A Scandal Made At Midnight

CHAPTER SEVEN

LIANEHELD ALESSANDRO’Sgaze as he gaped at her, but only just. She couldn’t believe how brazen she was being, but even so she was glad she’d forced the issue. Ever since laying eyes on the man she’d been lambasting herself for thinking about him at all. For indulging a schoolgirl crush and allowing the man to affect her so much, to make her senses spin and her nerves tingle.

She’d had a crisis of confidence, thinking she’d been imagining his response to her, and then an even worse one, fearing he pitied her. Now she was beginning to glimpse the truth, or at least some of it. He simply didn’t want to have a casual affair with her. Well, why not?

‘Why...why not you?’ he practically sputtered, shaking his head as if the answer were too obvious to state.

‘It’s a reasonable question.’ To her credit, her voice didn’t tremble any longer, even though her hands did. She hid them in her lap. She could hardly believe she was talking about this—having an affair. Sex. And she with virtually no experience of such matters at all. ‘So tell me why not.’

‘Because.’ He reached for his glass and took a sip of water. ‘Because you’re not the kind of woman a man has affairs with.’

Ouch.She kept her expression bland with effort, her hands still clenched in her lap. ‘I’m not?’

‘Would you even want such an...an arrangement?’ he demanded, turning the tables on her neatly. ‘A casual affair with absolutely no future in it? No-strings sex, merely a physical transaction, admittedly pleasurable, that ends when I say it does?’ The heat in his eyes as he stared at her in challenge made her lower her gaze.

She’d challenged him out of pique, a momentary boldness that had allowed her to fling the question at him like throwing down a gauntlet, but now she found herself having to consider the matter seriously, a prospect that filled her with both deep unease and utter yearning.

She closed her eyes as she remembered that charged moment in the dressing room when he’d dipped his head, his hand near her waist, the promise of a kiss hovering between them—it had been so little and yet she’d felt so much. How much more would she feel if he’d actually kissed her? If he—

‘Liane.’Her name came out sharply. ‘Answer me.’

She looked up and saw colour on the slashes of his cheekbones, his eyes glittering fiercely—why? Because of her? Could he actually desire her? The knowledge was incredible, wondrous. Powerful. A knowing, catlike smile curved her mouth as a new, dizzying delight raced through her veins. She’d never, ever felt this way before. Never known she could feel it.

‘Answer you?’ she asked innocently. ‘But I’m still considering the matter.’ She could hardly believe she was saying the words. She wasn’t really considering such a thing, was she? No-strings sex, a soulless, emotionless affair? And yet...such pleasure. To feel wanted, to finally, fully step into the spotlight...

Alessandro let out a sound that was close to a groan. ‘The question was meant to be rhetorical. Of course you don’t.’

‘Don’t I? Why not? I already told you I don’t believe in the fairy tale.’ She spoke the words with insistence, even though they seemed to ring hollow. She did believe in the fairy tale, absolutely, she always had, but in this moment she almost didn’t want to. She wanted to flirt. To feel wanted. To have this fiery longing racing through her veins and know, or at least hope, it was racing through his as well. That they could both stoke the flames higher and then finally, wonderfully, sate them...

She glanced at him, eyebrows lifted, meaning to look flirtatious, provocative, but the sudden sober look in his shuttered gaze made her falter, the feminine confidence she’d been enjoying for a few brief seconds trickling away, leaving her feeling empty and embarrassed. The real Liane, looking for a fairy tale that didn’t exist, the happily-ever-after that was not for the likes of her.

‘But you do,’ he said quietly. ‘I know you must, no matter what you just said. You’re a woman who...who was made for the fairy tale.’

Her lips parted but no sound came out. Was that meant to be a compliment? It sounded like one, and yet...it was also a rejection, she realised with a sudden, stinging shame. Even if she had practically just said out loud that she’d happily jump into bed with him, Alessandro was telling her he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have believed for a moment that a man like him wanted a woman like her, someone mousy and shy and uninteresting? She stared down at the table, willing herself not to blush or, worse, cry.

‘I believe this conversation has got a little bit out of hand,’ he continued lightly, a kindness in his tone that Liane couldn’t bear. ‘Shall we draw a line under it all and move on—as friends?’ He gave her a smile that was full of gentle whimsy and it made her feel like bursting into tears. This was worse than being his pity project. Far worse.

Wordlessly, her throat too tight to speak, Liane nodded. She forced herself to look up to meet his all too compassionate gaze, nodding again as she managed to force out, ‘Yes, I think that sounds like a good idea.’

Alessandro hesitated, his grey gaze scanning her face, looking for clues, and Liane prayed she wouldn’t give him any. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorrier for her than he already did. Somehow she made her lips turn upwards as she leaned back in her seat, eyebrows raised, as if this had all been nothing more than an interesting, theoretical discussion.

‘Good,’ he finally said, and thankfully the waiter came then with their main courses and Liane could concentrate on her food instead of the awful look of naked pity she’d seen on Alessandro’s face.

Somehow he didn’t feel that conversation had gone quite as he might have wanted it to. It had been entirely surprising, shocking even, as well as unsettling, to have Liane ask him so directly. Why not me?

Why not, indeed?

The truth was, he could imagine all too easily how she would feel in his arms. Her lips on his, her body pliant against his as he plundered her softness, as she yielded it up to him...yes, he could imagine it very well indeed. But the truth was, he’d meant what he’d said. All his affairs had been conducted in an almost businesslike fashion: two people agreeing to use each other’s bodies for pleasure. It was cold-hearted, yes, but it had worked. No emotions engaged, no possibility of feeling exposed or hurt, of sending wrong signals, of making it more than it was.

But the thought of having such an affair with Liane was...wrong, on a fundamental level. Wrong and distasteful and definitely not something he wanted, strangely enough, considering the desire currently racing through his veins, setting his blood on fire.

She wasn’t a woman to be trifled with, to use as he felt like and then dispense with when he was done, even if she agreed with what he already knew would be the undoubtedly, overwhelmingly pleasurable using.

You’re a woman who was made for the fairy tale.

What a cringingly sentimental notion, and yet he’d meant it, absolutely. Even if she didn’t believe she did, Liane deserved the fairy tale, complete with the bow-wrapped happily-ever-after ending, and that was something he knew he could never, ever give. He refused to try.

Looking at her closed expression now, her eyes veiled as she focused on her meal, he suspected that she didn’t believe he’d meant what he’d said. She persisted in clinging to the exasperating idea that he felt sorry for her, simply because she wasn’t like her stepsister. As if anyone needed more Ellas in the world!

Even so, Alessandro was hesitant to disabuse her of the notion. Better they simply move on, as friends as he’d said, and never discuss this again. Because if Liane was meant for the fairy tale, he wasn’t. And he had no intention of hurting her by letting her think even for a second that fairy tales were real when it came to him...no matter what her sister was able to show on social media.

He thought they managed, more or less, to recover their equilibrium over the course of the lunch; Alessandro asked her if she’d ever been to London, which she had, and then told her he wanted her to show him some of the sights in Paris.

‘I’m sure you’ve seen Paris dozens of times,’ she replied, and he smiled at her, longing to get back some of the connection he’d felt before, if not quite all of it.

‘Not by a true Parisienne.’

‘I grew up more in Lyon than Paris, but very well.’ She shrugged, managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘If there is time, I’d be happy to show you some sights, but this trip does seem like a whirlwind.’

‘I’m sure we can spare an afternoon.’ He would make sure of it. Really, Alessandro told himself, this had all worked out for the best. They could spend time together without any miscommunication or uneasiness, knowing exactly where they stood. He could count her as a friend, and maybe even help her believe in herself a bit more. He told himself he was glad they’d had that conversation, uncomfortable as it had been. It really had made everything easier.