‘It’s a great song, Maya.’ He tosses the remote onto a sofa. ‘But I can’t listen to it again.’
Now the room’s silent, my attention returns to the flowers.
He notices.
‘What’s the matter?’
Seriously? After tracking my every movement for the past few weeks, I’m surprised he needs to ask.
‘Roses,’ I say glumly, and even though I don’t want to poison the moment, I have no choice. ‘Boyd sent me roses. Lots of them.’
‘I know.’ He runs a hand down my arm. ‘I wanted to stop it, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.’
‘So why …’
‘Why have I filled the penthouse suite of a hotel with them?’
I nod.
‘Because I got a good deal.’
‘Dan.’ I prod him lightly.
‘Okay.’ He tips his head forward. ‘Because they’re the classic flower of love and romance … from me to you.’
Floundering in confusion, I wander round the room, taking in the floral chaos. Roses belong to Boyd, and Dan knows that. If he wanted me to melt in his arms with no discussion, then he should have sourced a vanload of sweet peas … not roses.
‘Why should he own them?’ he presses on, as if he’s heard my thoughts. ‘Why should a rose make you think of that piece of shit?’
His hands come to my shoulders. He pivots me round to face him, cupping my cheeks in his palms.
‘I’m taking control, taking them back, making them ours,’ he explains, deadly serious now. ‘I don’t want you thinking of him when you see a rose. It’s not fair on the roses.’ He keeps my face in his hands, his eyes piercing me right to the soul. ‘I want you thinking of this, of you and me, of how much we love each other.’
My lungs have gone again, the sheer weight of his love causing them to malfunction on a grand scale. I can barely breathe. But he’s completely right, and I’m a fool for thinking he was being ignorant. We need to reclaim the roses.
‘Are you okay with that?’ he asks. ‘Because if you’re not, they’ll go straight out of the window.’
Wrestling my lungs back under control, I spend a moment entertaining a delicious image: the unsuspecting, well-heeled people of the Upper East Side showered by roses from a hotel window. I can’t help but smile.
‘I’m alright with that,’ I confirm.
‘Good. Time for breakfast then.’
He motions to the dining table. Over by the window, it’s been laid out ready with delicate china, expensive cutlery, a teapot, a coffee pot and a sprinkling of roses. At the centre of it all, a silver platter glimmers in the morning light, the domed lid still in place.
‘I hope you didn’t use room service. You’re not supposed to be here.’
He shakes his head.
‘Gordon’s family own this hotel. He fixed up all the meals. They’re being left in the lobby. When we’re done, we leave the dishes out there to be collected. I’m flying under the radar.’
‘You can’t even trust the hotel staff?’
‘Can’t trust anybody. The roses were dumped out there too. It took me bloody ages to sort them out.’
Grabbing hold of my hand, he guides me towards the dining table, pulling out a chair for me before he takes his place opposite.
‘Dig in.’
While he pours a cup of tea for me and a coffee for himself, I decide it’s time to bring us both back down to Earth. We seem to have slipped off into la-la land, but the roses have kicked my brain into action, reminding me there’s a huge threat hanging over us.
‘This is all wonderful, but what about Boyd?’ I ask. This is the second time I’ve infected the room with his name. ‘Are you going to find him?’
‘We’re working on it. He’ll be dealt with soon enough.’
‘Dealt with?’
‘Dealt with,’ he repeats definitively.
There’s something about the ice in his eyes that leaves me feeling distinctly uneasy. Aware that I’m being watched, I pick up my teacup and take a sip. My thoughts are whirling, and I’m pretty sure he can see it in my face. He promised he wouldn’t go too far, but now that Boyd’s showed the true depths of his depravity, I’m wondering if it’s a case of second thoughts.
‘Those people Bill was talking about …’ I begin.
‘Aren’t particularly nice. But then again, neither is Boyd. Drink your tea.’
I put down my cup. I’m not finished with this. Not yet.
‘You said you wouldn’t have him …’ Unable to say the word, I trail into silence.
‘Killed?’ he asks bluntly.
We stare at each other for a few seconds. He’s asking for my blessing. I’m sure of it. And after what Boyd’s done, I shouldn’t be surprised. If I were hard enough, I’d simply leave Dan to get on with whatever he’s planning. But I’m not hard enough. I couldn’t live with a man’s death on my conscience. Even a man like Boyd. I shake my head, just a little.
‘It’s okay,’ he says quietly. ‘He’ll be warned off. That’s all.’
‘Warned off?’
‘Words won’t do the job, Maya. You know that.’
I tap the side of my cup and stare at a rose.
‘I won’t be personally involved. It’s not a good idea. But we need to let him know we mean business.’
‘Fine.’
When I glance up again, he’s already focussed back on me. We exchange a long, silent look of understanding across the table before he finally speaks again.
‘So,
