The Mistress Contract

‘For you, my beautiful lady, anything,’ Giorgio enthused in his heavy accent, before turning to Conrad and saying, ‘This lovely lady, she is beautiful, si? I tell her all the time.’

‘Very beautiful,’ Conrad agreed, ‘and I tell her too.’

‘This is good, verrry good.’ The smile became beatific. ‘You give me your coats and I take you to my verrry best table, si?’

Once they were seated in the far corner of the restaurant, and Giorgio had given them a somewhat dog-eared menu along with further effusive compliments for Sephy, she leant forward and said very quietly, ‘He calls all the women beautiful; he’s Italian.’

‘I’m English, and I agree with him in this instance.’

She stared at him, wondering if he knew how incongruous his designer suit and handmade shoes looked in the spartan confines of Giorgio’s scruffy little restaurant. He didn’t appear to, in fact he seemed perfectly relaxed and at home, but then Conrad never gave anything away. An enigma, that was what he was. A unique, twenty-four-carat enigma, with blue eyes and a smile to die for.

When the food came it was as good as Sephy had promised, and the raspberry-flavoured dry red wine Conrad had insisted on ordering and paying for was excellent, although wildly expensive.

‘I didn’t know he had wines like this,’ Sephy gulped in surprise after her first taste. ‘But then we always go for the cheap plonk, I’m afraid. Giorgio must despair at times.’

‘We?’ Conrad queried smoothly.

‘There’s a gang of us who normally come once or twice a week.’

‘Right.’ Narrowed blue eyes surveyed her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Well, let me tell you your Giorgio knows his wines,’ Conrad said pleasantly. ‘This place is quite a little find.’

Was he being patronising? Sephy asked herself silently, before she admitted she was being unfair. He was enjoying himself, it was patently obvious, and it wasn’t exactly what she had expected. It wasn’t very uplifting to admit she was capable of such mean-mindedness but she had to acknowledge she had hoped, deep inside, that he would display some disdain or superciliousness—anything—to bring to light a deficit in his character. She needed something to dislike him for, and snobbishness was as good as anything else.

She looked at him as he sat back in his chair, sipping his wine and gazing around the small restaurant, and her heart lurched and then raced on like an express train. She could still hardly believe she was here with him like this, or that yesterday evening had happened. Her and Conrad? It was surreal, impossible.

‘What’s the matter?’ As the piercing eyes fastened on her face she realised, too late, that he had been aware of her scrutiny.

‘The matter? Why does anything have to be the matter?’ she parried quickly, knowing she was blushing a bright red.

There was a significant little silence as he gave her a long, meaningful look. ‘Because you are you,’ he said drily, ‘and I’m learning fast. What have I done wrong this time?’

‘Don’t be silly. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

She was immensely glad that Giorgio chose that particular moment to come bustling up to remove their empty plates and give them the dessert menu. He didn’t often wait on customers, his two daughters were employed in that role, but he seemed to have taken a liking to Conrad—or more probably a liking to his obvious wealth, Sephy thought a trifle cynically. Giorgio was a businessman first and foremost.

‘Wow.’ Conrad glanced at the handwritten menu before looking at Sephy, his eyes smiling. ‘Can I choose anything I like?’ he asked humbly, his eyes gently mocking her.

‘Of course.’ Her voice was stiff; she couldn’t help it.

‘Then I’ll have a double portion of the tiramisu,’ Conrad said with open unrepentant greed, ‘and, as I’m not driving, a liqueur coffee to follow. French, I think.’

‘Ah, this is good. A man who knows what he likes,’ Giorgio gushed at their side.

And then Sephy went a brilliant pink as Conrad said softly, his eyes fixed on her flushed face, ‘Oh, I know what I like, but not everything is as easy to get as the tiramisu.’

‘Yes, well, I’ll have the caramel orange, please,’ Sephy cut in quickly, her voice something of a snap as she lowered her eyes to the menu in her hands. ‘And just coffee with cream, Giorgio.’

For the rest of the meal Conrad put himself out to be amusing and charming, and Sephy thought he had forgotten their previous conversation, but then, having paid the bill among more ebullient profusion from Giorgio, they stepped into the dark, cold world beyond the restaurant doors. It had stopped sleeting but the winter night was freezing, the sky covered by dense cloud, and they had only gone a few steps towards the flat when Conrad turned her to face him. He looked down at her, his blue eyes narrowed and thoughtful.

‘I want to know,’ he said softly.

‘Know?’ She stared up at him, genuinely at a loss.

‘What you were thinking of in there before Giorgio came up with the dessert menu,’ he said evenly. ‘Were you comparing me with him? With this guy who broke your heart?’

‘I’ve never said anyone broke my heart,’ Sephy protested hotly. She didn’t want to do this, and especially not right now.

‘Who was he, Sephy?’ His voice was harsher now, tight even. ‘This “something” that happened to you when you were younger that you spoke of? Did he abuse you, was that it? Or was it a love affair that ended badly? Did you live with him?’ he pressed further.