‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.’
‘Even if it made you smile?’
‘I’m not smiling,’ I protest, doing exactly just that. ‘And I’m not sure he was embarrassed,’ I add as our exchange in the hallway flashes in my mind. The dark suit jacket that hugged his broad shoulders, the leather belt around his trim waist. His stupid pocket square and the fact that I’d noticed his hair is a little shorter than it was back in March. Alice’s reaction as she’d stood next to me, her words breathy and her cheeks coloured pink. He didn’t look like a man who felt any kind of remorse for his actions; for leaving me that night. Neither did he look like his nefarious plan had come together seeing me there. ‘But he was definitely annoyed.’
‘So maybe seeing you tweaked his conscience? Made him feel bad. But I agree, if MB looked angry, rather than whipping out his saucisson, at first sight, the chances of you being sexed and hired by the same man have to be slim. Hired on purpose, I mean.’
‘Maybe.’ My response sounds unconvinced. But really, what do I know? Except that baguette is a better descriptive; saucisson, or sausage, really is selling him a little short, pardon the pun.
‘It sounds as though you’re communicating with your clothes on this time.’ Amber’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively on the screen, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to be cheered.
‘Communication is not an issue. It turns out, the man speaks perfect English.’
‘Oh. Bad Monsieur Baguette. Did you ask him why?’
‘Not yet. I’m still smarting over here. I feel like a total idiot!’
‘Come on, Rose. No one could take you for an idiot. Don’t pull that face. The man sent you flowers—expensive gifts! That doesn’t sound like a man who thought you were just a piece of ass. He sounds like a man who maybe felt a little bad about not being one hundred percent truthful with you.’
I frown back, unconvinced, also realising how mad this makes me right now. He completely bamboozled me. Why? To what end?
‘I’m reserving my judgment until I ask him.’ Probably on the twelfth of never.
‘See, every cloud has a silver lining. Now at least you’ll get the opportunity to ask him why. A chance to speak with him, right?’ she adds optimistically.
‘I liked him better when I didn’t think he could speak English.’
‘Of course you did. Because there was no future in it. The truth is, the fact that he wasn’t there when you woke back in March makes no difference. It just saved you from throwing him out.’
‘So?’
‘So, now here he is again, in your face. And I think you’ve been crying because the rich man kissed you.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ My protest is immediate. Maybe a little too immediate. But how could she know? It’s my eyes that are a little swollen, not my lips!
‘The rich hot man kissed you, and you liked it. I sense fireworks. Pheromones flying, fire—panties flying through the air.’
‘Well, there was fire,’ I admit, glancing briefly to the window and the brilliant views.
‘I knew it!’
‘But he also acted pretty weird. He was hot and cold.’
‘And then he was just hot.’ On screen, Amber fans her face before becoming serious once again. ‘He was probably conflicted, which is understandable. He didn’t expect to see you again, yet there you were. The woman he’s been thinking of. For months.’
‘Yeah, but he asked me some weird questions about my blood type and stuff, and then he yammered on about our parents.’ God knows why.
‘Rich people are allowed to be weird. Only it’s called eccentricity when you have a big bank book. Who knows, maybe he’s thinking about you as a long term prospect, and that’s why he got a little personal?’
‘I might not know what it was, but I know it wasn’t that. Just don’t go buying a hat yet. I almost feel like he was expecting someone else.’ My voice sounds small as though admitting this aloud might somehow make it real. ‘But then he kissed me.’
‘If he was expecting someone else, he wouldn’t have kissed you. Was it just a kiss,’ she asks a little more eagerly, ‘or is there more to this tale?’
‘It almost went further. But we were interrupted.’ My stomach twists uncomfortably. All I need now is news of this to get out, then I’ll be that slut—that friendless floozy that fucks the boss to get ahead! ‘And now he’s moved me out of the company accommodation into this palace!’ My gaze roams the room again, and once again, it takes my breath away.
‘Are we talking the kind of palace with towers and dungeons, and not the good kind?’
‘The good kind?’
‘You know, the kinky kind.’
‘No! There isn’t any kind of dungeon here—good, bad, or kinky.’
‘So it’s just a palace. Like, somewhere nice?’