“Cheryl and Eli live a block away. Jay, Janice, Effy, Alex and Luca live at Heatherfell, it’s about a forty-five minute drive from Amsterdam. Luca lives part-time in Germany, he plays professional football. Soccer, you know. We call it football here.”
“Must be hard for Effy and Luca, keeping a long-distance relationship going.”
“They make it work. Besides, Effy and Alex spend a lot of time with Luca in Munich. The three of them are always together.”
The elevator doors slide open, and Tom leads me down the hallway.
He’s full of energy, even after the broken night flight we just had. I can tell he’s happy to be home.
He smiles.“I remember walking this corridor two months ago. I was in a state. Had no clue what the hell I was doing with my life. And now I’m back, bringing my boyfriend!”
I steal a kiss on his cheek. “Your boyfriend’s glad you did.”
We reach the door at the end of the hall. Tom fishes out his keys, a grin tugging at his mouth as he slides one into the lock.
The door swings open and—Christ. It’s like stepping straight into Tom’s head. It’s…a lot.
The apartment is big.
High ceilings, tall windows, it’s very spacious. Still, the first thing I feel is how heavy it all looks. It’s the baroque furniture in dark mahogany and mauve-pink velvet. The chairs, dining table, and cabinets, could’ve come straight out of Versailles. There’s a black Chesterfield sofa near the window, and against the wall an antique liquor globe filled with bottles of whiskey
But the thing I can’t ignore is the huge piano in the middle of the apartment. I picture Tom sitting there with his eyes closed, lost in the music.
Dark nights. Lonely nights. Just him and a bottle from the globe. The thought of it suddenly feels very intimate.
My eyes go over the artworks on the wall. Naked bodies of women and, to my surprise, men too. They're bathing in a giant martini glass, lounging on a chaise longue, dressed with nothing but pearls, diamonds and rubies. The whole place feels like an adult club from the roaring twenties. Smoky, flamboyant, and a little dramatic.
The house looks like its owner.
“Sapphire.”
“Yes, love?”
“Why does your place look like a brothel?”
His head snaps my way, then his eyes drift around the room. Something careful and filthy curls at the corner of his mouth.
“You think so? Never looked at it that way, but I suppose a fresh set of eyes will—”
His face suddenly freezes.
Heels click on the wooden boards. I turn. A young blonde, about Joan’s age, heads straight for Tom in black satin lingerie.
She blows me a kiss, then grabs Tom and kisses him hard.
My hand flies to my mouth, watching it unfold like a scene from a bad movie.
She fires off something in Dutch. Tom answers quickly, trying to create some distance between them. She snaps, talking fastwith her hands flying everywhere. Tom throws his hands in the air. From the tone of his voice I can tell he’s trying to talk his way out of it. His eyes flick to me, begging me to throw a life line.
I let out a shaky chuckle. I honestly don’t know whether to laugh or lose it.
Jealous? Absolutely. Especially when she presses her nearly naked body into his and mouths at his neck.
Enough.
That’s my spot, lady.
I cough loudly enough to get her attention. “Listen, sweetheart, maybe you should get dressed and leave Tom alone.”
