Page 40 of A Diamond Deal
He’d found her now.
He knew she was safe.
He’d restore order to his world.
There would be light without her.
CHAPTER SIX
‘If you pressthis button…’ the butler explained.
Poppy groaned inwardly. She didn’t need to know a way to call Konstantinos back to the private box.Shewouldn’t be calling him. His were the last pair of eyes that would see her, at least for a little bit.
She needed a respite—a moment to breathe—without sly glances over the rims of champagne flutes.
The private showing tonight was an intimate affair. Twenty faces the public would recognise as masters in their individual fields, and swarm to buy their own tickets so they could see—sit—where the bottoms of the élite had graced.
She’d recognised a few faces from her life before. She’d lifted her smile higher, dipped her head. But tonight was not for talking. It was for being seen, not heard. And for that she was grateful. Grateful to the host who had ushered them through the Grand Foyer of a thousand stairs as champagne was thrust into their hands, all whilst a violin serenaded them with an intense sensual stroke of its strings and prepared them for what was to come.
The music had followed them into the auditorium of golden accents and red velvet. And, beneath the ceiling of vivid pinks and blues, she’d never felt more like an imposter.
She hadn’t wanted to sit next to those people—to keep a smile that felt so plastic in place as she watched a show she knew she wouldn’t see. She would only see those watching her. Feel their eyes on her, taking notes to feed the gossip that would be shared at every brunch tomorrow—every dinner table.
Never had her heart beat so fast in relief as Konstantinos led her by the elbow away from the masses as the others had taken their seats in the main gallery.
And now she was here, in their own private box.
There was no music serenading them now.
Only the pulse of her heart.
It hiccuped as the head of the butler turned, as he disappeared through the thick curtain, and it was only them.
Her smile fell.
‘Sit,’ he said, and as if she were a puppet, she did.
Her legs too stiff, her body too awkward, she sat down in the plush foam sheathed in the softest velvet. He sat beside her, stretched his long limbs…
The lights dimmed.
‘You did well,’ his voice hummed beside her too closely in the darkness.
She swallowed. ‘I’m just glad it’s over.’
‘But it’s not.’
His fingertips feathered her arm resting between them on the gold-leaf curl of their adjoining chairs.
‘The press…’ he said, the pad of his thumb swiping against the pulse thrumming in her bare wrist.
To anyone else, it was an innocent touch. No more than a husband touching his wife. A soothing gesture. But she wasn’t anyone else. She was his soon-to-be ex-wife. And his touch did not soothe. It didn’t feel innocent. It called to the nerves beneath her skin. It made them jump.Pulse.
‘They’ll still be outside when we leave,’ he said.
She tensed.
Their red-carpet walk had been hell. She’d wanted to run. But she’d known she couldn’t. And so, she’d matched his stride. A slow, purposeful walk that let everyone know he was in control. He didn’t stop for questions. He didn’t stop to the catcalls for a photo, or the intense cries of too many paparazzi asking in unison,Where had she been?
