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‘You were always there for her. That was the most important thing.’ Feeling disloyal to her father, she gave a quick smile and pulled her hand out of his. ‘So, where are we going tonight?’
‘It’s the opening of a nightclub. Invited guests only.’
As they drew up outside, Polly looked out of the window. ‘The Firebird? Oh—I read about this place. It’s seriously cool. It has a glass dance floor, or something, and the interior looks as though there are flames going up the walls. There’s a waiting list of celebrities who want to hire it. And you’re invited?’
He gave her a strange look. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s impressive. I read it’s almost impossible to get on the guest list. We really wanted to pitch for their advertising just so that we could sneak in and have a look.’ Smiling, Polly gave a shiver of excitement and leaned forward in her seat as she saw the crowd gathered. ‘I can’t wait to tell the others. They’re going to be so jealous. I had no idea you were a nightclub sort of person. I’m discovering all sorts of things about you. Are those photographers?’ She shrank slightly. ‘Last time I went near a photographer I knocked myself unconscious on his stupid camera.’
‘That’s why I brought my security team. They can earn their keep.’
‘If they’re going to take pictures, I’m taking my coat off.’
Damon gave a faint smile. ‘Is this going to give me a heart attack?’
‘I hope not because I’m not walking through those photographers on my own.’ Polly wriggled out of her coat and saw his eyes drop to her cleavage. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You told me I was allowed to dress up.’
‘You look incredible.’ His voice husky, he studied her short gold dress and then lifted his gaze to hers. ‘You’re not wearing Gérard’s products tonight?’
‘You mentioned dancing so I went for bare legs. Are you going to stare at me or are we going inside?’
It was a heady experience being out in London with Damon. The moment he stepped out of the car the flashbulbs exploded and he held her hand firmly as he walked purposefully towards the entrance of the club. The press pack, kept at bay by his security team, snapped pictures and shouted questions that Damon skilfully deflected.
‘I don’t see why they’re so interested in who you’re out with. There are major things going on in the world and all they’re interested in is who’s in your bed. Crazy.’ Keeping her head high, Polly walked with him into the club, waving her arms and walking with a sway in her hips as she heard the seductive pulse of the music. ‘I feel like dancing.’
‘Good.’ Damon gestured to a member of the bar staff and a moment later a bottle of champagne and two glasses appeared. ‘We’ll have a drink first.’
‘Are you one of those men who need alcohol before they hit the dance floor?’
It turned out that he wasn’t.
Watching Damon dance was a sensual feast. Every movement made her think of sex, every glance he sent in her direction was a promise of what was to come.
Enjoying herself hugely, Polly let herself go, her body flowing in time to the rhythm, her hair flying around her face as she danced on the shimmering glass floor.
The music and the atmosphere were so infectious that she was still smiling when Damon swept her off the dance floor and back to their private table.
Every few minutes people came up to shake his hand and exchange a few words and Polly wondered why he attracted so much attention wherever he went.
‘There are some really famous people here and they’re all coming over to talk to you.’ She tapped her champagne glass against his. ‘Doukakis for Prime Minister, I say.’
‘How much have you drunk?’
‘Nowhere near enough. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. In fact the whole experience is super-cool. This place is stunning—’ Out of breath, she swallowed a few mouthfuls of champagne and then noticed a couple of minor royals weaving their way towards them. ‘I can’t curtsey. My dress is too tight—or maybe my bottom is too big. One of the two.’ She paused politely while they spoke to Damon and when they finally moved away she sidled closer to him. ‘Why is everyone so determined to talk to you?’
‘Because I own the place and they’re sucking up.’ Calm, Damon topped up her glass. ‘Do you want to dance again?’
‘You own a nightclub?’
‘I told you—I believe in diversification. If one part of your business is struggling, another part will be strong. Rules of commerce.’
‘But—’ Polly looked around her and suddenly realise why everyone had been so deferential when he’d walked in. ‘So you’re the boss here, too. Everywhere you go, you’re the boss. Have you ever not been in charge?’
‘I spent a crazy night in bed with a woman in Paris recently …’ the words were spoken in her ear and his arm was draped across the back of her seat ‘… and there were definitely a few seconds when I wasn’t in charge.’
Her rapid breathing had nothing to do with her exertion on the dance floor and everything to do with the way he made her feel.
‘I thought we agreed to forget about that.’
