Page 43 of Winter With You

‘Not at all. This is just conversation. Client and stylist.’

‘OK, so, you tell me, how is dating in New York for you?’

She took another drink and found herself feeling intrigued as to what his answer was going to be.

‘Right now, I have no idea. I haven’t dated in a while.’

‘OK, what does that mean?’

‘What d’you mean “what does that mean”? I haven’t been on a date in… nine months.’

‘But you’ve met people? For short-term fun? Or whatever they call it this side of the Atlantic.’

‘No.’

‘Come on!’

‘No. I… don’t like to do that.’

‘All guys do that.’

‘Have you met all guys?’

‘Well, no, but⁠—’

‘Like with fashion, what works for some people, doesn’t work for others.’ He threw back his drink in one and put the glass on the table. ‘Right now, my focus is on my career and, at this immediate point, I want to get to the reason why there was a sharp metal component in your outfit.’

‘Did you speak to Errol?’ Gabriella asked.

‘No. I can’t get hold of him. But, you know, he works hard too and he also plays hard so I’m not at the going round there right now stage. But if he doesn’t get back to me in the morning I will be knocking on his door.’

‘Cheyenne says I need an outfit for my event at the library the day after tomorrow. Cheyenne would also like me to have a whole new attitude, I think. I mean, for the clothes, I could go in this bathrobe if one of those ninety-nine ways to make it better could work or, I don’t know, we could make something out of the curtains?’

‘Are you mocking me, Gabriella?’

His tone was slightly playful but there was seriousness there too.

‘I would not dare to do that. Who knows what you could sew into my dress next? I’d like to keep at least one of my kidneys.’

He said nothing then and she knew she had pushed her humour too far. She did that. Especially when she was nervous. The Russian was usually an attack, the humour a defence. She hadn’t had any doubt about his professionalism but it was very clear now. His job was important to him. How he did his job was important to him.

‘Sorry,’ Gabriella said. ‘I really didn’t mean that. I said I didn’t blame you and I don’t. Honestly.’

He got to his feet. ‘I should go. Grab a coffee on the way home and not sleep at my apartment.’

‘Sure. OK,’ she answered, knowing, as he headed towards the door, that she had made things awkward.

‘So, tomorrow afternoon, say three o’clock at La Façon?’ Luca said.

‘Sure,’ Gabriella replied.

A phone began to ring and she stopped short of saying goodnight.

‘That’s mine,’ he said, getting it out of the pocket of his trousers. ‘It’s Errol. I should⁠—’

‘Answer it,’ Gabriella said. ‘Please.’

‘Hey,’ he said, putting the phone to his ear. ‘What? Are you kidding me? Well, where are you now?’