Safe.
The popping bubbles looked innocuous enough—fun, even—but all Anouk could see was her mother, downing glasses and popping pills. Had anything else passed her lips in those final few years?
‘One glass doesn’t make you your mother.’ Saskia linked her arm through Anouk’s, reading her mind.
Anouk offered a rueful smile.
‘That obvious, huh?’
‘Only to me. Now go on, forget about your mother and enjoy this evening. You and I both deserve a bit of time off, and, anyway, we’re supporting a good cause.’
‘We are, aren’t we?’ Anouk nodded, dipping her head and taking a tentative sip.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. In fact, it was actually quite pleasant. Not the cheap plonk, at least, with no bitter aftertaste. Including that of her mother.
Sighing quietly, Anouk finally felt some of the tension begin to uncoil within her.
This was going to be a good evening. She was determined to enjoy it.
* * *
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming after all.’
His voice was like a lightning bolt moving through her, pinning her to the spot. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and even her legs gave a traitorous tremor beneath the gorgeous blue fabric.
Gathering up all her will, Anouk made herself turn around, even as Saskia was sliding her arm from Anouk’s and greeting Sol as if they were good friends.
Then again, they were. Saskia had been at Moorlands General for years. Admittedly a much nicer hospital than Moorlands Royal Infirmary, where she herself had trained. Why hadn’t she made the transfer sooner?
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she only just caught Saskia murmuring something about going to check the seating plan, too late to stop her friend from slipping away into the faceless crowd.
And just like that she was alone with Sol.
As if the couple of hundred other people in the place didn’t even exist.
It should have worried Anouk more that she felt that way.
‘You look...breathtaking.’
Ridiculously, the fact that he had to reach for the word, as though it was genuine and not some well-trotted-out line, sent another bolt of brilliant light through her.
And heat.
So much heat.
Which was why he had a reputation for being fatal. He was the Smoking Gun, after all.
She would do well to remember that.
‘You thought I wasn’t coming?’ she made herself ask, tipping her head to one side in some semblance of casualness.
‘I did wonder.’
Some golden liquid swirled about an expensive-looking, crystal brandy glass in his hand. But it was the bespoke suit that really snagged her attention. Expensively tailored, it showcased Sol to perfection with his broad shoulders and strong chest, tapering to an athletic waist. The crisp white shirt with the bow tie that was already just a fraction too loose suggested a hint of debauchery, as though he was already on the brink of indulging where he shouldn’t.
With her?
She went hot, then cold, then hot again at the thought. It was shameful that the idea should appeal so much. The simmering heat seemed to make her insides expand until she feared her flesh and bones wouldn’t be able to contain her. He was simply too...much.