Skye considered that a moment. “Are you recognized everywhere you go?”
“Most places,” he shrugged.
“How tiresome.” She shuddered.
“You wouldn’t like that?”
“I…I’ve never thought about it,” she mumbled. “But I don’t think I would, no.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Turn everything I ask of you into a question for me?”
“Perhaps because you’re more interesting.”
“Now I know you want something.”
“Why?”
“Because I am the exact opposite of interesting, Matthieu.”
He frowned, his attention firm on her face. “You’re wrong.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not.”
“Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”
“I don’t. Not being interesting and thinking badly of myself are two very different things.”
“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Semantics.”
“Yes, perhaps.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Have you always been…recognizable?”
“It was worse when I was younger.”
“As opposed to now you’re an old, greying man?” She teased.
He grinned. “At twenty nine, I am at least a decade past the worst of my behaviour.”
“And what were you like then?”
“I was everywhere,” he admitted, sipping his coffee. “There was not a party in Europe I didn’t attend. I would fly from one to the other, sometimes three or four in one night, doing whatever I could to have fun. I lived for it, in fact.”
“And now?”
“I prefer different kinds of fun.”
She took another piece of croissant, savouring the flavour before responding. “Such as watching the stock market in the early hours of the morning?”
His laugh was warm and spontaneous. It spread over Skye’s skin like treacle. It had been a long time since she’d resented her plain looks, but in that moment, she couldn’t help but wish she was as effortlessly charming as Mia or Sal.
“Making money is fun,” he agreed affably.
“You have all this,” she gestured towards the vines. “Do you really need more?”