The Terms of Their Affair

by Clare Connelly

  She had only a moment to pull herself together, but she did it. She hardened her heart and ignored the querulous first instinct to pull him into her arms and beg him to kiss her.

  “Yes?” She said with the same polite disconnect she might have employed to a new mailman.

  His pupils darkened. He stared at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. As though he’d woken from a dream and here she was, the woman he’d conjured out of perfection, to match his needs completely. His breathing was ragged, like he’d run a marathon.

  “What is it, Caradoc?” She prompted with the appearance of impatience. “I’m in the middle of something.”

  “It will wait,” he said with the arrogance she had, at one time, found desperately attractive. But Anton was his perfect foil, and having been lavished with his kindness, Finn now found she had little patience for Caradoc’s dictatorial ways.

  “Thank you for your opinion, but actually it won’t.” She narrowed her eyes. “Was there something specific you wanted before I slam the door in your face?”

  Anger was good. It meant she still had feelings for him. He’d mangled them beyond recognition but they were there. “I came to talk to you.” He braced an arm on the door frame, his foot just inside. His own anger was bubbling beneath the surface but even he knew he had no right to feel it.

  She pulled a face of disbelief. “I can’t think what about.”

  “Bullshit,” he laughed harshly, and the sound sent spirals of lust flaming through her. It was a warning.

  “I can’t do this,” she said honestly. “I don’t know why you’re here. But I need you to go.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Caradoc,” she spoke with a firmness he’d never heard from her. She was different. Something had clicked inside of her and she was loaded with a brave authority that made his heart almost stop. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. You’ve always said, all along, that what we shared came down to my choice. And I chose to leave you. I’m choosing now not to speak to you.”

  He swore again. “Don’t do this. Please.”

  The word was rusty for how infrequently he used it.

  Finn looked at him with consternation. What was he doing there? What did he want? She couldn’t peek into those rabbit holes. There was no good for her down either.

  She didn’t say goodbye. She couldn’t. Her voice was starting to thicken with tears. She pushed the door shut slowly, and when his foot stopped its progress, she sent him a pointed look and then walked away, down the hallway into her home. She turned into the kitchen and pressed her back against the door.

  Her meaning had been clear. Leave me alone. If you choose to come in you are doing something I don’t want. You’re not welcome. He swore and slammed his hand into the brick wall of her building.

  She snapped the last of the flowers into the arrangement with no pleasure in the task. Her eyes were veiled by tears.

  But the flowers looked good. She settled them on the table, and went back to the sofa. But she was too worked up to sleep now. Her hangover had passed; replaced by other darker, deeper feelings. She was restless. Desire was notched inside of her.

  She pulled on her running gear instinctively. The Karate studio she worked out at was only a two mile run. It would be the perfect antidote for how he’d made her feel.

  Her music was blaring in her ears when she pulled the apartment door open, demanding all of her attention, which is why she didn’t see him at first. Caradoc Moore, reclining indolently against the wall, his eyes fixed on her flat.

  She startled when she did see him, and he raised his hands in a gesture of apology.

  “You know,” she said snappily, her heart pounding, “This is bordering on weird now. Are you stalking me?”

  His lip lifted as he shook his head. “Believe it or not, I was trying to be respectful.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “You didn’t want to talk. I get that. But I need … I do need to speak with you.” He cleared his throat. “Please,” he said again, as though the word might hold magical sway over her.

  “So I don’t want to talk, yet you’re forcing me to, and you think that’s respectful?”

  “God, Finn, what do I have to do? I am standing here, five feet away, and all I want to do is hold you. And kiss you. And make love to you. I want to push you into your apartment and show you that everything is exactly the same between us now, as ever.” He clenched his hands by his side. “But instead I’m asking you to please … just talk to me.”

  “No, no, no and no,” she said simply, though her heart was racing so fast she thought it might actually cut from her chest and leap towards him. “I don’t want anything from you, least of all talk.”

  “You said you loved me,” he reminded her, trying another way to get through to her.

  “And you said you don’t believe in love,” she shrugged as though her heart wasn’t crumbling anew, then slipped her earphones back in. Metallica blared out at her. “I’m going for a run,” she shouted over the music. “Don’t be here when I get back.”

  And he wasn’t.

  She was gone several hours, running and then going through her Karate routines with her old Sensei. She got home and hoped against hope that he’d still be there. Why? Because she was sick, she thought huffily.

  But he wasn’t.

  A single, long-stemmed rose was placed across the thresh hold, and the sight of it broke her heart.

  Roses were for love, but there was no love between them.

  She picked it up and carried it inside, before dumping it straight into the bin. It was no worse than what he’d done. Actually, it was a lot better. She’d given him actual love and he’d trashed it. This was just a hollow gesture ten weeks too late.

  Despite her run, she couldn’t settle. Connie and Cliff came home, and she went through the motions of their usual dinnertime, but at midnight, she was still wide awake.

  She reached for her phone, planning to surf some news sites before drifting off, but she had a little imperious red circle on her emails calling her attention.

  Her finger tapped into it automatically and a single new email appeared. It was from Caradoc.

  Finn,

  You don’t want to talk, but I need you to know these things. Read this email and then decide if you truly don’t want to speak to me again.

  I have thought of you every day since you left. I am miserable without you. I crave you. All the time. Everything in my apartment reminds me of you. I smell you in my pillows.

  I don’t even have a photo of you, and yet I can see you in perfect clarity. Your image is burned into my brain.

  I have picked up my phone to call you many times, but I have been so ashamed by how we left things that I just couldn’t. I have no right to ask anything of you.

  Letting you go was the biggest mistake in my life.

  You said you loved me and I shut you down.

  You were right. I don’t believe in love. I never have. I don’t know if I ever will.

  But I believe in us. I believe in you, and me, and that what we have is beyond anything I’ve ever felt.

  I’m not perfect. You know that better than anyone.

  I’m asking you to be patient with me.

  I am yours, as you, I think, are mine.

  C.

  PS I read THE BFG – I laughed, and all the more so for imagining sharing it with you.

  She threw her phone against the wall in a rage of white-hot fury.

  He was the most unreasonable bastard she’d ever known.

  How dare he write so beautifully after the way he’d treated her?

  She had offered him everything and he’d told her, with a total lack of ceremony and concern, that he didn’t want that.

  And now?

  What had happened?

  What had changed?

  Ten weeks had passed, and in those ten weeks, she’d been more miserable than ever before. But she’d come to understand that dan
ger was inherent to her love of Caradoc.

  She couldn’t love him without knowing that he felt the same. And for all his sweet words, Finn was scared.

  Caradoc liked power and control, and she’d given him both unquestioningly.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  It took her a long time to fall asleep, and then, she slept fitfully. It was with a sense of deep gratitude that she saw morning breaking through the blackness of night and realised she was finally in a new day.

  But she waited in her room until Connie and Cliff had left, just staring at the ceiling as though it could heal her. She couldn’t speak to anyone. She was barely able to make sense of what she felt, let alone to put anything into words.

  When the apartment was empty, she made herself a coffee and cradled it in her hands, staring out at the bleak sky beyond. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away. She should speak to her dad and make a plan for how they’d spend it.

  Later.

  It would wait.

  She sipped her drink with only the faint electric whirring of the fridge for company.

  When the doorbell rang, she wasn’t surprised.

  She’d been expecting that Caradoc would follow up his email.

  She thought of her phone, squashed to the floor in her room with a flash of remorse as she moved to open the door.

  It wasn’t Caradoc, but it was someone sent by him. A man in a suit stood on the mat, holding a pale blue box. “Seraphina James? Sign here.”

  She looked at the box he held more closely and saw the name emblazoned on the front. Jewellery from Tiffany & Co? No way.

  “She’s not here,” Finn said with a shrug. “Sorry.”

  She shut the door in his face with a shudder and slid the bolt lock across for good measure.

  No more.

  She would not let him back in.

  She wouldn’t.

  * * *

  “I’m glad you decided to come to this thing after all,” Anton said softly.

  “Yeah, well, Connie and Cliff were getting pretty sick of me moping around in my pyjamas all day,” she said with a grimace.

  “How are you?”

  She shook her head. It had been ten days since Anton had brought her flowers. Ten days since Caradoc had reappeared in her life. And ten days of gifts that she’d turned away at the door each morning without fail.

  Beyond that, nothing. He was showing her that he was still there though, and yet he was, at least for Caradoc Moore, being patient. And Caradoc didn’t do patient.

  “Fine,” she lied credibly well. “And you?”

  He grinned. “Same as always.”

  He was reliable. Predictable. God, she wished she’d fallen in love with him instead of Caradoc.

  “What is this thing for, anyway?” She asked, taking in the usual crowd of over-paid Londoners and their glamorous finery.

  “It’s my sister’s charity,” he reminded her gently.

  Finn should have remembered that. She flushed guiltily. “Right, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I mentioned it a long time ago.” He sipped his champagne. “She gives me the job of inviting finance industry heavyweights though, so I’m somewhat obliged to attend.”

  And as soon as he said it, she knew.

  Her skin began to prickle with a sense of presentiment. Her eyes moved slowly, screening the guests with careful diligence.

  And there he was. A perfect, silver head in the midst of the tuxedoed room. Standing taller than most, and broader too. Her gut clenched and she reached for Anton’s hand.

  “Seraphina? What is it?”

  She couldn’t tell him. He’d been so good to her. He deserved better than to have more of her drama infiltrate his life. Especially at his sister’s event.

  “Nothing,” she lied convincingly. “I just wanted to say how pleased I am that you thought to invite me.”

  “I know a thing or two about heartbreak. I understand how it can knock you sideways.”

  Finn studied him thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I can imagine you ever being anything other than stable and happy.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’ve had my moments.” He lifted his eyes heavenward. “My rather disastrous youth was spent chasing a woman named Delphine as though my existence depended upon it.”

  “Delphine? That’s not unlike Seraphina,” she said with a wink.

  “True. But she was as unlike you as possible. Beautiful,”

  “Gee thanks,” Finn interjected.

  “I wasn’t finished,” he laughed. “Beautiful but vain. So vain it should have bored me silly. It didn’t though. It took me years to realise how vapid she was. How she adored having me at her disposal. I loved her, and again and again she made me miserable.”

  “What happened? How did you get over her?”

  “She married someone else,” he said pragmatically. “A rich Italian chap. Invited me to the wedding. And like a fool, I went.”

  “Oh, Anton.”

  “It was actually very helpful. I saw the way she looked at him, and I knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “She’d never looked at me like that. She’d never loved me. Not even a little bit.”

  Finn sipped her champagne, keeping her eyes carefully trained on a spot as far from Caradoc as possible.

  “And since then?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve dated. Until I met you, I never met anyone I thought I might feel that way about again.”

  “Oh, Anton,” her startled eyes flew to his, and he laughed.

  “Don’t look so terrified. I’m not saying I love you. Only that I met you and felt the possibilities of love and a future.” He sighed. “But I can tell from your reaction that you don’t feel that for me.”

  She swallowed. “I wish, believe me, I wish I did. If I loved you, I would spend my whole life hoping I could one day deserve a guy as great as you. I think you are just … amazing. But I really did fall in love, hard, with someone else.” Her eyes shifted betraying towards Caradoc and then jolted away when she saw his head turning in her direction. “I don’t want him. But I don’t think I want anyone else either.”

  Anton nodded sagely.

  “Just let it play out. How you feel now might change in the next week or two.”

  “In the spirit of honest confession, I should tell you that he’s here. Tonight.”

  “Who is?” Anton asked, confused. And then, as clarity dawned, “Oh! Your heartbreaker?”

  “Yes. But hush. I don’t want to make a big deal. He knows it’s over between us. I’m here to support you. A friend I care about, a lot.”

  “And a charity event you didn’t even remember,” he teased, mercifully taking his hint from her and returning the conversation to more relaxed ground. He stayed by her side for the rest of the night. At least, for as much as possible. But somewhere after his sister had spoken, he was absorbed by the crowd. Would-be donors were lining up to speak to him, and Seraphina knew she ought to give him space. And so she’d slipped away on the pretence of using the ladies room.

  Caradoc hadn’t been following her, though he’d been watching her all night. The ache in his gut had become so constant he was now used to it. He had been pulled into conversation with an old college buddy when she’d passed, so lost in thought that she hadn’t even seen him.

  It worsened his mood. He watched her slip past the hallway to the amenities and move instead to the small doorway that led to the reception area.

  Better.

  “Finn.”

  She froze, and then spun around, her face pale beneath her make up.

  “Caradoc.”

  She tilted her chin at a defiant angle that made him want to kiss her, but her eyes were staring daggers.

  “What do you want me to say to you?” He groaned. “You are fighting me for no reason.”

  She shook her head, and stared past him at a dramatic painting on the far wall. “I want you to leave me alone. I’ve worked so hard to get over you, and you send
ing stupid presents to me every day doesn’t help.”

  “I don’t want you to get over me,” he said throatily. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to move on while I’m right here, then that’s up to you. But I’m not going anywhere, honey. I’m not.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she ground out. “You live in Manhattan.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking about? The logistics of where I live?” He sobered at her drawn expression. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s not right to joke. I only mean … Finn … I will live anywhere you want to. I will be here, in London, if that’s what it takes. I need you in my life.”

  “Stop.” Her voice was louder than she’d intended. She lowered it with effort. “You like to win. You’ve told me that. You’ve probably never played for something and lost. I’m not going to be another business you acquire. A possession you need. I’m a person. A real life flesh and blood woman. And you hurt me.” She snapped her eyes back to him. “You hurt me. You … you made me feel as though …”

  “I know.” He swallowed. “I was wrong. I hadn’t expected … I came back and you were packed. You were saying things that I couldn’t comprehend and I handled it … poorly. This has nothing to do with me wanting to acquire you. I want to be with you. End of.”

  “No.” She bit down on her lip. “You don’t. You had me. You had me in your life, and you treated me like … all you wanted was sex. And I’ll admit it was great. But you didn’t try to get to know me. You worked so much I hardly saw you.”

  “That isn’t true,” he rejected immediately. “I took days off to be with you. My job is demanding, but I spent as much time with you as I could.”

  Finn rolled her eyes. She tamped down on the desire to rebut that point. “None of that matters now. It’s just a whole heap of little details that add up to the one incontrovertible fact that we make no sense. We never did.”

  “Oh, but this guy does?” He jerked his thumb angrily towards the ballroom. “He’s better for you than I was?”

  Her cheeks flushed.

  “He’s just a friend,” she said honestly.

  Caradoc arched a brow. “Do you make a habit of kissing your friends in full view of a gallery of press?”