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But the decision was made now. She might as well make the most of it.
Turning on the taps, Luce rifled through the tiny bottles of complimentary lotions and potions, settling on something that claimed to be a ‘relaxing and soothing’ bath foam. Sounded perfect. After a moment’s consideration she tipped the whole bottle into the running water. She was in need of all the relaxation she could get. That was the point of this whole night, wasn’t it? And, since it was the only one she was likely to get for a while, she really should make the most of it.
Luce took a swig of her champagne, stripped off her clothes and climbed into the heavenly scented hot water.
Relaxation. How hard could it be?
It would be a whole lot easier, she decided after a few moments of remaining tense, if Ben Hampton wasn’t waiting outside for her.
Tipping her head back against the edge of the bath, Luce tried to conjure up the image of the last time she’d seen him. After so many years of trying to forget she’d thought it would be harder to remember. But the sounds, scents, sights were all as fresh in her mind as they’d been eight years ago, at the swanky Palace Hotel, London, for Ben’s twenty-first birthday party.
It had been a stupid idea to go in the first place. But Mandy had wanted someone to travel down on the train with and Ben had raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, ‘Well, sure you can come. If you really want to.’ And Luce had wanted to—just a bit. Just to see what birthdays looked like for the rich and privileged.
Much as she’d expected, it turned out. Too much champagne. Too many people laughing too loudly. Bright lights and dancing and shimmery expensive dresses. In her green cotton frock, and with her hair long and loose instead of pinned back in one of the intricate styles the other girls had seemed to favour, Luce had felt just as out of place as she’d predicted.
So she’d hidden in another room—some sort of sitting area decked out like a gentleman’s library. Books never made her feel inadequate, after all. She could sit and read until Mandy was ready to head back to their tiny shared hotel room. Not a Hampton hotel, but a cheap, probably infested place three tube stops away. It had been the perfect plan—until Ben had found her.
‘You’ve got the right idea,’ he’d said, lurching into the chair next to her.
Luce, who’d already watched him down glass after glass of champagne that evening, had inched further away. ‘Not enjoying your party?’ she’d asked.
Ben had shrugged. ‘It’s a party. Hard not to enjoy a party.’ His eyes had narrowed as he’d studied her. ‘Although you seem to be managing it.’
Looking away, Luce had fiddled with the hem of her dress. ‘It’s not really my kind of party.’
‘It’s not really mine either,’ Ben had said.
When Luce had glanced across at him he’d been staring at the door. But then his attention had jerked back to her, and a wide, not entirely believable grin had been on his face. ‘It’s just my dad showing off, really. There are more of his business associates here than my friends.’
‘And yet you invited me?’
He’d laughed at that. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
‘Not really.’ They’d had nothing in common besides proximity to Mandy until that moment, right then, when Luce had felt his gaze meeting hers, connecting them—until she’d realised she was leaning forward, into him, waiting for his answer.
‘We could be.’
He’d inched closer too, leaning over the arm of his chair until Luce had been able to smell the champagne on his breath.
‘You’re a hell of a lot of a nicer person than Mandy.’
‘Mandy’s my friend,’ Luce had said, trying to find the energy to defend her. But all she’d been able to see was Ben’s eyes, pupils black and wide. ‘Your girlfriend.’ She couldn’t think with him so close.
‘Mandy’s out there flirting with a forty-something businessman she knows will never leave his wife but might buy her some nice jewellery.’
Luce had winced. He was probably right. For a moment she’d felt her first ever pang of sympathy for Ben Hampton.
But then he’d leant in further, his hand coming up to rest against her cheek, and Luce had known she should pull away, run away, get away from Ben Hampton for good.
His lips had been soft, gentle against hers, she remembered. But only for a brief moment. One insane lapse in judgement. Before she jerked back, leaving him bent over the space where she’d been. She’d upped and run—just as she should have done the moment she’d arrived at the party and seen how much she didn’t fit in.
