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“No?”
“It sounds like your cell.”
“Oh!” She blinked and scraped her chair back with a resounding sense of gratitude. It was in her handbag from the day before, when they’d gone for a freezing cold walk through Central Park. Snow had dusted down, covering them both in a fine mist of white, and Finn had felt that her life was perfect. She had everything she’d ever wanted. Stupid, in retrospect, she thought scathingly, especially in light of his descriptions of love. She walked quickly across the room, pulling her hair over her shoulder as she went. The phone stopped just as she reached her bag, but a second later, it began to ring again.
She swiped it to answer and spoke a little breathlessly. “Hello?”
“Seraphina, it’s Simon.”
Her boss at the agency; a voice from her real life. She sat down on one of the thickly carpeted steps that led to Caradoc’s front door, and stared at her feet. “How are you, Si?”
“Yeah, not bad. Not bad at all. You?”
“About the same.”
“Holiday going well?”
Her eyes drifted unconsciously to Caradoc. He was watching her unashamedly. Where most people might try to disguise their interest, he stared at her as though she was just another possession in his apartment. What had Cristoff said? He would only ever marry a supermodel trophy wife. A wife he could count as one of his possessions. Not ever, never, someone like Seraphina James, a chauffeur from London’s east end.
And what was wrong with her that she was even thinking that way? She didn’t want to get married! And not to a man like Caradoc. He was … everything she wanted in that moment, but that didn’t mean she wanted him forever, did it?
“So I can count you in?”
“Oh, huh? Sorry, Si. The reception broke up there. Go again.”
“I’ve got that American singer here next week. She asked for you by name. Can you do it?”
Her chest was being pierced. Optimism was no shield to reality. He had asked her to stay for a week. She had taken a week off work. Why should Simon’s request upset her as it did? It couldn’t. She wouldn’t let it. Life had to go on. The most important thing to Seraphina was to find a Post-Caradoc existence that she could tolerate.
“Yeah, of course I can. I’ll pop into the office on Sunday to get the papers sorted.”
“Great. You’re a legend, Finn. Thanks.”
She disconnected the call and stared at her phone for a moment. What did that give her? Three more nights. She swallowed. It had been inevitable from the first moment they’d met. Nothing about this was supposed to be permanent. But unlike Caradoc’s mother, Finn had been prepared for this. She had told herself all along that love or no love, Caradoc Moore would never be a long-term fixture in her life.
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were glued to her when she returned to the table. She felt his silent question, and answered it despite the fact he hadn’t asked. That was another of his skills. His ability to require information without saying a word. “My boss. I’ve got a job next week. A singer I’ve worked for in the past.”
His eyes narrowed but still he didn’t speak.
“She’s nice. It’s a good gig. Lots of free time for me while she’s in the studio and at long lunches.”
He sipped his coffee, his gaze not leaving her face.
Finn wouldn’t look away, no matter how his stare was sending shivers down her spine. Her body was throbbing.
Finally, Caradoc settled the mug on the table top and shook his head. “No.”
“No?” She repeated huskily, her confusion obvious on her features. “No what?”
“No. You shouldn’t accept the job.”
“I … shouldn’t?” She asked with rich disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
Hope warred with indignation.
“I don’t want you to go yet.”
She frowned, while she digested his statement. “We said a week …”
