My gaze lingers on his. Such blue eyes, even in this light. The tip of his nose is already pink from the cold.
Stefanos searches my gaze in return, his eyebrows up ever so slightly. The lift to his jaw as he gazes at me does something melty to my insides. And then he runs a hand through his hair.
I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t find the air to speak. I fidget with my keys again.
“Maybe one day, we’ll meet up again,” Stefanos says into the quiet. “James speaks highly of you.”
I shiver, entranced by him. God knows what James has said. He’s a wild card. “Maybe we will.”
“Come to Corfu when the weather’s better,” Stefanos says lightly. “Come to see the sun.”
It’s all I can do to swallow hard. Distraction, I tell myself, from your situation. He’s proven himself to be a textbook study of manners. Unlike Aidan. And I only ruin beautiful things. Plus, he’s a prince. And the timing is terrible.
Yet, I’m already intrigued. I want more.
I can’t have more.
“Better than summer in England, I suppose,” I quip. “Usually.”
“Usually!”
Then we both laugh, standing face-to-face. He mirrors my pose, hands deep in his pockets. “I need to go.”
“Go.”
His eyes crinkle in a way I could totally get used to. “I’m going.”
“Quit stalling, then. Get the hell out of here.” I shake my head, giving him a stern look. “And guess I’ll see you around.”
Then he unleashes the glory of his full smile, better than the Mediterranean sun, filling me with the warmth he radiates. I shudder. He turns and walks to the car, disappearing inside. His bodyguard slips in from the other side.
And I remain fixed in place, watching Stefanos leave, till the red taillights of the car vanish around the corner.
Chapter Five
When I wake the next morning, sun slants through my partly open curtains, casting onto my bed. I lift my silk sleep mask, rub an eye. Too bright. I roll over onto my back with a heartfelt yawn and a thudding in my brain, courtesy of my hangover. Then, I get up long enough to down yet another glass of water and crawl back into bed till noon, a more civilized time to start the day.
And then, yesterday evening comes back in a rush: Aidan’s breakup text, his press exposé about how apparently self-involved I am, and meeting Stefanos. I wriggle in the covers, the sunbeam having moved off me, and onto the wooden floor. Drifting to full wakefulness, I imagine the first cup of tea and a quiet day, possibly editing some video once my brain catches up with my body, protesting the late night and shenanigans and drinks. James and Frankie left around 4:00 a.m.
At last, I get out of bed, reaching for my dressing gown to put over my boxers and slide my feet into embroidered wool slippers. Soon, I go through the ritual of making tea, sitting at the aged oak plank kitchen table, trying to get my bearings as I swipe through my phone. It’s blown up with messages about Aidan’s tell-all, which I can’t bear reading through quite yet. Something for later me. Later, less-hungover me.
Ethan’s text is more interesting. We’re working on a project together to make over his sister’s home. He’s an interior designer. I’m a creative consultant. My sister says I fluff pillows for a living, to which I told her fluffing men’s the alternative career path for me, to which she accused me of being vulgar.
Check your email. New fabric’s dropped for the curtains. Drinks later?
It’s far too soon to think about drinks. But working on Emma’s house is a fun project. She’s given Ethan and me free rein, which is a bold choice.
5pm. Mine or yours?
Come down to the studio
Deal
I drag out my laptop and overflowing diary and set up shop on top of the battered old table, stained dark with time and many coats of varnish, a real find. I flip open the plump brown leather diary bookmarked to this week. It’s stuffed with fabric samples and notes, favorite takeaway menus and tickets. I jot down tonight’s drinks, my hand hovering over yesterday. Then I write.
BETRAYAL. Also drinks with James et al.
Stefanos. Corfu.
