Chapter 15
MATTHIEU COULDN’T TAKE HIS eyes off his fake fiancé. Across the crowded Christmas party, she sat at his grandfather’s side, beautiful and alluring and fascinating because of how different she was to the society women who were parading around in their custom couture.
Skye Smith was nothing like them, and because of that, she glowed. If they were baubles on the Christmas tree, she was the star at the very top, shimmering and unique, and utterly out of reach.
She laughed at something Lucien had said and then Lucien laughed too, tipping his head back in a way that made Matthieu stand stock still, because it was a gesture that was so familiar to Matthieu, and so agonizingly nostalgic, that his chest felt as though a rock boulder was pressing down on him.
It had been a long time since he’d seen his grandfather laugh, and the fact Skye could elicit that response made him want to sweep everyone aside and lift her up, drawing her into his arms and kissing her until she saw stars.
At that moment, Skye looked up at him, a smile twitching on her lips, that died when their eyes locked and the air between them seemed to charge with electric current. Everyone else in the room disappeared, for Matthieu at least. There was only him, and Skye, and the urgency that had dogged them from the beginning. Only it was becoming more urgent now, as he faced the death knell to his relationship, the knowledge that soon she would leave and this ‘engagement’ would be at an end.
He’d planned for this from the beginning, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t, in a way, dreading it. That was only natural. They’d formed a very successful partnership. Their sexual chemistry was off the charts and they worked well together. He liked being around her. She wasn’t demanding or needy, and she made him…happy.
But he could never make her happy. Not in the ways she deserved. Skye wanted a farm and a family, and Matthieu wasn’t the man to provide those things for her. When Christmas was over, the dust would settle, and this would be over.
Besides, Anais might lift her requirement for Matthieu to get married, given that Fleur and Olivier looked as though they were heading for a reconciliation. From the corner of his eye, he saw his cousin and her husband dancing, so close they were almost one person, and he felt glad for Fleur. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew she loved Olivier, and that she missed him.
As he would miss Skye. Not because he loved her, he rushed to assure himself, but because she’d become a part of his routine. He was used to her. That was all.
“Let’s go outside,”he murmured into her ear, as it grew near to midnight and revelers had started to drift away, to their bedrooms, or in cars to nearby hotels. Some were gathered around a grand piano, singing carols, loudly and in a way that, despite being out of key, was beautiful.
Skye looked up at Matthieu and nodded, her soft lips curving into a natural smile. “It’s cold outside.” She gestured to the snow that had started to dust down, lightly, about an hour earlier.
“I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, drawing her closer to him.
Skye’s heart thundered through her; could he hear it?
She went with him wordlessly, waiting when he paused to grab two thick coats from a staffed cloakroom, wrapping one around her shoulders, before pushing open the wide doors that led to the front steps.
The snow brushed over her immediately, and she extended her arms, twirling slowly, face tilted to the ink black night sky. “Beautiful,” she remarked, the distant strains of carols reaching them, so her smile grew wider. “I think I’m in heaven.”
He laughed, but it was heavy, because she was so perfect that for a moment, he wondered how he’d ever let her go?
“You’re having fun?”
She stopped spinning, moving back to him and linking her arm with his. “Actually, I’ve had a really good time.”
“You sound surprised.” He guided her away from the house, towards the now dormant rose garden.
“Oh, a little.” She lifted her shoulders. “Your aunt has been on her best behavior, and everyone else has been so welcoming…I’m sorry if that disappoints you,” she grimaced.
“Why would it?”
“You might have been wishing your grandparents would hate me?” She reminded him, so Matthieu frowned, because he couldn’t remember, for even a second, having anything close to that idea.
“No,” he denied after a beat. “I knew that would never be possible.”
She elbowed him in the chest. “Liar.” But she softened against him, and he put an arm around her, holding her where she was.
It was a perfect, beautiful night, and a moment in time that seemed to slice through Matthieu so that when he next spoke, he wasn’t thinking clearly. Everything seemed so simple and right, and he wanted to hold onto that, just a little while longer. “Skye, why don’t you join me for New Years?”
She stiffened at his side and an unfamiliar sense of uncertainty tightened his gut. He hadn’t planned to suggest that, and he felt as though he’d pushed out onto a limb all on his own.
“Unless you have plans back home,” he added, wondering why those words felt so discordant in his throat. It was supposed to be a casual invitation but suddenly everything was riding on her acceptance. He needed one more week with her, to spend just a little more time with her before this ended.
“I—,” she lifted her face to his, frowning. “Why?”
It was such a simple question, but there was no simple answer. He hesitated, his eyes locked to hers, and finding he couldn’t respond in any meaningful way, so he shrugged. “Why not?”