For a moment their eyes locked, and then, leaning forward, she kissed him lightly on the mouth. ‘You’re nice, you know...’
He thought her voice sounded shaky, almost sad. But then she deepened the kiss, pulling him closer so that he could feel the heat of her body through her dress, and he stopped thinking completely...
She did win at roulette—and then lost it all on the blackjack table.
Afterwards they went to the famous Black Bar, to sample the legendary Tiger Martinis.
‘Wow!’ she said as she took a sip. ‘What’s in it?’
‘I don’t know the exact recipe. Orson—’ he nodded over at the barman ‘—keeps that a closely guarded secret. But basically it’s some kind of chocolate liqueur and baijiu instead of vodka. Do you like it?’
‘I do. It’s delicious.’ Her grey eyes were dancing beneath the soft lighting. ‘So, does someone actually play that? Or is it just for show?’
Her words snagged on something in his head, and it took a moment for him to follow her gaze towards the gleaming black Steinway piano.
‘Oh, it gets played. In fact, I think the show’s about to start.’
A young male pianist ran through a programme of popular songs, but Charlie barely registered the familiar tunes. He was too busy watching Dora.
She was beautiful, but before her beauty had been a distraction that had dazzled and frustrated him. He had wanted her, and it had angered him that she had the power to reduce him to being just a man. Now, though, he could see past the soft mouth and the delicate jaw. He could see that even when she was smiling there was a lost quality to her—as if she had strayed off the path and was trying to pretend to herself, and to everyone around her, that she knew her way home.
It made his stomach hurt, thinking about it, and, picking up his glass, he finished his drink as a scattered round of applause signalled the end of the pianist’s set.
‘What do you think?’ he said quietly.
She turned, smiling. ‘He’s very good.’
He held her gaze. ‘I thought we were going to be honest with one another?’
Her beautiful pink mouth curved up at the corners. ‘Okay, then, honestly? He’s adequate. He’s a competent pianist, but he’s lazy. To me it feels like he’s hiding behind the melodies. But, to be fair, it’s hard to pull out a good performance every time.’
Remembering the videos he’d watched, he shook his head. ‘You did.’
She gave him a small, twisted smile. ‘I was unhappy. Inside, I felt like everything was going to fly apart. Singing was pretty much the only time I felt solid and whole.’
‘And you think that’s what it takes to be a good performer? Unhappiness?’
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘But I think you have to need to perform. I don’t mean for money. It has to feed something inside.’ She screwed up her face. ‘I’m not explaining it very well, but you can feel when it’s there. It’s like you can’t look away.’
Exactly. That was how he had felt, watching those videos of her. How he felt now. But of course this was a performance too, he thought, ignoring how that made the knot in his stomach tighten.
‘You explain it very well. So well that I’d like to offer you a job. How would you like to oversee the entertainment side of things here for me?’
She stared at his face. ‘Won’t the person currently overseeing it mind?’
‘There is no one. But I clearly need someone—and you obviously have what it takes.’
?
?Are you being serious?’
He nodded. ‘It’s an area I’ve been looking to improve for some time now. I just needed the right person. And now I’ve found her.’
‘Okay, well... I could think about it.’
The eagerness she was trying to hide made him suddenly regret his offer.
Tonight had been meant to make a statement. This is my world. This is my wife. And it should have been easy, bringing the two together. Surely that was why it was called a marriage of convenience?