‘Give away?’
‘I fund bursaries. Scholarships. Charities that support those kids that want to do better but are held back by where they’ve come from.’
That was admirable. But then presumably there were only so many penthouses and islands one man could buy. ‘What are you afraid of?’
‘That your questions will never come to an end.’
They did after that. I was all out of small talk. Which was a shame because without that to focus on, to my intense frustration, I found it almost impossible not to keep staring at him. He was so big, so close, and right in my line of vision. My gaze kept snagging on his hands and his mouth as he sliced up the fish and ate. Bizarrely, a vision of him surging to his feet, pulling me into his arms and spreading me across the table to do with me what he wanted took shape in my mind, and, once there, wouldn’t shift.
My inability to keep a clear head around him was becoming increasingly intolerable. I loathed the way my self-control seemed to disappear in his vicinity and the jitters that took up residence inside me like a swarm of bees. I hated the fact that no matter how often I instructed myself to think of him in a purely professional context, I couldn’t.
The second I got to my room I’d be calling James and arranging to be picked up just as soon as was humanly possible, I vowed as I put my knife and fork down and polished off what was left of my drink. Who cared about a raking-up of the past and a few crappy headlines? I was older and stronger this time around and I wouldnotbe a victim. Emails could easily be deleted. Spurious requests to connect on social media could easily be ignored. Of course I’d be able to recognise an ulterior motive. And after I’d explained, my colleagues would surely understand why I’d told them nothing of my win.
Once home, I need never speak to Nick again. We could communicate by email and revert to nods and a very wide berth on the unfortunate occasion our paths did have to cross in the future. Upon reflection, the status quo wasn’tthatbad.
‘Right, well, thank you for supper,’ I said, once the kitchen was clear of the most excruciating meal I’d had in years. ‘And despite what I said earlier in your study, thank you for all your help too. I realise it didn’t sound like it at the time, but Iamgrateful. I know how I’m lucky to have you. I mean your services, obviously,’ I hastened to clarify, but it didn’t sound much better, so I added, ‘Or rather, your financial services,’ which, to my despair, only made it worse.
Nick merely stood watching as I flushed and floundered and dug myself into an ever bigger hole and I felt like banging my head against the wall in frustration. Would Ieverbe able to speak to this man without my words producing an unintended consequence? Or was I a completely lost cause?
‘Anyway, you’ll no doubt be delighted to hear that I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow,’ I said, prepared to move heaven and earth to facilitate such a move if I had to. ‘I’m aiming to be on a plane first thing.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
My heart skipped a beat. What? No. Why? ‘Do you have doubts about your influence over the press back home?’
‘Not at all,’ he said, with an ominous glance in the direction of the open French doors and the night beyond. ‘I do, however, have doubts about the weather.’
CHAPTER SIX
ITWASWITHa mixture of consternation and relief that I made my escape and fled to my room. But while the consternation over the weather and the implications of its deterioration lingered, the relief didn’t last nearly as long.
I barely noticed the luxurious comfort of the space I occupied. I didn’t have the wherewithal to appreciate the cool white walls, the honey-coloured wood floor and the soothingly neutral soft furnishings and I gave the gleaming en-suite only the most cursory of glances as I set the water temperature to cold and stepped into the enormous walk-in shower. I was too preoccupied with ruminating on the conversation Nick and I had had at supper, trying to unravel the myriad thoughts and questions swirling around my head and keeping my roiling emotions in check.
Why could I not stop thinking about him in inappropriate contexts? was the question uppermost in my mind as I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. Such as a state of nakedness. Or a steamy embrace in which we kissed as if the world were about to end. Was the stress I’d been under finally taking its toll and breaking me down? Was it the shock of seeing him out of his usual environment? Spending time with him alone? What?
Surely I couldn’t be attracted to him, I thought with a shiver of apprehension, lying there in the thick, heavy dark, a hot and achy pulse throbbing in the pit of my stomach. The crush I’d perversely developed on him in the aftermath of the pool party hadn’t beenthatbad, even if once his many physical attributes had been pointed out, it had been annoyingly impossible to ignore them.
Although it had taken three years of determined effort—burning the candle at both ends by studying for my school exams during the term and partying hard in the holidays and my year off—I’d eventually got him out of my system. There was zero point in continuing to want him, I’d realised, gazing longingly at him one evening while subtly shooting daggers at the back of the girl he was with. He was never going to suddenly turn round and want me back. He went for tall willowy blondes, and, even without the complication of how little he thought of me, I was an average height curvy brunette.
I’d come to the decision that it was time to grow up and move on, and I genuinely assumed I had. I’d hung up my dancing shoes and accepted a university place in Zurich. I’d put my embarrassing youth behind me and knuckled down to study, my dream of working in marine conservation driving me to achieve top marks and become the best, until my family lost everything and my life imploded and I had to scrabble around in the rubble for some kind of future.
But what if Ihadn’tmoved on? What if I’d merely buried the attraction beneath the weight of my studies and then the brutal upheaval of my existence, aided and abetted by Nick’s continued disapproval of me? Could it have lain inside me all these years, dormant, like a volcano waiting to erupt?
No, I decided firmly as I tossed and turned, trying to find a cool spot in the bed. There was no volcano, dormant or otherwise. The fundamentals hadn’t changed. He still dated blondes and he still loathed me. I’d be on a hiding to nothing, and I wasn’t that much of an idiot.
My crazy response to him a week ago had to have been a result of the stress of the situation I’d found myself in messing with my reason. And now, most likely, it was the weather. No doubt the electricity that sizzled through me was down to the dark gathering clouds. The plummeting air pressure had to be responsible for the churning of my stomach, and it was the soaring heat and humidity of the air that had caused my core temperature to rise. It simply couldn’t be anything else.
Nevertheless, despite these assurances, despite the thousand-thread-count sheets and the rhythmic rush of the sea, sleep was a long time coming.
I woke at six in the morning to an almighty clap of thunder and winds that sounded as though they were battering the palm trees and whipping up the sea. The hot air was suffocatingly thick and, within seconds, the faint patter of rain peppering the roof had turned into a deluge so loud I could barely hear myself think.
I groggily sat up and tried the switch of the bedside lamp to no avail, and my stomach plummeted. Nick had been right—I wasn’t going anywhere today. Heaven and earth were indeed moving but instead of facilitating my escape, they were prohibiting it.
I got up to close the window I’d left open last night to alleviate the stifling heat and made my way across the dim, shadowy room, every muscle I possessed aching in protest. After such a fitful night, my eyes were gritty and sore. I felt as though I’d aged a hundred years and then been run over by a truck.
Everything was chaos, both inside and out, but there was no need to panic, I assured myself, breathing deeply and steadily as I stared out at the oppressive gunmetal sky through which not a single speck of blue peeked and the grey malevolently churning sea. I might have been on the back foot ever since the moment I’d contacted Nick requesting an appointment, but that didn’t mean I had to remain there. All I had to do was locate my gumption and remind myself of my resolve to stay cool, collected and professional.
To that end, I would stop thinking about him naked. I would not entertain any more images of us kissing. I would get through the next day or two or however long the storm lasted by resolutely rising above such trivialities. By occupying the higher ground, as it were.