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Anton had been patient with her. Four dates over three weeks and they’d done little more than kiss. It should have been another point in his favour. He was not demanding. He was respectful. But Finn couldn’t help but dream longingly of Caradoc who had decided, instantly, that he’d wanted her, and issued her with the insane ultimatum that had led to their relationship.
Only Caradoc was gone and she wanted to forget him, so she moved her body closer to Anton’s, until their sides were separated by only a hair’s breadth.
“Have you had a good week?” His breath was warm against her temple. He smelled nice. Like a famous cologne she couldn’t quite pick. It was off the shelf though. She was assailed with the strongest memory then of how Caradoc had always smelled like the outdoors, and almost groaned.
“Busy, but good.”
“I should tell you, I think it’s incredibly sexy that you’re a chauffeur.”
She laughed. “You do?”
“Hell, yes.”
Her frown was confused. “Why?”
“You’re a woman in uniform.”
“Not, I think, the kind of uniform men’s fantasies are written about.”
Anton shook his head. Finn was the kind of woman men would fantasise about regardless of what she wore.
“How was your week?” She changed the subject gratefully. For all she appreciated his patience, she didn’t want to come on too strong. She knew she had to put Caradoc out of her mind. And that eventually, one day, she’d welcome someone else to her bed. But she couldn’t even think about it yet. He had stamped himself on her, and she felt as though she would be erasing something special and beautiful to be with someone else.
Ten weeks.
Ten weeks since that morning she’d tasted him and he’d almost lost complete control.
Ten weeks without her in his life, and she could only imagine that he’d been far from celibate.
Had he slept with them in his apartment? Had they eaten breakfast at the bar in the kitchen she’d liked to read the paper at? Had they sipped red wine watching the lights twinkling beneath them?
Anton was speaking, but Finn’s eyes were glazed.
Caradoc was no longer, in any way, a part of her life.
He never would be again.
It was that moment that crystallized it for her. For ten weeks, she’d been thinking about him as though he was just a tape on pause; a film she could resume when she had the fortitude. But there was no going back. He was gone forever, and what they’d shared had meant so little to him that he’d been undoubtedly able to replace it by now.
“Anton.” She interrupted him, and her voice had a quiet resolution to it. “Can we get out of here?”
“Yeah, absolutely, of course,” he nodded, his eyes roaming her face. “Are you feeling well?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I want to … I want to see something.” She drained her champagne and then linked her fingers with his. “Come on.”
Anton though was not a man to let passion impede precision, and he stalled by the doors to collect their coats from the cloak room. He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked into the cold night air.
“What did you want to see, Seraphina?” She was glad he always used her full name. Finn was now synonymous with Caradoc.
She stopped walking so that she could look up at him thoughtfully. He was a little taller than her and she had to stand on her tiptoes to mesh their lips. And she felt it. The first stirrings of attraction. It could have been fuelled by the three quick glasses of champagne she’d enjoyed, but she wasn’t going to question it.
“Let’s go back to your place.”
He put his hands on her arms, and stared down at her. “Are you sure it’s what you want?”
“Yes. But let’s go before I lose my nerve.”
His laugh was coarse. His car appeared almost instantly – another hallmark of the wealthy. Finn knew that the driver would have been parked nearby, waiting for the signal, or a sign of his boss.
