Читать книгу Modern Romance February Books 5-8 - Jane Porter, Annie West - Страница 11

LEANING FORWARD, TEDDIE TAYLOR spread the three playing cards out swiftly, then quickly flipped them over, covering them with her hand and rearranging them. Her green eyes gave away none of her excitement, nor the jump of her heart as the man sitting opposite her pointed confidently at the middle card.

He groaned as she turned it over, holding his hands up in defeat. ‘Incredible,’ he murmured.

Rising to his feet, Edward Claiborne held out his hand, a satisfied smile creasing his smooth patrician features.

‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re on board.’ His blue eyes fixed on Teddie’s face. ‘I’m looking forward to having a little magic in my life.’

Teddie smiled. From another, younger, less urbane man, the remark might have sounded a little cheesy. But she knew Claiborne was far too well-bred to do anything as crass and inappropriate as flirt with a woman half his age to whom he had just given a job at his new prestigious private members’ club.

‘I’m looking forward to it too, Mr Claiborne—no, please—’ she stopped him as he reached into the pocket of his jacket ‘—let me get these.’ She gestured towards the coffee. ‘You’re a client now.’

Watching him walk away to talk to someone in the hotel lounge, she took a deep breath and sat down, resisting the urge to pump the air with her fist in time to the victory chant inside her head. She’d done it! Finally she’d netted a client who saw magic as more than just an amusing diversion at a party.

Across the lounge, Edward Claiborne was shaking hands, smiling smoothly and, leaning back in her armchair, she let elation wash over her. This was what she and Elliot had been chasing, but this new contract was worth more to them than a paycheque. Claiborne was fifth generation New York money and a recommendation from him would give their business the kind of publicity they couldn’t buy.

Pulling out her phone, she punched in Elliot’s number. He answered immediately, almost as though he’d been waiting for her to call—which, of course, he had.

‘That was quick. How did it go?’

He sounded as he always did, speaking with that casual west-coast drawl that people sometimes mistook for slowness or lack of comprehension. But to Teddie, who had known him since she was thirteen, there was a tension to his voice—understandably. A three-nights-a-week job of bringing magic and illusion to the brand-new Castine Club would not only boost their income, it would mean they could employ someone to do the day-to-day admin. And that would mean they wouldn’t end up with a repeat of today’s last-minute panic when Elliot had realised he’d double-booked himself.

For a moment, she considered making him sweat, but she was too happy and relieved. ‘He’s in!’

Hearing Elliot’s triumphant ‘Surf’s up, baby!’ she laughed.

It was one of the things she loved most about her business partner and best friend—the way he reverted to his Californian roots when he was excited. Her heart swelled. That and the fact that, no matter how unjustified it was, he always had complete faith in her.

‘I’m not saying I thought it was guaranteed, but honestly—I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who loves magic so much.’

‘So what clinched it? No, let me guess. The three-card Monte. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Teddie could practically picture the familiar wicked grin on Elliot’s face.

‘Yes! But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for throwing me in at the deep end.’

He laughed. ‘So how about I take you and George to Pete’s Grill at the weekend? To make amends and celebrate?’

‘You’re on.’ She frowned. ‘How come you’re talking to me, anyway? I thought the whole reason I had to do this was because you had a meeting.’

‘I do—I’m waiting to go in. Actually, I’m going to have to go—okay, babe? But I’ll drop round later.’ He whooped. ‘I love this job!’

He hung up, and Teddie grinned. She loved her job too, and Elliot was right: they should celebrate. And George loved Pete’s.

Thinking about her son, Teddie felt her heart tighten. She did love her job, but her love for George was fierce and absolute. From the moment she’d held him in her arms after his birth, her heart had been enslaved by his huge dark eyes.

He was perfect, and he was hers. And maybe, if this job went well, in a couple of years they’d be celebrating here.

Leaning back against the smooth leather upholstery of a chair that probably cost more than her car, Teddie glanced around the hotel lounge. Well, maybe not here. The Kildare Hotel was new, and completely beyond her pay grade, oozing a mixture of old-school comfort and avant-garde design that she might have found intimidating if she hadn’t been feeling so euphoric.

It was clearly the place to be seen, judging by the mix of hip, moneyed guests, although—she stared critically at the two huge Warhol prints that dwarfed one wall—wasn’t it a bit corny to have all these copies of famous paintings hanging everywhere. Why not use originals by local artists?

Glancing over to where Claiborne was still chatting, she felt her pulse skitter forward. Really, she should be over there too, networking. It didn’t have to be too obvious. All she had to do was smile as she passed by and her new boss would definitely call her over to introduce her to his companion.

She couldn’t see the man’s face, but even at a distance his glamour and self-assurance were tangible. Silhouetted against the industrial-sized window, with sunlight fanning around him like a sunburst, he looked almost mythical. The effect was mesmerising, irresistible—and, catching sight of the furtive glances of the other guests, she realised that it wasn’t only she who thought so.

She wondered idly if he was aware of the effect he was having or if he was worthy of all the attention. Maybe she should just go and see for herself, she thought, emboldened by her business triumph.

And then, as she began picking up the cards that were still strewn all over the table, she noticed that Claiborne was gesturing in her direction. Automatically her lips started to curve upwards as the man standing beside him turned towards her.

The welcoming smile froze on her face.

She swallowed thickly. Her heart felt hard and heavy—in fact, her whole body seemed to be slowly turning to stone. Her euphoria of just moments earlier felt like a muddied memory.

No—no way! This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be here. Not here, not now.

But he was. Worse, having shaken hands with Claiborne, he was excusing himself and walking—no, swaggering towards her, his familiar dark gaze locked with hers. And, despite the alarm shrieking inside her head, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his cold, staggeringly handsome face and lean, muscular body.

For just a split second she watched him make his way across the room, and then her heart began pounding like a jackhammer and she knew that she had to move, to run, to flee. It might not be dignified, but frankly she didn’t care. Her ex-husband, Aristotle Leonidas, was the last person on earth she wanted to see, much less talk to. There was too much history between them—not just a failed marriage, but a three-year-old son he knew nothing about.

Snatching at the rest of the cards, she tried to force them into the box. Only, panic made her clumsier than usual and they slipped out of her hands, spilling onto the floor in every direction.

‘Allow me.’

If it had been a shock seeing him across the room, seeing him up close was like being struck by lightning. It would have been easier if he’d developed a paunch, but he hadn’t changed at all. If anything, he was more devastating than ever, and it was clear that he had risen to such a point of power and wealth that he was immune to such earthly concerns as appearances.

But, to Teddie, his beauty was still hypnotic—the knife-sharp bone structure and obsidian-dark eyes still too perfect to be human.

Feeling her pulse accelerate, Teddie steeled herself to meet his gaze.

It had been four years since he’d broken her heart and turned his back on the gift of her love, but she had never forgotten him nor forgiven him for deleting her—and by default George—from his life like some unsolicited junk email. But evidently she had underestimated the impact of his husky, seductive voice—or why else was her pulse shying sideways like a startled pony?

It was just shock, she reassured herself. After four years she was obviously not expecting to see him.

Pushing aside the memory of that moment when he’d dismissed her like some underperforming junior member of his staff, she frowned. ‘I’m fine. Just leave it.’

He ignored her, crouching down and calmly and methodically picking up each and every card.

‘Here.’ Standing up, he held out the pack, but she stared at him tensely, reluctant to risk even the slightest physical contact between them.

Her body’s irrational response to hearing him speak again had made her realise that despite everything he’d done—and not done—there was still a connection between them, a memory of what had once been, how good it had been—

Ignoring both that unsettling thought, and the tug of his gaze, she sat down. She wanted to leave, but she would have to push past him to do so, and sitting seemed like the lesser of two evils. He watched her for a moment, as though gauging the likelihood of her trying to escape, and then she felt her pulse jolt forward as he settled into the chair recently vacated by Claiborne.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said stiffly.

After they’d split up he’d moved to London—or that was what Elliot had been told when he’d gone to collect her things. The apartment hadn’t been part of the divorce settlement, and she’d always assumed he’d sold it. But then, he had no need of money, and it probably had no bad memories for him as he’d hardly ever been there.

His level gaze swept over her face. ‘In New York?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m living here. Again,’ he added softly.

She swallowed, stung at the thought of him returning to their home and simply picking up where he’d left off. She wished she could think of something devastating to say back to him. But to do so would only suggest that she cared—which she obviously didn’t.

She watched warily as he slid the pack across the table towards her.

Catching sight of her expression, he tutted under his breath, his dark brown eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,’ he said coolly. ‘It’s me who should be worried. Or at least checking my wrist.’

His gaze hovered on her face and she blinked. She’d thought her body’s unintended and unwelcome response to his was a by-product of shock, but now, beneath the politeness, further down than the hostility, she could feel it still—a thread of heat that was undiminished by time or reason. It made no sense—she doubted that he’d given her as much as a passing thought in the last four years—but that didn’t seem to stop her skin from tingling beneath his gaze.

Watching the fury flare in her fabulous green eyes, Aristo gritted his teeth. She was still as stubborn as ever, but he was grateful she hadn’t taken the cards from him. If both his hands had been free he might have been tempted to strangle her.

He hadn’t spotted Teddie when he’d first walked into the lounge, partly because her dark brown hair was not falling loosely to her shoulders, as it had done when he’d last seen her, but was folded neatly at the back of her head.

In the main, though, he hadn’t spotted her because, frankly, he hadn’t ever expected to see his ex-wife again. He felt a tiny stab of pain in his heart like a splinter of ice.

But then, why would he?

Four years ago Theodora Taylor had ensnared him with her green eyes, her long legs and her diffident manner. She had breezed into his life like the Sirocco, interrupting his calm and ordered ascent into the financial stratosphere, and then just as quickly she had gone, an emptied bank account and his lacerated heart the only reminders of their six-month marriage.

He gave her a long, implacable stare. Teddie had taken more than his money. She had stolen the beat from his heart and taken what little trust he’d had for women and trampled it into the ground. It had been the first time he’d let down his guard, even going so far as to honour her with his name, but she had only married him in the hope that his money and connections would act as a stepping stone to a better life.

Of course he hadn’t realised the truth until he’d returned from a business trip to find her gone. Hurt and humiliated, he had thrown himself into his job and put the whole disastrous episode behind him.

Until he’d bumped into Edward Claiborne a moment ago. He knew Edward socially, and liked him for his quiet self-assurance and old-school courtesy.

Walking into the hotel lounge, he’d noticed him laughing and chatting with uncharacteristic animation to a female companion. But it had only been when Edward had invited him to the new regular magic slot at his club, and then mentioned that he’d just finished having coffee with the woman who’d be running the shows, that he had turned and seen Teddie.

The muscle in his jaw had flexed, kick-starting a chain reaction through his body so that suddenly his heart had been pounding so hard and fast that he’d felt almost dizzy.

He studied her silently now, safe in the knowledge that his external composure gave no hint of the battle raging inside him. His head was telling him there was only one course of action. That a sensible, sane man would get up and walk away. But sense and sanity had never played that much of a part in his relationship with Theodora Taylor, and clearly nothing had changed—because despite knowing that she was the biggest mistake he had ever made, he stayed sitting.

His lip curled as he glanced down at his wrist. ‘No, still there. But maybe I should double-check my wallet. Or perhaps I should give Edward Claiborne a call…make sure he still has his. I know you were only having coffee, but you were always a quick worker. I should know.’

Teddie felt her cheeks grow warm. His face was impenetrable, but the derision in his voice as much as his words was insultingly obvious.

How dare he talk to her like that? As though she was the bad guy when he was the one who had cut her out of his life without so much as a word.

Not that she’d ever been high on his list of priorities. Six months of married life had made it clear that Aristo had no time in his life for a wife. Even when she’d moved out and they’d begun divorce proceedings, he’d carried on working as though nothing had happened. Although no amount of his neglect and indifference could have prepared her for how he’d behaved at the end.

It had been a mistake, sleeping together that last time.

With emotions running high after a meeting to discuss their divorce, they’d ended up in bed and she’d ended up pregnant. Only, by the time she’d realised that her tiredness and nausea weren’t just symptoms of stress, the divorce had been finalised, and Aristo had been on the other side of the world, building his European operations.

Although he might just as well have been in outer space.

Remembering her repeated, increasingly desperate and unsuccessful attempts to get in touch, she felt her back stiffen. She’d been frantic to tell him she was pregnant, but his complete radio silence had made it clear—horribly, humiliatingly clear—not only that he didn’t want to talk to her, but that he didn’t want to listen to anything she had to say.

It had been during a call to his London office, when an over-officious PA had cut short her stumbling and not very coherent attempt to speak to him, that she had decided doing the right thing was not going to work.

It certainly hadn’t worked for her parents.

Sometimes it was better to face the truth, even if it was painful—and, truthfully, she and Aristo’s relationship had had pretty flimsy foundations. Judging by the mess they’d made of their marriage, it certainly wasn’t strong enough to cope with an unplanned pregnancy.

But it had been hard.

Aristo’s rejection had broken her heart, and the repercussions of their brief and ill-fated marriage had lasted longer than her tears. Even now, she was still so wary of men that she’d barely gone out with anyone since they’d parted ways. Thanks to her father’s casual, cursory attitude to parenting, she found it hard to believe that she would ever be anything more than an afterthought to any man. Aristo’s casual, cruel rejection had confirmed that deep-seated privately held fear.

Much as she cared for Elliot, it was as a sister. Aristo was still the only man she’d ever loved. He had been her first love—not her first lover, but he had taught her everything about pleasure.

Her green eyes lifted to his. And not just pleasure. Because of him she’d become an authority on heartache and regret too.

So what exactly gave him the right to stand there with a sneer on that irritatingly handsome face?

Suddenly she was glad she hadn’t turned tail. Fingers curling into fists, she glared at him. ‘I think your memory must be playing tricks on you, Aristo. Work was always your thing—not mine. And, not that it’s any of your concern, but Edward Claiborne is a very generous man. He was more than happy to pay the bill.’

She knew how she was making it sound, but it wasn’t quite a lie. He had offered to pay. And besides, if it made Aristo feel even a fraction of her pain, then why not rub it in? He might not have thought her worthy of his attention and commitment, but Edward had been happy to give her his time and his company.

‘And that’s what matters to you, isn’t it, Theodora? Getting your bills paid. Even if it means taking what isn’t yours.’

He didn’t really care about the money—even before his ruthless onwards-and-upwards rise to global domination, the amount she’d taken had been a negligible amount. Now it would barely make a dent in the Leonidas billions. At the time, though, it had stung—particularly as it had been down to his own stupidity.

For some unknown reason he hadn’t closed their shared accounts immediately after the divorce was finalised, and Teddie had wasted no time taking advantage. Not that he should have been surprised. No matter how pampered they were, women were never satisfied with what they had. He’d learned that aged six, when his mother had found a titled, wealthier replacement for his father.

But knowing Teddie had worked her ‘magic’ on Edward hurt—and, childish though it was, he wanted to hurt her back.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘It was mine,’ she said hotly. ‘It was ours. That’s what marriage is about, Aristo—it’s called sharing.’

He stared at her disparagingly. The briefness of their marriage and the ruthless determination of his legal team had ensured that her financial settlement had been minimal, but it was more than she deserved.

‘Is that what you tell yourself?’

She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as he shook his head slowly.

‘Just because it was still a joint account that didn’t mean you had the right to empty it.’

‘If it bothered you that much you could have talked to me,’ she snarled. ‘But I was only your wife—why would you want to talk to me?’

‘Don’t give me that,’ he said sharply. ‘I talked to you.’

‘You talked at me about work. Never about us.’

Never about the fact that they were basically living separate lives—two strangers sharing a bed but never a meal or a joke.

Hearing the emotion in her voice, she stopped abruptly. What was the point of having this conversation? It was four years too late, and their marriage couldn’t have mattered that much to him if all he wanted to discuss now was their bank account.

And was it really that surprising? His whole life had been dedicated to making money.

She breathed in unsteadily. ‘And, as for the money, I took what I needed to live.’

To look after our son, she thought with a sudden flare of anger. A son who even before his birth had been relegated to second place.

‘I’m not going to apologise for that, and if it was a problem then you should have said something at the time, but you made it quite clear that you didn’t want to talk to me.’

Aristo stared at her, anger pulsing beneath his skin. At the time he had seen her behaviour as just more evidence of his poor judgement. More proof that the women in his life would inevitably turn their backs on him.

But he was not about to reveal his reasons for staying silent—why should he? He wasn’t the one who’d walked out on their marriage. He didn’t need to explain himself.

His heart began to thump rhythmically inside his chest, and an old, familiar feeling of bitter, impotent fury formed a knot in his stomach. She was right. He should have dealt with this years ago—because even though he had succeeded in erasing her from his heart and his home, he had never quite managed to wipe her betrayal from his memory.

How could he, though? Their relationship had been over so quickly and had ended with such finality that there had been no time to confront her properly.

Until now.

Teddie stared at him in appalled silence as, leaning back, he stretched out his legs. Moments earlier she had wanted to throw George’s existence in his face. Now, though, she could feel spidery panic scuttling over her skin at the thought of how close she’d come to revealing the truth.

‘So let’s talk now,’ he said, turning to nod curtly at a passing waiter, who hurried over with almost comical haste.

She nearly laughed, only it was more sad than funny. He didn’t want to talk now any more than he had four years ago, but he knew that she wanted to leave so he wanted to make her stay. Nothing had changed. He hadn’t changed. He just wanted to get his own way.

‘An espresso, please, and an Americano.’ He gave the order without so much as looking at her, and the fact that he could still remember her favourite drink, as much as his arrogant assumption that she would be joining him, made her want to scream.

‘I’m not staying,’ she said coldly. She knew from past experience that his powers of persuasion were incomparable, but in the past she had loved him to distraction. Here, in the present, she wasn’t going to let him push her into a corner. ‘And I don’t want to speak to you,’ she said, glancing pointedly past him.

He shrugged, a mocking smile curving his mouth. ‘Then I’ll talk and you can listen.’

Cheeks darkening with angry colour, she sat mutinously as the waiter reappeared and, with a swift, nervous glance at Aristo, deposited the drinks in front of them.

‘Is there anything else, Mr Leonidas?’

Aristo shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’

Teddie stared at him, a beat of irritation jumping in her chest. It was always the same, this effect that Aristo had on people. When they’d first met she’d teased him about it: as a magician, she was supposed to be the centre of attention. But even when his wealth had been visible but not daunting, he’d had something that set him apart from all the other beautiful rich people—a potent mix of power and beauty and vitality that created an irresistible gravitational pull around him.

She could hardly blame the poor waiter for being like a cat on hot bricks when she had been just as susceptible. It was still maddening, though.

Some of her feelings must be showing on her face, for as he reached to pick up his cup, he paused. ‘Is there a problem?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Other than you, you mean?’

He sighed. ‘I meant with your drink. I can send it back.’

‘Could you just stop throwing your weight around?’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I know it must be difficult for you to switch off from work, but this isn’t one of your hotels.’

Leaning back, he raised the cup to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Actually it is,’ he said mildly. ‘It’s the first in a new line we’re trying out—traditional elegance and luxury with impeccable sustainability.’ He smiled at the look of frozen horror on her face. ‘And a constantly rotating collection of contemporary art.’

She felt her breathing jerk as out of the corner of her eye she noticed the tiny lion’s head logo on the coaster. Cheeks burning, she glanced furtively over at the Warhols.

Damn it, but of course they were real. Aristo Leonidas would never have anything in his life that wasn’t one hundred per cent perfect—it was why he’d found it so devastatingly easy to abandon her.

Her heartbeat stumbled in her chest. No doubt he’d only wanted her to stay here so he could point out this latest addition to his empire.

Cursing herself, and Aristo, and Elliot for being so useless at managing their schedule, she half rose.

‘Sit down,’ he said softly.

Their eyes clashed. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Why? Are you scared of what will happen if you do?

Was she scared?

She felt her insides flip over, and she suddenly felt hot and dizzy.

Once she had been in thrall to him. He’d been everything she’d wanted in a lover and in a man. Caught in the dark shimmering intensity of his gaze, she had felt warm and wanted.

And now, as the heat spread outwards, she was forced to accept again that, even hating him as she did, her body was still reacting in the same way, unconstrained by logic or even the most basic sense of self-preservation.

Horrified by this revelation of her continuing vulnerability—or maybe stupidity—she lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing, muscles tensing as though for combat.

‘I’m not, no. But you should be. Or maybe you like your suits with coffee stains?’

His dark eyes flickered with amusement. ‘If you want me to get undressed, you could just ask.’

He was unbelievable and unfair, making such a blatant reference to their sexual past. But, despite her outrage, she felt the kick of desire. Just as she had that night four years ago, when her body had betrayed her.

Her heart thudded. How could she have let it happen? Just hours earlier they’d been thrashing out their divorce. She’d known he didn’t love her, and yet she’d still slept with him.

But she could never fully regret her stupidity for that was the night she’d conceived George.

She glowered at him. ‘I don’t want you at all,’ she lied. ‘And I don’t want to have some stupid conversation about coffee or art.’

He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay. Look, this is hard for both us, but we share a history. Surely if fate has chosen to throw us together we can put our differences behind us for old times’ sake,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you can spare a couple of minutes to catch up.’

Teddie felt her heart start to pound. If only if was just the past they shared. But it wasn’t, and hiding that fact from Aristo was proving harder than she’d ever imagined.

But how could she tell him the truth? That he had a three-year-old son called George he’d never met. She caught her breath, trying to imagine how that conversation would start, much less end.

More importantly, though, why would she tell him? Their marriage might have been short-lived, but it had been long enough for her to know that there was no room in her ex-husband’s life for anything but his career. And, having been on the receiving end of her father’s intermittent attention, she knew exactly what it felt like to be a side dish to the main meal, and she was not about to let her son suffer the same fate.

‘I just told you. I don’t want to stay.’ But, glancing up into his dark eyes, she felt a flare of panic, for they were cold and flat like slate, and they matched the uncompromising expression on his face.

‘I wasn’t actually giving you an option.’

She felt the colour leave her face. Had he really just said what she thought he had?

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Instantly her panic was forgotten, obliterated in a white-out of fury. ‘Just because this is your hotel, Aristo, it doesn’t mean you can act like some despot,’ she snapped.’ If I want to leave, I will, thank you very much, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Aristo stared at her in silence. Was this why he had sought out her company instead of simply retreating? To force a confrontation so that, unlike in their marriage, he would be the one to dictate when she left? Would that heal the still festering wound of her betrayal? Quiet the suspicion, the knowledge, that he had been used like a plaything to pass the time until something, or more likely someone, better came along?

He shrugged dismissively. ‘That would depend, I suppose, on how you leave and whether you value your reputation. Being removed by Security in front of a room full of people could be quite damaging.’ Leaning back in his seat, he raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine what your new boss would think if he heard about it.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said softly.

His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Try me!’

He could see the conflict in her eyes—frustration and resentment battling with logic and resignation—but he knew the battle was already won. If she was going to leave she would already be on her feet.

With immense satisfaction he watched her sit back stiffly in her seat. This wasn’t about revenge, but even so he couldn’t help letting a small, triumphant smile curve his mouth.

‘So…’ He gestured towards the pack of cards. ‘You’re still a magician, then.’

Teddie stared at the cards. To anyone else his remark would have sounded innocuous, nothing more than a polite show of interest in an ex’s current means of employment. But she wasn’t anyone. She had been his wife, and she could hear the resentment in his voice for she had heard it before.

It was another reminder of why their marriage had failed. And why she should have confronted the past head-on instead of pretending her marriage had never happened. She might have been strong for her son, but she’d been a coward when it came to facing Aristo.

Only, she’d had good reason not to want to face him. Lots of good reasons, actually.

In the aftermath of their marriage he’d been cold and unapproachable, and later she’d been so sick with her pregnancy, and then, by the time she’d felt well again, George had been born—and that was a whole other conversation.

She was suddenly conscious of Aristo’s steady, dark gaze and her heart gave a thump. She had to stop thinking about George or something was going to slip out.

‘Yes,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m still a magician, Aristo. And you’re still in hotels.’

Her heart was thumping hard against her chest. Did he really want to sit here with her while they politely pretended to be on speaking terms? Her hands felt suddenly damp and she pressed them against the cooling leather. Clearly he did. But then, he didn’t have a secret to keep.

He nodded. ‘Mostly, but I’ve diversified my interests.’

She gritted her teeth. So even less time for anything other than work. For some reason that thought made her feel sad rather than angry and, caught off-guard, she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

Aristo looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘You must have done well. Edward Claiborne doesn’t often go out of his comfort zone. So how did you two meet?’

His eyes tangled with hers and he felt a stab of anger, remembering Edward Claiborne’s proprietorial manner as he’d turned and gestured across the room towards Teddie.

She shrugged. ‘Elliot and I did some magic showcases at a couple of charity balls last year and he was there.’

Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘You work with Elliot?’

For some reason her defiant nod made a primitive jealousy rip through him like a box-cutter. In his head—if he’d allowed himself to picture her at all—she had been alone, suffering as he was. Only, now it appeared that not only had she survived, she was prospering with Elliot.

‘We set up a business together. He does the admin, front of house and accountancy. I do the magic.’

He felt another spasm of irritation—pain, almost. He knew Teddie had never been romantically or sexually involved with Elliot, but he had supported her, and once that had been his job. It was bad enough that his half-brother, Oliver, had displaced him in his mother’s affections—now it appeared that Elliot had usurped him in Teddie’s.

‘From memory, he wasn’t much of a businessman,’ he said coolly.

For the first time since she’d sat down Teddie smiled and, watching her eyes soften, he had to fight an overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke her cheek, for once her eyes had used to soften for him in that way.

‘He’s not, but he’s my best friend and I trust him,’ she said simply. ‘And that’s what matters.’

It was tempting to lie, to tell him that she’d found love and unimaginable passion in Elliot’s arms, but it would only end up making her look sad and desperate.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely what matters is profit?’

She’d always known he felt like that, but somehow his remark hurt more than it should, for it was the reason her son would grow up without a father.

Her fingers curled. ‘Some things are more important than money, Aristo.’

‘Not in business,’ he said dismissively.

She glared at him, hating him and his stupid, blinkered view of life, but hating herself more for still caring what he thought.

‘But there’s more to life than business. There’s feelings and people—friends, family—’

She broke off, the emotion in her voice echoing inside her head. Glancing up, she found him watching her, his gaze darkly impassive, and it was hard not to turn away, for the heartbreakingly familiar masculine beauty of his face seemed so at odds with the distance in his eyes.

‘You don’t have a family,’ he said.

It was one of the few facts she’d shared with him about her life—that she was an orphan. Dazed, Teddie blinked. She was about to retort that she was a mother to his son, when abruptly her brain came back online and she bit back her words. Given how he’d behaved, and was still behaving, she certainly didn’t owe him the truth.

But George was his child. Didn’t he deserve to know that?

Her heartbeat stalled, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her stomach seemed to be turning in on itself. Wishing that she could make herself disappear as effortlessly as she could make watches and wallets vanish, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

‘No, I don’t,’ she lied.

And suddenly she knew that she had to leave right there and then, for to stay would mean more lies, and she couldn’t do it—she didn’t want to lie about her son.

Neither could she carry on lying to herself.

Up until today she had wanted to believe that she was over Aristo. But as she stared into his dark, distant eyes, the pain of pretending erupted inside of her, and suddenly she needed to make certain this never happened again.

She’d made the mistake of letting him back into her life before—made the mistake of following her heart, not her head. And although she didn’t regret it—for that would mean regretting having her son—after that one-night stand she’d accepted not only that their marriage was over, but that it was the best possible outcome.

Only by staying out of his orbit would she be safe—not just from him, but from herself.

She lifted her chin. This meeting would be their last.

Ignoring the intensity of his dark gaze, and the full, sensuous mouth that had so often kissed her into a state of helpless bliss, she cleared her throat. ‘Fascinating though this is, Aristo, I don’t really think there’s any point in us carrying on with this conversation,’ she said. ‘Small talk—any kind of talk, really—wasn’t ever your strong point, and we got divorced for a reason—several, actually.’

He held her gaze. ‘Are you refusing to talk to me?’

‘Yes, I am.’

But she didn’t want to explain why. Didn’t want to explain the complex and conflicting emotions swirling inside her.

Her heart was banging against her ribs and, breathing in deeply, she steadied herself. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a pen and a notebook and scrawled something on a page inside it. Tearing the page free, she folded it in half and slid it onto the table.

‘I don’t expect to hear from you again, but if you have to get in touch this is my lawyer’s number. Goodbye, Aristotle.’

And then, before he’d even had a chance to react, let alone respond, she turned and almost ran out of the hotel lounge.

Left alone, Aristo stared at the empty seat, a mass of emotions churning inside him. His heart was beating out of time. Teddie’s words had shocked him. But, although she had no doubt intended her curt goodbye to be a slap in the face, to him it felt as though she’d thrown down a gauntlet at his feet.

And in doing so she’d sealed her fate. Four years ago she had waltzed out of their marriage and his life and he’d spent the intervening years suppressing hurt and disappointment. Now, though, he was ready to confront his past—and his ex-wife.

But he would do so on his terms, he thought coldly. And, reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his phone.

* * *

Three hours later, having fed and bathed George and tidied away his toys, Teddie leaned back against the faded cushions of her sofa and let out a long, slow breath. She felt exhausted. Her apartment—her wonderful apartment—with its bright walls and wooden floors, which was usually a place of sanctuary, looked shabby after the high gloss of the Kildare Hotel. And, although her son was usually a sweet-tempered and easy-going toddler, he must have picked up on her tension. Tonight he’d had a huge tantrum when she’d stopped him playing with his toy speed boat in the bath.

He was sleeping now, and as she’d gazed down at her beautiful son she had felt both pride and panic, for he so resembled his father. A father he would never know.

She felt a rush of guilt and self-pity. This wasn’t what she’d wanted for herself or for her son. In her dreams she’d wanted to give him everything she’d never had—two loving parents, financial security—but she’d tried marriage and it had been a disaster.

Even before Aristo’s obsession with work had blotted out the rest of his life she had felt like a gatecrasher in her own marriage. But then what had they really known about one another? How could you really know someone after just seven weeks?

Maybe if their marriage had had stronger foundations it might have been possible for them to face their problems together. But they’d had no common ground aside from a raging sexual attraction which had been enough to blind both of them to their fundamental incompatibility. He had been born into wealth. She, on the other hand, had grown up in a children’s home with a mother dosed up on prescription drugs and a father in prison.

And sex wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship—not without trust and openness and tenderness.

Divorce had been the only option, and, although she might be able to face that fact she still wasn’t up to facing Aristo. Thankfully, though, she would never have to see him again.

Her pulse twitched as she remembered telling him to talk to her through her lawyer. She could hardly believe that she’d spoken to him like that. But she’d been so desperate to leave before she said anything incriminating about George, and even more desperate to ensure that he would be out of her life for good.

Stifling a yawn, she picked up her phone and gazed gloomily down at the time on the screen. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the duvet over her head and forget about the mess she’d made of her life.

Unfortunately Elliot was dropping round to discuss the Claiborne meeting.

For a moment she considered calling him to cancel. But being on her own with a head full of regrets and recriminations was not a great idea.

Anticipating Elliot’s partisan comments as she relayed an edited version of the day’s events, she felt her mood lighten a fraction and, standing up, she walked into the tiny kitchen that led off from the living room.

She was just pulling a bottle of wine from the rack when she heard the entryphone.

Thank goodness! Elliot was early. Buzzing him up, she picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Don’t be thinking we’re going to finish this—’ she began as she yanked open the door.

But her words trailed off into silence. It wasn’t Elliot standing there, with that familiar affectionate grin on his face. Instead it was Aristo, and he wasn’t smiling affectionately. In fact, he wasn’t smiling at all.