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‘Celebrating, Lisa?’
The tone of Tino’s voice soon brought her round. She had never seen him like this before. ‘Could you snarl
a little louder? I didn’t quite hear you.’
‘I said, are you celebrating, Lisa?’
It was Vera’s night off, and Tino’s visit seemed so unreal. It was hard to believe how much he affected her. She had to keep staring at him just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She felt exhilarated briefly, but then caution took over, and now the expression on his face hardly invited enthusiasm. Maybe she would do better to feel intimidated…but instead of that she felt sad—sad for both of them. They were both so enmeshed in the past, so emotionally scarred, they didn’t know how to express themselves other than through business. They both had so much, but where things that really mattered were concerned they had nothing.
The only way forward was to keep everything on an impersonal level, Lisa decided, as if they were in a business meeting. But first she had some apologising to do. ‘I’m glad you’ve come.’ She held open the door of her den for him. ‘I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to say how sorry I am about the flowers.’
‘The flowers?’
As Tino frowned Lisa realised her mistake. He couldn’t have cared less about the flowers. He had something a lot more important on his mind—his pride, perhaps? And then she realised that she was still holding the glass of champagne in her hand, and that he was staring at it. She felt bound to explain. ‘I was just drinking a toast to my new life.’
‘Your new life?’ He cut across her. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘The last time we spoke you mentioned changes. You move fast.’
His tone was hostile, but one of them had to keep calm. ‘So many questions, Tino,’ she said lightly. ‘Why don’t you join me in a glass of champagne?’
Instead of answering, he stood vibrating with some inner conflict.
‘So, why are you here?’ she prompted, wanting him to say something, anything.
He shook his head, his face a rigid mask. ‘You’ve got a nerve.’
Lisa stiffened defensively. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Do you really think you can use me?’
‘Use you?’ All Lisa’s thoughts on staying calm evaporated. ‘And just how am I supposed to have used you?’
‘I think you know. What was I to you, Lisa—some sort of device to excise your ghosts?’
‘My ghosts?’ She stared at him.
He stared back at her unflinching.
‘Or is there something else? Don’t tell me—’ she held up her hand ‘—I forgot to sign something.’ She stared accusingly at his jacket pocket. ‘Well? What are you waiting for? We might as well get this over with.’
His expression turned glacial. ‘Is that what you think of me?’
‘I think I understand you pretty well, yes.’
‘Understand me? You understand nothing about me.’
He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe she could arouse such feeling in him. They were eyeing each other like gladiators in the coliseum. There was so much passion in the room he could feel it swirling around them.
It was the last thing he had wanted, the last thing he had anticipated; emotion was his bête noire, something he avoided at all cost because he didn’t understand it. He didn’t have a strategy to deal with it. And he didn’t want to understand it—something so unpredictable, so unquantifiable?
He turned away feeling frustration building inside him again. He couldn’t find the words to express his feelings—and all he could be sure about was that coming to see Lisa was the worst mistake he had ever made.
‘I don’t know why you came here,’ she threw at him.
How could he tell her when he hardly knew himself?
‘I think it’s better if you go now and never come back.’
Did she have someone else? The thought speared through him as she spoke. ‘Is there someone else?’ Was this jealousy?
