‘Sure.’
She nodded then composed herself for a moment over the keys. She started to play, and when the music required it, she began to sing.
When I’m alone, I want to feel you
When we’re together, I don’t want it
You make me hate cos you do
Togetherness, what’s that shit?
Owner of my heart
Keeper of my secrets
They can’t make us part
My life, you complete it
You say you love me, I hate you
You like fish, I hate that
What were you? What did I do?
I say this and you say ‘dat’
Owner of my heart
Keeper of my secrets
They can’t make us part
My life, you complete it
You destroyed my faith in us
You gave me all and nothing
Trust ripped up and torn apart cos
You’re actually a cretin
She played the final note. She shook her head. The verse and chorus were completely at odds. She’d thought about Juan, and anger had raged inside her at his betrayal, but then something lighter, something warmer had filled her up. The song was solid but… she hated it. She pulled down the lid of the piano with a crash.
‘It isn’t very good. I tried to write something good, and all I could think about was that horrible, cheating, lying… Rockweiler.’ Autumn moved across the room toward Nathan.
‘Did you make that up in half an hour?’ Nathan asked as he looked at her.
She sat down in the chair and took hold of the bottle of wine. ‘Yes, well, it’s what I do.’ She shrugged.
‘It’s in four-four time,’ Nathan remarked.
‘Yes?’
‘I thought you had to get to five.’
‘It isn’t funny!’
‘I was being serious.’
‘I add in a breath.’
She felt her cheeks heat up at her admission. He had a way of making her feel even more insecure than she usually did. Their worlds were poles apart. She didn’t understand his, and he couldn’t possibly understand hers. How on earth were they going to convince a room full of music moguls and the world’s press that they were having a relationship?
She went to pick her wine up from the table next to her chair, but it caught the arm, fell, and landed in her lap. She shrieked and leaped up as it trickled down the front of her dress and onto her bare legs.
‘Sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m such an idiot. I’ll get something for it. What should I use to clean it up?’ she asked, looking to him for guidance.
‘Leave it.’ He picked the glass up from the floor and righted it on the table. Without unfastening the buttons, he pulled the cotton shirt he was wearing, up and over his head. He moved toward her and began to dry the wine on her dress, moving down her front and onto her wet legs.
‘I can do it. If you give me the shirt, I can do it,’ Autumn said. She was stuck between two movements, half of her wanted to stand still, the other part of her thought hopping from foot to foot was the appropriate action. She stubbed her toe on the chair and held steady as she looked at him.
His bare-chested form was so different to the odd, dark figure he cut in his cheap suit. He was honed in every area, but not sculpted like an athlete. He looked toned through hard work, perhaps because of what he did.
He finished drying her then handed her the shirt. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve made this difficult for you,’ he spoke. His tone was soft. He’d said the words in nothing more than a whisper.
She swallowed and looked up at him, clutching his shirt to her and feeling for one of the buttons.
‘I’m on your side, Autumn. Don’t forget that.’
He was so close. If she unfurled her fingers from his shirt, she could touch the skin on his chest. He reached out and cupped her face with one hand. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and let the strong fingers support her head. Why was he touching her like that? Why wasn’t she objecting to him touching her like that?
Then he dropped his hand. Her head jerked upwards with a start.
‘There. Pretending we’re in love tomorrow night’s going to be a piece of piss,’ he declared with a triumphant laugh.
She forced a laugh from her chest, but it made her cough, and she had to hide her face in his shirt. The scent of musk and something she couldn’t quite put a name to filled her nostrils, and she had to clear her throat. She’d almost dropped her guard, let him see who she was when she wasn’t on display. Why would she do that?
Suddenly, she was very angry with him. Who did he think he was, being nice then humiliating her? And angry with herself, too. Why had she expected his show of compassion to be sincere?
‘Don’t touch me again unless…’ she began in a hiss. She could feel the heat in her cheeks setting light to her skin.
She threw the shirt at him and he caught it.
‘Unless?’
‘Just don’t do it again. Ever,’ she ordered then swept toward the stairs and up out of the basement.
*
He finished his glass of wine and looked at his watch. It was probably time to check over the grounds before calling Jazz and Teo then turning in. He heard a door slam and could imagine Autumn throwing herself on her bed in a diva-esque flounce.
She was stuck up and self-obsessed, an anorexic with a need to count random objects. But she was also vulnerable and damaged and very, very beautiful. He’d meant that when he’d said it.
Fourteen
Autumn had gone to bed furious and woken up still angered by his treatment of her. She’d never trusted him, and now she trusted him even less, if that was possible.
She took a long shower, tried to find something suitable in the wardrobe for her to wear to the party that night, then dressed in another stylish yet cheap sundress, and counted the gulls on the beach outside her window.
Only then did she venture from her room. Nathan’s
