Playing by the Greek's Rules (Puffin Island 0.50)

In his position she would have died of humiliation, but he seemed supremely indifferent to the fact he’d been publicly dumped. ‘You don’t seem upset.’

‘Why would I be upset?’

‘Because most people are upset when a relationships ends.’

He smiled. ‘I’m not one of those.’

Lily felt a flash of envy. ‘You’re not even a teeny tiny bit sad?’

‘I’m not familiar with that unit of measurement but no, I’m not even a “teeny tiny” bit sad. To be sad I’d have to care and I don’t care.’

To be sad I’d have to care and I don’t care.

Brilliant, Lily thought. Why couldn’t she have said that to Professor Ashurst when he’d given her that fake sympathy about having hurt her? She needed to memorise it for next time. ‘Excuse me a moment.’ Leaving a dripping trail behind her, she shot past him, scrabbled in her bag and pulled out a notebook.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m writing down what you said. Whenever I’m dumped I never know the right thing to say, but next time it happens I’m going to say exactly those words in exactly that tone instead of producing enough tears to power a water feature at Versailles.’ She scribbled, dripping water onto her notebook and smearing the ink.

‘Being “dumped” is something that happens to you often?’

‘Often enough. I fall in love, I get my heart broken, it’s a cycle I’m working on breaking.’ She wished she hadn’t said anything. Although she was fairly open with people, she drew the line at making public announcements about not being easy to love.

That was her secret.

‘How many times have you fallen in love?’

‘So far?’ She shook the pen with frustration as the ink stalled on the damp page, ‘Three times.’

‘Cristo, that’s unbelievable.’

‘Thanks for not making me feel better. I bet you’ve never been unlucky in love, have you?’

‘I’ve never been in love at all.’

Lily digested that. ‘You’ve never met the right person.’

‘I don’t believe in love.’

‘You—’ She rocked back on her heels, her attention caught. ‘So what do you believe in?’

‘Money, influence and power.’ He shrugged. ‘Tangible, measurable goals.’

‘You can measure power and influence? Don’t tell me—you stamp your foot and it registers on the Richter scale.’

He loosened his tie. ‘You’d be surprised.’

‘I’m already surprised. Gosh, you are so cool. You are my new role model.’ Finally she managed to coax ink from the pen. ‘It is never too late to change. From now on I’m all about tangible, m

easurable goals, too. As a matter of interest, what is your goal in relationships?’

‘Orgasm.’ He gave a slow smile and she felt herself turn scarlet.

‘Right. Well, that serves me right for asking a stupid question. That’s definitely a measurable goal. You’re obviously able to be cold and ruthlessly detached when it comes to relationships. I’m aiming for that. I’ve dripped all over your floor. Be careful not to slip.’

He was leaning against the wall, watching her with amusement. ‘This is what you look like when you’re being cold and ruthlessly detached?’

‘I haven’t actually started yet, but the moment my radar warns me I might be in danger of falling for the wrong type, bam—’ she punched the air with her fist ‘—I’m going to turn on my freezing side. From now on I have armour around my heart. Kevlar.’ She gave him a friendly smile. ‘You think I’m crazy, right? All this is natural to you. But it isn’t to me. This is the first stage of my personality transplant. I’d love to do the whole thing under anaesthetic and wake up all new and perfect, but that isn’t possible so I’m trying to embrace the process.’