Chapter 23
23
POPPY
I wake with a start – namely because Saffron’s bum is in my face and her swishing tail is flicking back and forth over my mouth. I swat it away, then push her over to Tristan’s side of the bed and fish a cat hair out of my mouth. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d ship her off to Siberia.
My mouth stretches into a silent yawn and I stretch my legs out, twisting my hips from side to side. I’m awake far too early for a Saturday morning but there’s no way I’ll get back to sleep now. No doubt part of Saffron’s evil plan to usurp me as ‘lady of the house’. Since the day we brought her home, she’s been in love with Tristan.
I prop myself up on my pillows and check my phone. Mum messaged overnight. She and Dad are excited about their upcoming trip to London and she’s now sending daily countdowns of how many sleeps it is until they arrive.
I’m excited too, but I really hope I’m done with the Whitaker case before they arrive. They’re already baffled by the machinations of my profession. If ‘Penny’ is still in operation, especially if she’s having video chats with Jon Dunn, there will be some serious explaining to do.
I also heard from Kate overnight – a brief message saying that she and Willem found Lucia and successfully foiled Dunn’s intended proposal.
She didn’t mention Willem specifically, which could be telling. Is she deliberately not mentioning the room mix-up because they shared a room, or did they figure out something else, so she didn’t think it was worth mentioning?
Other than asking her outright, which would reveal my hand in the mix-up, I have no way of knowing. Unless…
After replying to Kate, I fire off a message to Marie. She keeps all kinds of odd hours and is constantly travelling for work, so I’ll either hear from her in the next few minutes or not until the end of the day.
It’s the former. A minute after sending the message, she replies:
Confirming they shared a room. Seen leaving hotel this morning, hand in hand.
Hand in hand! I have no idea how Marie procured that information, but it’s what we call in the matchmaking biz ‘proof of romantic entanglement’.
‘Yes,’ I whisper, punching the air.
‘That’s either good news, or you’ve started without me,’ says Tristan dryly.
I glance over and he’s watching me through slitted eyes, one hand lazily petting Saffron, who’s purring loudly.
‘Good morning, babe. I haven’t started without you – we can do that later,’ I say, casually moving sex with my hot husband down on the schedule. ‘It’s my client – she and the potential love interest spent the night together in Verona.’
‘The client who’s engaged to your boyfriend?’ he teases, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
‘Hilarious,’ I retort. ‘And yes.’
Tristan sniggers, then his eyes narrow again. ‘Hold on, I thought this case was about retribution.’
‘It still is. But now there’s a potential HEA.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since my client spent the night with the love interest,’ I state matter-of-factly.
‘Makes perfect sense,’ he quips, his head shaking slightly.
‘It doesn’t, not really,’ I acknowledge, ‘especially as, until recently, I didn’t think Kate was ready to get involved with someone new – not this soon after finding out about Dunn.’
‘What changed your mind?’
‘Freya and George. They helped me see the situation differently,’ I admit. ‘Nearly six years in and I’m still evolving as a matchmaker. And that could mean an HEA for someone who came to me seeking revenge. Revenge , Tris. Talk about a turnaround.’
We share a smile that speaks to a deep understanding of how invested I am in my career, how much I love what I do.
Neither of us has to work any more, not with Tristan’s inheritance and how shrewdly he’s invested it. Financially, we’re set for life, but it has never occurred to either of us to simply stop working. Tristan loves his job as much as I love mine.
‘And how do you know they spent the night together?’ he asks.
‘Marie,’ I reply with a waggle of my brows.
Tristan’s eyes widen. ‘So, you had Marie spy on your client?’
‘Yep.’
‘I see, and is this something you’ve done before?’
‘Spying?’ I ask, stalling. Because the only other time I’ve spied on a client, it was Tristan – long before we recognised we were into each other – and I was the spy.
‘Mm-hmm,’ he replies.
‘Maybe.’
It must click why I’m being cagey, and he sits up suddenly and gawps at me. ‘Was it me ?’
‘Mmm, I don’t recall,’ I lie.
‘Poppy Elizabeth Dean!’
Uh-oh, he’s busting out my full name. Time to come clean.
‘Okay, yes, it was you.’
‘When?’
‘During your lunch with Alexandra,’ I reply, referring to one of his potential matches.
He frowns in concentration. ‘The lunch at City Social?’
‘That’s the one.’
He’s wearing a far-off look, as if he’s trying to remember that day.
‘This was way before I fell for you, don’t forget,’ I hasten to add. ‘Or at least before I admitted it to myself.’
He refocuses on me, his mouth twitching.
‘Anyway, I wanted to make sure that it went as planned, so Freya and I spied on you.’
‘You dragged Freya into it?’
‘Yes, and she agreed on the proviso that I buy lunch. Only that place was so exxy! I said we had to stick to starters and Freya ordered the scallop. As in singular. And it was twenty-two pounds – for a lone scallop!’
‘You appear to be skirting around the issue, Ms Dean,’ he says with a smirk. ‘Can we revisit the part where you spied on me?’
I sigh. ‘No. It’s water under the bridge now. How about we shoo Saffy off the bed and get to the sex part instead?’
Still smirking, he tilts his head at me knowingly. But then he puts Saffron on the floor, and turns and gathers me in his arm.
I’m off the hook! And if he ever brings it up again, I will stress that it was all in service of the case. Like my surveillance of Kate and Willem.
Hand in hand! Huzzah!
* * *
Kate
‘It’s a shame you don’t get to spend more time in Verona,’ says Margot after I fill her in on the change of plans.
It is a shame, but as far as consolation prizes go, spending the rest of the weekend in Amsterdam with Willem makes up for it. Now I just need to tell Margot without getting reprimanded for turning one night of rebound sex into a cosy weekend at his.
I listen out and the shower is running, so I can speak freely.
‘Actually, I’m heading to Amsterdam,’ I say with (what I hope is) the breeziest of breezy tones ever to be voiced in the history of humanity.
She doesn’t buy it – not surprising, considering. I’ve always been the opposite of breezy.
‘So, you finally slept with Thor.’
My eyes fly to the bathroom door – still shut, like it was a moment ago. But Willem won’t stay in there forever, so I need this part of the conversation to be over as soon as possible.
‘So how was it?’ she asks before I have a chance to respond. ‘Was it hot and sexy or dreamy and romantic?’
‘Both,’ I reply. Then I giggle – actually giggle.
‘Oh my god, Kate! Tell me everything!’
I knew this was coming, of course. Since I lost my virginity, Margot has insisted on detailed accounts of my sexual encounters. Except when it came to Jon, that is. When I first started seeing him and Margot asked how he was in bed, she concluded that I was too young to settle for vanilla sex. We had a row over that, but in hindsight she was right.
‘I will,’ I say, dropping my voice. ‘But not right this minute.’
‘Okay, you’re off the hook – for now, but I’m holding you to that.’
‘I promise,’ I say, even though I’ve barely grasped this situation myself.
‘Wait, I’ve just had a brilliant idea,’ says Margot.
Uh-oh . Margot’s ‘brilliant ideas’ are either absurd or destined to get me into trouble – sometimes both.
‘What if I popped over to Amsterdam for the remainder of the weekend?’ she asks.
I laugh. ‘Right, sure. The three of us can order pizza, then play Uno. I’m sure Willem would love that.’
‘I’m not joking.’
‘Margot, no ,’ I say, panicking. How can she be serious?
‘Not to cock-block you, you muppet. Just the opposite. I’ll take Adriana out for the night – give you two some privacy.’
‘That’s…’ I want to say ‘bonkers’, but is it? Sure, Willem and I can go out for dinner, but we’ll want to return to his place at some point in the evening to… well, have sex. A lot of sex. Actually, I’d be happy to skip dinner and just have sex. All. The. Sex.
Who am I right now?
‘That’s perfect, Margot, thank you,’ she says sarcastically.
‘That’s perfect, Margot, thank you,’ I parrot sheepishly. ‘Hang on – what if Adriana already has plans?’ It’s a reasonable assumption; it’s Saturday and she seems to have an active social life.
‘She doesn’t,’ Margot replies, sounding certain.
‘And you know this how?’
‘Uh… we’ve been messaging.’
There have been so many twists and turns in this conversation, I may develop whiplash. Margot should come with a seatbelt.
‘You’ve been messaging with my fiancé’s fiancée?’
‘Well, yes. She’s my silver lining.’
‘Your silver lining?’ I ask, confused.
‘Mm-hmm. Jon is a massive shit of a human being, but if he hadn’t been such a massive shit of a human being, we wouldn’t have met Willem and Adriana. Now you get to have rebound sex with a hot guy – your silver lining – and I’ve… well, I’ve made a new friend.’
‘I love how you’ve spun this to be about you,’ I say sarcastically.
‘Situational narcissism – practically my only flaw,’ she says immodestly. She has others, of course – like everyone – but I let it go.
‘Well, if you want to get yourself to Amsterdam and pay for accommodation and take Adriana out for the evening, then I won’t stop you.’
She laughs heartily. ‘As if you could.’
Resigned and somewhat frustrated, I lift my eyes to the ceiling. ‘But can you hold off a bit?’ I ask with a sigh. ‘Willem hasn’t talked to Adriana yet. I don’t want you breaking the news that we’re showing up unexpectedly.’
‘Course not.’
‘Does that mean you will hold off?’
‘Yes. Now, I’ve got to go – lots of plans to make. See you in Amsterdam, cuz,’ she says, ringing off.
After the call, an odd thought pops into my mind.
Is it still called cock-blocking if I don’t have a cock? What’s the female equivalent? Box blocking?
‘Eww, no , Kate,’ I say out loud to myself.
‘What’s that?’
Willem is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, his penis prominently outlined. The timing is uncanny, considering the whole cock-blocking tangent, and I stifle a laugh. ‘Er, nothing… That was Margot on the phone,’ I say, shifting the focus off me.
‘And how is she?’ he asks, coming into the room and rifling through his case.
‘She’s coming to Amsterdam,’ I say – ripping off the plaster Margot style. He stops what he’s doing and looks up, one brow arched. ‘All right, you need to stop that,’ I chide playfully.
‘Stop what?’ he asks, clearly baffled.
‘You’re standing there in a towel and you’re all…’ I cup my hands in front of my chest, then over my biceps – makeshift sign language to denote ‘muscly’ – which makes him snigger. ‘And now I discover you can raise one eyebrow? That’s far too much power for one man to possess.’
‘You mean this?’ He arches that brow again, then shrugs. ‘I can only do it on the right side. It’s not that impressive.’
‘Pretty sure that’s in the eye of the beholder,’ I assert.
‘Okay. And what else would you like to behold?’ he asks, his voice low and rumbly.
My breath catches as heat blooms between my legs. We’re supposed to be making travel plans before we check out, but all I can think about is round four. I haven’t even packed my case yet, and I don’t care. This is all very un-Kate-like behaviour, like a fresh, unbuttoned version of myself.
He’s still watching me, waiting for a response.
‘Oh, sod it,’ I say, slipping the straps of my dress over my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Willem grins at me, then untucks the towel and whips it off with a flourish.
I must say, we are getting our money’s worth out of this hotel room.
* * *
We’re in the lobby waiting to pay our room-service bill when I receive a message from Lucia:
Thinking of going to London for some family time. Would you be interested in meeting up later? I feel like we’ve got a lot more to talk about.
I suck in a breath through my teeth. I didn’t expect that Lucia would want to see me again so soon.
‘Is everything okay?’ Willem asks.
I hold up my phone so he can read her message. ‘Oh,’ he says, looking up to meet my eyes. ‘Would you rather return to London?’
We haven’t changed our flights yet. We got a little sidetracked, barely making the expected checkout time, so we’ll do it on the way to the airport. But I don’t want to go back to London right away. I already have my heart set on Amsterdam – other parts of me are set on it too.
‘Would it be completely mad to ask if she wants to come to Amsterdam?’ I ask.
‘Not completely, but won’t that affect our plans?’
‘And what are our plans exactly?’
In a fit of bad timing, it’s our turn in the queue. Willem asks the receptionist for the bill, but I’m quicker in handing over my credit card than he is – only fair because he paid for the room. He doesn’t argue like Jon would have. Then again, Willem isn’t a macho arsehole who has to pay for everything to feel like a man.
We don’t resume our conversation until we’re in the backseat of a cab, zipping once again through the narrow streets of Verona. I’d gawp out the window like I have before, but I really want Willem to answer my question.
‘Right, so, picking up where we left off: what are our plans for the rest of the weekend?’ I ask.
Before responding, he captures my hand in his, making my pulse quicken. I never knew how erotic handholding could be until I met Willem.
Looking across the backseat, he says, ‘I thought we could go for dinner and…’
…go home and shag each other senseless.
‘…talk.’
‘Oh,’ I say, taken by surprise.
He breaks into a grin. ‘You don’t want to talk?’
‘No, I do. I just…’ My cheeks heat up and I look away. It’s one thing to unleash my inner sex goddess within the confines of a hotel room; it’s another to be caught out practically begging for sex.
Willem leans across, his mouth close to my ear. ‘And after dinner… after talking… I want to take you home and pick up where we just left off.’
Tingles. Everywhere.
I quiver with anticipation – and relief – because it seems this isn’t one-sided. Willem wants me as much as I want him. Physically, anyway. I’m not sure what he wants to talk about, but I’m fully prepared for the let’s-just-be-friends-with-benefits talk.
All right, that’s an abject lie.
I do not want to be friends with Willem. Well, not only friends. God, this is a lot. Maybe Poppy and Margot were right. Maybe it is too soon to get involved with someone else.
‘How does that sound?’ he asks when I don’t respond.
I send him a smile. ‘It sounds perfect,’ I reply, and he beams at me.
But almost instantly, his smile falls away and he’s suddenly serious. ‘So, what do we do about Lucia?’
‘Honestly,’ I say, giving in to the momentum of this situation, ‘it might be good for all of us to be together – Jon’s… “menagerie”? Is that the right word?’
He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug.
‘Doesn’t really matter what we call it,’ I continue. ‘But Lucia’s right – we do have a lot to talk about. Even with Adriana, I’ve only scratched the surface.’
‘Hmm,’ he says, his expression pensive.
‘What did she say, by the way? When you told her I’m coming to Amsterdam with you.’
‘I haven’t had the chance to tell her yet. I was going to message her after we changed our flights.’
‘Right.’ Somehow, this information makes a dent in how cheery I felt only moments ago. But rather than dwelling on that, my pragmatism kicks in.
‘Okay, how about I say yes to Lucia and tell Margot she shouldn’t come? The three of us spend some time together this afternoon, talking things through, then later, you and I go to dinner. How does that sound?’
He nods, giving me a weak smile. ‘Okay, I’ll message Ady. And, Kate, I’m really sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ I ask, surprised. ‘For what?’
‘Wanting you all to myself when you’ve got so much going on.’
There’s a lot to unpack in that apology, but it will have to wait. Because Willem’s right; there’s too much going on right now.