Seasons of Sin: Misbehaving in summer and autumn... (Series of Sin)

by Clare Connelly

  “What do you want, Mrs Arana?”

  Another sob clawed at her throat. Her eyes moved beyond Thaddeus to the glamorous woman still on the opposite side of the street, watching with undisguised interest. Saphire’s cheeks burned.

  “Can we speak privately?” She asked self-consciously.

  He followed her gaze and then turned back to Saphire, his expression one of unconcealed impatience. “I’m on a date.”

  It was like a knife stabbing through her heart. “Why are you being such a bastard?” She murmured, anguish obvious in her features.

  “Why do you care so much?” He retorted. “You are married, remember? What difference does it make to you who I am screwing when you have your husband to keep you warm?” He leaned closer, his face only inches from her. “Tell me, Saphire, what did he think of my name on your back?”

  “I didn’t … we didn’t …” She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “It’s not like that. It’s not like I was going to go back and act as though everything was normal.”

  Thaddeus felt a swelling of satisfaction at the hints she was dropping. “You haven’t slept with him,” he prompted, suddenly desperate for clarification.

  “I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” she whispered, her eyes again moving betrayingly to his date.

  “Fine. Have it your way. It’s none of my business. So why are you waiting outside my apartment in the middle of the night?”

  “I thought we should talk,” she said, so softly he barely caught the words.

  “We already have.” He pulled away from her and stuffed his hands in his pocket. His body language spoke of a finality that chilled her.

  “Is this really over for you, Thaddeus?”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Of course it is, Saphire. Over as if it had never begun. Do not torment yourself looking for something I am not willing to offer.”

  She swallowed; her throat felt coated in acid. “I thought we were in love,” she whispered shakily, her eyes beseeching.

  “Love?” He laughed angrily. “You are married. You used me to fix your marriage. You used me then went back to your husband.”

  “I didn’t use you,” she promised urgently.

  Thaddeus cast a glance over his shoulder and waved at his date. “I do not have time for this now.”

  Stones dropped inside of Saphire’s heart. “It’s important.”

  “No.” He breathed out impatiently so that his nostrils flared. “If it had been important you would have stayed.”

  “I couldn’t,” she sobbed. “I had to go back.”

  “Fine.” He shrugged. “And you made that choice. So live with it.”

  “Please,” she raised her voice; it shook with emotion. “I love you.”

  He shook his head. “And?” He prompted, his emotion impossible to comprehend.

  “I love you, and I want to be with you.” She reached for him but he shrugged away from her.

  “You’re married.”

  “I’m getting a divorce.” Her eyes scanned his, looking for some sign of relief. Some indication that he welcomed this news. It wasn’t forthcoming.

  “That is your business,” he said finally.

  Saphire tried to catch her breath but it was almost impossible. “You don’t love me.”

  Thaddeus packed every little piece of his heart away. She had shown how she valued him when she’d walked away from him. All of this was just an afterthought. His face was dark. “I loved sleeping with you.” His smile was cruel. “But now I have her.”

  Saphire let the sob ring through her. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek but he didn’t so much as flinch. Her fingers stung. Good. The pain suited her emotion.

  “I love you,” she cried, and now she let the tears fall freely.

  Thaddeus watched her with a growing sense of urgency. If he didn’t get away from her, he couldn’t have said what he’d do. “Was there anything else?”

  Saphire bit down on her lip and tried her hardest to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order. “I guess … I guess not.”

  Thaddeus had no idea what was happening to him. His blood was burning. His head was swimming. He stood still like a statue, staring after her as she walked down the deserted street. He worried for her. For her safety, for her happiness, for all of her. But he didn’t act on that worry. He watched and waited for her to turn the corner and then he squared his shoulders and crossed the street. Cassandra was waiting.

  * * *

  Saphire surveyed the room with satisfaction. Everything was perfect. Well, almost everything. With a frown of disapproval, she clipped across the marble floor and straightened a stray white rose back into position. The ballroom high on a hill outside Rome boasted stunning glimpses down towards il Vaticano, and its many cupolas. She took a moment to appreciate the vista, kissed by purples and oranges, and then forced a smile to her face.

  It felt just as false as it had been for the past month.

  A month.

  She swallowed; the acid was still there. Would it ever go away? Would she ever feel like herself again? Or would she forever feel like a woman who’d only come to life briefly, in Thaddeus’s arms, and never would again?

  Her cell phone began to buzz in her pocket; she answered it gratefully.

  “Mel?” She frowned. Her boss’s usual army-sergeant tone was hoarse. “You sound terrible.”

  “I feel terrible,” Mel clipped. “I have a chest infection and severe tonsillitis, allegedly.”

  Saphire liked how she said that, as though the doctor perhaps made up the diagnosis for his own amusement. “You were okay yesterday.”

  “That’s what I said,” Mel responded. “But I really do feel like utter shite.”

  “Terrible timing,” Saphire murmured.

  “I need you to run things for me at the event,” Mel cut straight to the chase.

  Saphire froze in the middle of the glorious ballroom. “You’re not serious?”

  “Of course I am. I can’t cough all over the crème de la crème of European society. You’ve been doing these things for years. You’ve got a knack for this stuff.”

  Saphire nodded, but her mind was spinning. “I’m just an administrative assistant,” she reminded the woman. After all, Melania Brompton had founded the charity and built it up from scratch. No way could Saphire step into her shoes, even for a night.

  “So? Do you need a raise?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Saphire said with consternation.

  “Why not?” Repeated coughing had weakened Mel’s voice. “You’ve been faffing around doing volunteer work for years. Now you’ve finally accepted a paid role and it’s way below your skillset. Why?”

  “I don’t think it is way below my skillset,” she demurred frankly. “And this is not the time to be talking about it. You need to rest your voice.”

  “See? You’re even bossing me around,” Melania pointed out teasingly. “We will talk about this in a few days. I want you on board permanently. I have a knack for knowing which people are right for my business. And I know I need you. Think about it.”

  Saphire bit down on her lip. “I will.”

  “I have my personal assistant lined up to take my place in the auction tonight. Have you met Kate?”

  Saphire nodded, frowning. She had a vague recollection of a softly spoken blonde with pale skin and enormous blue eyes. “She seems sort of quiet …”

  “She is sort of quiet,” Melania agreed. “Probably why she agreed to this. Though I’ll admit I didn’t give her much of a chance to say no. Anyway, get her a champagne when she arrives. Poor thing’s a bag of nerves.”

  “Right.”

  “You know what you’re doing,” Melania promised and Saphire nodded.

  She did. Her fear was born from years of not expecting enough of herself. But those days were past.

  Jordan was in her past.

  Thaddeus was in her past.

  And a whole li
fe spanned ahead of her. She pushed away the thought that it would be a life without Thaddeus. Eventually she would adapt to that.

  As well-dressed Europeans began to arrive at the expensive, impossible-to-get-tickets-to charity dinner, Saphire found pleasure whispering into the gaps of her heart.

  Her boss thought she could do this. And she could! For the first time in her life she had a job and someone actually thought she was good at it.

  The food was excellent. Saphire stood in the kitchen, as Mel would have, and checked each table’s meals as they went out. It was not acceptable for a single thing to be out of place; hair in the truffled scallops would have been dire! At one point Saphire averted near-disaster when she spotted a small crack in a plate intended for a Scandinavian princess, but a quick word with the chef ensured the error was swiftly corrected.

  Nerves were bouncing through her, but they were good nerves. For almost an hour she had put Thaddeus out of her mind completely. The sun was setting over Rome, the band had begun to play their latest hit, and Saphire was feeling like she had pulled off a true accomplishment.

  She skirted the edge of the room, smiling noncommittally as she went.

  Until her gaze clashed with a familiar pair of brown eyes. She was instantly startled out of her fog of self-congratulation. A small cry escaped her lips and she froze, her feet planted to the spot.

  She watched as he walked towards her, and anxiety crept back into her being.

  “Saphire.” His voice was kind, his smile genuine.

  “Rocco,” she responded tightly.

  They hadn’t spoken again after he’d outed her on the balcony.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked, casting a pointed look at her clipboard.

  “Working,” she murmured. Her eyes were already darting past him, scanning the room. How had it not occurred to her that Thaddeus might have come to this charity affair?

  “He isn’t here,” Rocco seemed to read her mind.

  Her cheeks glowed but she didn’t deny that she’d been looking for him.

  “You work for the venue?”

  “No, the charity,” she corrected distractedly. People were dancing, plates were being cleared. There was an hour before the auction was scheduled to start. Melania always did it that way. She liked people to have had a few wines before placing their bids; it certainly nudged the bids up.

  “I see. Thad never mentioned …”

  “He didn’t know,” she interrupted stiltedly.

  “Have you spoken to him?” Rocco prompted, though of course he knew she hadn’t.

  “Not since I interrupted him on a date with some sexy supermodel.” The response was tart and she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

  Rocco’s laugh surprised her. “Ah, that would be Cassandra.”

  “Would it?”

  “They’re old friends.”

  “I see.”

  Rocco shrugged and Saphire took it as an escape opportunity. “I should keep moving.”

  “Do you have time for a dance?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. My boss is sick so I’m standing in for her.”

  He nodded slowly, speculation in his expression. “Hope Renewed is a great charity. I’m impressed.”

  “I’ve done volunteer work for them for years. A job opened up that was more permanent and I thought it was time I do something for myself, you know?”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “And your husband? Does he support you in this?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You mean your spy hasn’t fed you that information? I’m getting divorced.”

  He laughed once more. “I am sorry,” he lifted his hands to reinforce the apology. “Thaddeus is a valued friend. A very wealthy friend who is often prey to … well. You can imagine. Having just buried Aristotle I was concerned his judgment might have been lacking. I felt it was prudent to look out for his best interests.”

  “You don’t think he can do that himself?”

  “Hard to say,” he murmured.

  “Not for me. I think he’s perfectly capable of managing his own affairs.”

  “Interesting choice of word,” he said with a wry smile.

  Saphire felt her stomach swirl. “I really have to get back to work.”

  “Have a drink with me later,” he invited.

  Saphire shook her head. “I’ve got a heap to do here. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m sure we’ll catch up again in the future.”

  Saphire shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Are you in Rome permanently?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m here for at least six months. That’s where the position is.” She cleared her throat and at his blank look clarified: “The position I applied for. It’s here. In Rome.”

  “I see.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a crisp white business card. “I’m in Rome also. This is my card. If you need anything, please do call.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I don’t mean to be rude but you’re probably the last person I’d ever call.”

  His laugh was a deep rumble. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

  “Well,” she lifted her finger and tapped it against the opposite digit. “Let’s see. You’re Thaddeus’s friend, for a start off, and I’d rather forget everything I ever had to do with him.” She swallowed past the pain. “And you’re super sneaky! You spied on me and tried to ruin everything between us.”

  “I already told you …”

  “I know.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, wishing the butterflies in her stomach would go away. “The thing is, Rocco, I was going to tell him. I’d fallen in love with him by the time you arrived. I knew I had to sort it all out properly but … have you ever had a time where you just couldn’t see the forest for the trees?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know the reference.”

  “It’s a saying. It means that everything’s such a mess you can’t quite see how to get out of it. I mean I was married. I had been with my husband for a very long time. It’s not easy to unravel a relationship like that. And I had just met Thaddeus but I felt more for him than I’d ever known possible. He blew my whole conception of life wide open. Until then I’d had no clue it could be like that. I mean it. I thought I loved Jordan … I didn’t. I didn’t have any idea what love was.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a hand wave, to catch her attention.

  Kate.

  Saphire frowned. The other woman was wearing a strange black dress - the kind of thing a grandmother might wear to a funeral - and her blonde hair was frizzing around her face. The first time Saphire had met her, Kate had reminded her of a ballerina. She was very delicate, fair and graceful; she was also completely timid, and in that moment, she looked like a very unfashionable, very terrified kitten.

  That would never do.

  “Look, none of this matters.” She forced a smile to her face. “Mr Konstanides has moved on, and I have too. Maybe I was just meant to fall for him so that I could get out of my marriage. I don’t know. But I’m working tonight. And this job is the first good thing I’ve done in years. So I’m not going to stuff it up.”

  Rocco, usually talkative and opinionated, found it hard to know how to respond to her monologue. “Saphire,” he called after her retreating back.

  She turned, her brows lifted enquiringly. He lifted his hand to his face in the universally understood gesture of a telephone. “Phone me. I will take you for lunch.”

  She nodded, but Saphire knew she never would. Not in a million years. It would be like cracking open a vault that she’d cemented closed.

  “Kate,” she gasped as she locked eyes with the other woman. “This won’t do.” She cast one final gaze over the room and then linked arms with Melania’s assistant. “This way.”

  She nudged her to the side room she’d been using as an office for the past week and flicked a light on. It cast a pale glow over everything.

  “You can’t wear that.”

>   Kate frowned. “Why ever not?” Her accent was a mix of east-London and something else. Something foreign.

  Saphire shook her head. “Because you look like a … like a … like a particularly sartorially challenged eighty year old, that’s why.”

  To her surprise, Kate burst out laughing. “I know. But that’s my inner superhero. I’m a grandma. Truly I am. I don’t know why the heck Mel thought I’d be a good substitute for her.”

  Saphire nodded sagely. “Well, she obviously has faith in you, so you’d better start trying to deserve it.”

  She scanned the blonde’s figure. “You’re shorter than I am, but otherwise I think we can make something of mine work. Take that off.” She called over her shoulder as she moved to her suitcase in the corner. She’d brought a few changes of clothes with her from her apartment on Mel’s advice. You never know what might happen. Always be prepared!

  And so she was. She lifted a cream dress out and held it aloft for Kate’s inspection.

  “Um, no,” Kate shook her head. “It’ll make me look like a piece of paper.”

  Saphire nodded. “Fair point.”

  She lifted the next dress out, a gorgeous green prom dress. “No!” Kate laughed. “God, it’s way too fancy.”

  “I’m afraid I only have fancy clothes,” Saphire murmured with a frown.

  The final dress was the perfect shade of blue to flatter Kate’s eyes. Though it was low cut, it was long, which Kate approved of.

  “Maybe,” she scrunched her nose up thoughtfully. “It could work.”

  “Try it on. Quickly,” Saphire urged.

  Kate took it and, with hands that weren’t quite steady, pulled it over her head. It fit perfectly, though if anything it was a little loose around the breasts.

  “Sorry,” Saphire grinned. “I had it let out there.”

  “I can see why!” Kate ran her hands over the fabric. “How does it look?”

  Saphire stood back to appraise the other woman. “It’s good. But your hair …”

  “I got caught in the rain, I know. It’s a mess.”

  “Did it rain?” Saphire queried, already reaching for her straightening tongs. “I’ve been locked in here all day.”

  “Yeah, just for a while.” Kate sighed. “It was beautiful. Don’t you love the smell of rain in the summer?”