Chapter One #4
Against her will, Poppy found herself gravitating closer to him and taking a seat. As if he had some sort of hypnotic power over her. But then, she reasoned with herself, when else was she going to get a chance to have an anonymous one-on-one moment with Caius?
The fact that he was an inveterate charmer was confirmed beyond any doubt. He smiled at her now as he also took a seat in a chair opposite her and she was glad she was sitting down.
Ingrained manners forced her to say, ‘Thank you for your assistance.’
He shook his head. ‘The least I could do when it was entirely my fault. And anyway, the crowd were boring me. I didn’t see you arrive. I would have noticed you, dressed so uniquely.’
The confirmation that her new-found confidence and style had made an impact was eclipsed by the fact that Caius’s bare chest was seriously distracting.
She wanted to ask him to put on his jacket.
But she didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she found him attractive.
And lounging in his open jacket with no shirt on could be even more disturbing.
As it was, with his Zorro-style mask, he looked utterly roguish.
He leant forward with a hand out. ‘I’m—’
‘I’d really prefer if we didn’t exchange names,’ Poppy blurted out. Her face got warm under his narrowed gaze. He must suspect she knew exactly who he was but if they didn’t exchange names then she could somehow pretend that what she was doing here was sanctioned.
He pulled his hand back and regarded her for a long moment. ‘OK, no names.’ He was clearly intrigued.
Poppy cursed herself. She didn’t want to intrigue him.
She’d seen enough of the man to know that everything that had been said about him was true.
And the part about him being so solicitous and attentive?
The contradiction stuck under her skin like a burr.
She wasn’t being entirely fair. He made her uncomfortable.
And she should let him know who she was.
She opened her mouth to put an end to this subterfuge when there was a knock on the door, signalling that someone was back with her shirt? Or a new one? To Poppy’s shame, her first reaction wasn’t relief, it was something more complicated.
Caius went to the door, unashamedly naked from the waist up, and opened it, admitting a staff member from the hotel. He looked like a manager. Poppy stood up. The man came in with other staff who were carrying trays and she also saw an ice bucket with a bottle of sparkling wine.
She watched as they set out an array of small bites and glasses of water and tall flutes. The man bowed to Caius and Poppy and said to her, ‘Madam, we will have your shirt returned as soon as possible, in the meantime please enjoy our hospitality.’
To Poppy’s mortification, her belly rumbled a little.
She hadn’t eaten much that day and the sight of the delicious bites was too tempting.
The staff left the room and Caius sat down again, handing her a plate.
She dithered for a moment, knowing she should put an end to this, but, instead of putting an end to it, she took the plate and sat back down, asking herself what harm if she had something to eat first?
She put some food on her plate and saw Caius loading up his own plate.
He obviously had a healthy appetite. He glanced at her and commented, ‘You didn’t eat much today either? ’
She shook her head, feeling guilty. ‘No, meetings all day before I came to the party.’ She had no need to feel guilty, she had actually met some French trade ministers to discuss business.
‘Me too,’ he said, then he put a hand to his mask and said, ‘Do you mind?’
‘No,’ she said faintly and watched as he took it off, revealing his face in full.
She felt another jolt of electricity. He truly was astoundingly good-looking.
Feeling a bit stiff, she said, ‘I hope you don’t mind if I don’t…
remove my mask.’ She’d already removed her shirt.
Her mask felt like a necessary barrier to…
this onslaught on her senses she hadn’t expected.
‘Not at all, whatever makes you comfortable.’ He put some food in his mouth, utterly at ease, even half naked, with a total stranger.
She wondered if he really had been in meetings all day, but then Poppy supposed it was a bit unfair to imagine that he’d been lolling around in a bed with a lover. After all, he had taken enough time out of partying to make his own fortune and to be crowned king.
It struck her then that she was rarely in a room with someone who was going through similar challenges to her and that she could even ask him about what it was like to go from crown prince to king, but then she’d have to reveal her own identity and she didn’t want to know what kind of look he’d have on his face if he knew she was her. The woman who wasn’t his type.
She tried to eat and not be distracted by his bare torso or the fact that even sitting down there wasn’t a roll of excess flesh. He was as tight as a drum. He opened the wine and held up her glass in question. Something reckless moved through Poppy. ‘Yes, please.’
‘What do you do?’ he asked as he poured wine and handed her the glass, and Poppy had to remember what he was asking her.
She said, ‘Um, I’m in the civil service.’ Just at a very senior level. She took a generous sip of wine. ‘What do you do?’ she asked, curious as to how he’d respond.
He swallowed his food and smiled at her. ‘Similar, and I’m also in finance.’
She couldn’t help smiling. There was something a little exhilarating about being in the lion’s den like this. Playing this game.
Another knock on the door and the staff reappeared to take away their food and a young man arrived with Poppy’s shirt, impeccably washed and dried and ironed, on a hanger. Instantly she felt a sense of deflation. Their time was over.