‘And I have. But you’re in my office. You sought me out.’
‘Because of these,’ she says, throwing out her hand as she steps backwards, creating distance between us. I don’t want her to go too far away, so I perch myself on the edge of my desk.
‘The shopping?’
‘The shopping you bought.’
‘Did I? How can you tell?’
‘Because they’re all in my size—’
‘I am well acquainted with the shape of you.’ My eyes wander and deliberately linger, a bloom of colour rising high on her cheeks in response. ‘But I’m sure there are other girls in Monaco with similar figures to you.’ Lies. All lies. There isn’t another in the world built for my hands. Of that, I’m sure.
‘And I guess you’d know,’ she retorts. ‘But the watch is the exact same Piaget as I was looking at online before . . . before . . .’
‘Before you told me to stay away?’
Her hand slices through the air. ‘Stop. Just admit you bought these things for me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I rub my jaw rather pensively because tactics without strategy are just another word for defeat. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been shopping lately.’
‘The last time you showered me in gifts was because you’d lied to me then, too.’
Denial appears on my tongue immediately, but I swallow it back. The situations aren’t the same, despite her insinuations. I’m not in the habit of buying gifts for people I lie to or manipulate. If I were, my business rivals would be decked out in diamonds and furs. I am, however, manipulating her. But it sounds much worse than it is.
‘Okay, so maybe you didn’t buy them personally, but you ordered them, just like before, only you used the concierge system.’ She leans forward, brandishing a forefinger I’d like to bite, her eyes narrowing to slits more. ‘I know you did.’
‘Remind me of the concierge motto again?’
‘Discretion is everything,’ she recites unenthusiastically, almost rolling her eyes.
‘So, how can you possibly know if the concierge department guarantees privacy?’ Her eyes are all pupil as I push up from the desk, but she doesn’t answer, pursing her lips instead. ‘Unless there’s something you’d like to tell me.’ Which, as I push my hand into my pockets and saunter past her, I know there is. I’m not quite sure if it’s endearing or maddening that she’d protect one of her colleagues because, yes, the shopping is mine, and her colleague, Charles, was charged with keeping my part of the deal secret. Which I knew he would be unable to. ‘Well?’ I ask, swinging around to face her.
‘I know these were to be delivered to me because I saw my name on the trolley.’
‘Maybe there’s more than one Rose Ryan in Monaco. Who knows?’ If there is, I’ll bet my fortune she won’t be as beautiful.
‘Goddammit, Remy!’ she suddenly yells, the words almost exploding from her mouth. ‘Why are you being such a pain? I told you to stay away from me—’
‘And I have done as you asked.’
‘You can’t buy me.’
‘I know. Even I don’t have enough money to cover your worth.’
Brushing my words aside, she carries on. ‘You ordered all that stuff for me. You gave Charles carte blanche to buy anything he thought I’d like or want or need.’
‘Not the watch, or the underwear.’ Definitely not the underwear. ‘Or the shoes. Those I ordered myself. He just had to collect them.’
‘I knew it! I knew you were responsible,’ she yells, throwing up her arms as she appeals to the ceiling for deliverance. ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’
Yes, I do. And I think it’s all going according to plan, though I reply instead, ‘Something tells me you’re about to enlighten me.’ She starts, suddenly realising I’ve stepped into her space and steps backwards, holding her hand up as though to ward me off.
‘You set this up. You purposely told Charles to buy stuff for me from you. And in doing so, you swore the most indiscreet member of the concierge team to secrecy, which is about as effective as using a colander to hold water.’
‘I’m not sure what you’re most annoyed about. That I bought you gifts or that Charles is the conduit.’
‘I’m not annoyed—I’m angry—apocalyptically angry! Still! Again. Because the man can’t keep a secret. By the end of today, the whole of Wolf Industries will know what has happened between us.’
‘You mean they’ll know I love you?’
‘What?’
‘They’ll know I’ve lost my mind over you.’ I almost chuckle as she realises I’ve manoeuvred her against my desk. ‘We’re almost where we started, Rose.’ She was like an angel the first time I set eyes on her, even in that shapeless coat in the harsh hospital lights, and she has only become more beautiful. I want to feel her blossom under me again, lush and ripe. Watch her attention turn inward, her eyes unfocussed as I drive her to the place where she grips my shoulders at the same time as she lets go.