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“So why did you buy shares from MBS?” Mark asked as he drove along the streets of London.
“It is obviously a good investment.” She answered casting a brief look at him. He was magnificent in a dark green suit, snow-white shirt and silk green tie, matching his height and his stare. It made a contrast with his dark hair and masculine profile. How she had longed for him.
“I have a feeling you wanted to teach me a lesson.” He stopped at the red-light and turned his focus to her, causing her body to lighten up.
“Well...how does it feel to be manipulated?” Her huge eyes acquired a sardonic look.
“Oh, yes, I see.” The light went green and he drove, keeping his eyes on the heavy traffic. “It doesn’t feel that good, after all.”
“Check mate.” She smiled sideways.
The damn woman was smart, he had to concede. And now he could understand how she felt when she came to know about the inheritance he had hid from her. He couldn’t do anything about her buying his shares though.
His car turned at the Georgian mansion and Mark parked it in front of the entrance door to unload her bags.
Amy was barely able to conceal her adoration as she looked at the house she had missed so much. But the door opened and Mrs Smith came running from inside and held her for a long moment.
“I couldn’t believe when I saw from the window!” She exclaimed. She looked at Amy. “You look so...mature. Beautiful, as always.”
“Thank you, Mrs Smith. It’s very nice to see you again.” She smiled openly.
“Are you back for good?” Mrs Smith was hopeful.
Amy’s smile faded. “I am afraid not. I have to go back to Nice in a couple of days.”
“Such a pity.” The middle-aged woman seemed disappointed. “But come on in. I’ll prepare your favourite dinner.”
“Oh, I was missing your food so much, Mrs Smith.” And she started climbing up the door-steps.
Mark looked at Amy going in and couldn’t help wanting her with a force he had come to be used to. She belonged here. They belonged here. Why couldn’t she see it? He stepped in the entrance hall as the two women chatted cheerfully. “Excuse me.” He said interrupting them. “I have to go back to the office now. I’ll be home for dinner.” Both women nodded and he left.
He didn’t have a thing to do in the office, he thought as he re-entered his car. Not urgent ones at least. But being so near Amy would crack him almost definitely. He didn’t want her damned thankfulness. He wanted the whole of her.
Amy went in her rosy room and sighed at the sight of it. This would always be her shelter from the world. The place where the most wonderful things happened to her. Including Mark. He seemed distant, though. Cocooned in excessive politeness, which intrigued her a little. She looked through the window. It was almost summer again. She could hardly believe nearly a year had passed since she arrived home from Oxford. It seemed a lifetime had elapsed. So much water had gone under the bridge. She felt more like a grown up woman now, more aware of her needs and boundaries. Highly womanly, highly centred.
She showered and dressed carefully for dinner. A formal elegant dress bought recently in France, her cinnamon silky ringlets falling to her shoulders and a touch of lip-gloss on her full-lips. She descended and sat in the sitting-room reading the day’s paper. The household staff had already left, as usual. Mrs Smith had left dinner ready to be served.
The front door opened and closed. Steps sounded on the polished wooden floor. And Mark appeared tall and devilishly attractive at the sitting room. “Good evening.” He said formal.
“Good evening,” she answered in the same tone. “Did you have a nice day at the office?”
“Fairly nice, apart from the surprises.” And he regarded her askew with a touch of amusement in them.
“Sorry for that. But I wanted to make a discreet move, so to say.” She sat straight spine, hands folded on her lap.
Mark looked at her so beautiful, sitting there elegantly. France had done her good. Her translucent eyes were looking at him and ope
rating twisting sensations inside him. He only hoped he could make it through dinner without making a fool of himself.
“It pays off to be discreet in business.” He loosened his tie; took off his suit-coat and tie. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his fine shirt. Amy looked away, afraid to be too tempted to go there and finish the job.
Dinner was an awkward session. It reminded her of the dinner they had at Mallorca, soon when she returned to London and was working at MBS. The tension was sparkling as electricity in the air. And it was barely covered up by the unimportant conversation in progress.
“When do you intend to go back to Nice?” He asked before he cut a piece of his dessert and ate it.
“Tomorrow, I suppose. There’s work to be done.” She had thought about staying one or two more days, but she was just realizing how difficult it would be to resist the man in front of her. She couldn’t so much as look at him without reacting acutely to his attractiveness.
“That’s soon.” Mark glanced at her and looked away in the same second. If he kept looking too much he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go on with that meaningless small talk they were having so far.
