Don't Let Me Forget Page 5

  By thirty, when he met Juliet, he could have had any woman he wanted. At least he thought he could until he’d met Juliet.

  His grip loosened on the phone and he smiled to himself. Damn stubborn woman. He’d apologised after spilling the beer and then tried to start up a conversation. She’d merely shrugged and given him no more than a brief glance.

  It was the biggest turn on of his entire life.

  He’d been so used to women flocking to him. For his looks, for his money—he’d given up caring which. It was obvious straight away that Juliet had no idea who he was. So he let her think he was just another nobody like her. It took the rest of the night to convince her to give him her number.

  Then when she had, he played it cool. He didn’t call her until about a week later. They met for a beer. By the end of their first beer he knew he wanted her. No—needed her. Sure, staring into those thoughtful golden eyes had his cock twitching in his pants, but it was more than that.

  Juliet was like a rare diamond. The sort you discovered after years of sifting through shit, your frustration growing after each new find revealed yet another worthless gem. Juliet was the real deal. Sitting there in her worn jeans, a fitted T-shirt that was stretched around the neck after months on end of backpacking, she still oozed refinement. It was in the way she held herself, her watchfulness, her thoughtfulness. In the way her tongue delivered sharp observations and a wry wit. It was the first time he’d truly met someone who was beautiful inside and out.

  He knew, right then and there, he’d discovered something monumental. All he needed to do was polish her a bit and Sydney would be able to see what he knew was a fact—she was the woman equal to him, to rule his empire and help build his profile.

  The smile deepened when he remembered finally telling her who he was. He’d waited another couple of dates. Until then he’d been considered one of Australia’s most eligible bachelors. Juliet, of course, couldn’t have cared less.

  His duplicity angered her. But her anger was the sort to simmer dangerously below the surface and flare hot in those glowing eyes. Another huge turn on for him, he’d discovered.

  He’d had to wait another two weeks before she spoke to him. Another week after that before she agreed to see him.

  Apparently riches and notoriety were not important to her.

  So he’d been forced to beg. By that stage he’d been happy to, he was so desperate for her. Andrew pressed his lips together at the memory of it. He should have been concerned about his pride, but he had none when it came to Juliet. He would do anything for her.

  Eventually she told him she’d been rattled to see herself in the pages of Sydney’s papers. A shot taken by a photographer during one of their earlier dinners. He was used to it by now. Barely took any notice of it. Provided he wasn’t doing anything stupid, the publicity was always good.

  But for Juliet, he agreed to no public appearances together—nothing—for a full month, while they got to know each other.

  It had worked in his favour. His smile turned to a satisfied grin. Intimate dinners in the privacy of his home or Juliet’s rented accommodation left them with little else to do but get to know each other better. And he’d been delighted to find out that beneath Juliet’s calm exterior, his precious diamond was anything but cool. By the end of the month, they hadn’t even bothered with dinner, they’d just gone straight to the bedroom. Sometimes they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.

  His skin heated at the thought of what he’d done to Juliet on those evenings. What he still wanted to do to her despite the fact they were divorced.

  He looked down at the phone in his hand again with frustration.

  It was his own damn fault, he knew now. He’d been raised this way, and stupidly he expected Juliet to indulge his eccentricities. He wasn’t referring to the time he cheated. That had just been foolishness. No, it was his expectation he could control all aspects of their lives that had eventually pushed her away.

  He expected her to drop everything for him. To always be available when he called. To do what he asked. And when she didn’t, he grew more and more annoyed.

  Her events business had been growing. She’d been busy. As busy as him, if he were honest. Ironically, in seeking out an equal, he hadn’t known how to treat her as one. Yes, he’d given her a leg up with Temple Events, but that was for purely selfish reasons.

  Despite Juliet’s fervour in the bedroom, she remained shy of the media and reluctant to take on all that his life entailed. So he bribed her. Not obviously, of course. He gave her a chance to start up her company. He’d been prepared to throw money at it, lots of money, but she’d refused. It didn’t surprise him by that point. So he offered her something she couldn’t refuse.

  His contacts.

  From there, her business grew in a short time. With his name and her acumen, she was in high demand.

  And he’d gone and ruined it all.

  Jealousy, pettiness. Call it whatever you wanted. He’d acted like a little boy acting out to get attention. Drunk and frustrated one night, he’d gone and fucked someone else. He couldn’t even remember her name. But the girl he’d fucked had remembered, and she was quick to milk the media with her story.

  Juliet filed for divorce within the month.

  And now he was standing here pacing his office wondering where the hell his ex-wife was. It wasn’t motivated by control this time. His need to know where she was manifested itself as a deep, pulsing fear that throbbed painfully in his head.

  The media had just announced that Alex Benedetti had been taken in for questioning related to the murder of an underage girl. A girl suspected of being forced into sex acts at Alex’s party.

  A murder that had occurred at the party Juliet had organised. A party he’d attended and had rescued her from, pale, unconscious and alone in a bedroom in the Benedetti’s house in the early hours of the morning.

  When she’d woken hours later, groggy and incoherent at his house, she’d been scared. That hadn’t lasted long.

  She’d been suspicious at first. Had even accused Andrew of what he already suspected—that she’d been drugged.

  That she thought he could have been the one to drug her hurt him beyond words. He’d smashed a glass in response. He was still angry at himself for that. The fear in her eyes had amplified when he did it, and he knew he couldn’t take it back. During their entire relationship Juliet may have been pissed, angry, furious, but she’d never ever been scared of him.

  She wanted to call the police. He urged her not to. He would take care of it, he’d said.

  She hadn’t believed him. Then she started to remember things. Alex’s odd behaviour. A dark room downstairs. And the girl. The young, Asian girl later identified as an underage prostitute going by the name of Crystal.

  He hadn’t urged her then. He’d demanded her to stay out of it. To forget about it.

  ‘Forget about it?’ she’d whispered in disbelief. ‘How do I know I wasn’t raped, Andrew? And what about that girl?’

  That had stopped him. Not the bit about the girl, but about the possibility of Juliet being raped. He’d thought it, of course he had, when he’d found her that night. Lord knows, he would personally take down anyone who so much as dared to hurt her, but she’d appeared unhurt.

  She’d looked almost peaceful when he found her. Her dress was carefully arranged as she lay on the leather sofa.

  So carefully arranged that he started to feel physically sick.

  So he agreed, but on his terms only. He knew the Police Commissioner personally. They would go directly to him and keep the whole thing quiet, which is exactly what they did. They had Juliet tested and to his absolute relief she was unharmed. If only that had been the end of it.

  Twenty-four hours later they learned Crystal had been found dead in the pool at Alex Benedetti’s party. The girl Juliet claimed she’d seen that night. Due to his connections with the Police Commissioner he also discovered initial investigations were pointing to the fact th
at the girl had been harmed before she’d entered the water.

  As the only person to have seen the girl the night of the party, Juliet was now considered an invaluable witness—even if she had been drugged at the time. Until the police learned more, Juliet was the best lead they had. Fortunately, the Police Commissioner agreed to keep the fact Juliet was a witness quiet during the ongoing investigation into the murder.

  Juliet went back to work. She did her best to ignore the media coverage around Alex and the deceased girl, especially when reporters started using the term ‘murder’. When the media named Juliet’s company as the event organiser, Andrew helped her to put a stop to further headlines. Juliet made a brief, heartfelt statement about the events of that night—leaving out the bit about her drugging and seeing the girl—and she was left alone after that. References to Juliet or Temple Events were factual from then on.

  Then two weeks ago she was involved in a car accident driving home from the office. The car that hit her hadn’t stopped to exchange details and she swore it had been following her. Andrew immediately called the Police Commissioner. He’d advised Juliet to stay at home for the night and assured her he’d have a police detail watching her house.

  And now Andrew couldn’t get in touch with her.

  He searched for Commissioner Gordon Roberts’ number and hit dial. He couldn’t care less if the man was busy dealing with the fallout of the Benedetti coverage.

  ‘I’ve been expecting your call.’ Gordon’s grave voice was clipped but not entirely unfriendly.

  ‘Then hopefully you can tell me where the hell my wife is then?’

  There was a pause. ‘Your ex-wife if I’m not mistaken?’

  ‘Gordon.’

  ‘Just reminding you I deal with facts. She’s safe.’

  It was Andrew’s turn to pause. ‘I need more than that.’

  ‘That’s all you’re getting.’

  Andrew stiffened. ‘May I remind you who I am—’

  ‘May I remind you any further involvement on your part could be considered interfering in our investigation. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it doesn’t matter who you are. But I can tell you this. I have two priorities right now. The first is to ensure the person who is responsible for that girl’s death is brought to justice, and the second is to keep Juliet safe.’

  ‘Are you’re telling me she’s in danger?’

  ‘She’s a witness.’

  Jesus. He didn't sugar coat it did he? Then again, he wasn’t considered one of the city’s best commissioners for his ability to play politics. It was down to his ability to do his job.

  ‘I can help protect her.’ Andrew attempted to sound more respectful, although it pained him to do so.

  ‘You have already, and we’re thankful for that. But we need to take it from here, Andrew. Trust us. She’s safe. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.’

  Chapter Eight

  Later that day, Jet sat at her desk in the office at Rhodes Wines trying hard to concentrate on her work. She’d just taken a booking for another wedding. She should have been entering the details into the computer but found herself staring out the window at the rows of vines instead.

  ‘Need a coffee?’

  Jet startled at Dan’s voice. She forced herself to meet his gaze across the room. ‘No, I’m good.’

  Dan’s blue eyes studied her as he stretched and stood up from his desk. ‘Already jumpy enough, huh?’ He gave her a lopsided grin and walked over to the small kitchenette located to one side of the open-plan space.

  Jet pulled her jacket around her. She wasn’t really cold, although it was easy to feel the cold in the barn that doubled as the Rhodes Wines’ headquarters. She felt exposed. Again.

  When she’d first arrived here, she’d had the space to herself because Marty occupied a small office off the main area. Since Dan had returned, she’d been forced to share it, which wasn’t exactly soothing her already frayed nerves. Every time she looked up, he was across from her, tapping away on his computer or reclined in his chair talking to someone on the phone.

  It was unnerving to say the least. At Temple Events, she’d had her own office and she was used to being alone.

  At least he couldn’t see her computer screen. That was something. She’d been able to check the latest news headlines without him seeing.

  That wasn’t necessarily good, she reflected. Jet glanced back at the screen which now held the event booking form, recalling the words she’d read earlier.

  No charges for Benedetti, the headline had said. He’d been released after questioning, according to the news reports. Jet hadn’t even realised she was holding her breath until she’d been forced to push the air from her lungs after reading it.

  She’d been so sure. So sure Alex had something to do with the girl’s murder. How else would that explain the girl’s presence in the room that night? Or the fact that she’d been drugged? The memory of her disorientation and the complete lack of control over her own body swirled like a riptide in her belly, pulling her thoughts in directions she didn’t want to go.

  Allegations were rife in the media about Benedetti and his friends being involved with underage girls, but so far, they were only allegations. His mates were keeping quiet, and at this stage, there was nothing concrete to connect Alex to the murder of the girl.

  Except for her.

  Not that her testimony would hold up in court. The Commissioner had already explained that. Given the fact she had been drugged, Jet’s claim she had seen the girl was tenuous at best. Not that they could prove the drugging either. By the time Andrew had taken her to be tested, there was no evidence of anything in her system. It also meant they had no way of connecting Benedetti to the drugging—if he had been the one to do it, which Jet suspected he had.

  ‘Here.’ Dan placed a cup of tea on her desk. ‘Camomile.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She accepted the tea she hadn’t requested and cupped her hands around the mug for warmth. She didn’t raise it to her lips.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Dan asked, settling back into his chair.

  Jet avoided his eyes. ‘No. I’m fine.’ At the beat of silence, she added. ‘Really.’

  ‘I don’t believe you, but that’s OK. I’m here if you change your mind.’

  Jet bit off a terse ‘I won’t’ and instead forced herself to take a sip of the hot liquid.

  It didn’t help that he was so genuine. That constantly threw her. Andrew had never been that nice. Sure, her ex-husband had been concerned about her, but that stemmed from the need to control rather than a sincere desire to see her happy.

  Another thing that disarmed Jet was Dan’s complete openness. There were times she’d look up from her desk to find him watching her. Rather than drop his gaze, he’d offer her a smile. He appeared completely unembarrassed by his interest in her. Not that sort of interest, of course. Just general interest. From what she could tell so far, Dan was the sort of guy who liked to get to know people. It was how he did business, and it seemed to work well for him.

  ‘So I was thinking,’ Dan began.

  Jet bowed her head and covered a grin. It was that or groan.

  She’d discovered that Dan did a lot of thinking out loud. If it so happened she was there to witness his thoughts, he seemed to enjoy taking advantage of it.

  So far in the past week they’d discussed the new line of wine he was working on at length, as well a whole range of other marketing topics. She wasn’t sure if it was deliberate, but his informal workshopping had helped her immensely in getting up to speed with the business.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Dan repeated for Jet’s benefit, the dimple in his cheek suggesting he hadn’t missed her response, ‘that it’s time I took you out for lunch.’

  ‘What?’

  The dimple deepened. ‘Your accent gets stronger when you’re tense,’ he observed. ‘I like to do the rounds of the competition and lunch is always a good excuse.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ she repli
ed quickly, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. ‘Isn’t that a bit, I don’t know, obvious?’

  ‘Haven’t you figured out what you see is what you get with me? But no, it’s not too obvious, don’t worry. The Hunter Valley is a lot like a small town. We all try to band together so it’s good to know what’s on offer. You wait, I’ll have them giving us free tastings by main course.’

  Jet couldn’t hide the smile that was forming in direct response to Dan’s persistent dimple. ‘I’m sure you will.’

  ‘Great. I’ll book somewhere. Is tomorrow good?’

  ‘Fine.’

  They went back to their tasks and Jet was actually able to concentrate this time. If it had something to do with Dan’s easy manner relaxing her, she didn’t allow herself to think about it. Twenty minutes passed quietly until she sensed someone else’s presence and looked up to see Marty standing in the doorway of his office.

  ‘Jet? Do you have a moment?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  Jet didn’t miss the intrigued glance Dan threw their way as Marty ushered her into his office and closed the door firmly.

  ‘The Commissioner is on the line. I thought you might want to take it in here.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. Of course.’

  Marty waited until Jet was seated behind his desk with the phone in her hand before slipping out of the office.

  Jet cleared her throat because it felt dry and pressed the button to activate the flashing line. ‘Commissioner Roberts? It’s Juliet.’ It seemed strange to be saying her full name out loud for the first time in a couple of weeks.

  ‘Gordon,’ he corrected. ‘I assume you’ve seen the news reports?’

  ‘Some of them.’

  ‘Then you’ll know we’ve had Benedetti in here.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that he’s been released.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Other than that, I’d urge you not to believe anything you read.’

  Jet’s heart pumped harder. ‘Is he still a suspect?’

  ‘I can’t comment directly on that except to say his public relations team are doing a good job of clearing his name in the media.’