‘Actually, could you make that just two?’ Alicia nudged her fiancé in the ribs. ‘We’re meeting your aunt now, remember?’
‘We are?’ Philip looked blank for a moment and then a flicker of understanding crossed his face and he nodded slowly. ‘Oh, yes, that’s right. We are...meeting my aunt.’
Basa rolled his eyes. ‘Really subtle, guys.’
He tilted his face towards Mimi and gave her a long, slow smile that sucked the air from her lungs.
‘My sister has probably told you that she invited me along so that I could persuade you to film her wedding, but actually that was just an excuse. She thinks we need to have a little chat, just you and me—you know, to clear the air about our families’ shared history.’
Mimi blinked.
Absolutely. Not.
She practically shouted the words inside her head, and she was just opening her mouth to repeat them out loud when Basa cut across her.
‘And I think she’s right,’ he said smoothly. ‘After all, a wedding is all about moving forward. But obviously if Mimi would rather not...?’
His eyes held hers, dark, uncompromising, daring her to refuse. Beside him, Alicia was staring at her, her own eyes soft and hopeful.
‘Please, Mimi. You’re two of my favourite people in the world, and I know you’re worried about what happened with your family and mine and that’s why you don’t want to film the wedding.’ She bit her lip. ‘Look, Philip and I are going to go now, but will you promise me that you’ll stay and talk? Please? For me?’
Mimi wanted to say no, to say that there was no point, because Basa wasn’t going to listen to anything she said. But the words wouldn’t form in her mouth. Not because she didn’t believe them or because they weren’t true—she did and they were—but because this was the first time she had found herself up against both Caine siblings and she knew she couldn’t fight the two of them.
Lifting her face to meet her friend’s, she forced her mouth into a smile, and beneath the blood roaring in her ears she heard herself say lightly, ‘Okay, I’ll stay and talk. I promise.’
CHAPTER TWO
WATCHING ALICIA AND Philip leave, Mimi felt as though she was being left in the playground by her mother on the first day of school. Unlike Basa, she thought, as he leaned back in his chair like a Roman emperor at a feast being held in his honour.
Her heart was thumping like a piston. This wasn’t the reunion she’d imagined with Basa—and she’d imagined quite a few of them. The majority had involved the man calmly sitting beside her and apologising, and then begging her forgiveness.
Unfortunately, as with most of her life, the reality was a long way from her fantasy. Her attempt to matchmake for her mother had ended in disaster, her one shot at becoming a film director was languishing in a lawyer’s office, and her seduction of Basa had been utterly humiliating.
Was it really so surprising that instead of sticking to her script he was coolly drinking coffee and playing mind-games?
Her breathing faltered. She already knew what it felt like to be played by Basa, and she was in no hurry to be on the receiving end of that treatment again. Clearly the most sensible thing was for one or both of them to make a dignified and swift exit. She would just have to square it with Alicia later.
Trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she turned to face him. ‘Okay, I know we said we’d stay and talk, but I think we can both agree that was only for Alicia’s benefit, so please don’t feel you need to stay on my account,’ she said quickly. ‘Really, I’m not expecting you to.’
His dark eyes glittered. ‘What? Not even to pick up the bill?’
Her chin jerked up.
‘I didn’t come here for a free lunch, if that’s what you’re implying,’ she snapped, and then immediately wished she hadn’t, because she sounded defensive and cornered, which wasn’t at all the image she wanted to project.
Although, Basa’s opinion of her was so low anyway what difference would it make? He might not have said as much but his cool manner and even cooler gaze made it clear he’d made up his mind about her character back when her family had so nearly ruined his, and she doubted there was anything she could do or say to change his view. In his mind she was, and always would be, damned by association.
The waiter arrived with their coffee and she sat fuming, her mind belatedly conjuring up all the various smart put-downs she should have made to his last remark. He was just so insufferable. Sitting there and judging her as though he had the moral high ground, when his own behaviour had been utterly atrocious.
But why should she care what he thought of her anyway?
She watched him reach out and select one of the charming petit-fours the waiters had brought to the table with the coffee. Something in the tilt of his head seemed to tug at her memory, and her body tensed as time seemed to roll back on itself and she was in the ballroom at Fairbourne again. And standing on the other side of the dance floor, his dark, dishevelled hair accentuating the precision cut of his dinner jacket, his dark eyes fixed on her as though she was the only woman in the room, was Basa.
And that was why she cared.
In those few hours she had blossomed beneath his unblinking gaze, and then the miraculous, the unbelievable, had happened and he’d kissed her, said words she’d dreamed of hearing and—
Her fingers clenched into fists.