‘I know,’ she said, forcing herself not to flinch from the force of his words. A year ago they would have meant everything to her. Now they filled her with dread.
‘I can’t live without you.’
‘You don’t have to,’ she said, leaning in to kiss him because she couldn’t bear the intensity in his eyes any longer.
He eventually pulled away with a reluctant sigh. ‘I want nothing more than to fuck you right now, here in the car, but we don’t want to mess up your dress.’
She affected a regretful smile as she smoothed her hair.
‘But later ...’ he said.
Lisa turned away and stared unseeingly out the window. It was going to be a long night.
After a short journey, Andrew pulled up in front of a large, hacienda-style house, with a white render facade, metal grillwork at the windows and a red-tiled mission-style roof. It was a striking building, and Lisa presumed Grayson Fielding had designed it himself. As they walked up the short drive, she immediately felt intimidated by the imposing surroundings, the stylish sophistication of the house doing nothing to dispel her nerves. She fought the urge to turn and run as they stood on the doorstep and Mark rang the bell.
She felt more out of her depth than ever when the door was opened by a very chic and stunningly beautiful woman. Tall and slender with caramel-coloured skin and a thick mane of glossy black hair that ran in a silky river halfway down her back, she looked like she had stepped straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine. This must be Isabel, Lisa decided – she could see why Mark would admire her so much. Her make-up was perfect, her skin flawless, and her silver sequinned dress was understated and elegant. Lisa immediately felt dowdy in comparison. No amount of grooming and pampering could make her a match for this goddess.
‘Hello, Mark. And you must be Lisa.’ She spoke with a slight accent that Lisa guessed was Spanish or Latin American. ‘Come in.’
Lisa was instantly reassured by the genuine warmth of Isabel’s smile as she ushered them inside, and she felt herself relax a little as they stepped into a tiled, double height entrance hall.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Mark.’ Isabel kissed him on both cheeks, and he gave her the flowers they’d brought.
‘Thank you – they’re beautiful,’ she said, taking them from him. ‘And you’ve brought dessert,’ she murmured, glancing at Lisa. ‘I approve.’
Lisa was puzzled by the remark. They had only brought the flowers.
Isabel turned to her then. ‘Welcome,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Isabel. I’m very glad you’ve come.’
‘Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you.’ Lisa took her hand and Isabel leaned in to kiss her cheek in a cloud of subtle perfume. She even smelled amazing.
Then she held Lisa at arm’s length, frankly looking her up and down. ‘Grayson will be pleased,’ she said to Mark, and he gave her a knowing smirk that Lisa found very disconcerting. ‘He’s very excited to meet you,’ she said to Lisa with a friendly smile.
Lisa presumed she was just being polite. She couldn’t imagine why Grayson Fielding would be remotely excited about meeting her. As if summoned by his name, a tall man appeared at the other end of the hall. Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him walk towards them. He was quite simply the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Tall and lean, he had a strong, square jaw, wide intensely blue eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, a thick mop of messy, copper-coloured hair and a full sensuous mouth that immediately made Lisa think of kissing. He was wearing a pair of black suit trousers and a crisp white shirt open at the collar, the sleeves rolled back to reveal strong, tanned forearms. As he joined them, his lips curved in a smile.
Isabel made the introductions, and Grayson and Mark shook hands. Lisa felt overwhelmed when Grayson turned his attention to her.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Lisa,’ he said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. He smelled gorgeous, of sandalwood and spice, and she felt off balance at the touch of his soft, warm lips and the rasp of his stubble against her skin, shocked by the strength of her reaction to someone she had just met. She closed her eyes, fighting the ridiculous urge to rub against him like a cat.
‘Let me take your coat,’ he said as he pulled back, his eyes intent on her face.
‘Thanks.’ She unbuttoned her coat self-consciously, aware of his gaze on her the whole time. He turned her around to help her out of it, peeling it off slowly as if he were unwrapping a gift. She stifled a shiver as his hands slid down her bare arms. When he had hung the coat on a stand in the hall, he turned to her again, his eyes openly assessing as they swept over her body, checking her out as blatantly as Isabel had done.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said, his voice thick and husky.
Lisa blushed under his heated gaze. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice came out as barely a whisper, so unnerved was she by this beautiful man and his strange manner.
‘I’m very much looking forward to ... getting to know you better,’ he said with a crooked smile.
‘Glad you decided to do this now, aren’t you?’ Isabel said to him with a teasing look.
‘Very,’ Grayson told her, his gaze flicking to her briefly.
‘I think we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight,’ Isabel said, her eyes glittering excitedly as she looked at each of them in turn. ‘Let’s go through and get the party started.’ She linked Mark’s arm and led the way down the hall.
Grayson followed behind with Lisa, his warm hand on the bare skin of her back, right at the base of her spine, feeling incongruously intimate. Once more Lisa wished she was wearing something less revealing. They were ushered into a spacious dining room in the same Spanish colonial style as the entrance, with wooden ceiling beams and a terracotta-tiled floor, the arched windows decorated with ornate ironwork that was echoed in the dramatic wrought iron chandelier that hung over the table. It was a beautiful room – unmistakeably masculine, but still with a warm, homely feel that immediately made Lisa feel comfortable, in contrast to the starkly modern minimalism of Mark’s house, where she still never felt truly at home. A long dining table was set for four, a row of flickering candles in the centre casting a warm, golden glow over the polished wood and glinting off the silverware and crystal.
‘What a beautiful room,’ she exclaimed. ‘You have a lovely home.’
‘Thank you,’ Grayson smiled as he pulled out a chair for her.
Isabel served the food, while Grayson poured wine. Then he sat beside her, with Mark and Isabel opposite. The starter was a crab and asparagus salad, wonderfully light and delicate, and the white wine was crisp and cold.
‘This is delicious,’ Lisa told Isabel.
‘Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit,’ she said, with a smile at Grayson. ‘We did it all together.’
‘Oh.’ It must be nice, she thought with a pang, to have a boyfriend who cooked with you. She remembered when she used to cook with her grandmother, how they had chatted and laughed as they worked. It made the simple domestic tasks fun when you had someone to share them with. She missed having that kind of companionship.
‘Isabel is solely responsible for making everything look so beautiful, though,’ Grayson said. ‘She has an artist’s touch.’
‘What sort of art do you do?’ Lisa asked her.
‘Mostly sculpture. But I’ve been doing a little painting recently too.’
Lisa had noticed a couple of very striking pieces when they entered the room. ‘Are these yours?’ she asked Isabel, nodding at them.
‘Yes,’ Isabel smiled. ‘Grayson is my biggest fan.’
‘And what do you do, Lisa?’ Grayson asked her, looking at her again with that intense focus.
‘Oh, I’m –‘ It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was an artist too, but she pulled herself up. Mark didn’t like her to talk about her art and he would mock her if she ever referred to herself as an artist now. The idea that she might still think of herself that way was laughable to him. ‘I don
’t work at the moment,’ she said instead.
‘Oh?’ Isabel seemed surprised. Lisa was used to that reaction – it was unusual for a woman of her age with no children not to work.
‘Lisa has a full-time job looking after me and the house,’ Mark said, smiling at her indulgently. ‘She doesn’t need to work. I keep her in the luxury to which she’s accustomed.’
Lisa blushed, feeling foolish. He made her sound like a kept woman, just a decorative adjunct to his life with no purpose of her own. But then, she reflected, it was true – that was what she had let herself become.
‘What did you do before?’ Grayson asked.
‘I worked in Mark’s gallery for a while – just admin stuff,’ she shrugged.
‘Ah, so that’s where you two met?’ Isabel asked, glancing between her and Mark.
‘No, we met when I was at college.’
‘What were you studying?’ Grayson asked.
‘Art.’ She glanced at Mark and she could see he was mad that this had come up. It was subtle and she knew she was the only one who would notice the flintiness in his eyes, the slight tightening of his jaw.
‘Oh?’
Isabel and Grayson both perked up at this, looking at her expectantly.
‘I was in my second year, but I – I dropped out shortly after meeting Mark.’ She realised how pathetic that sounded. ‘I didn’t finish my degree.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Isabel said.
‘She didn’t have the talent,’ Mark said bluntly. ‘It would have been pointless to continue.’
Something like annoyance flickered in Isabel’s face.
‘It’s true,’ Lisa said. She got the feeling Isabel was about to challenge Mark and she wanted to avoid any confrontation. She would only pay for it later. ‘I realised I’d never make it as an artist. I was wasting my time.’
‘There’s merit in knowing your limitations,’ Mark said, smiling at her.
Keen to change the subject, Lisa turned to Grayson. ‘This is a beautiful house,’ she said. ‘Did you design it yourself?’
‘Thank you. Yes, I did.’
‘You have some interesting art,’ Mark said, glancing around at the walls.
Grayson nodded. ‘It’s my biggest indulgence.’
Lisa was relieved as the conversation moved away from her to a more general discussion about art, a subject which they all had in common to some degree. Grayson was very knowledgeable about the contemporary London art scene. He was an enthusiastic collector and admired many of the same artists she did. She longed to join in more with the conversation, but she knew it would anger Mark if she drew too much attention to herself and risked exposing her ignorance or inexperience. So she said as little as possible.
Grayson, however, seemed intent on drawing her out. He made a point of asking her opinion about whatever was being discussed, and listened attentively to her answers. She felt his eyes on her constantly, and the intensity of his gaze made her a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to having a man other than Mark so completely focussed on her.
His whole attitude to her felt odd and inappropriate. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was flirting with her. But that was silly. He was clearly a courteous, considerate person, and she didn’t think he would do something as offensive as flirting with her right in front of their respective partners. She didn’t really know him, of course, but she couldn’t imagine him behaving so crassly. Probably he had simply sensed that she was shy and nervous, and was being a kind and attentive host, trying to put her at her ease. Besides, Isabel and Mark obviously didn’t feel there was anything amiss. They were perfectly relaxed and didn’t seem at all put out by Grayson’s behaviour towards her. She told herself she was imagining it and tried to relax. She just wasn’t used to mixing with such sophisticated people. That was all. She didn’t know the etiquette. Maybe that was what Mark had been trying to warn her about.
A different wine was served with the main course of beef fillet, the pale, crisp white replaced by a rich, earthy red. Lisa felt Grayson’s eyes on her as she tasted it.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
She cast around for something clever to say, but could think of nothing. ‘It’s very nice,’ she said simply, smiling to show her appreciation in an attempt to make up for her lack of knowledge.
‘Nice!’ Mark scoffed. ‘It’s a Château Margaux, Lisa.’ He turned to Grayson. ‘You’ll have to forgive Lisa. She’s a bit provincial.’
She felt her face flame, mortified that Mark was apologising for her. How could he humiliate her like that? If he didn’t want her to show him up, why was he pointing out her inadequacies?
‘Sorry,’ she said to Grayson, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘It really is lovely, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about wine.’
Grayson glanced at Mark with a frown before turning to her. ‘It’s very kind of you to say so, Lisa,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it.’
The warmth of his gaze immediately put her at ease, and she started to relax as they ate, and the conversation flowed easily around her. She liked Grayson and Isabel. They were knowledgeable and interesting, and she enjoyed listening to them. She didn’t say much, feeling a little like a child at the grown-ups’ table as the conversation turned to travel, and Isabel, Mark and Grayson chatted animatedly about cities she had never been to, restaurants she had never eaten in and experiences she had only dreamed of. She was happy enough not to take part, but more acutely aware than ever of the gulf between her and these people. They belonged to the world, while she had only skirted around its edges.
Isabel and Mark were discussing places they had both visited in Tuscany, when Grayson turned to her.
‘Have you been to Tuscany, Lisa?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she smiled sadly. ‘I’ve never been to Italy.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Grayson said. ‘I think you’d love it. There’s so much to see – particularly if you’re interested in art.’
‘I’d love to go there,’ she said wistfully. ‘I haven’t travelled much.’
‘That’s an understatement,’ Mark said. ‘Lisa didn’t even own a passport when I met her. Like I said – provincial.’
‘My grandparents weren’t well off, so we never had holidays abroad when I was growing up,’ she said.
‘Your grandparents?’ Isabel queried.
‘They raised me after my parents died,’ she explained.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Poor Lisa had never been further than Scotland when we met,’ Mark said.
‘It was fine,’ Lisa said, feeling defensive. Her grandparents had always made such an effort to take her on holiday and to make it special for her, and she had nothing but happy memories of their summer trips. ‘We went all around Britain, visiting different places, and we had some really lovely times.’
‘You didn’t travel when you were a student?’ Grayson asked.
‘I never had the money,’ Lisa shrugged. ‘And besides, my grandparents were elderly and incapacitated, so they needed me at home–‘ She stopped abruptly, realising Mark was scowling at her. Her sorry tale obviously wasn’t in keeping with the glamorous, successful image he wanted to present. ‘Sorry,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Boring story.’
‘Not at all,’ Grayson said, frowning. ‘But it’s a pity you didn’t get the opportunity to travel.’
‘I’ve been to Paris,’ she said.
‘Paris is my absolute favourite city in the world,’ Isabel said. ‘Did you like it?’
‘Yes, I loved it.’
Mark had taken her to Paris the year they met, just after she’d dropped out of college – a reward, she now realised, and an inducement to bend to his will in the future. It had been first class all the way, and Lisa couldn’t deny she had been seduced by the luxury – the five-star hotels, the chauffeurs, the expensive restaurants and ritzy shops. Mark had swept her off her feet. She had been so excited to be in love and abroad
for the first time. Everything was new and wonderful, and she could hardly believe her luck that such a wealthy, charming and urbane man had chosen someone as ordinary as her. Mark’s luxurious lifestyle was just the icing on the cake. It was bliss not worrying about money for a change, and she had enjoyed letting him spoil her. The contrast with her old life was so dramatic, she had felt like she was in a fairytale.
Maybe she had been, she thought now bitterly – except her fairytale had worked the opposite way to most. Her handsome prince had turned out to be a monster in disguise.
‘Anyway, that’s the only time I’ve been abroad so far.’
‘But we’re going to make up for that now, aren’t we?’ Mark said, smiling across at her. ‘I’m going to show her the world – starting with Mauritius next month.’
‘Yes,’ she said animatedly, trying to sound excited about the trip. The truth was, the thought of two weeks alone with Mark, without even a few hours’ respite while he was at work, filled her with dread. She would be at his mercy twenty-four hours a day for two whole weeks. She took a sip of wine, trying to dispel her gloomy thoughts.
‘Where are you from, Isabel?’ she asked, anxious to divert attention away from herself again. They had all finished eating, and without the food to focus on, she started to feel self-conscious. She was aware of Grayson’s eyes on her and fought the urge to fidget, wishing she had something to do with her hands.
‘I’m from Costa Rica,’ Isabel answered.
‘That sounds so exotic. I’ve seen pictures – it looks really beautiful,’ Lisa said wistfully.
‘It is, incredibly beautiful,’ Isabel said.
‘Like the women who come from there,’ Mark said, turning to Isabel, his eyes glowing with admiration.
Lisa’s stomach lurched as he lightly brushed a finger down Isabel’s bare arm. The gesture was unmistakeably intimate and sexual, and Lisa didn’t know where to look, shocked that Mark would be so inappropriate. It wasn’t like him. However brutish he could be towards her, he never behaved boorishly in company. Had he had too much wine? She didn’t think so. He didn’t like to lose control, and she had never seen him drunk.
The Endgame Page 2
