The apartment was hushed and in near darkness as he walked towards the dining room to find her. Only the glow from the myriad candles on the long table seating twenty flickered in the room.
Christo hesitated near the door. Thea gleamed in the low lights. She was elegant and understated in black, yet she’d shone more brightly than any of the other women, with their colourful clothes and sparkling jewels. She drifted around the table, blowing out candle after candle. Their waxy smell thick in the air.
She stopped in front of the table’s centre, her face illuminated in the golden light of a squat candle in the middle of an arrangement, which held a well of melted wax around its flame. She dipped the tip of her finger into it, blowing till the thin coating of wax hardened. Then she picked up the candle and tipped a stream of molten liquid onto her open palm.
Christo started forward, gut clenching hard. He should stop her. It must bur
n. Yet all he could do was watch, transfixed, as she toyed with the fire. Replacing the candle, Thea licked her fingers and pinched out the flame, then another, and another. Each one was extinguished with a quiet hiss.
He couldn’t take any more.
She jumped as he stepped into the honeyed light. ‘I thought you’d already left.’
He didn’t miss the curl of her hand, closing over her wax-covered palm, as he strolled round the table towards her.
‘I’m going soon,’ he said, keeping his voice calm.
She stood like a cornered animal. Eyes wide, body stiff. He didn’t want that. He wanted her soft and pliant and pleading to be sated.
‘What were you doing?’
‘Putting out the candles.’
Thea was the expert at never really answering a question. Why had she mastered that skill? He could ask, but chose not to. He didn’t think she’d tell him even if he did.
‘You’ll burn yourself.’
‘I never have before.’
And there was the tiny truth he’d longed for—though he wasn’t sure what it meant. He searched her face for any hint. Her expression gave him nothing, but she looked pale. Like a Technicolor picture fading to sepia, all the vibrancy leached from her. Unlike when they’d kissed this morning. Then, she’d glowed.
‘I wanted to thank you for tonight,’ he said.
She had an innate sense for the role of gracious hostess, charming men and women alike. For that he was indebted to her.
‘There’s no need. I had a job to do.’
How selfish he’d been. He should have rescheduled the party, as he’d offered. A splinter of concern pricked at him. She’d only toyed with her dinner tonight, and he noticed her dress hung loosely on her curves.
‘You aren’t well. Don’t think I haven’t appreciated your efforts.’
‘I’m used to it. It’s little different from my father’s demands.’
He hated the comparison to her father. Just as he hated the dull, dead tone to her voice and the lack of light in her eyes. Where had all her flash and fire gone?
‘I thought you might like to share a coffee with me before I leave.’
Perhaps he could forgo his obligations for one night. Instead coax Thea to indulge in the pleasure of burning together once more.
She cocked her head, narrowed her gaze. In that moment she made him feel like a schoolboy, asking out his first date. He had an insane desire to peer down at his shoes and scuff them on the carpet.
‘Where are you headed?’ she asked, her face bland and unreadable.
Another request from him left unanswered.
‘We’re meeting at someone’s club.’
Somewhere that was by invitation only. Discreet. Where morals could be compromised or forgotten. The sort of place he despised.