“You recoiled from me like you expected me tohit you.”
“Of course I recoiled from you,” she blusters. “You were angry.” She pulls her hand from mine, slicing her hair behind both of her ears. “It was nothing but an evolutionary throwback. You know,meant to prevent a cavegirl from being trampled by a woolly mammoth.”
“Can you be serious for a minute?”
“I am being serious.” She laughs. It sounds so forced. Then she smooths her skirt over her thigh rather than look at me. “It’s not a big deal, Raif. Youwereangry, and I got a shock. That’s all.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Just leave it,” she snaps, that little insight slipping out.
Fuck it. If she won’t tell me, I’ll find out for myself.
“Anyway, what are you doing here?” She smiles. Brittle rather than bright. “Have you come to buy art?”
“I was just passing.” Fucking liar. “I thought I might take you to lunch.”
Her turn to lie now. “Sorry, I’ve already eaten. You should’ve called ahead.”
“How about coffee?”
“Except you’ve just chased out my gallery assistant.” She shrugs. “It would be bad business to close.”
“I could call Luis to come play shop.”
“No offense, but his customer service skills would probably put meoutof business.”
“You don’t like him? We can get you someone else to drive you.” Someone other than Leo, that is.
“No, honestly. Luis is great. He’d just make a rubbish salesperson. Rain check on the coffee, though, yeah?”
“Sure. I’ll call ahead next time.” I hold out my arms, but she doesn’t step into them. But she lets me take her hand which, sap that I am, I feelgrateful for.
26
RAIF
“Really?”
I nod, though don’t lift my gaze from my copy of the master plan spread across the tabletop. “An urban oasis. Parklands and a canal,” I say, my finger following the meandering path designated in the paper. “Ten thousand new homes and three new schools.” According to the architect, whose meeting I was only forty minutes late for.London traffic.“You know what that means?”
“A community.”
“And every community needs somewhere to spend their money,” I say, glancing. “So there’s—”
“Arrgh! Fuck, that hurt! Don’t do it again, please. I got a wife and kids.”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, straightening. “Pete, come on. Keep it down. I’m trying to have a conversation here.”
“Sorry, Mr. Deveraux.”
Luis’s left leg shoots out, catching Pete in the shin, who grunts this time, biting back any other instinct.
Pete, my second appointment of the afternoon, drops his chin to his chest, shivering in the cold air. The sun might be shining outside, but it hasn’t penetrated the damp brickwork.
“I have every intention of paying you back.” He sniffs. “I just don’t have the money right now.”
With a sigh, I roll up the plans and slot them back into their cylindrical holder.
