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He drags a hand through his hair. ‘Thank you.’
‘How do you know Emily and Sam?’ I change the subject but the line in the sand he’s just drawn is a wedge between us.
‘Connor and I invested in one of their movies.’
‘No kidding?’
‘Not even a little kidding.’
‘Which one?’
‘Did you see that alien dinosaur sci-fi that was out a couple of years ago?’
‘No.’ I shrug. ‘But I saw the posters everywhere.’ I sip my coffee. ‘I take it you’re a really, really good lawyer.’
‘Barrister. What makes you say that?’
‘Apart from the fact you seem to be made of steel?’
He smiles. ‘Sure.’
‘The plane. The penthouses. The ballet. The restaurant.’
‘My lifestyle makes me a great lawyer?’
‘It makes you a highly paid lawyer.’ I tilt my head to the side. ‘And I gather that’s the same thing.’
He nods slowly. ‘Dance with me?’
‘Here?’
Another nod. My heart ratchets up a notch. ‘More seduction, Michael? Becaus
e I should tell you, between the wine and all the amazing foreplay, I’m going to burst if you don’t just take me to bed.’
His laugh is like warm caramel. ‘You’re not one for delayed gratification?’
‘I’m... I have no idea.’ I shake my head. ‘But spending all day and night out in the city has pretty much killed me.’
‘I don’t want to kill you.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, pressing the screen. Mellow music fills the penthouse. ‘Dance with me.’ The words are low and throaty, permeated with feeling. ‘Please.’
Please.
The last word I expect to hear from this man and it attaches to my spine, launching me forward, propelling me across the tiled floor. I walk into his arms and he wraps me up, holding me tight to his chest.
I breathe him in, feeling the ricochet of his heart against his chest, my own answering it.
‘He hit her.’ The words are quiet. Troubled. From deep within him. I go to pull away, to look up at Michael, but he holds me tight. He doesn’t want me seeing him as he speaks; I respect that, pressing my cheek to his chest. ‘My dad. He used to hit my mother. That’s how she died.’
I stop moving. ‘Oh, Michael. He killed her?’
‘Nothing so neat as that sounds,’ he grunts. ‘He beat her to within an inch of her life, but she lived for a month afterwards, in a coma. Finally, she had a stroke.’ And I imagine how that must have felt, growing up, seeing that, witnessing a relationship with that degree of pain and hurt. No wonder he’s chosen to be single. No wonder he’s steered clear of any kind of emotional entanglement.
‘Is he...did he go to prison?’
‘No.’ He strokes my back, and a shiver chases after his touch. ‘The police declined to prosecute. There wasn’t enough evidence.’
‘God, how can that be?’
