Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
D ressed and with a hint of foundation and soft peach lipstick, I walk down to Weasel’s room, where I knock loudly.
No answer.
I knock again.
Weasel finally answers, a towel slung around his tanned hips and an open white shirt on top. Lord. His body is the furthest thing from a dad bod that ever existed. He’s all muscle. A muscular extravaganza. Large biceps, nicely rounded shoulders, the perfect six-pack, all of which could easily be featured on the front cover of Men’s Health .
‘Would you like to put on some clothes?’ I say, trying not to look at his smooth, muscular chest, with a hint of dark chest hair. ‘No one needs to see that when they’re attempting to eat dinner.’
‘Good morning to you too, muffin bear.’ He winks. ‘It looks like you slept well. How was the back of the cab?’
I decide to ignore his comments and push into the room without being invited (who am I?). Suddenly the smell of pine wafts across everything. His room is immaculately clean, his clothes hung up in the wardrobe already, his bed untouched. I knew it, he’s a vampire and sleeps upside down in the closet.
‘Like what you see?’ Weasel grins and leans against the bedroom wall, and I can tell he means his own mostly topless body, and yes, he’s clearly a regular at the gym, but those things don’t work on me.
‘If you mean your thoracic region and your supposedly perfect rectus abdominal muscles, not really. Actually, I prefer what a person’s heart is like, and you appear to be missing that vital organ.’
‘Actually, I meant the view.’ He nods out of the window, where you can see the long strands of the hotel’s fairy lights reflecting and shimmering across a beautiful lake, and the rolling shadows of the Tuscan hills in the distance. ‘But it’s nice to know you think I’m perfect.’
‘Unsubscribe,’ I retort, perching on the edge of the desk.
It’s time to prep him about what we’re about to enter, a bit like the seven levels of hell. I feel the need to do so, so that we can at least get through it unscathed. He’s already ruined my career; I don’t need him ruining the rest of my life. ‘Right, so I want to have a quick chat.’
‘Oh, so now you want to speak?’
Ugh, this guy. How am I ever going to pretend to like him, to love him? ‘You’re too much,’ I declare.
‘ Et tu, Brute ,’ he replies, grinning.
‘If only I had swords,’ I mutter, thinking of how Caesar was killed with forty jabs of a sword and how I wouldn’t mind doing exactly that to Weasel right now. And then I can’t help myself. ‘Besides, that’s factually incorrect. He never said that in Latin, apparently he said And you, child in Greek, and Shakespeare?—’
‘Made it into Et tu, Brute because it was more dramatic.’
Damn him.
‘Now, Gemma, did you come in here to chat about Shakespeare, or was there an actual point to your visit?’
‘I came here to prep you about my family.’ But I don’t want to tell him all about Lulu, my mum, my dad, Marla, and everything that has happened. I don’t want him knowing anything about my personal life. ‘Lulu’s my half-sister; she’s getting married to Chip, and she’s um…’
I try again. ‘My family haven’t seen me in a while, and they don’t know much about my life. It’s kinda complicated. And they’re, um, they’re different from what other families may be like. To yours. They’re … uh…’
Just then a loud shrill voice rings out from outside the door Weasel has forgotten to close.
I look at Weasel with wide eyes. ‘They’re here.’