Page 46 of A Diamond Deal
His every muscle was too tight.Twisted.
He wouldn’t let her see how much she affected him.Still.
He stood.
‘We are leaving.Now.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Five Days Later…
Paris buzzed withan undercurrent of activity. Lights flickered on every street. The Eiffel Tower blazed in its night-time illuminated splendour.
Poppy reached for her hot chocolate, held it between her palms, and sipped.
She should be frantic—worried.
Tonight was the Versailles Masked Ball, and she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t dressed. She sat on the wraparound balcony of Konstantinos’s penthouse Parisian home, in her fluffy white towelling robe, and her flannel PJs.
Tonight, the PR façade would be back in play for all to see. They would appear united. A team.
They were not united. He didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t in the car. He hadn’t before. But she needed to. She needed to talk to him.Tonight. Before they went back into the spotlight.
She’d upset Konstantinos, she knew, but she’d upset herself, too.
Shewasupset.
Everything had been moving so fast, from being on the run, to capture, to her imprisonment. She hadn’t had a moment to breathe.To think.She’d just reacted.Responded.To him.
The last few days without him… He’d avoided her. Tangled himself in immovable meetings.Supposedly.But she understood what he was doing. It would be easy for her to do it. Distract herself from what had happened.What was happening.But shehadthought about it. She’d made herself think. Analyse her every decision.
Control.Thatnight at the ballet, they’d both demanded it, locked behind their walls, guarded by the impenetrable need to win it from the other. But their marriage was over. There was no winning. There was no going back. They needed to be adults about this, and…talk.
‘Why aren’t you dressed?’
She turned, and there he stood. His navy-blue tie wrenched free from his throat, exposing the four undone buttons of his crumpled white shirt.
‘Why aren’tyou?’ she countered.
‘I’m not dressed,’ he said, stepping onto the balcony, ‘because I was informed you’d sent the team of stylists away, and were sitting in your pyjamas out here, staring into the void.’
‘I wasn’t ready for them.’
‘And is the reason you’re not ready out there?’ he asked, waving to the sky. ‘What exactly are you waiting for?’
She swallowed. ‘You.’
His nostrils flared. ‘Me?’
‘We need to talk.’
His gaze flicked to the silver face of the watch on his wrist. ‘There is no time to talk.’
Her eyes travelled over the tightness in his shoulders, making them appear broader—bigger.
‘We need tomaketime.’
He stepped closer. ‘And what is it you wish to speak about?’ His voice snapped sharply like a thwacked belt. ‘Do you want to tell me I’m an unfaithful bastard again? Do you want to tell me how much you hate me? Do you want to talk about Isabella?’
