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‘What did he mean?’
‘I’m sure that he meant to ask if we enjoyed our meal.’
‘I don’t think so. If that were the case, he would have used those words.’
Something horrifyingly like guilt lashed at him.
‘What was it that you needed from this evening, Loukis?’ she demanded.
The elevator doors swung open and he stepped inside, studiously ignoring her question.
‘What, you no longer want to play your game?’ she said, her voice hoarse with emotion as the doors closed behind her.
He inhaled, his mind a swarm of thoughts all the while he could still taste her on his tongue, her scent wrapping around him in the small enclosed space.
She pushed him then, double handed, shocking and no less than he deserved.
‘Answer me!’
‘I needed the press to have a photograph of us together. I needed us to be seen as a couple,’ he growled through clenched teeth, the answers insipid and unsatisfying even to his own ears. ‘It needed to seem natural. It had to be perfect.’
‘But you didn’t have to lie to me. You didn’t need to set up some silly game just to get me to...’ She seemed unable to bring the words to lips that he’d so thoroughly kissed. He watched her bring herself under control, tried to avoid the way her chest pressed against the silk lining of the dress as she levelled her breathing.
‘No more lies, Loukis. I won’t be lied to again.’
And something in her tone spoke of more than just his actions that evening. Something deeper and darker. But he refused to delve into it, no matter how much he might want to ask who had hurt her. He had done enough for now.
CHAPTER SIX
LOUKIS RAN A weary hand through his hair as his eyes focused on the bright laptop screen glowing like some unworldly portal in the dark room. He checked the time on the watch on his wrist. Two forty-five in the morning. Anger was keeping him awake. Anger, frustration and an unhealthy dose of discomfort swirled in his empty stomach. He now regretted not touching any of the delicious morsels that had been presented to him and Célia earlier in the restaurant.
In the car on the way home, he had messaged his housekeeper and given her a few days off, realising that there was no earthly way he could make good on his demand that Célia share his bed.
He might be many things, but crass was not one of them.
A few days would give them time to...adjust to one another. But by the time Annabelle was safely back from Texas and away from the clutches of his mother, there would most definitely have to be a united front.
He checked his watch again. Time had slowed to almost imperceptible increments as he waited for the moment when he could video call his sister. And after that, he would collapse into one of the spare rooms upstairs and hope that sleep would somehow dull the way that the evening loomed in his mind. It had taken on a technicolour quality, the vivid slash of Célia’s red lipstick, the forest-green silks of her dress, the impact of their kiss still vibrating through him like earthquake tremors long after the fact.
He didn’t regret his decisions that evening. The paparazzo was as necessary as getting to know and getting used to Célia. But just when their game had turned from one of necessity to one of expectation, want even, he couldn’t tell. And even now he wondered at the answer to the question he had not had time to ask her. What Célia would have saved in the fire.
The screen of his laptop changed as Annabelle’s video call appeared, the sudden pings echoing loudly, intrusively in the quiet estate. He grabbed a quick mouthful of cold coffee and accepted the call.
‘Hey, Nanny,’ he said, using the nickname they’d had for the last three years. Where or how it had come about forgotten beneath the impact of those first few months. ‘Have a Texan accent yet?’
Her face filled the screen, bright, shining and happy. She was clutching a bright, torrid-pink fluffy bear, and Loukis’s first thought was, And so it begins. The buying of Annabelle’s affection would have been Meredith’s first and obvious move.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she laughed.
‘And who have you got there?’
‘His name’s Jameson.’
‘Jameson? That’s an interesting name. I like his fur.’
* * *
Célia woke up, startled and unable to tell where she was or what had woken her. Her heart was pounding and a thin sheen of salty dampness was rapidly drying in the cool room. Loukis. The photographer. The kiss... All these things seemed to crash down in her mind.
