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‘Well?’ I prompt and he starts, waking up from some stupor that has me keen to work out where his head has been. Was it keeping mine company in the gutter? The thought tickles me, teasing at my lips, which aren’t so keen to form a straight line any more.
‘Okay.’ He rakes a hand through his wet hair, rubs his other down his face before shoving both hands deep inside his trouser pockets. I don’t want to notice how the move encourages his jacket to open up, his unveiled shirt to cling to his obviously trim torso, or the way he bites down on his lip as he contemplates what to say...
And I shouldn’t want him, not now. Not now I know who he is and in the cold light of day canseejust how young he is.
So young, so fit, so virile... My mouth dries against the Chardonnay as my imagination runs wild, fending off my better judgement, which seems to intervene less and less these days.
‘Firstly, Iamsorry.’ The sincerity in his tone draws my eyes to his and I can see it. In the intensity of his gaze, the way his brows furrow and his eyes widen. ‘The night we met, my intention was to see it for myself, that the rumour wasn’t merely malicious gossip aimed to discredit you.’
I scoff into my glass as I raise it to my lips. ‘You make it sound like I have a horde of enemies waiting in the wings to take me down. I’m not a celebrity, royalty, a politician, anyone of consequence—what does it matter what I do?’
‘The board believes it matters and they’re right. As for the charity, it doesn’t have a new face to replace you. You’ve stood down, but people still regard you as the spokesperson, the front.’
I’m quiet. I don’t want to go back to the way I was, but I also don’t want the charity to suffer either.
‘And you have to realise that you’re in the public eye. You as an individual. You’re an extremely successful businesswoman; lecturers talk about you, young women look up to you, they study you, they want to emulate you.’
Another scoff. I don’t want to listen. I don’twantto be that person. Not any more. I don’t want young women to follow my path, to sacrifice everything like I did and for what—to be forty-five and alone, lost, soulless?
But how can I explain that to him? We’re standing in my home, worth a fortune in itself. Not to mention the other properties I have all over the world. I have wealth. I have everything. And I’m quoting the tabloids now. Just last week an article used my possessions as a way to balance the loss of my husband:Hey, it’s okay. Yes, she lost her husband, her sweetheart for over two decades, but look at all she has accumulated in that time.
They don’t even know the half of it. No one does. No one knows what our relationship was like behind closed doors. Except maybe Fee. And though I disagree with her to an extent, because I loved Nathan, he was a good man, he had a good heart, even if he didn’t always show it, even if he did control almost everything, even if he was more like my father than I ever could have realised...
I let him take over, I altered myself to please him and played my part, losing sight of myself in our marriage, coming out of it not knowing my own mind, how to live. Truly live.
And wealth... What’s wealth when you have no one to share it with?
My skin prickles, goosebumps spreading top to toe as the chill inside blooms. I fold my arms across my middle, take a breath and focus on what he came here to discuss, feeling decidedly more comfortable with that side of the conversation. Because, truth is, I want to know what he was thinking, I want to know why he ventured up those stairs and then ran.
‘Rewind to a month ago...’ I force myself to meet his gaze and ignore the nervous fluttering in my chest. Hell, I can be as confident as they come but the problem is, he does something to me, he sets me on edge, he makes me feel nervous, he makes me feel...like a lust-struck teenager again.
‘Okay.’
I see the tension pulse in his jaw, but his willingness to go there gives my confidence a much-needed boost.
‘You say the reason you turned up that night was to establish the truth in the rumour. Well, you got the truth. I was there. So...why take me up on the invite? You could have said no and left, in order to stay professional, youshouldhave said no and left. Then you wouldn’t have this...messy predicament to deal with.’
He stares back at me. Long, torturous moments where I start to think he may run. Again. But then he sucks in a breath that makes his chest swell, his shoulders arch back and out it comes with a gust of air.
‘Because I wasn’t in my right mind.’
My brows draw together, the meaning of his words sparking many a dangerous and salacious thought. I could say I wasn’t in my right mind too; I was wrapped up in a carnal fantasy that I wanted made real and he would have been the perfect finishing touch.
I take a much slower sip of my Chardonnay and lean my hip against the stainless-steel work surface that I’m so keen to ruin him over. ‘How so?’
He swallows and it’s audible. He really isn’t so suave and sophisticated and in control now. In fact, he has the distinct look of prey about to be taken down by its predator and I laugh softly. Does that make me a true cougar?
Another sip of wine and the idea settles. The excitement of it, the thrill that he’s here for the taking...the idea of work, the board, the company...it’s all blurry as the undercurrent between us builds and we’re reliving that night four weeks ago.
I wet my lips, take another sip of wine and eye him over the glass. ‘Cat got your tongue... Valentine?’
‘Are you trying to put me on edge... Olivia?’
My smile grows with his mimicked tease and I step closer to him.
‘Tell me the truth. Why did you go up those stairs?’
His eyes trail down my front, so swift I could have missed it if I hadn’t been watching him so intently.
