‘You look surprised.’
She swallowed, then grasped his hand back, aware of their audience. ‘Isn’t that what you’re paying me to look?’
‘There’s a necklace that goes with it.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘I’m supposed to give it to you on our fortieth wedding anniversary.’
As he leant over to whisper in her ear they looked for all the world every bit a young couple in love, on the threshold of the universe with all their lives before them waiting to be lived and loved together. Even Pierre’s eyes filled with tears as Zavier pulled her closer.
‘This ring is on loan. I’ll replace it with one of equal monetary value when the deal’s completed. Just don’t go getting too attached to it; this stays in the family.’
There was no malice in his voice, no offence meant, just a coolly delivered statement of fact.
The only thing Tabitha had to comfort her was the fact that the tears that inexplicably formed in her eyes had Zavier almost gasping in admiration. ‘You’re wasted as a dancer, Tabitha; you should try your hand at acting.’
It was only when their main meal had been served and Zavier had waved away the attendant waiters, insisting he was perfectly capable of pouring his own wine, that they started to talk again.
‘You still haven’t answered my question. How will we tell everyone?’
‘That’s already been taken care of.’
‘You mean you’ve told them before I’ve even agreed? Are you so sure that I will?’
Zavier shrugged. ‘No to the first; yes to the second.’
She stared at him, nonplussed.
‘You’ll soon see.’
And despite the initially strained atmosphere, despite the awful lies that bound them, sitting there across the table from him, gleaning tiny details about him, watching his features soften in the candlelight, hearing his voice, his occasional laughter, she saw another side to him. Learnt about the man instead of the icon. Discovered that he could be nice and funny—sensitive, even.#p#分页标题#e#
Maybe it was the champagne, the crêpes dripping in dark chocolate and raw sugar. Maybe it was the company. Whatever the explanation, as she sat running her spoon in the rivers of chocolate sauce on her plate, when the bill discreetly arrived in its velvet folder, Tabitha felt like a child watching the Christmas tree being taken down. Automatically she reached down for her bag, ready to pay her share, but as soon as she had done so she immediately righted herself.
Of course Zavier noticed. ‘Good girl. You’re learning fast.’
Pierre was back, positively beaming. ‘I am so delighted you chose my restaurant for this most special night. May I say, Monsieur Chambers, what a beautiful fiancée you have, sir. You make a very handsome couple. Tell me, how did you meet?’
Zavier took her hand before he answered. ‘At a family wedding, Pierre. It was only a few days ago, yet I feel I’ve known Tabitha for ever. She swept me off my feet.’
Pierre clapped his hands together in delight. ‘A whirlwind romance. How romantic.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Standing, he offered Tabitha his hand, which she accepted.
As the night air hit them Tabitha let out the breath she had inadvertently been holding. ‘Do you think he believed us?’
‘Why not? I think we did bloody well, actually. Anyway, Pierre can only benefit, so it’s in his interest to believe us.’
‘Why?’
He turned, the light from the restaurant enhancing his strong profile, his eyes unreadable. ‘You’ve got so much to learn, little one.’
‘But what’s Pierre got to do with it? He seemed genuinely delighted at the news.’
Zavier gave a cynical snort. ‘Genuinely delighted at the publicity, you mean.’
She opened her mouth to question him further, but before the words even formed in her mind a great weight came upon her, the force of his body literally pinning her against the wall. Her breath literally knocked out of her, all she could do was stare in surprise as his hungry mouth searched for hers, his body pushing, pressing against hers in unbridled passion. Amazingly, she wasn’t scared—not for a single second. Even though there was nothing gentle about the way he was holding her, nothing restrained about his searching mouth and hands, the scratch of his chin against her cheek like a million tiny volts coursing through her face.
He tasted of champagne and decadence and danger, his kiss a symbol of the very real danger of the man, the inexplicable thrill of the reckless desire that blinded her. How she would love to resist him, to coolly push him away, but it was an impossible feat. Her hand instantly jumped up, grabbing at his hair, pulling his face closer as she kissed him back deeply. His manhood pressing into her left her in no doubt that he was as aroused as her. For a crazy second she thought he might take her there and then—and what was crazier was that she would have let him. In one swoop he had rewritten her values, the very standards she lived by. Her morals, her inner rules were discarded as she kissed him back. But just as suddenly it was over. He pulled away, barely breathless, triumph blazing in his eyes.