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‘You could say that.’
‘I just did.’
He smiled. ‘Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who answers back quite as much as you do,’ he murmured as he brushed another thick and wayward strand of hair back from her face. ‘But I know one guaranteed method of keeping you quiet.’
‘Oh, really?’ she questioned innocently. ‘And what’s that?’
But he shut off any further lines of questioning with a hard and demanding kiss.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE RATHER BATTERED old Mercedes came to a halt outside the salon, the profile of the man behind the wheel darkly rugged and unmistakable, and Marnie’s heart performed a predictable somersault when she saw him.
‘Ooh, look—here’s your boyfriend, Marnie!’ Hayley, the salon junior, sounded excited as she peered out through the plate-glass windows, watching the yellow gleam of the headlights cutting through the late-September dusk. ‘Haven’t seen him in a while.’
‘No. That’s right. He’s been away,’ said Marnie, grabbing her coat and feasting her eyes on her Greek lover, who was waiting for her in his old car. The ten-year-old car he kept in his garage for solo anonymous driving trips until she’d confessed she much preferred it to his sleek, chauffeur-driven limo. Just as she’d explained she’d rather get the bus than be driven around by someone wearing a cap and uniform who insisted on leaping to open the door for her as if she were infirm, and bowing to her every wish. At first Leon had thought she was joking—as if nobody in their right mind wouldn’t like being ferried around by a driver. But Marnie hadn’t been joking. What was happening to her was surreal enough anyway—without throwing into the mix the sort of hands-on luxury most people only dreamed about. His massive apartment she could just about cope with, along with the staff he employed there—but anything else would be stretching it. And why get used to something which was only ever intended to be temporary? Wouldn’t that make the inevitable comedown even worse?
Wasn’t she already terrified of how much she was going to miss him once it ended?
‘Where’s he been?’
Marnie turned to look at the salon junior. ‘Oh, you know. Abroad. On business.’
Hayley frowned. ‘You’ve never really said what it is he does, Marnie.’
‘Something to do with property?’ Marnie said, turning the answer into a question. ‘I’m never really sure what it is myself.’
Slinging her handbag over her shoulder, she grimaced. She hadn’t actually lied to the staff at Hair Heaven about the identity of her ‘boyfriend’, and particularly not to young Hayley, whom she’d been mentoring for years—she’d just played down Leon’s international status and achievements. Because the reasons for her caginess had the same root as her preference for travelling in a nondescript rather than a head-turning car. It was easier to let her colleagues believe she was going out with an ordinary man, rather than an international property tycoon, and it stopped them from asking too many questions.
She licked her lips. Not that ‘going out’ was a particularly accurate description of their set-up. They didn’t really travel anywhere much beyond the walls of his vast apartment—although, to be fair, he often asked if she wanted to go out for dinner, or the theatre, or even the opera. But Marnie invariably refused and not just because she was paranoid about their relationship going public. She liked being alone with him best of all, without the pressure of wondering whether she was using the correct knife and fork. And besides, she didn’t have the clothes to wear to those places and she didn’t want people staring at them, thinking what an odd couple they made. She could never quite shrug off the feeling that others were judging her and deciding she didn’t have a right to be there. She knew that was called imposter syndrome.
Because you are an imposter. If Leon knew the person you really were, you wouldn’t get within five yards of his home.
Because that was the bottom line, wasn’t it? The ever-present fear which always gnawed away at the back of her mind, that her true identity would be rumbled. And not just that. Years of being rejected and subjected to the harsh regimes within the many institutions which had housed her had planted in her the seeds of doubt. Of not being good enough—certainly not good enough for a man of Leon’s calibre. Cocooned in the roomy opulence of his London home, she was safe from speculation, and safety was something she had always rated highly.
Only Pansy knew the truth about Marnie’s new lover and Pansy most definitely did not approve. She seemed to have become a worrier on her sister’s behalf and, in a slightly ironic twist, their lifelong roles seemed to have become reversed.
‘Is that why he bailed me out?’ her twin had demanded. ‘Just so he could get inside your knickers? You do know that he has a terrible reputation with women, don’t you, Marnie? I looked him up on the internet. Why, even I wouldn’t dream of getting involved with a man like that, and I’m way more experienced than you!’
That last bit had been particularly wounding and Marnie had railed at her sister’s ungratefulness, closing her mind to the fears which Pansy’s words had produced. If her twin was determined to be cynical, that was up to her. She had agreed to a no-strings fling with Leon. She had laid down those terms herself and the billionaire tycoon had agreed to them. She’d done that mostly to protect herself, to try to shield herself against any hurt she might feel when it all ended—and if she was being naïve, then so what? Naivety wasn’t a crime, was it? He had given her the opportunity to walk away from him and she had chosen not to take it.
Hayley’s question broke into her thoughts.
‘He’s still keen, then, I take it?’
Marnie gave a ghost of a smile as she made her way towards the door. ‘That’s a question you’d have to ask him, I guess.’
But one word spun around in her head as she bade goodnight to the junior and pushed open the salon door.
Keen?
He was keen for sex, that was for sure. Just like she was. And that was what all this was about,
she reminded herself fiercely. A grown-up relationship which revolved around the physical, with no unrealistic promises and definitely no glimpses into a possible future. They never discussed next month, let alone next year. He hadn’t asked how she was spending Christmas or quizzed her about what she wanted for her birthday. In fact, he had no idea when her birthday was, and she didn’t know his either. And since Marnie had never pursued a happy-ever-after, she had convinced herself that she was contented with what Leon was offering.
Sometimes she couldn’t quite believe the situation in which she found herself, because in a sense she was betraying everything she held dear. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she found herself unable to escape the mocking thoughts which taunted her. That she had become something she’d never set out to be. A rich man’s plaything. Something she’d never planned but which had been driven by her fierce desire for him. Because she just couldn’t resist him. Never. He only had to look at her to make her boneless with longing, and when he touched her she went up in flames.
She’d let down the defences she’d spent a lifetime erecting and knew that made her vulnerable. But Marnie had convinced herself that as long as she compartmentalised everything—if she kept her feelings in check and just enjoyed the sex—she would be able to keep emotional danger at bay.
