Brazilian Escape. Sandra Marton
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he was near. She needed to do that part alone.
‘Come here …’ He moved to pull her into his arms.
‘Just leave.’ It took everything she had to shake her head. ‘Just go, Niklas. I’m doing as you told me. I’m going to Hawaii …’
‘You’re upset.’
‘Why do you keep saying that? Of course I’m upset!’ she flared. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t be? How the hell do you justify speaking to me like that?’
‘Meg …’
He walked over and she did not want him to take her in his arms, did not want him to melt her all over again.
‘I say stupid things at times. You know that …’
‘Stupid things?’ There were so many other ways she could describe his words. ‘It was more than stupid, it was foul …’ She would not be fobbed off. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why did you speak to me like that?’
‘I’ve said I’m sorry.’
‘No, you haven’t, and you’re clearly not as sorry as I was to hear it.’ She went to open the door, to tell him to get out of here, but he stopped her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Meg just stood there, tears rising, remembering the love they had made and all the ways he made her feel. But she could not go back there. ‘Get out!’ She pushed him off her. ‘I mean it, Niklas …’
‘Meg …’ His mouth was on her cheek and she pulled her head away. His hands were in her hair but she brushed them off.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘can you just leave me? I’ll call you later. I’ll—’
His phone rang then, and it annoyed her that he took the call. Yes, of course he was busy, she knew that, and maybe she should be flattered that he had come straight to her, but it annoyed her that in the middle of a row he could just stop and take a call. It made her even more angry, and she was tired of making excuses for him. She wanted him gone and she told him so when he ended his call.
‘You are cross …’ He smiled at her. ‘You look beautiful when you are cross …’
He aimed his phone at her and she blinked at the flash. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘I’ve missed things like this. I want to capture everything …’
‘I just you want you to leave.’
But he simply refused to listen. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
‘A walk?’
The last thing she wanted was a walk. She wanted him to leave. She looked at his lips and not even his beautiful mouth could silence her doubts now. She just wanted him gone.
‘A walk to clear the air …’ Niklas said.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m waiting for the travel agent to ring me back.’
‘She’ll call back if you’re not here.’ He shrugged. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I want to taste the fresh air. I want to feel the rain …’
She looked out of the window. Yes, it was raining, and she realised that he wouldn’t have felt the rain in a long time. She was relieved that he wasn’t all over her, trying to kiss her back to confusion as he so often did, but she didn’t feel she knew him at all.
‘Meg, after all we have been through will you at least come for a walk with me?’
‘You hurt me last night.’
‘I apologise.’ His black eyes met hers. ‘Meg, I truly apologise. We can start again, without all this hanging over us …’
But she was stronger than she’d thought she could be.
She looked into his eyes and quite simply no longer wanted him—didn’t want to get back on the rollercoaster ride beside him. It was then that she made a decision that was surprisingly easy; she looked at the man who had broken her heart and knew that he would break it all over again. She simply refused to let him.
It was over.
Whatever the pregnancy test told her, Meg knew it was far better that she find out well away from him. She would fly to Hawaii today, search for the clarity he so easily clouded and make better decisions alone.
‘Come …’ he said. ‘I want to taste my freedom.’
Maybe it would be easier to tell him that they were finished while they were walking. Maybe it would prove easier out there. Because she knew his kisses made her weak. So she nodded and she went to get her jacket, to comb her hair.
‘Don’t worry about that …’ he said. ‘Your hair is fine …’
Niklas was right. Her hair really didn’t matter right now—it was her heart Meg had to worry about. They rode down in the lift together and Meg looked at him more closely. She hated her swollen eyes. Even more she hated that she had let him cause them.
They headed out through the foyer and into the street and she felt the warm rain that was so regular here. His hand reached for her, but she pulled hers back, refusing to give this man any more chances. He’d already used his last one with his filthy words to her the previous night and now his pathetic attempt at an apology.
‘I’m ending it, Niklas.’ He kept on walking. ‘I’m going to file for divorce.’
‘We’ll go to a bar and talk about it.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss.’ Meg stopped—which wasn’t the most sensible thing to do on such a busy street.
There were moans from a few pedestrians and he took her hand and they kept walking. She really was sure that she was making the right choice, because she did not know him, and he did not know her, and a walk would not clear the air. Only his kiss could possibly have given them a chance, because sex was the only thing they had going for them. Maybe she was mad for thinking it, but shouldn’t that be the way a man celebrated his freedom? If he loved her, if he wanted her, wouldn’t the first thing he wanted be taking her to bed, not out for a walk?
‘There’s a bar up here that I know,’ Niklas said. ‘It’s not far—just a couple of blocks away …’
‘I don’t want to go to a bar …’
‘The street is too noisy. Come on, we can talk properly there.’
‘I don’t want to talk.’
Meg was starting to panic now, and she didn’t really know why. His hand was too tight on her wrist, and he was walking her faster, and she had the most appalling thought then that he hadn’t been bailed at all. There was an urgency in the steps he was taking. She looked over to him and his head was down, and it dawned on Meg that maybe he had escaped from jail. She recalled the screams of the police cars and bikes. They were screaming in the streets even louder now. She remembered too the pharmacy staff all huddled around the television, saying his name. Maybe it was because Niklas Dos Santos had escaped. Still he walked her ever faster.
‘Niklas …’
She could hear the thud of music as they turned into a side street, could hear the clang of triangles and the smell of pamonah. There were so many people around; surely she was safe. She pulled her hand from his and stopped walking, but he turned and put a hand to her cheek. She shivered, but not with pleasure. There was something dark and menacing in his eyes. She was a fool to have got involved with this man, a fool to follow her heart, for look where it had led her—to a dingy side street in Brazil with a man she was now terrified of.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘We will talk about where our relationship is going later. Right now I want to celebrate my freedom and I want you to celebrate it with me.’ His hand was tight on her arm. ‘You wouldn’t deny me that?’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘And I want you to let me go.’