‘My brother set up the charity—he believed every child deserves access to an education, however basic.’
It had been a philanthropic side Frederick hadn’t even known Axel had had—one his brother had kept private. Because he had been a good man...a good man who had died—
Grief and guilt thrust forward but he pushed them back. The only reparation he could make was to continue Axel’s work.
‘So, I’m funding and working with a committee to set up schools here. Tomorrow I’m going to visit one of the new ones and meet the children.’
‘That sounds incredible—there’s so much poverty here, and yet also such a vibrant sense of happiness as well.’
‘Why don’t you get involved? That would be great publicity for the organisation—I could put you in touch.’
For a second her face lit up, and then she shook her head. ‘No. I’m not modelling at the moment and...’
‘I’m not suggesting you model. I’m suggesting you get involved with some charity work.’
‘I...I don’t want any publicity at the moment—’
‘Why not?’
‘I... Sam and I prefer our life to be out of the spotlight.’
This still didn’t make sense. Sunita had thrived in the spotlight, been pulled to it like a moth to a flame. But before he could point that out, the door opened and a waitress appeared with a tray.
‘Thank you.’ Sunita smiled as the girl placed the drinks on the table, alongside a plate of snacks that looked to range from across the globe. Tiny pizzas topped with morsels of smoked salmon nestled next to crisp, succulent pakora, which sat alongside miniature burgers in minuscule buns. ‘These look delicious.’
Once the waitress had exited, Frederick sampled a pakora, savoured the bite of the spice and the crunch of the batter around the soft potato underneath. ‘These are delicious! Sam runs an excellent kitchen.’
‘Yes—he and...he has made a real success of this place.’
‘You must be proud of him.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Are you involved with the restaurant?’
‘No.’
He sipped his drink, with its refreshing contrast of sharp and sweet. ‘So what do you do now? Do you have a job?’
‘I...’
Fluster showed in the heat that crept along her cheekbones, the abrupt swirling of her drink, the over-careful selection of a snack.
‘I’m a lady of leisure.’ Her eyes dared him to challenge her, but he couldn’t help it—a snort of disbelief emerged. Sunita had been a human dynamo, always on the go, abuz
z with energy, ideas and vibrancy.
‘For real?’
‘Yes.’ Now her fingers tapped on the table in irritation. ‘Why not? I’m lucky enough that I can afford not to work—I pay my own way.’
An undercurrent of steel lined her words—one he remembered all too well. ‘Just like you did two years ago.’
It had become a standing joke—she’d refused point-blank to let him pay for anything, had insisted they split every bill down the middle. The one time he’d been foolish enough to buy her a gift, she’d handed it back.
‘I don’t like to feel beholden. It’s my issue, not yours. Keep it for your next woman. I pay my own way.’
Apparently she still did.