“Go where?”
“Back. To the others. We should go back. They’re going to wonder. We should—”
Anouk placed three of her fingers against Cecilia’s mouth to silence her, and Cecilia stilled. Her fingertips smelled faintly like iron. The blood, Cecilia realized. And before she could protest again, Anouk moved in to kiss her, taking Cecilia’s bottom lip in her mouth.
“Okay,” Anouk said, after a moment, pulling away. “We can go back. If you want…”
For a second, Cecilia didn’t speak, drinking her in.
“Is that what you want?” she repeated.
“No.” Cecilia smiled. “No. But, I’m working. I shouldn’t be here. In your room. I have to go.” She inched forward on the counter. Ostensibly to leave, but in effect it only drew their bodies closer together. The exhilaration of Anouk’s nipples pressing against her through the silk of her dress.
Anouk’s hand slid farther up Cecilia’s thigh, her fingers tracing over the surface of her panties. Cecilia froze. She was already wet, and there was little she could do to conceal it. “I really have to go,” she repeated, but she did not move. And for another minute, she remained there. Allowing it to happen.
Someone was laughing just outside Anouk’s bungalow. Multiple someones. Cecilia could not identify them, but she knew they were from the di Varenna group, and before Anouk could stop her, she jumped down from the bar, pushed her way past her, and dartedacross the room. “I have to go. Thank you, for the Band-Aid, and… everything. Thank you.”
And with that she was out the door.
It was a few meters up on the path where she spotted Elliot, turning off onto one of the narrower walkways. He was giggling at someone just beyond the bend, out of Cecilia’s vision.
“Didn’t realize it was a race. Are we racing? You’re going to trip, and then we’ll have to explain to the lot why…” His voice trailed off as he moved farther away. Elliot. Giggling. Elliot, the pensive one. With the girlfriend back in Oxford.
Cecilia was tempted to follow him around the corner and see whom exactly he was pursuing. But then she’d likely have to explain her own state of affairs. Flustered, flushed, and fleeing from Anouk’s suite. So wet she felt as if she were gliding. She decided it wasn’t worth the risk and headed back up to the restaurant and the others.
She prayed they would not ask questions. They hadn’t been gone for that long, had they? And the dressing Anouk had constructed around her hand looked as if it had taken considerable time. If they asked, she thought, she’d tell them there were lots of shards of glass and the extraction took forever. She was pretty sure they’d buy that.
Half the party had dispersed. Including Jaya and Katrine, whose flights were early in the morning. Cecilia would never get her eye cream. Only a handful of the Italians and the assistants were clustered around the far end of the table, smoking cigarettes and nursing their various digestifs. The banter had somewhat cooled, but Cecilia could feel tension in the air. An awkward heaviness.
“How goes it?” Marc asked as Cecilia planted herself in the free seat beside him.
“Well, I’m probably not going to die,” she said, holding up her bandaged hand.
“Did she take you to the medic?”
“No. She did it herself.”
Marc’s eyebrows raised in response as he scrutinized the dressing. “No fucking way. Nice job, Anouk. Look at you, bagging Christy Turlington Nightingale.”
“Bagging?” Cecilia laughed nervously, lowering both her voice and her gaze. She could not look him in the eye. “She plucked glass out of my hand, Marc. That’s hardly bagging.”
“Whatever.”
“There was a lot of glass. A lot.”
He laughed. “Thou doth protest too much, Miss Chen. No worries. You do what you want to do. You’re an adult.”
Cecilia was reluctant to refute, lest she dig herself deeper.
“Youarean adult, correct?” Marc smirked.
“Last time I checked.”
“Good. Come on. Let’s head back to our hovel. Some of us have to work in the morning. Although it’ll be interesting to see how you’ll handle it with one hand.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you will.”
