Her laugh is even more manic. ‘You just appeared in my boardroom, summoned by the board of my company, to effectively put me in my place, and still have the gall to tell me to stop behaving like a child when that’s exactly how I’m being treated.’
I’m listening to her rant, I am, but seriously, the way her skin flushes and her lips move, that luscious red lipstick marrying so well with the flush to her cheeks and the over-bright blue gaze...it’s hard, real hard, to focus on responding.
Not in a way that would improve matters, at any rate.
I take a deep breath, eye the passers-by that I sense are starting to hover at our little scene and give her a grim nod.
‘I know we met under unusual circumstances...’
I watch her cheeks colour even further; her lashes flicker and her mouth opens as though she would say something but nothing comes out, other than the smallest of squeaks, and the foolish urge to kiss her intensifies.
I try and breathe through it, watch as a lock of her blonde hair makes a bid for freedom across her cheek and feel my fingers itch with the need to brush it behind her ear...
‘It’s funny you mention those circumstances—’ she pierces my reverie with a scowl ‘—because I find it a huge coincidence that you were also in the club that night. And when I say huge, I mean it was no coincidence at all. Was it?’
Swallow. ‘No.’
She startles, flustered. She clearly expected me to lie or to delay the truth at least.
‘I went to see if the rumours about you were real.’
‘The rumours?’
I feel the space around us closing in, too many people, too many ears. I don’t want to air my would-be client’s dirty laundry in a bustling city street.
‘Can we do this somewhere private?’
‘What?’ She fists her free hand on her hip. ‘So I can give you another show?’
I admire her strength, her candour, but it really doesn’t help us get where we need to be—on the same page, starting afresh.
And I really don’t need the very vivid reminder of the last show she put on for me either.
‘You know that’s not what I mean. I just want to clear the air where we can’t be overheard and...apologise.’
She cocks her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. ‘You’re going to apologise?’
‘Is that so hard to believe?’
Nothing. No response, just a cool stare.
‘Look, there’s a bar not far from here...’ I rake my fingers through my hair as her brows twitch at the suggestion. ‘If you’ll just give me the opportunity to apologise and explain, hopefully we can put this behind us.’
‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up.’
She looks past me now, chewing the inside of her cheek if I’m not mistaken, and I wait. And wait.
The rain is easing, her expression not so much.
‘No, not the pub.’ Her eyes flit to mine. ‘My place is around the corner; we can take this there.’
‘Your place?’ I don’t want to come across as surprised as I feel, but hell, it’s obvious. ‘I’m not sure... I don’t think...’
Now her eyes return and stay, their depths sparkling with what looks very much like amusement. ‘Scared I’m going to eat you alive, Valentine?’
She does a little claw action with her free hand, sound effects to boot. Fuck. I loosen my tie.
‘Jesus, don’t worry.’ She outright laughs now. ‘You’re far too young for me...and, if I’m honest, I’ve a feeling I’d break you.’
I swallow and wish I’d forgone the tie altogether this morning. This really isn’t going the way I want it to. Not even close. Just like the night at DareDevils, she almost has me on the run again.
‘Look, Valentine.’ Her sharp prompt has my pulse jumping. ‘Do you want to talk about this or not?’
‘Yes.’ It’s abrupt, to the point. That’s all I want to do. Talk about it, put it behind us. No more innuendo, suggestion, flirtation or whatever the hell this is.
‘Then we do it in the privacy of my own home.’
She starts to move but I’m rooted. A private booth in a pub is still a public place; it would be easy to keep a lid on...on this. It would be safe, secure, known.
But her home...?
Olivia
I tell myself I don’t care if he follows.
I tell myself it’s probably better if he doesn’t. I’m teetering on the edge of some emotional blowout and I’m not sure I want him witnessing it. No matter the role he’s played in the way I feel.
I’m too fragile. It would be better to leave it a day or two, give myself time to think through the board’s request to effectively ‘play nice’ with him and then face off our encounter four weeks ago.
My stomach rolls as I once again replay all he bore witness to during our accidental meet-up. Only it was no accident... He was there to spy on me.
My chest tightens, the bloom of anger threatening to set my skin ablaze all over again, and I grit my teeth, keep on walking. At least the anger beats the feeling of humiliation though.
I don’t turn around and he doesn’t attempt to walk in step with me and seek shelter under the umbrella again.
Good. Let him get soaked. It’s no more than he deserves.
I inwardly cringe at my petty behaviour. But is it petty? When all’s said and done, don’t I have a right to feel and act like this?
I lead the way in silence, hoping I can get a grip on my emotions before we reach my home, but I’m no calmer, no more in control as I push open the gate to my small front garden. I physically have to stop myself from letting it swing back on him, his taunt, ‘Will you stop behaving like a child...?’ fresh in my ears.
‘Thank you.’
I don’t respond as I walk down the path, leaving him to close the gate. I’m too busy telling myself this is a bad idea. But it beats doing it
