‘It’s so good to see you.’ Dainty arms reach around my neck, yanking me into a warm, all-encompassing hug.
‘And you, Aurelia. You look fantastic, as usual.’ Her perfectly poised exterior is a far cry from the tattered looking teenager who mailed me a badly recorded demo tape, desperately seeking a way to escape her poverty-struck life in Brazil.
The quality of the recording might have been poor, but her star quality was unmistakable. I signed her in a heartbeat, changing both of our lives for the better. We’ve been firm friends ever since.
‘Who’s this lucky lady?’ She turns her attention to Chloe, who’s unusually quiet for once.
‘I’m Chloe Sexton. It’s an absolute pleasure. I’m a huge fan.’ Cyan eyes continue to dart inquisitively between Aurelia and me.
‘She was at two of your concerts last year, apparently.’ I chance draping an arm across Chloe’s shoulder, drawing her closer into the conversation. Goosebumps chase across her bare skin beneath my hand. When my thumb strokes her soft flesh, she trembles.
Has she finally got the memo we should embark on the hottest fling of both our lives? I’m playing with fire. I know I am, but I can’t stop myself. Away from Ireland and Huxley Castle, Chloe’s silver spoon doesn’t seem nearly so deeply inserted.
Even her sarcastic retorts are growing on me.
‘Ahh, thank you so much. I’ll send you tickets for next year, if you’d like? Or perhaps Jayden will bring you again?’ She shoots me a conspicuous wink, knowing as well as I do the Pope will get married before that happens.
Current outstanding obligations aside, I don’t do relationships.
Four weeks is my longest relationship to date, and I was out of the country for two of them. Flings, on the other hand, that’s a different matter. I’m a pro. As long as everyone knows where they stand and nobody gets hurt, what’s the harm?
This time around, discretion is essential, though. There are bigger things at stake, namely the promise I just made to Lula. Being photographed publicly with another woman would certainly jeopardise the fiancée visa she’s applying for.
In the past, women have agreed to casual sex, convinced deep down they’ll be the one to change me. To fix me. It’s never going to happen. If I thought for a second I could maintain a loving and committed relationship, something that had potential to turn into the traditional love and marriage, I wouldn’t have signed away my chances of finding it by offering to help Lula get her green card.
Chloe seems refreshingly like me, liberated and uncomplicated. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the hard exterior walls she’s constructed are for her own protection, but even knowing that doesn’t deter me from wanting to explore what’s behind them, for a short time at least.
Aurelia’s bodyguards approach and a six-foot five skinhead with an earpiece gently takes her elbow, informing her it’s time to begin her show.
Blowing me a final kiss, she turns to Chloe. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care of this one.’ She motions to me. ‘Even the heroes need saving sometimes.’
I’m no hero. I couldn’t save Sofia. That’s why I have to save Lula.
Throughout Aurelia’s performance, memories from almost a decade ago infiltrate my mind, piercing my heart. It’s an effort to shake them off, though the ear-splitting pop and the proximity of the mysteriously deep woman next to me definitely help.
Throughout the show, we’re treated to a sumptuous meal, course after course, following each other with little pause. So much food. Fresh lobster. Sorbet. Succulent steak. Truffles. Each mouthful increasingly more delectable than the one before.
Between gazing at her apparent idol and devouring each decorative plate set before her, Chloe’s eyes intermittently slant towards me with a look of impressed bemusement.
At the halfway interval, she finally speaks. ‘You and Aurelia…? I mean, did you…?’ She takes a huge mouthful from a crystal champagne flute.
I know exactly what she’s referring to, but as ever, it’s too tempting not to wind her up. ‘Did we what?’
‘Are you, I mean… is there something going on between you?’ She takes another mouthful of bubbles.
‘Would you be jealous if there was, Princess?’ Leaning closer, my hand cups her chin, tilting her gaze upwards so she can’t look away.
I should tone it down. I’m in no position to be embarking on anything right now, but if the rumours are true about Chloe, then we could come to some sort of arrangement. The attraction between us is obviously mutual. It buzzes between us with a growing insistency. We could have some real fun on tour, if she’d only agree to it.
Chloe’s huge cyan eyes gaze at me with a rare hint of vulnerability. It’s my undoing. My lips seek hers, crashing against them with a hunger that could get me arrested in this country. Kissing her into oblivion. Doing what I wished I could have done years ago.
Hooded eyes flutter closed as her mouth fully submits to mine, parting just enough for my greedy tongue to slip in and devour her from the inside out. Our mouths fasten, slipping and sliding with a decadent hedonistic desire, igniting an inferno within. An urgent, feral need to claim her consumes me.
Calling her my woman was not for her benefit. It was for mine. I was marking my territory. Because she is mine, for the next few days anyway. The moment I hopped on that plane, deep down, I knew this was inevitable.
That energy between us was never hate. It was red hot vibrating molecules of lust.
A loud and deliberate cough next to us reminds me we’re in a very public part of a Muslim country. Startled, Chloe jerks away, pressing her fingers to her lips like she’s been burned. Shock, confusion and a sultry longing flashes in her dilated pupils.
