“Thanks,” she murmured, her eyes unknowingly sensual as they glowed up at his. The champagne was excellent. Cool and crisp. “There are so many people here for such a bleak night.”
His grin was pure Hollywood dishevelment. “Free food. Open bar. The chance of getting snapped in the society pages. That’d draw even the most anti-social from the woodwork.”
“I don’t know if it can be called free when the tickets cost an arm and a leg,” she pointed out, slanting a gaze through the room. Though he’d certainly been right about the photography. There were paparazzi outside, and several photojournalists inside. She’d been speaking to one earlier who worked at Hello! magazine.
“Oh, that all happens behind the scenes. It’s free if no money changes hands on the night.” And speaking of hands, he took that opportunity to put one of his around her waist. His fingers on her side were strong, but they didn’t send the pulse of awareness throbbing through her as a single touch from Caradoc had.
Anton had been patient with her. Four dates over three weeks and they’d done little more than kiss. It should have been another point in his favour. He was not demanding. He was respectful. But Finn couldn’t help but dream longingly of Caradoc who had decided, instantly, that he’d wanted her, and issued her with the insane ultimatum that had led to their relationship.
Only Caradoc was gone and she wanted to forget him, so she moved her body closer to Anton’s, until their sides were separated by only a hair’s breadth.
“Have you had a good week?” His breath was warm against her temple. He smelled nice. Like a famous cologne she couldn’t quite pick. It was off the shelf though. She was assailed with the strongest memory then of how Caradoc had always smelled like the outdoors, and almost groaned.
“Busy, but good.”
“I should tell you, I think it’s incredibly sexy that you’re a chauffeur.”
She laughed. “You do?”
“Hell, yes.”
Her frown was confused. “Why?”
“You’re a woman in uniform.”
“Not, I think, the kind of uniform men’s fantasies are written about.”
Anton shook his head. Finn was the kind of woman men would fantasise about regardless of what she wore.
“How was your week?” She changed the subject gratefully. For all she appreciated his patience, she didn’t want to come on too strong. She knew she had to put Caradoc out of her mind. And that eventually, one day, she’d welcome someone else to her bed. But she couldn’t even think about it yet. He had stamped himself on her, and she felt as though she would be erasing something special and beautiful to be with someone else.
Ten weeks.
Ten weeks since that morning she’d tasted him and he’d almost lost complete control.
Ten weeks without her in his life, and she could only imagine that he’d been far from celibate.
Had he slept with them in his apartment? Had they eaten breakfast at the bar in the kitchen she’d liked to read the paper at? Had they sipped red wine watching the lights twinkling beneath them?
Anton was speaking, but Finn’s eyes were glazed.
Caradoc was no longer, in any way, a part of her life.
He never would be again.
It was that moment that crystallized it for her. For ten weeks, she’d been thinking about him as though he was just a tape on pause; a film she could resume when she had the fortitude. But there was no going back. He was gone forever, and what they’d shared had meant so little to him that he’d been undoubtedly able to replace it by now.
“Anton.” She interrupted him, and her voice had a quiet resolution to it. “Can we get out of here?”
“Yeah, absolutely, of course,” he nodded, his eyes roaming her face. “Are you feeling well?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I want to … I want to see something.” She drained her champagne and then linked her fingers with his. “Come on.”
Anton though was not a man to let passion impede precision, and he stalled by the doors to collect their coats from the cloak room. He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked into the cold night air.
“What did you want to see, Seraphina?” She was glad he always used her full name. Finn was now synonymous with Caradoc.
She stopped walking so that she could look up at him thoughtfully. He was a little taller than her and she had to stand on her tiptoes to mesh their lips. And she felt it. The first stirrings of attraction. It could have been fuelled by the three quick glasses of champagne she’d enjoyed, but she wasn’t going to question it.
“Let’s go back to your place.”
He put his hands on her arms, and stared down at her. “Are you sure it’s what you want?”
“Yes. But let’s go before I lose my nerve.”
His laugh was coarse. His car appeared almost instantly – another hallmark of the wealthy. Finn knew that the driver would have been parked nearby, waiting for the signal, or a sign of his boss.
They slid into the backseat of the luxury vehicle, and though Finn should have known better, she continued their kiss. If she didn’t keep going, she knew she would back out.
She couldn’t think about Caradoc. She wanted her body to sing for another man. She wanted to feel something for someone that wasn’t damned Caradoc. She’d had sex with guys before him. She would do so again now.
Anton lived in a luxurious three-story townhouse in Belgravia. It took no time at all for the car to arrive there, and they broke the kiss only until they were inside his downstairs lounge.
His hands fumbled with the straps of her dress and she groaned impatiently before flicking them down. The dress fell lower, and she silently begged him to touch her breasts. To flick her nipples and roll them with his tongue.
But he kissed her instead, gently, his hands now still around her back.
NO, no, no! She was mentally screaming, pushing at his shirt and wanting him with an intensity that was born out of determination rather than lust. She needed now to feel another man, to erase the power Caradoc had over.
“Please, Anton,” she begged, her words thick with need of a different sort. It was a need driven by grief.
He laughed softly. “What’s your rush, Seraphina?”
Her rush? Was he kidding? Didn’t he want this?
“Don’t get me wrong,” he clarified immediately. “This is … something I’ve been hoping for. But we’ve got all night. And many nights after this. You’re acting a little … out of character.”
She blinked, but tears were stinging her eyes. Fuck. She nodded and put a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut again. “I … you’re right. You’re totally right.” She pulled her dress back into place, her eyes now unable to meet his.
“Hey,” he chided softly, putting a finger under her chin. “You’re shaking like a leaf.” Worry was the predominant emotion in his face as he stared down at her. He padded a finger over her mouth and then strode to the bar in the corner. He poured a measure of scotch and brought it back to her.
She understood the gesture. It could help redress moments of stress. But it smelled so strongly of the drink Caradoc had favoured that her insides squirmed. She threw it back in one measure. Stars formed behind her eyes. “That’s strong.”
He nodded, and put a consoling arm around her shoulders. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t … you’ll hate me.”
“I promise, I can’t hate you. I’m incapable of it. You’re too lovely.”
“No, I’m not,” she contradicted with self-directed anger. “God, Anton, I’m not lovely, I’m a mess.”
He studied her with a small smile. She was perfect, as always, to look at. But her mental state was upset. He understood that she was distressed and he wanted to help.
“Tell me, Seraphina.”
She bit down on her lip, the scotch glass cradled in her hands. They were still shaking. He moved to crouch in front of her.
Finn breathed softly. “I don’t t
hink … I … I broke up with a guy. A little while ago. And I think I’m still … I don’t know.” She sobbed. “I want to move on. I want to forget him. But … he’s just always there. Right in my mind where he shouldn’t be.”
Anton nodded slowly. “You can’t rush these things. Breaking up is hard.”
“It wasn’t even like that though. It wasn’t serious. It’s not like we were together that long either. But I …”
“You loved him,” he said simply, and she nodded, her green eyes enormous in her face.
“I did. It was stupid. I can see now that he’s an arrogant, cocky, undeserving prick. But yeah. I loved him.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Anton. I thought that if I met someone like you I could get over him faster.”
“That makes sense,” he assured her.
She sobbed again. “You’re being too nice about this! God, why are you so sweet?”
“Hey,” he kissed her gently. “You’re sweet too. You just need time.” He put a hand on her knee and then stood up. “I really like you, Seraphina. I want to get to know you better. I would like nothing more than to continue our relationship. But we can’t, in good conscience, until you’ve sorted out your feelings for your ex.”
Finn stood jerkily and opened her mouth to speak but he put a finger over her lips. “Don’t apologise again. You’ve done nothing wrong. But it would have been wrong of me to take advantage of you tonight. No matter how much I wanted to. Do you understand that?”
Her groan was soft. He was everything she should have wanted in a man. The polar opposite to Caradoc, Anton was thoughtful and kind, polite and worthy.
“You’re a really great guy.”
“Ahhh,” he clasped his hands to his chest in a gesture of mock pain. “Don’t speak as though this is goodbye. I don’t want it to be.” He kissed her temple gently. “Take all the time you need.”
She nodded, but she was bleak. She knew that no time would get Caradoc out of her system. He was her other half. He didn’t want her, but she would always love him.
“I’ll get a cab.”
“Nonsense. Jason will drive you home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Please. It’s no trouble.”
And because she felt like she was about to begin crying in earnest, she nodded and thanked him, apologised again, and then slipped out into the cold night air.
Her reality was a freaking mess, but she had to face it.
* * *
“What is it, Alexi? You’re hovering like a damn drone.”
His assistant had her hair up in a bun today, and she wore a steel grey suit that flattered the colour of her eyes, but Caradoc didn’t see these things. He rarely noticed anything about Alexi except her efficiency.
Which was why her current state of uncertainty was infuriating him.
“For fuck’s sake. What?” He tossed his pen down and gave her the full force of his attention.
His bad mood wasn’t her fault. And he wasn’t sure he could technically refer to it as a ‘mood’ given that he’d been feeling furious for months.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Your job is to interrupt me when something’s important. So? Spit it out.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t even know if this is important.”
“Alexi Wild-Smyth, I’m this close to actually losing my patience altogether.” His eyes narrowed as he saw that she was holding a computer printout in her hands. “What’s on that?”
“It’s not …” She squeezed her eyes shut and her laugh was short and apologetic. “God, it’s none of my business, really, but I just … I wondered if you’d want to see this.” And she tossed the paper down in front of him as though it was now burning her fingers.
He scanned the headline, and the grainy pictures got a cursory look. “So? It’s some bank’s Christmas fundraiser. I don’t go to those if I can avoid it.”
“I know that,” she pursed her lips then jabbed her manicured finger down at the page. At one image in particular. “This just came up online. I was checking the news websites and … I gather this event is going on now.”
And the most fierce, sharp, throbbing ache spread from the pit of his stomach through his body.
How hadn’t he recognised her immediately? Her hair had been reduced to a motley shade of red, and her face was obscured by the man she was kissing, but God, it was Seraphina James, her arms wrapped around another man’s neck, her body pressed to his.
“Fuck,” he swore loudly and pushed back from his chair. “Get my plane ready. I’m going to London.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’m never drinking again.”
Connie eyed her sympathetically. “Have this. It’ll help.”
“I think it’s going to take more than Berocca.”
“Trust me. After this, you shower and then I’ll make you a banana smoothie.”
Finn drank the Berocca and felt her insides heave. “It was the Scotch that did it,” she explained. “Champagne I can manage, but Scotch ...”
“And all on a school night, while I was grading boring papers,” Connie said with a laugh.
“Yeah, so glamorous.” She winced as her head made another complaint known.
“Okay, go shower. You’ll feel better. It’ll pass.”
And they both knew that Connie wasn’t talking about the hangover. Finn was engaged in a state of depression, and the only thing that would help was putting one foot in front of the other, day after day, until she began to feel more like herself again.
The water did soothe her; and so too did drying her hair properly and putting on makeup as though she was going to work. She wasn’t. She had begun accepting fewer and fewer assignments in recent weeks.
She dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a green sweater then padded back into the kitchen. Connie slid a glass across the counter. “Banana, milk, and my nana’s secret ingredient. I have to go.” Connie frowned. “You’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Finn promised, her smile far from genuine. She felt like she was about to start crying again.
“I’m going to call you at lunch.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Yes I do. You’re my best friend. I think you’ll see it’s in the fine print of our contract.” When Finn opened her mouth to object, Connie forestalled her. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
Finn nodded bleakly.
“Take it easy.” She kissed Finn’s cheek and then scooped up her bag and a heap of papers.
Taking it easy was something Finn had become very good at. With fewer jobs on her schedule, she’d dug deep down her list of ‘to-read’ books. She snuggled into the arm chair, and placed the banana concoction beside her.
She had read three chapters when her phone pinged. She flicked it open and smiled to see that she had a new email from Madison. Strangely, given the relationship and the way in which they’d met, Finn no longer thought of Caradoc when she heard from the young girl. Maddie had taken to reading with the same zest as Finn. She had a voracious, obsessive interest in novels, and Finn took great pleasure in moulding her tastes. She read the latest missive – a discussion of Elizabeth Bennett’s suffering – with now-rare delight and tapped out a quick reply, before dipping back into her own novel.
Two more chapters passed and her eyes were feeling heavy. She was contemplating relocating to the sofa to have a proper nap when the door buzzed.
Connie sometimes had deliveries of bulk art supplies delivered to their flat. It was more reliable than sending them to the school. With a small groan as her head began to pound once more, she moved through the flat.
“You!” She exclaimed, when she pulled the door inward and saw a suited Anton standing just beyond. He had the most enormous bunch of flowers in his hands – an arrangement of lilies and hydrangeas stunningly put together. “You and your bloody Scotch,” she said with a lift of her brows, playfully punching his arm. “Come in.”
“Scotch? I don’t think I ever will.”
“Perhaps not. It’s not important.”
Finn bit down on her lip, feeling a sense of remorse at how she’d behaved the night before.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said softly. “You were really upset. I’ve been … worried.”
Another tick in the ‘perfect guy’ column. “I’m fine,” she promised, her smile lopsided. “I will be, anyway.” She found a vase beneath the sink and rinsed it, then balanced the flowers in it temporarily. They would need to have their stems cut and the paper removed; she’d enjoy doing that later. Not at that moment.
“Good.” He reached over and pressed his palm into her cheek. “And you’ll call me if you want to catch up.”
“Yeah, of course.” She captured his hand in hers and pulled it down in front of her. “Another time, if I’d met you, I would have thought all my dreams had come true.’
“A victim of timing and circumstance then,” he groaned dramatically, earning a laugh from Finn.
“Something like that.”
She saw him to the door, and kissed him on both cheeks as he left, before turning back to give the flowers her attention.
Something about seeing Anton had cheered her. He was a kind person. And while she didn’t think she harboured romantic feelings for him, she hoped they might become friends. She liked spending time with him.
The phrase jarred in her mind.
It was how Caradoc had described what he felt for her. Such a lukewarm sentiment was appropriate for how she felt about Anton. But Caradoc?
She snapped the stems angrily as she stuffed them in the vase, her brief good mood evaporating completely.
She hadn’t finished the last flower when the doorbell rang again. She swore softly and stalked down the hallway, wrenching it inwards in frustration.
Time stood still.
Nature silenced.
The world imploded.
Caradoc.
Those eyes of his bore into her, his cheekbones were slashed with colour, as they had been after the depths of passion had driven him into a new universe.
The Terms of Their Affair Page 14
