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Alessia stands as Maxim approaches them, and he gives her a sweet, chaste kiss, suitable for public consumption. “Hello, darling. How are you? How was the first day?” Maxim’s husky tone suggests he’s asking her something indecent.
“Good. Thank you.” Alessia is a little breathless. “May I introduce Lady Tabitha.”
“How do you do,” Maxim says.
“Lord Trevethick.” Tabitha offers her hand, and Maxim takes it. “I’m so sorry to hear about your brother.”
“He’s sorely missed. May I join you?”
“Of course.” Tabitha summons the waiter, and Maxim orders an old-fashioned.
“So, what did you learn today?” Maxim turns his intense gaze on Alessia, his expression glowing with curiosity.
“How to sit. Walk. And how to say hello.” Alessia grins.
“Ah. The basics.” He grins back, and he’s breathtaking, a licentious gleam in his eyes.
“I really should be going,” Tabitha says.
“Please don’t leave on my account,” Maxim says.
“I should be getting back to the flat.”
Maxim stands when Tabitha does, and Alessia knows he doesn’t need any lessons; his manners are innate. “I’ll pick up the tab,” he says.
“Thank you. Alessia, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tabitha gives her an embarrassed wave.
“I look forward to it,” Alessia says.
He sits back down.
“Twins?” Alessia asks.
He frowns, then glances at Tabitha’s retreating figure. “Ah. That Tabitha.” He looks back at Alessia. “Do you really want to know?”
Alessia feels her cheeks warm but rolls her eyes. “No.”
He laughs. “Now, that is an appropriate reaction. A good eye roll.”
Alessia smiles, despite her misgivings, and leans forward and kisses him once more.
She’s learning. This is growth. His past is his past.
“Shall we go out to eat?” he asks. “We could eat here if you’d like?”
* * *
In the back of the cab, Alessia studies me. “How are you?”
I blow out a breath. “Honestly? A little numb. Dinner this evening was a welcome distraction. And Maryanne has finally texted me back. She’s in Seattle but says we’ll compare notes when she’s back.”
“And have you heard from your mother?”
I snort. “I think that’s unlikely for a while.”
Alessia reaches out and takes my hand. “She is your mother…”
“I know.” I swallow. “It will take time.”
She nods sympathetically. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about that we haven’t already said? My mother has proved to be as duplicitous as I thought she was, and mean. And a terrible snob.”
“She is… human.”
I laugh, and it’s a hollow sound. “That may be the first time anyone has accused Rowena of being human.”
Alessia smiles. “What do you want to do?”
“Well, I should read up on stills.”
“Stills? More landscape photography?”
I chuckle. “No. Still. For distilling gin.”
Alessia’s expression brightens.
“Yeah. I want to make gin. My wife likes it.”
The cab pulls up outside our building and it’s besieged by photographers.
“Fuck,” I growl under my breath. “Ready?”
Alessia nods.
“Say nothing. Let me clamber out first, and I’ll open your door.”
“Okay.”
I do exactly that and tuck Alessia under my arm as we make our way into the building.
Trevethick! Trevethick!
What about your relationship with Miss Charlotte Hampshire?
What does your wife have to say?
We ignore them, but Alessia stops us at the front door of the building. “What?” I ask.
She grabs my lapels, then slides her hands around the nape of my neck, dragging my lips to hers. To a blaze of flash photography, she presses her body to mine and kisses me properly, her tongue insistent and possessive.
It’s… hot.
And takes me by surprise.
When we move apart, we’re both winded. She pushes open the door, and without a glance at the cheered crowd, she ushers me into the building.
Wow.
In the lift, I pounce, hungry for her, and we kiss all the way to the sixth floor.
“You know, we could play Call of Duty again,” I murmur against the corner of her mouth.
She tips her head back and laughs.
* * *
Alessia toys with Maxim’s hair as they lie in bed, fresh from their lovemaking. Her limbs are boneless as her heart rate settles into a satiated, steady rhythm. Maxim rests his head on her stomach, his favorite post-lovemaking position, and draws a faint circle around her navel. It almost tickles, and she knows he’s preoccupied.
“My father was always my champion,” Maxim interrupts their easy silence. “Now it makes sense.”
Alessia stills her fingers, and he turns gleaming green eyes to her. “I’m wondering if my mother overcompensated with Kit because of my father’s… indifference to him. No, indifference is too strong a word. I didn’t notice it then. I was too caught up in my own world, but now, looking back, perhaps he favored me more.”
“No one suspected?”
“No. I don’t think so…” He trails off. “No. Wait. My mother and father had a huge falling-out with my uncle Cameron. Perhaps he knew.”
“He’s never said anything?”
“No. Never.” Maxim rests his head on her belly once more. “He escaped to LA in the late ’80s. But now I think of it, Kit never felt comfortable with Cameron. We didn’t visit him when we were in the Caribbean last Christmas. Now, I know why.”
