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She used the second bathroom to shower and change and was relieved when he joined her for breakfast.
Watching him cautiously, gauging his mood, Evie helped herself to a bowl of fruit. ‘I checked the papers. You were right—they printed the photo from the fashion show.’
He poured himself a coffee. ‘And what was the headline?’
Evie blushed. ‘Something stupid.’ She wondered if he minded the media preoccupation with his love life but Rio simply smiled.
‘The world appears to be revelling in my rapid and extremely public conversion from never to forever. We’re obviously very convincing, tesoro.’
Captivated by that smile, Evie felt her breath catch and her heart gave a dangerous lurch. They were so convincing that she was starting to believe it herself. If it weren’t for his occasional moments of icy detachment, it would have been frighteningly easy to forget that this wasn’t real. That some day soon he was going to expect her to dump him.
Reminding herself to live in the moment, she ate a spoonful of fruit. ‘We’d better make sure we give them something even more interesting to photograph today then. What are we doing tonight?’
‘We have been invited by the Russians to watch a performance of the Bolshoi Ballet at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden.’
‘Wow.’ Evie licked her spoon. ‘I’ve never been to the ballet. That’s really exciting!’
‘Is it? I confess that men in tights don’t excite me one little bit.’ Rio rose to his feet as his phone rang. ‘But, given that you’re their new best friend and you speak fluent Russian, I’m sure we can make some use of the evening. Excuse me—I need to take this.’
‘Of course.’ Basking in the heady knowledge that she was useful to him, Evie felt a rush of pleasure that lasted through the day and the evening. She adored the ballet, was in awe of the elegant grandeur of the world famous Opera House and enjoyed acting as interpreter.
Vladimir was as charming to her as ever, but it was Rio who drew her attention. Cocooned in the private box, under the protection of darkness, she found herself looking at him every other second, her eyes drawn to the perfect symmetry of his arrogant features, fatally fascinated by the breathtaking power and masculinity stamped in every angle of his body.
Once, he caught her looking and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Evie simply smiled, relieved to be able to hide her fascination behind the charade of their ‘relationship’. That was what she was supposed to do, wasn’t it? She was supposed to look.
Again, the photographers were out in force, stealing photographs at every opportunity, but Evie felt nothing but relief becau
se she knew by now that, providing they managed to get an interesting shot, they were unlikely to use the one she dreaded appearing.
They went from the ballet to another ball and this time Rio needed no persuasion to dance with her. His hand was warm on her bare back as they moved together, the rhythm of their bodies perfectly in tune after so many hours spent locked in intimacy.
‘You’re not singing tonight?’ He murmured the words against her lips and Evie reminded herself that it was essential to breathe or she’d fall over. But, when he held her like this, she felt as though everything inside her was suspended.
No wonder no woman had ever dumped him.
He was so insanely gorgeous, who in their right mind would not want to be with him?
‘No singing. They’ve already had that picture.’ Her arms were locked around his neck and she could feel the heat of his body against hers. ‘Grandpa liked it, by the way—he said it reminded him of last year when I did the same thing at the village hall.’
‘You danced on the table?’
‘No—fortunately, they didn’t have champagne.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’d love to do something really Christmassy. Can we go ice skating? I really envied those people skating when we were at the ball. Or maybe we could go and sing Christmas carols. I noticed an invitation for a celebrity carol concert at St Paul’s Cathedral—are we going to that? I know you see Christmas as nothing more than an interruption in your working day, but I love this time of year.’
He didn’t answer. At first, she thought he hadn’t heard her question and Evie was about to open her mouth and ask again when she saw his eyes. It was like staring into a dark pool, knowing that beneath the still, glassy surface lay nothing but danger.
She shivered.
They’d stopped dancing. Stopped moving. Among the streamers and balloons, the people laughing, dancing and singing, they alone stood still, locked in the small private bubble they’d formed for themselves. Evie felt frozen and she thought absently that there was no reason to be cold when the room was so warm, but then she realised that the chill came from him. His skin was cold to touch, his eyes reflecting not celebration but an acute and bitter pain.
‘Rio?’ She spoke his name softly. She had no idea what was wrong, but she wanted to help and not just because of what they’d shared. She would have felt the same way about anyone who was suffering as much as he clearly was. ‘Are you—’ She broke off, frustrated with herself. What was she planning to say? Are you all right? Well, obviously, the answer to that was a resounding no, but he was hardly likely to tell her that, was he? He was the most fiercely private man she’d ever met.
And yet they must be conspicuous, standing there locked together but not moving, like some elaborate sculpture of lovers.
Evie placed her hand on his cheek, alarmed by how cold he was. ‘Shall we go?’
Finally, he seemed to hear her and he stared down at her blankly, as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I think that would be a good idea.’
Aware that their behaviour was starting to draw curious glances, Evie stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently on the mouth. Tomorrow’s photograph, she thought as a camera flashed and a woman sighed with envy.
