The Return Of Her Billionaire Husband. Melanie Milburne
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reception attendant peered a little closer at the screen, scrolling through the bookings with her computer mouse. ‘Ah, yes, I see it now. I missed it because I thought the booking was only for one person.’ She flashed him a smile so bright he wished he hadn’t taken his sunglasses off. ‘Your wife has already checked in. She arrived an hour ago.’
His wife. A weight pressed down on Joe’s chest and his next breath was razor-edged. His failure could just as easily be substituted for those words. Hadn’t the wedding planner got the memo about his and Juliette’s separation?
The thought slipped through a crack in his mind like a fissure in bedrock, threatening to destabilise his determination to keep his distance.
A weekend sharing a suite with his estranged wife.
For a second or two he considered pointing out the booking error but he let his mind wander first... He could see Juliette again. In private. In person. He would be able to talk to her face to face instead of having her refuse to answer his calls or delete or block his texts or emails. She hadn’t responded to a single missive. Not one. The last time he’d called her to tell her about the fundraising he’d organised for a stillbirth foundation on their behalf, the service provider informed him the number was no longer connected. Meaning Juliette was no longer connected to him.
His conscience woke up and prodded him with a jabbing finger.
What the hell are you thinking? Haven’t you done enough damage?
It was crazy enough coming here for the wedding, much less spend time with Juliette—especially alone. He had ruined her life, just like he had done to his mother. Was there a curse on him when it came to his relationships? A curse that had been placed on him the day he was born. The same day his mother had died. His birthday: his mother’s death day.
If that wasn’t a curse, then what the freaking hell was?
Joe cleared his throat. ‘There must be some mistake. My...er...wife and I are no longer together. We’re...separated.’ He hated saying the ugly word. Hated admitting his failure. Hated knowing it was largely his fault his wife had walked out on their marriage.
The receptionist’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘Oh, no—I mean, that’s terrible about your separation. Also, about the booking, because we don’t have any other rooms and—’
‘It’s fine,’ Joe said, pulling out his phone. ‘I’ll book in somewhere else.’ He began to scroll through the options on his server. There had to be plenty of hotels available. He would sleep on a park bench or on the beach if he had to. No way was he sharing a room with his estranged wife. Too dangerous. Too tempting. Too everything.
‘I don’t think you’ll find too much available,’ the receptionist said. ‘There’s several weddings on this part of Corfu this weekend and, besides, Celeste really wanted everyone to stay close by to give the wedding a family feel. She’ll be gutted to find out she’s made a mistake with your booking. She’s worked so hard to make her cousin’s wedding truly special.’
Joe’s memory snagged on something Damon had told him about his young cousin, Celeste. How this wedding planning gig for her older cousin was her first foray into the workforce after a long battle with some type of blood cancer. Leukaemia? Non-Hodgkin’s? He couldn’t remember which, but he didn’t want to be the one to rain on Celeste’s first parade.
‘Okay, so don’t tell Celeste until I make sure I can’t find accommodation. I’ll do a ring around and see what I find.’
He fixed problems, right? That was his speciality—fixing things that no one else could fix.
And he would fix this or die trying.
Joe stepped back out into the sunshine and spent close to an hour getting more and more frustrated when there was no vacancy anywhere. Beads of sweat poured down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. He even for a moment considered making an offer to buy a property rather than face the alternative of sharing a room with his estranged wife. He certainly had enough money to buy whatever he wanted.
Except happiness.
Except peace of mind.
Except life for his baby girl...
His phone was almost out of charge when he finally conceded defeat. There was nothing available close by or within a reasonable radius. Fate or destiny or a seriously manipulative deity had decided Joe was sharing a room with Juliette.
But maybe it was time to do something about his marriage. Keeping his distance hadn’t solved anything. Maybe this was a chance to see if there was anything he could say or do to bring a resolution to their situation. Closure.
Joe walked back into Reception and the young receptionist gave him an I-told-you-so smile. ‘No luck?’ she said.
‘Nope.’ Luck and Joe were not close friends. Never had been. Enemies, more like.
‘Here’s your key.’ The receptionist handed it over the counter. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay.’
‘Thank you.’ Joe took the key and made his way to the lift. Enjoy his stay? Like that was going to happen. He’d been dreading seeing Juliette again, knowing he was largely responsible for her pain, her sorrow, her devastation. But at least this way, in the privacy of ‘their’ suite, he would be able to speak to her without an audience. He would say what needed to be said, work out the way forward—if there was a way forward—and then they could both move on with their lives.
JULIETTE HAD A refreshing shower and was dressed in a luxurious bathrobe with her hair in a towel turban. The bespoke bathrobe—apparently all the wedding party had them—had her initials embroidered over her right breast—JA. Which was a pity because the bathrobe was absolutely divine and she hated the thought of tossing it in a charity bin. But maybe, once she got home, she could unpick the embroidery and embroider JB instead.
The wedding planner had certainly pulled all the stops out. There were handmade chocolates with the bride and groom’s names on them by the bedside, plus spring water bottles labelled with a photo of the happy couple. It was hard to look at her friend’s blissfully happy smile in that photo and not feel insanely jealous.
Why couldn’t she have found a man to love her like Damon loved Lucy?
Juliette had thought her ex, Harvey, had loved her. How could she have been so blind for so long? Harvey had said the three little words so often and yet they had meant nothing.
She had meant nothing.
And Joe hadn’t loved her either, but at least he hadn’t lied to her about it. Their relationship hadn’t been a love match but a convenient solution to the problem of her accidental pregnancy. A duty marriage. A loveless arrangement to provide a secure home and future for their child. She had known it from the start and still married him because she couldn’t bear to face the disappointment on her parents’ faces. The disappointment she had seen throughout her life—every school report, every exam result, every time she failed to gain their approval. Every time she failed to live up to the standards set by her exceptionally talented, high achieving older brothers. And her parents, with their multiple university degrees. Even her very existence had been a mistake. She was a mid-life baby born to older parents who thought their childrearing days were over. And they were over, so they’d outsourced the rearing of Juliette to a variety of nannies.
Juliette placed her hand on the flat plane of her abdomen, her heart squeezing as she thought of the precious life she had nurtured there for seven months. Her baby might have been an accident but no way would she ever think of Emilia as a mistake. Oh, God, she shouldn’t say her name, even in her head. It brought her so much pain, so much anguish to think of Emilia’s tiny little crinkled face, her tiny wrinkled legs and arms. Little arms