Her eyes were shut, her breathing deep, when the knock sounded. She moved to the door, peering through the peephole to see Samir standing there.
Great.
She wiped her face quickly and pinched her cheeks, blinked rapidly then pulled open the door with an over-bright smile. “Did you forget something?”
But he swept her into his arms and kissed her, undoubtedly tasting the salt of her tears, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him.
“I am sorry.” The words were pushed into her mouth, his hands roaming her body and then coming to tangle in her hair, so he could pull her head back a little and see her face properly. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I promised I would never hurt you, and I did. I’m sorry.”
What could she say? Nothing. Her tears fell softer now, and she kissed him back, accepting his apology and enjoying a sense of relief because this offered some reprieve to their inevitable breakup. If he could respect her boundaries, then surely, they could keep doing this, just a little while longer?
6
CORA READ THE TEXT again, trying to make sense of it.
I have a surprise. I’ll pick you up at midnight. Wait downstairs.
Her eyes liftedto the time in the corner of her phone. It was only six o’clock, six hours before his suggested rendezvous and already the suspense was killing her. How could she possibly wait?
Give me a clue?
He didn’t reply,but she couldn’t help smiling, imagining his finger hovering over the phone, wondering what to say. Or had he simply pushed the phone back in his pocket, not thinking about her anymore?
Uncertainty bubbled through her and with it came the now familiar sense of anxiety, because she was thinking about him way too often, caring way too much about his thoughts, feelings, actions. Their argument a week earlier hadn’t been mentioned again, by either of them, but it still sat inside Cora like a weight—a dark spot in what had otherwise been a period of intense joy for her.
At eleven, she sent him another message.
Do I need to bring anything?
His response was reassuringly immediate,if somewhat to the point.
No.
Another smile tilted her lips.She could just imagine him saying that. She shoved her phone in her pocket and continued to wait.
* * *
When he pulledup on his bike, something inside of him throbbed at the sight of her, waiting downstairs—but not so she could be recognised. She wore a baseball cap on her head, and a bulky jacket around her slim frame that completely concealed everything about her. He didn’t take off his helmet, but it didn’t matter. She lifted her head and smiled then began to walk towards him, graceful despite the coat, beautiful despite the fact he could barely see her.
He stepped off the bike as she approached, reaching beneath the seat for the spare helmet. With her eyes on him, she removed the cap, and he quickly placed the helmet down on her head. It was unlikely there were any photographers lurking—he’d come straight from the airport after his private jet had landed—but this was their first time leaving the safety of her apartment, and he didn’t want it to be the last. He had to be careful, or she’d take fright.
And you? A voice inside demanded. After all, if their relationship was uncovered, it would just as bad for him as it would be for her, right? Even worse, in fact. His first thought though was for Cora, and her obvious preference that no one know she was seeing him.
“Ready?”
She nodded inside the helmet and he grinned, because there was something so sweet about her like this. “Let’s go. Hold on tight,” he commanded, straddling the bike and waiting to feel her behind him. A moment later, she was on, her hands wrapping around him, head pressed to his back. His body jerked to life immediately, the familiar sensation of knowing she was close assailing his every sense.
He rode through Athens, through the upmarket district Cora lived in, into the heart of the city, past the most famous sights illuminated gold against the night sky, stunning and unique, and then further, to the Marina. He was grinning as he brought the bike to a stop, imagining her confusion—and likely doubts.
“Keep your helmet on,” he said, simply, as he stepped off the bike and held out a hand to her. Though she wore the headgear, concealing her features, he could imagine her expression so perfectly that he almost supplied a comment in response to her skepticism. But she put her hand in his, and allowed herself to be led away from the bike and down the ramp, towards the prestigious yachts that formed the front row of moorings at the marina.
“Samir,” she said, as they walked, but he turned, lifted a finger, and pressed it to his lips, until they reached his yacht, which he’d had brought to Greece two weeks earlier, in preparation for this.
At the ramp, she squeezed his hand. “This is a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because someone will see us.”