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‘Yes. I know. But, in the …context—’
‘Of being a millionaire.’
‘Well, yes. Of that. It seemed like … Oh fuck.’ Michael slapped his hands to his cheeks and growled softly. ‘I’m a dick. I dunno.I just got home this morning and felt so euphoric. I think maybe I was also still a little drunk. We just had such an … well, to my mind’ – he put a clenched fist to his chest – ‘such an incredible night. I was buzzing. And I remembered what you said about still finding your feet with your business and I imagined your face as you opened up your laptop and saw the big order sitting there and I just …didn’t think. I didn’t think. And no. I do not think you should be paid for sex. I think you are extraordinary and magical and beautiful and … and … magnificent. And I will cancel the order right now.’ He swung open the lid of a laptop on his kitchen counter. ‘Right now.’
Rachel stood and watched him with her arms folded.
He pressed some buttons and then closed the laptop again. ‘There,’ he said. ‘It’s gone. Please. Give me a chance to make it up to you. If you do, IpromiseI will never do something that crass and undignified ever again. I swear, Rachel Gold, that I am not what you think I am. I’m a feminist.’
Rachel let out a short bark of dry laughter.
‘Well, maybe not a feminist. But I am a good guy, I swear. I’ve never treated the women in my life with anything other than the utmost respect. It’s how I was brought up. C’mon. Please? Dinner, maybe? Tonight? If you’re free?’
Rachel felt it open up inside her then: a gap, a space. A place where she could be nice to this guy, where she could let him in, this ‘good guy’ who’d been brought up well. She could give him another chance. And she was free tonight and she had already made the journey halfway across town. She glanced around at his apartment now that the red mist in her head was lifting and saw a nice kitchen; black metro tiles, battered cookbooks, mismatchedutensils in a red enamel pot, a tall sash window at the far end overlooking the river. She could imagine padding in here barefoot in the morning and making herself an espresso from the big shiny machine over there. She could imagine Michael walking up behind her and those strong arms around her, the smell of him on her, his clothes folded neatly on a bedroom chair, his sweet breath in her ear, his world coming together with hers. She wondered briefly about ‘Lucy’, about the ex-wife. She wondered what she might have to say about Michael’s assertion that he had only ever treated women with respect. Why had it ended? Who had been at fault?
But then she shook the thoughts from her head. Nobody ever knew what had happened inside a marriage apart from the two people in it. It was no business of hers. She looked up at Michael and she allowed her face to soften and she said, ‘Fine. Fine. Dinner tonight. Yes. But you’d better be on your best behaviour.’
Michael put the palm of his hand to his chest and said, ‘I swear, I will now be on my best behaviourforever.’
