Chapter 12 Not Every Man
CHAPTER TWELVE
Not Every Man
HENRY
“You let me win.”
I glanced up from the Greek menu at her accusing tone, taking a moment to try and interpret her facial expression. Pursed lips, a little furrow between her brows. But there was a glint in her eyes … perhaps she was just teasing.
“I would never.” I decided to take her words at face value. “I had no intention of letting you pay regardless of your little wager. But you won, fair and square. It’s not surprising. I believe you’re quite the decorated athlete.”
Her eyes fell to her menu, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, biting back what I thought might have been a grin. “Such a stalker.” She looked up at me, blue eyes meeting mine. I tried so hard to keep eye contact but found my focus dropping to her mouth.
“What else did you memorise? My personal best time? My medal count? My menstrual cycle?”
My cheeks heated. I ducked behind the menu, pretending I was avidly reading it. I’d never been good at dating. Was this a date? I’d asked her to lunch, she’d said yes. That made it a date, didn’t it?
It wasn’t supposed to be a date, although I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. She’d been teasing me while I fixated on the little wisps of hair that were escaping from her swim cap, and I’d just blurted it out.
“Are you ready to order?”
I glanced up, relieved to see a harried-looking waiter running a hand through his hair—a perfect excuse to dodge a comeback I didn’t have to her period joke.
“Yes, I …” I quickly glanced at the menu again, selecting the first thing that sounded familiar. “I’ll have the lamb souvlaki, please. And a long black, two sugars.”
The waitperson plucked the menu from my hands. Irina looked on with amusement before handing him her menu. “He’s got good taste! I’ll have the lamb too, and a skim latte.”
The waitperson rushed off without another glance at us, leaving Irina watching me so intently I had to force myself not to squirm. “So, I’m curious. In all your stalking, what did you discover about me?” she asked, hands steepled in front of her.
Heart suddenly hammering in my chest, I murmured, “Nothing that didn’t lead me to more questions about you.”
Irina tilted her head, lips curving in a way that did nothing to ease my heart rate.
“Ooh, I’m intrigued.” She ran her finger around the rim of her water glass, eyes so intent on my face that I could feel it like a physical touch despite not letting my own gaze lift higher than her mouth. “Well, ask away.”
Uncertainty churned in my stomach, but the words spilled out before I could decide if this was the time or place for them.
“Why didn’t you go home when your student visa expired?” I asked, voice thankfully low and lost in the burble of diners, clinking cutlery, the register’s ding and the groan of the coffee grinder.
Her smile faded as she leaned back, putting space between us. I couldn’t help watching her mouth—the way it had just curled around a grin moments ago. Then I met her eyes. Was that fear? Or just wariness?
Whatever it was, the chill of the change prickled my skin, and an explanation forced its way out of my mouth.
“I promise I’m not a stalker … well, I didn’t have any sordid reason to investigate you, anyway.
You must understand—having money, this much money—is very new to me.
I’ve been warned more than once to be wary of people now.
They might have ulterior motives about my business, my wealth …
or even just me. I promise it was only because I wanted to prove him wrong, that you weren’t in my room because you had some agenda …
” I forced myself to meet her eyes, icy in her too-still face.
Most people associated eye contact with trustworthiness, and I realised that I wanted her to trust me.
“And then my brain started to try and puzzle it out—I can’t help it, I’m just wired to want to find answers—and I wondered to myself what might make a person risk deportation and a potential ban from ever entering Australia again to stay here undocumented …
and my brain began coming up with all sorts of potential scenarios, and some of them were quite frightening, and I—”
“Stop,” she said softly. My mouth snapped shut, and I leaned back, finding my knees under the table and gripping them, letting the pressure ground me.
“Sorry,” I muttered eventually, staring down at the light glinting off my cutlery.
“You won’t report me to the police?” she asked, voice so fragile that I looked up. Her skin was pale, but her expression was fierce. “If you can’t promise me this, I’ll get up and walk out.”
I shook my head vehemently then cleared my throat. “No, of course not! I … I just need to understand. It’s a compulsion. I see problems, and then I need to fix them. And to fix them, I need to unpack them first.”
She watched me, tight-lipped, for a moment that stretched so long I couldn’t hold her gaze, and I blinked away. The waiter brought our coffees before melting back into the bustling tables. The sounds of the café became a deafening cacophony of sound, engulfing the silence at our table.
Finally, she lifted her hands, resting one on the table. She took a sip of her coffee. I waited, barely breathing, confused about why I was so invested in this, but simultaneously desperate for whatever explanation she was prepared to give me.
Desperate to understand her.
“Look, I’m not in the habit of confiding in virtual strangers, no matter how nice they look in a pair of speedos,” she muttered, lifted her coffee cup, took a sip and placed it back down—tongue darting out to catch a bit of stray foam at the corner of her mouth, making my next inhale hitch.
“But for some stupid reason, I feel like I can trust you. With some of it, at least.”
Some was good. Some was something. I didn’t dare to speak. She blew out a long breath, fingers hugging her coffee mug, and continued.
“I grew up around money. Lots of money. Around adults who always wanted more, and who didn’t care what or who they destroyed to get it. It was … toxic. It still is. And it’s not going to change, not while …”
She blinked, took a sip.
“I was … lucky, to be allowed to leave for university. But it was made very clear to me that I had responsibilities to the family when I returned. Responsibilities that, four years ago, when I was desperate for a change, seemed like a fair trade for a chance to …”
Another pause. Another sip. I got the feeling there was an essay of emotions she was swallowing back with every mouthful of latte.
“But now I’m at the point where I have to make good on my promises. And the thought of it is …”
Another sip.
“Well, it’s impossible.”
She smiled humourlessly at me. “And it feels like taking my chances here is less daunting than fating the music back home.”
“Do you mean facing the music?” I asked, confused. Her expression immediately softened into something wry.
“Oh, another English purist, wonderful!”
I frowned. “I … apologies, I wasn’t sure I understood what you—”
“I’m teasing, Henry!” She reached across, gave my arm a quick, firm squeeze, which did more for me than the deep pressure workout I’d been giving my knees under the table.
“It’s a running joke with my best friend Kat.
I’m sure she has a tally book somewhere of every English phrase I’ve misused over the last four years. ”
I relaxed slightly. “Does your friend know about your situation?”
Irina nodded. “Some. About what I’ve just told you, if I’m honest.”
Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in my chest. “So, what are we going to do about it?”
Irina coughed around a mouthful of coffee, just as the waiter returned with our plates of food. Wiping a dribble of liquid from her chin, she waited until the man had retreated before narrowing her eyes at me.
“What are we going to do?”
“Yes. We’re going to fix this. If you don’t want to go home, let’s work out how we make that happen.”
She watched me, expression completely unreadable, at least for me. Then, with a shrug, she said, “Okay, you crazy rich man. I won’t say no to your help.”
“Oh, I tried that,” Irina grumbled. I’d suggested attempting to get a temporary visa to train with Swim Australia—a move that would have bought her another two years.
“The head coach at the uni even petitioned them to sponsor me, but they seem to think the homegrown talent is more than sufficient.”
I snorted. “Did they miss the fact that you wiped the floor with the homegrown talent in every event you competed in?”
“I know, right?” Irina’s eyes blazed. “East Germany had one tiny little doping scandal for a measly couple of decades, and even now they still suspect every Eastern European swimmer … they could test my piss any day of the week, I’m as clean as they come!
Well, sometimes a little vodka marinated, I suppose. ” Her smile widened as my face flushed.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a pretty blush?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Because every man dreams of being complimented for blushing prettily.”
Irina chuckled. “But you’re not every man, are you, Henry?” She watched me through thick lashes, and warmth flooded my stomach and chest.
“Have you considered marriage?” I blurted, desperate for a subject change. I placed my knife and fork together neatly at the centre of my plate before I chanced a glance at her.
Irina’s face twisted into a grimace. “Don’t even get me started. My ex was trying to get me to marry her. Still is.” She sighed, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin as a weight settled in my abdomen. “She’s a whole other issue.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“Well, she’s threatening to report me to the police if I don’t agree to marry her.”
I forced my own, strange personal feelings about this news out of my head. “Why did you turn her down? It potentially could have solved all your problems.”
Irina’s frown deepened. “I will not tie myself to someone who wants to control me. It would be like jumping out of the pan to cook alive in the fire.”
“So, marriage isn’t off the table, it’s just this particular woman you have an aversion to?” I reached for my pack of gum in my pocket, sliding out a piece and unwrapping it. I offered the packet to Irina, who shook her head.
“I’d hoped not to have to make that sort of commitment … but I’m starting to wonder if that’s the only possible fix.”
“If what’s the only possible fix?” The new voice instantly plucked at my nerves like a bow string. My jaw clenched, and I glanced up, my suspicions confirmed.
“Oh! Hen, I didn’t recognise you!” Cadence gasped, and even I could tell she was lying through her teeth. “I’m here to have a meeting with Ru. I didn’t realise you two knew each other.”
Irina’s eyes met mine, a question in them that I couldn’t interpret. She smiled up at Cadence, but there was a hardness in her eyes that wasn’t there when she smiled at me. Perhaps she was worried Cadence had overheard our conversation?
“We’re old friends, aren’t we, Henry?” Irina said, reaching across the table and squeezing my wrist. And there was that pressure again. Not the gentle, stroking touch that most women used—the one that tensed every muscle in my body into fight or flight mode.
“Oh! Yes.” I had a sudden, mildly devious thought, and acted on it before thinking twice. “Which reminds me … Abernathy might have appropriated the piece of clothing you left behind last weekend.”
Irina’s attention flashed to me, white teeth showing in a cheeky grin. “Well, he’s a little pervert, isn’t he?” Her eyebrows waggled, her smile widening as my face heated.
“I’m sorry … I feel like I’m interrupting here,” Cadence interjected, arms folded. “But I did have an appointment to meet with Ru at two, and … well, you know how I like to be punctual, Hen.”
Her fingers brushed the back of my hand, that featherlight touch. I suppressed a shudder as I pushed out of my chair. Irina raised a questioning eyebrow at me.
“I should probably be going anyway,” I muttered, refusing to look at Cadence, who hovered by my elbow. “I have a few scripts to run back at the office.” I nodded in Cadence’s direction brusquely then leaned closer to Irina.
“I’m going to find a way to fix this for you,” I murmured. “I’ll be in touch.” I gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and headed for the counter.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Cadence hissed, appearing beside me as I tapped my watch on the EFTPOS terminal. “Is this what happens when you get rich? You start consorting with porn stars?”
“She’s not a porn star,” I growled under my breath. “She’s a human being who happens to make adult content, and that’s not even the most interesting thing about her. She’s a competitive swimmer, and a university graduate … and Abernathy took a shining to her, which is endorsement enough for me.”
“You cannot be serious! You make decisions about people based solely on who your grumpy cat doesn’t hate?”
Fury rose like bile in my throat. “I’ve made relationship choices based on much less than that before. A four-year long relationship based on one stoned conversation in a university dormitory, for instance. And look how that ended.”
Cadence swallowed. “You’re in a relationship with her?”
I shrugged. “I’m pretty sure my relationship status ceased being any of your business when you admitted you’d been sleeping around behind my back for the last ten months we were together.”
“You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?” she breathed, her eyes wide and glistening. I chanced a glance behind her, finding Irina watching us intently, her chin propped up on one hand.
“It’s in the past, Cadence,” I sighed, utterly exhausted by the interaction.
“Well, can we try to move forward?” she asked, and there was that light touch again. I pulled away from her. When she spoke again, her voice was thick. “I’d like to get back to a place where we can be friends, at the very least.”
She reached out, stroking fingertips down my arm. I clenched my jaw against the awful, skin-crawling sensation, tugging my arm out of her reach.
“I need to go.” I turned for the door.
“Just be careful. I don’t trust her.”
I swallowed back the angry laugh that threatened to rip out of me and strode out onto the street. Oddly enough, trusting Irina felt easy. Trusting Cadence … well the old adage was tried and tested. Fool me twice, shame on me …