“Are you alright?” He moved closer and the words were gruff and gentle, all at once. She pressed her lips together, and her eyes didn’t quite meet his.
“I’m fine.”
“I know…” he shook his head. “I know you weren’t sleeping with him. But you were involved?”
“With Artie?” She rolled her eyes. “For the hundredth time, no.” She pushed away from the bench and away from him, moving quickly through the suite. She desperately wanted a shower. But she could shower when she got home.
Home.
Not Barnwell.
Her own home, here in London. And Artie would be gone.
A sob filled her chest; she swallowed it. She pulled on her jeans, grimacing as she snapped her fingernail in the zip. Well, that was yet another self-fulfilling prophecy, wasn’t it? After fibbing about her torn fingernail the day before, she deserved the pain of one in real life.
“Claudia?” He was watching her from the doorframe, his expression grim. “You’re upset.”
“No kidding.” She spun around, looking for her shirt, and found it folded over the back of a chair. She pulled it on, tucking it into the waistband of her jeans. Her coat was by the door, she recalled. She moved into the bathroom, her fingers fumbling as she lifted her make-up out and applied a little blush to her cheeks. He was watching her in the mirror.
She didn’t dare look his way.
“Tell me what it is,” he murmured urgently.
“Oh, gee, I wonder.” She snapped sarcastically. “Could it be the fact you’re hounding me about not reading the newspaper, as though my reading habits are anything to do with you? How dare you? How dare you think you have any right to control me to that degree?”
“Control you?” He responded with shock. “I don’t want to control you.”
“You keep telling me I can be myself around you but you don’t like who I am. I’m someone who doesn’t read. Ever. Not for pleasure, not for fun. I don’t like it.”
“Because of who your father was,” he said softly. “And I’m just saying that you don’t have to run from that with me.”
“Don’t. Don’t psychoanalyse me as though you have a secret insight into the inner-workings of my mind.”
“I think I do,” he said with a gentleness that spoke of determination.
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.” She zipped her cosmetics bag closed and moved back into the bedroom, brushing past him without letting herself acknowledge the zipping of emotion that accompanied his proximity.
“This is about Arthur, isn’t it?” She heard the raw emotion in his tone, and she knew that it was jealousy. God, she knew what she needed to do to get away from Stavros. It was an awful catch-22 to be in. Stavros was the one person on earth she cared about. The one person she most desperately wanted to hide the truth of her situation from, and the one person who wouldn’t just accept her vague answers.
And she knew the way to force him to let her go.
“Yeah, it’s about Artie!” She spun around to face him, her heart breaking at the lies she was about to tell. “I love him, okay? I’m head over heels in love with him and have been for years.” Tears sparkled on her lashes, but they were tears for Stavros, he was frozen to the spot, his face grey beneath his tan, his expression like iron. “
“He’s back with Marianne,” Stavros interjected, but the words were hoarse.
“I know that,” she tossed her remaining possessions into her bag. “It doesn’t change how I feel.” She swallowed.
“If you love him so much, why did you sleep with me?” He prompted.
“Why do you think?” Her brain was shouting at her to stop. To rethink this plan of attack. But her ego and pride were leading the charge, doing what they could to save her from the shame of his discovering the truth. “Do you think Artie would be interested in someone like me? A virgin? Can you imagine what he would have said? He’d never have stopped laughing. Besides, I needed to know what I was doing in bed, Stavros, and you’ve been an excellent teacher.”
Silence, angry, dark silence descended upon them.
Stavros sucked in a breath, his eyes smarting. He prowled towards her, and she whimpered, so sad, so desperately saddened by what she’d just said. It was the worst lie she’d ever told for the sake of her secret.
“I knew you were selfish.” The words hit her like bullets. “I knew you were vain.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the ache of his accusations. “I knew you were spoiled and indulged and concerned only with your very narrow little life.” He was right in front of her, his anger vibrating from him like a force field. “But I never knew you were such a cold-hearted bitch.” He brought his face closer to hers and she held her breath, knowing what was coming and powerless to stop it.
He kissed her. A kiss that made her heart break and her eyes sting with hot tears. A kiss that was borne of anger and rage. He kissed h