floor and as soon she closed the door behind her, she said, “I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I really need to talk with you.”

Ann closed the laptop she was using, and gestured for Jane to sit down. “What's this about?”

“About Ian.” Jane dragged the chair by the window up to the large glass desk, lowered herself into it, and told Ann about Ian's plan to draw out Martha. “He intends to go to some easily accessible and unguarded place, hoping that she’ll show up there. The woman's husband was in the army, she could have a gun or something worse.”

Ann leaned back in the chair and sighed. “I know.”

“You know, and you allow it?”

“He's a Cromwell. When we decide something, we don't let go.”

“He could get injured or...” Jane fisted her hands. “If she's willing to cause an accident by sabotaging the elevator, what else is she capable of?”

Ann rose, walked around the table and passed Jane. “Come with me.”

Jane pushed herself out of the chair, grimacing. This sitting down and getting up from chairs was like doing squats. She followed Ann as she led her through the hallways.

“I have known for days what Ian is up to,” Ann told her. “My grandchild is a very stubborn man -- it runs in the family -- so I'm not going to waste my breath changing his mind, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to stand on the sidelines and allow him to get hurt.”