The Midnight Rose Read Online Free PDF

he’d slopped more vodka into his glass.
    After the plane touched down at Heathrow and taxied to a halt, Rebecca undid her seat belt as the lights came on in the aircraft.
    “Are you ready, Miss Bradley?” asked the stewardess.
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “They should be no longer than a couple of minutes.”
    Rebecca ran an urgent comb through her mane of long, dark hair and fixed it into a coil at the nape of her neck. Her “Audrey Hepburn” look, Jack called it, and indeed, the media constantly likened Rebecca to the iconic star. There was even some talk of remaking Breakfast at Tiffany’s next year.
    She mustn’t listen to him, mustn’t let her self-confidence as an actress be broken any further. Jack’s last two films had been flops and his star was not shining as brightly as it used to. The dreadful truth was that he was jealous of her success. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Whatever Jack had said to her, she was determined to provethat she was far more than a pretty face, and the meaty script gave her a real chance to do just that.
    And at least, tucked away on location in a rural part of the English countryside, Rebecca hoped she’d have some peace and space to think. Underneath all his problems, she knew there was a Jack she loved. But unless he was prepared to do something about his growing dependency, she knew she couldn’t say yes to his proposal.
    “We’re taking you off the aircraft now, Miss Bradley,” said the dark-suited airline security officer who’d appeared at her side.
    Rebecca donned her sunglasses and left the first-class cabin. Sitting in the VIP lounge waiting for her luggage to be collected, she reflected that it was a road to nowhere with Jack unless he admitted his problems. And perhaps, she mused, taking her cell phone from her bag and staring at the screen, that was exactly what she should tell him.
    “Miss Bradley, your luggage is being taken to your car,” said the security guard. “But I’m afraid there’s a barrage of photographers waiting for you outside.”
    “No!” She looked up at him in dismay. “How many?”
    “ Many ,” he confirmed. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you safely through.”
    He indicated that they should make a move and Rebecca stood up.
    “I wasn’t expecting this,” she commented as she walked with him toward Arrivals. “I took a different flight to the one I’d originally planned.”
    “Well, you’ve hit London on the morning your big news has broken. May I offer my congratulations?”
    Rebecca stopped dead. “What ‘news’?” she asked him bluntly.
    “Your . . . engagement to Jack Heyward, Miss Bradley.”
    “I—oh Jesus,” she muttered.
    “There’s a lovely photo of you in Central Park with Mr. Heyward putting a ring on your finger. It’s on the front pages of most of our newspapers this morning. Right”—he paused in front of the sliding doors—“are you ready?”
    Behind her sunglasses, tears pricked Rebecca’s eyes and she nodded angrily.
    “Good, we’ll get you through as quickly as we can.”
    •  •  •
    Fifteen minutes later as the car nosed its way out of Heathrow, Rebecca gazed helplessly at the photograph of her and Jack taking pride of place on the front of the Daily Mail and the headline:
JACK AND BECKS—IT’S OFFICIAL!
    The grainy image was of Jack placing the ring on her finger in Central Park. She was gazing up at him with what she knew was an expression of panic, but what the journalist had described as one of delighted surprise. Worst of all, there was a comment from Jack, obviously given after he’d left her apartment yesterday afternoon. He had apparently confirmed that he’d asked Rebecca to marry him, but they were yet to name the date.
    She reached with shaking hands into her bag and drew out her cell phone again. Seeing there were numerous messages from Jack, her agent and members of the press, she switched it off and returned it to her handbag. She couldn’t cope with