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‘Stop what?’ I order a bottle of wine and relax back in my chair.
‘All this!’ She gestures around the restaurant. ‘It’s just a bit...you know. Extra.’
‘Extra?’
‘Too much!’ She is exasperated, but happy. I like happy much more than the sight of her with tears on her face.
‘You’re not hungry?’
‘No, I’m starving,’ she demurs. ‘But this restaurant is... Alice Caswell is over there, I loved her last movie.’ She thumbs her finger towards the window, pointing to one of the most famous actresses in Hollywood. ‘And Emily Coleman just walked in. With Sam Baccio.’
‘Really?’ I tease, and turn around.
‘Don’t look!’ she hisses, reaching over and putting her hand on mine. Desire flicks in my gut.
‘Too late.’ I grin, lifting a hand, waving at Emily and Sam.
‘Oh, God, what are you doing? They’re coming over.’
‘They’re friends.’
‘Of yours?’
‘No.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Of Alice Caswell. Yes, of mine.’
Millie’s jaw drops and I reach across the table, drifting my thumb over her lips, my eyes searing her with promise, before I stand up to greet my friends. I introduce them to Millie and, despite the fact she was star-struck a second ago, she shows no sign of that to Sam or Emily. She is relaxed and funny. And completely, spell-bindingly breathtaking.
‘We could join you,’ Sam suggests, his eyes lingering for a second longer than I like on Millie.
I shake my head. ‘We’re just having a quick dinner. I’ll catch you another time.’
‘So good to see you!’ Emily kisses my cheek and waves at Millie. ‘Nice to meet one of Michael’s many women.’ She winks, her parting shot born of amusement rather than malice.
I resume my seat, scanning Millie’s face for any hint of reaction. There’s none, which is how it should be, but my ego—which she’s been so good for—takes a little dip at her apparent unconcern with Emily’s reference to my ‘many women.’
‘Well, Mr Hotshot, point made. You are quite clearly way out of my league.’
I don’t expect that. I lift my brows, skimming her face. ‘You think I want to make some kind of point like that?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugs. ‘But, seriously, I just wanted...a one-night stand with a hot guy who seems to know his way around female anatomy. All this is just so... OTT. I mean, what are you doing this for, Michael? Why not just have sex with me and be done with it?’
Her question is valid. I brush it aside. ‘I do everything with one hundred per cent of my attention. This is no different.’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad I leave for Paris next week. I don’t think I could keep up with having one hundred per cent of y
our attention for too long.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘TELL ME ABOUT THEM.’ Sitting in the back of his limousine, watching New York glide past, I am full of celebrity, delicious food and the kind of night fairy tales are made of. Except this isn’t a fairy tale, and there’s no happily ever after for Michael and me. That certainty allows me to relax into this moment and enjoy myself. With no relationship experience, I understand on some instinctive level that wondering where dating someone is going to end up could be incredibly taxing. Having that worry removed is...refreshing.
Appealing.
Addictive.
‘Who?’
‘The women,’ I say with an exaggerated purr, glancing at him out of the corner of my eyes, seeing the way his expression tightens.
