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‘WHY DO WE not spend some time on Arketà next?’ he murmured, flipping the pages of a newspaper, his eyes resting on hers.
Tilly’s pulse trembled like a guitar string being plucked. ‘Your island?’
‘My other island,’ he said with a teasing smile.
‘I told you—I have to get back,’ she said, dropping her eyes to the table to shield her uncertainty from him.
‘So? Next weekend, then.’
She shook her head, consternation drawing her brows together. ‘I have something on,’ she mumbled.
‘What is it?’
‘Just a thing.’
His expression was pleasant, but she could see the ice-like determination in his eyes. He was assessing her, as though she were a problem he needed to solve.
‘Training for a mission to Mars?’ he said with mock seriousness. ‘Adopting a guide dog? Running in the marathon?’
Her smile was cursory. ‘Just a thing. It’s not a big deal.’
‘So cancel it.’ He shrugged, his eyes still hard and unyielding. ‘I will have my plane collect you.’
‘Your plane?’ she said, and the chasm between them seemed to grow. ‘You’ll have your plane come and get me and take me to your island? Your other island?’
He was as rich as Croesus. And she was not. She was nothing like he thought. In the normal course of events they would never have crossed paths, and they’d never have become lovers. He was sleeping with Cressida, not Matilda.
Sharp spikes of feeling stabbed at her heart.
Cressida was the kind of woman he made a habit of dating. Cressida with her expensive jewellery and haute couture and luxury handbags and Bugatti Veyron and Cartier account.
Cressida with her VIP entry to any party around the world, with her private jet to match his, her penchant for rich, gorgeous men.
‘Except for Marina, have you ever been in a serious relationship?’ she asked jerkily, her eyes not meeting his.
He put the newspaper down on the table, his expression impatient. ‘I have dated. Why do you ask?’
‘I just...’ She shook her head. ‘Am I your type?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I have such a thing as a “type”,’ he said finally.
‘But, I mean, you usually date women like me, right? Women who have trust funds and move in the same circles as you?’
‘As us,’ he said, with no idea of how the slight correction hurt. ‘And, yes. Naturalmente.’
‘Why naturalmente?’
He expelled a breath. ‘What is this about, Cressida?’
‘I’m just trying to understand you better,’ she hedged quietly.
‘I have never had a serious relationship,’ he said through compressed lips. ‘I have dated many women...’
‘And by that you mean slept with?’
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘I date, yes, but primarily these relationships are about sex. For me and for them. I do not lie about my intentions, if this is what worries you.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, her throat thick and scratchy. She knew quite definitively where he came down on the whole honesty issue. ‘Have you ever dated—slept with—someone who didn’t have millions of pounds?’
