Giving in to the urge to make love with him on such short acquaintance was a tolerable mistake. Yes, she’d been weak enough to succumb to a player’s best moves, but from a purely physical standpoint—pun intended—it had been great. She hadn’t had any regrets as he’d leaned against her, both of them damp and still breathing hard.
Then the ring of his mobile had galvanized him into withdrawing and straightening himself, as he grabbed the phone and said, “Bella.” He had gone outside, seeking privacy.
He might as well have smacked her. Of course he had other women in his life. Maybe their lovemaking had been profound and unique for her, but it was routine for him. She was no more than the stick of gum he chewed for fifteen minutes to freshen his breath!
Cinnia had tugged on her knickers and got the hell out of there.
“Are you serious?” he muttered now. “The call was from my sister.”
“Not any less offensive,” she declared, turning her disconcerted frown to the window, cautioning herself not to believe him. Fool me twice...
“D’accord. You’re right. It was rude,” he said begrudgingly. “But there are circumstances. I don’t ignore her calls.”
“That’s nice. Tell your driver I’m on the other side of London. He’s going the wrong way.”
“Cinnia,” Henri growled. “Have some compassion. There are reasons.”
The kidnapping? The isolation? She glanced at him, desperately wanting to throw his words back in his face, but he didn’t look manipulative or even like he was trying to cajole. He looked frustrated and, beneath it, troubled.
She recalled him saying he never spoke about his family and sighed. Perhaps she would have to take him at his word, but it was still insulting as hell.
“Fine,” she muttered.
“Do you mean that? Or is it a passive-aggressive fine?”
“Does it matter? I could ask you to tell me what those circumstances are, but you’re not going to, are you?”
“No.” His expression darkened.
She shrugged, hiding that his reticence struck her as lack of trust, which hurt far more deeply than it had a right to.
“So what do you care if I’m fine or not? Even if we’d ended things on a warmer note that night, you were never going to call me after. We both know that, so who cares how we end things now?”
“I care, obviously.”
“No, you don’t!” she cried on a scoffing laugh. “You walked into that party and saw the easiest girl in the room.” If she could take back her capitulation... Would she? Oh, it was lowering to admit it, but probably not. Regardless, she’d be a fool to repeat it.
“You’re looking for a do-over,” she accused. Her voice cracked and she forced out a tight no, thanks.
“Au contraire,” he said, his voice so sharp and hard it stabbed through the thick plate she was trying to hold over her chest. “At least three women in that room were far easier. Trust me. I’ve met them in the past. Not slept with them,” he quickly clarified. “But I’ve been invited to on very short acquaintance. I came tonight because you were on the guest list.”
Her emotions were taking a bumpy ride despite the smoothness of the car’s suspension. He’d come to see her? She didn’t want to believe that. It would make her soften toward him and she was already struggling to keep him at arm’s length.
“I wish you hadn’t. My supervisor already suggested it would be a good career move if I sent you a letter of introduction for the firm.” She turned her face to the window again. “Now he’ll be even more of a pain about it. Thanks.”
“You want me to come into his office and let him give me his spiel? Fine.”
“No, Henri, I don’t!” She swung her head around, barely able to keep a civil tone. “What message does that send? Next he’ll tell me who to sleep with in order to land a client. Men! Are you really that obtuse? Your notoriety is not ‘gold’ for me. It’s a scarlet letter. Don’t do me any favors.”
He sat back, a ring of white appearing around his tight mouth.
“I can’t help who I am, Cinnia. I can’t help that people want to use me, or use anyone who comes close to me to get to me. If I could change it, I would, but I can’t!” His voice rang through the small space like a thunderclap, rife with incensed frustration.
His outburst was so shocking, she sat in silence a moment, absorbing what he’d revealed—reluctantly, judging by the way he shut down immediately after.
Empathy rolled into the spaces he’d blown open in her. She couldn’t help feeling bad for him then, especially as a motor scooter buzzed up alongside the car and the passenger on the back aimed a camera at the darkened window. It flashed, perhaps catching her frown of dismay.