Chapter 10
For the second time in a matter of weeks, Saphire could only stare as another woman moved her hands over a man that she considered herself to be in love with.
This time, the couple weren’t in bed.
They were standing on the sidewalk.
They weren’t making love. Yet it was so much worse. They were laughing, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his fingers moving with casual familiarity over her bare shoulder.
The woman was stunning.
Supermodel stunning.
Her hair was jet black, her eyes enormous, her skin tanned brown. She was tall and slim with breasts that were almost completely revealed by the scandalously low-cut dress she wore.
All that waiting, waiting and hoping, for this?
Saphire’s cheeks flamed with mortification. Her stomach churned. Her heart broke.
God, he looked good. Her body was thrumming in silent admission of his mastery over her. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him.
He was too far away.
Saphire swallowed and blinked down at her iPhone. It was almost midnight. And they were returning to his Athens penthouse.
It didn’t take a genius to guess what was next on the agenda.
Saphire groaned silently and stood up straighter. Worse than knowing how easily he’d put her from his mind was the embarrassment of letting him know that she’d witnessed it for herself.
Tears stung her eyes and she didn’t bother wiping them away. It was dark; no one was looking at her.
She spun around and checked in both directions for traffic before stepping onto the road.
At that moment, a bus jerked out from a stop and had to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting her.
The impatient driver leaned into his horn, his brows beetling at the sight of the slim woman right in the middle of the road.
Thaddeus’s attention was caught by the noise and Saphire turned around at the exact same moment he looked up.
Their eyes connected and barbed shock crashed from one to the other.
She swore softly and moved quickly off the road, then further down the footpath, away from him.
She walked fast; running was beneath her.
“Saphire.” His voice wasn’t raised, but it was commanding enough.
Tears were sliding down her cheeks. She let them fall. One foot in front of the other.
A sob tore through her chest. She swallowed it.
“Saphire.” His hand curled around her arm and he pulled her to face him.
She couldn’t look at him. Her breathing was wretched.
“What are you doing here?” He demanded, refusing to feel pity for her. He hated seeing her cry though. He longed to comfort her. But he wouldn’t, ever again.
“I … what do you think?” She responded, her words watery.
“I have no clue.” He pursed his lips. “I presume my receptionist told you I was not available to see you.”
“Yeah, no, I know.” She swallowed. “I got it. I just thought …”
“What?” His eyes narrowed. “How do you even know where my apartment is?”
Her cheeks flamed. This was going from bad to worse. She no longer felt that she was simply a lover he’d cast aside, but also like a stalker now too.
“I googled you,” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut on the admission.
“You googled me?” His response rang with icy distaste.
It spurred her to defensiveness. “I needed to talk to you and I only realized once I got home that I didn’t even have your number.”
“No,” he drawled, hardening his heart.
“But you’re a … you’re a … person of public interest, I guess.
There were photos of you here. At this apartment.
” She squeezed her eyes shut again and fidgeted her hands behind her back.
“Once I knew you were working from your Athens office I guessed you’d come home eventually.
” I just hadn’t realized you wouldn’t be alone.
“Like some kind of Macgyver?”
She might have laughed if her feelings weren’t so completely tangled.
“What do you want, Mrs Arana?”
Another sob clawed at her throat. Her eyes moved beyond Thaddeus to the glamorous woman still on the opposite side of the street, watching with undisguised interest. Saphire’s cheeks burned.
“Can we speak privately?” She asked self-consciously.
He followed her gaze and then turned back to Saphire, his expression one of unconcealed impatience. “I’m on a date.”
It was like a knife stabbing through her heart. “Why are you being such a bastard?” She murmured, anguish obvious in her features.
“Why do you care so much?” He retorted. “You are married, remember? What difference does it make to you who I am screwing when you have your husband to keep you warm?” He leaned closer, his face only inches from her. “Tell me, Saphire, what did he think of my name on your back?”
“I didn’t … we didn’t …” She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “It’s not like that. It’s not like I was going to go back and act as though everything was normal.”
Thaddeus felt a swelling of satisfaction at the hints she was dropping. “You haven’t slept with him,” he prompted, suddenly desperate for clarification.
“I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” she whispered, her eyes again moving betrayingly to his date.
“Fine. Have it your way. It’s none of my business. So why are you waiting outside my apartment in the middle of the night?”
“I thought we should talk,” she said, so softly he barely caught the words.
“We already have.” He pulled away from her and stuffed his hands in his pocket. His body language spoke of a finality that chilled her.
“Is this really over for you, Thaddeus?”
He shook his head in frustration. “Of course it is, Saphire. Over as if it had never begun. Do not torment yourself looking for something I am not willing to offer.”
She swallowed; her throat felt coated in acid. “I thought we were in love,” she whispered shakily, her eyes beseeching.
“Love?” He laughed angrily. “You are married. You used me to fix your marriage. You used me then went back to your husband.”
“I didn’t use you,” she promised urgently.
Thaddeus cast a glance over his shoulder and waved at his date. “I do not have time for this now.”
Stones dropped inside of Saphire’s heart. “It’s important.”
“No.” He breathed out impatiently so that his nostrils flared. “If it had been important you would have stayed.”
“I couldn’t,” she sobbed. “I had to go back.”
“Fine.” He shrugged. “And you made that choice. So live with it.”
“Please,” she raised her voice; it shook with emotion. “I love you.”
He shook his head. “And?” He prompted, his emotion impossible to comprehend.
“I love you, and I want to be with you.” She reached for him but he shrugged away from her.
“You’re married.”
“I’m getting a divorce.” Her eyes scanned his, looking for some sign of relief. Some indication that he welcomed this news. It wasn’t forthcoming.
“That is your business,” he said finally.
Saphire tried to catch her breath but it was almost impossible. “You don’t love me.”
Thaddeus packed every little piece of his heart away. She had shown how she valued him when she’d walked away from him. All of this was just an afterthought. His face was dark. “I loved sleeping with you.” His smile was cruel. “But now I have her.”
Saphire let the sob ring through her. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek but he didn’t so much as flinch. Her fingers stung. Good. The pain suited her emotion.
“I love you,” she cried, and now she let the tears fall freely.
Thaddeus watched her with a growing sense of urgency. If he didn’t get away from her, he couldn’t have said what he’d do. “Was there anything else?”
Saphire bit down on her lip and tried her hardest to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order. “I guess … I guess not.”
Thaddeus had no idea what was happening to him.
His blood was burning. His head was swimming.
He stood still like a statue, staring after her as she walked down the deserted street.
He worried for her. For her safety, for her happiness, for all of her.
But he didn’t act on that worry. He watched and waited for her to turn the corner and then he squared his shoulders and crossed the street. Cassandra was waiting.
* * *
Saphire surveyed the room with satisfaction.
Everything was perfect. Well, almost everything.
With a frown of disapproval, she clipped across the marble floor and straightened a stray white rose back into position.
The ballroom high on a hill outside Rome boasted stunning glimpses down towards il Vaticano, and its many cupolas.
She took a moment to appreciate the vista, kissed by purples and oranges, and then forced a smile to her face.
It felt just as false as it had been for the past month.
A month.
She swallowed; the acid was still there. Would it ever go away? Would she ever feel like herself again? Or would she forever feel like a woman who’d only come to life briefly, in Thaddeus’s arms, and never would again?
Her cell phone began to buzz in her pocket; she answered it gratefully.
“Mel?” She frowned. Her boss’s usual army-sergeant tone was hoarse. “You sound terrible.”
“I feel terrible,” Mel clipped. “I have a chest infection and severe tonsillitis, allegedly.”
Saphire liked how she said that, as though the doctor perhaps made up the diagnosis for his own amusement. “You were okay yesterday.”
“That’s what I said,” Mel responded. “But I really do feel like utter shite.”
“Terrible timing,” Saphire murmured.
“I need you to run things for me at the event,” Mel cut straight to the chase.
Saphire froze in the middle of the glorious ballroom. “You’re not serious?”
“Of course I am. I can’t cough all over the crème de la crème of European society. You’ve been doing these things for years. You’ve got a knack for this stuff.”
Saphire nodded, but her mind was spinning. “I’m just an administrative assistant,” she reminded the woman. After all, Melania Brompton had founded the charity and built it up from scratch. No way could Saphire step into her shoes, even for a night.
“So? Do you need a raise?”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Saphire said with consternation.