It rang five times.
And then: “Konstanides.”
Her heart squeezed. Her brain hurt. Her heart ached. His voice sent arrows of remembered pleasure darting through her body. Sadness swept over her for that voice would never again whisper for her.
“Hello?” He was impatient. Gruff.
“Hello.” Her word vibrated with the tension that was now a part of her. “It’s me. It’s Saphire. Arana.”
“Mrs Arana,” he murmured, and it was impossible to tell from his words if he was surprised or even affected personally by her call. “What can I do for you?”
She frowned. Her nerves were quivering. “I’m calling on behalf of Melania Brompton. You emailed her.”
“So I did,” he drawled. “And?”
Sapphire winced. “She asked me to respond as she’s not well.”
“Did she indeed?” He stared out of his window, enjoying the view almost as much as Saphire’s sound of discomfort.
“Unfortunately, her illness means she won’t be available to discuss the details with you. However, she’s asked me to manage things on her behalf.”
His laugh sent shivers down her spine. “I see. How awkward.”
Saphire didn’t bother to deny it. “I can fly to meet you in Athens. Would you prefer me to arrange the logistics with your assistant?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m in Rome.”
“Oh.” Her heart began to hammer hard against her ribcage. He was? Where?
“I can do tonight.”
“Tonight?” She shook her head and her legs shook beneath the desk. “I’d prefer to meet in business hours.”
“You must know there is no such thing for me.”
Chastised, as he’d intended, she nodded awkwardly. “Fine. Where?”
“I have a villa …”
“No.” She shook her head forcefully. “Somewhere else. Somewhere … public.”
“In case I cannot resist an urge to take you into my arms?” He drawled with apparent cynicism.
“Something like that,” she clipped back, her pride suffering almost as much as it had that night a month earlier. “There’s a restaurant called CasaGrande, on the Via Dottore.”
He frowned. “I have not heard of it.”
“I’m not surprised,” she murmured. “I doubt it’s your usual sort of place.”
“Fine. Eight o’clock.”
She nodded and then realized belatedly that he couldn’t see her. “That’s good, yes.”
He disconnected the call without a further attempt at niceties.
Saphire couldn’t have said how she got through the day. By eight fifteen, sitting and still waiting for him, her nerves were shot to pieces. The restaurant was buzzing; if he didn’t hurry she’d lose the table. A couple was eyeing it off rather obviously from the queue that started at the door and stretched around the corner.
Her phone trembled suddenly, an unknown number displaying on the screen.
“Hello?”
“What is this place?” His voice instantly shot lava firing through her veins. “I cannot see the door for the line of people.”
“Just come to the front,” she intoned breathlessly. “Tell the hostess you’re meeting me.”
Again, he disconnected the call, but only a moment later he appeared at the entrance to the restaurant.
It was not a romantic venue, but it was charming and intimate. It also happened to make the best pasta in town. At least, so Saphire had been told by locals and her experience had not disappointed.
Her eyes were completely magnetized to his frame the instant he appeared. Standing just inside the door, he looked impossibly good. She stared at him, incapable of standing or even moving.
He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. His arms looked perfect. His tan was deep, like he’d been out in the sun a lot lately. His hair was cropped close to his head as it had been the night they’d met on the flight to Athens.
She stifled a moan.
His eyes met hers and an invisible electric force barbed between them. It seemed to arc and splutter; how did no one else hear it?
Belatedly, she stood. Saphire had taken extra care with her appearance that night. It might have been business but she still had her pride. The dress was black, cut in a sweetheart neckline and fitted to her waist, where it flared into a small A to her knees. At her neck she wore a simple gold chain.
“Saphire,” the word seemed to form a bubble around her and she could have delighted in the sound alone.
She refused to weaken in the face of her body’s needs. “Hello.” The word was dismissive. A rebuke to any thoughts he might have had that she still wanted him.
It had been a month.
A long, cold month.
“Have a seat,” she gestured across from her after several silent, sizzling beats. He didn’t, but she sat back in her own chair with apparent unconcern. Her eyes locked on a point to the side of his hip.
“This place is … a little more casual than I had expected.”
She surveyed the room with a tight smile. “It’s charming, isn’t it?”
He settled himself finally, his knees brushing hers beneath the small table. She jerked away without caring that it was such an obvious gesture. He sent her an answering look of derision.
His hand curled around hers and lifted it into the air. “No wedding ring.”
“I told you. I’m divorcing him.”
“Yes, you did tell me.”
Her eyes were different to how he remembered. They didn’t sparkle. They were flat. He studied her carefully. There was a reservation and anxiety in her that he hadn’t seen before. Had he done that?
“How are you?” He asked, something shifting inside of him as he looked at her properly.
“Fine,” she sipped her water, dipping her head forward. Her fingers slid a folder towards him. “This is some information on the organization.”
“I know about the organization,” he said quietly. “How are you?”
“I told you. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Her eyes flashed to his. She spoke more firmly. “I’m fine.”
“No. What’s happened?”
Her brow furrowed. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do this,” she said firmly.
“Don’t be polite?”
“You’re not polite,” she said simply. “What amount were you thinking of contributing toward our cause?”
“Let’s do business later,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lifting a finger to attract the attention of the waiter.
Tony, the same handsome young man who’d been in the restaurant every time Saphire had visited, appeared almost instantly. His eyes landed on Saphire with pleasure. “This is your fourth night this week. You must really love our lasagna, eh?”
And when she looked at the waiter, she relaxed completely. Her smile was breath taking. Thaddeus stared at her with a feeling of complete loss; it was how she had looked at him at one time. The ache in his gut was compounded when the waiter’s eyes dropped appreciatively to her cleavage.
The reaction was swift and immediate. Jealousy, envy, anger and hot possession all flared inside of him.
“Do you have a wine list?” He spoke a little louder than he’d intended in an attempt to draw the waiter’s attention.
Instead, Saphire shot him a sharp look. “Tony’s uncle is the family wine maker. They serve only his bottles.”
“I see. Why don’t you order, seeing as you know the family so intimately?”
She understood his censure but it was unwarranted. She fixed Tony with a calm smile. “Prosecco,” she said simply.
He nodded. “Your favorite.” It was accompanied with a wink.
Thaddeus could have snapped something in two. “That will be all for now.”
Tony was surprised by the sharp admonition but he smothered it quickly. “Prosecco is coming ri
ght away.” He hummed as he disappeared towards the candlelit bar.
Saphire might have cautioned Thaddeus at another time. But that was in the past. Their easy relationship had long since died.
“Melania has several projects in the pipeline,” Saphire began her rehearsed speech a little haltingly, but with an air of determination Thaddeus had to admire. He settled back in his chair, resigned to listening, if only for the opportunity to study her further.
“Our benefit on Friday night was the biggest of its kind. The funds raised will be immediately channeled so that pediatric oncology nurses are able to visit children in remote areas of the country. The next event is a ski weekend in the Alps and she’s planning to co-host a Christmas gala in London. We’re just waiting to confirm the celebrity host before publicizing it.”
His eyes bore into hers. Saphire took it as tacit approval to continue, though he was confusing her with his unwavering attention. “As you no doubt know, Melania’s events attract a high-profile rota of A-list guests. Her marketing and business nous has seen Hope Renewed grow from a small, local charity to a hugely important international fundraiser. We have established statistics on the positive impact sponsorship and participation has for our corporate funders.”
She paused here and he sensed she was waiting for something, so he murmured, “Such as?”
She nodded, relief beading across her brow. “Such as advertising that flows directly from our website. We post corporate sponsorship banners across the site and we track the flow of traffic; there’s an increased buy-rate, too. Not to mention the PR that comes with our events. Melania’s mission is to get as much free coverage as possible. We are, after all, a charity, and can’t really afford a massive advertising budget. Fortunately, over the years, she’s built an incredible contact sheet of industry people, and anything she touches garners huge press.”
“I see,” he nodded when the waiter arrived with the prosecco and began to pour it in two glasses.
“Leave it,” Thaddeus insisted, waving his hand toward the young man.
“Yes, sir. Would you like to order?”
“I will have whatever my date recommends,” Thaddeus inserted silkily, his eyes holding warning for Tony.
“Lasagne,” she muttered stiffly.
“Salad? Bread?”
“Both,” Thaddeus muttered, summarily dispensing with any more interruptions.
“This isn’t a date,” she hissed just as soon as Tony had disappeared from the table.
“Did I ruin a budding relationship for you?” He cooed with a total lack of concern.
“No.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
He lifted his prosecco and sipped it thoughtfully. “This reminds me of the first night we met.”
Her cheeks infused with color, as he’d expected they would.
“It’s nothing like that night,” she assured him candidly. “In the past, our corporate sponsors have included …”
“Enough,” he said, shaking his head. “Business later.”
Saphire nodded but her heart was dropping. He was going to say no. He wasn’t interested in the charity; not really.
“Are you wasting my time?” She said slowly. “Or playing with me for your own sick reasons?”
“No, and no,” he responded.
“Then what are you doing here?”
He took another sip of his drink. “Do you find it so hard to believe I might have an interest in philanthropy?”
“No,” she bit down on her lip. “I googled that too. I know you’re generous with your corporate donations.”
“Indeed.”
“I just don’t know if you intend to be generous with Hope Renewed.”
“I emailed Melania, didn’t I?”
She toyed with the stem of her flute. “Yes. The timing is a little coincidental though. After all, I just ran into Rocco a couple of nights ago and then bam! You appear out of nowhere …”
“Coincidental,” he said with a small smile.
“He told you?” She demanded softly.
Thaddeus inclined his head.
“And that’s why you’re here.”
He lifted his flute of wine and sipped it without dropping the hold he had on her eyes. “It is part of why I’m here,” he conceded finally.
Saphire expelled a breath angrily. “Then you are wasting my time. And your own. I have nothing to say to you on … our personal matter.”
His laugh sent daggers dancing down her skin. “Liar.”
She lifted her chin angrily. “Do you have any more relevant questions?”
“You don’t think Melania sent you to meet me because she wanted to exploit our history?”
“She doesn’t know about our history,” Saphire retorted tightly.
Thaddeus felt his footing slip a little. “You didn’t tell her?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Even when I emailed?”
“Of course not! Are you kidding me? I’m twenty six and this is the first job I’ve ever had. I’m not going to stuff it up by prattling on about my failed relationships.”
The pain in his chest was for her vulnerability. The admission made a tenderness swell inside of him that he had thought long gone.
“You have done volunteer work for the charity for years …”
“Volunteer work,” she spoke slowly, to spell it out for him. “This is a proper, paid position. And Melania wants to make it more permanent. I don’t want her to think I can’t handle a simple negotiation with a man who’s appeared out of thin air begging to give us money.” She closed her eyes. “So if your plan was to see me again, and to use my position in Hope Renewed to get me here, then you’re potentially ruining my reputation at work for no good reason.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I would never dangle a carrot to a charity and not follow through. Of course I intend to donate.”
Saphire felt strange. Adrenalin had spiked and dropped, and now she was deflated and a little queasy. “Donate. Don’t donate. It’s your decision.” She stood up slowly and reached for her bag. Her eyes met Tony’s and she offered him the hint of apologetic smile. Before the waiter could arrive, Thaddeus shook his head.
“Sit back down.”
“I can’t.” She stepped away from the table. “I really need to go.”
She dipped into her wallet and pulled out more than enough Euro to cover the meal they’d never share. She threw them down onto the table with fingers that weren’t quite steady. When her eyes met his, he was instantly reminded of a hunted animal, terrified and in a corner. “Please don’t call me. I’ll have someone else get in touch tomorrow to explain the options open to you.”
His heart was thudding in his chest.
He watched her walk out and swore, then jerked out of his seat and moved swiftly after her. The night air was the slap of reality he needed. She was moving quickly down the footpath, and though he couldn’t see her face, he could tell her arms were folded over her chest.
He ran to catch her and when he spun her around tears were gliding down her cheeks as they had been that last night they’d spoken; the disastrous night in Athens.
“Saphire,” he groaned, lifting his hands and cupping her face. “Where are you going?” She shrugged out of his touch and for good measure pushed her hands against his broad chest.
“Don’t touch me,” she said angrily. “For God’s sake, just leave me alone.”
“I want to talk to you. Not about work. About you. And me.”
“There is no you and me,” she said with disbelief.
“I didn’t think so either.”
She dashed her tears away and stared down the street.
“You said you loved me. Love does not simply disappear.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an idiot when it comes to love, aren’t I? You know, that night I came to see you in Athens, I learned something really damned important. I thought I loved you. And I thought you loved me. Just like I thought I loved Jordan. But you know
what? I am a terrible judge of character. Like, the worst. I’m useless. I wouldn’t know love if it bit me on the arse.”
He stared at her with a mix of consternation and amusement. “A tempting thought,” he assured her finally.
“You don’t get it,” she was weary now. “It’s too late. A month ago, I wanted nothing more than to talk about you and me. But seeing you with her …” she shuddered. “Is that a man’s solution for everything? Sex? Because it’s how Jordan dealt with things. It’s obviously how you deal with everything.”
“You are the one who wanted to screw me to pay your husband back,” he reminded her gently.
“Yeah. The one time in my life I make a spontaneous decision and look where it gets me.” She shook her head. “I came to you straight from my husband’s office. I told him I wanted a divorce and then I got on the first flight I could. To you. Because all I could think about was how much I’d stuffed up by walking away from you. How I’d had the best thing in my hands and I’d let it go.”
His heart was cracking with the strength of his feelings. “We need to talk about this.”
“No,” she pushed his chest again. “You don’t understand. Seeing you with her … I can’t … I won’t ever let myself be with a man I don’t trust. This isn’t a month ago. I don’t feel that now. I don’t want you. I don’t want you. I don’t want you.” The words fell from her mouth as tears poured from eyes. “He hurt me. And you hurt me. And now I just don’t want to be hurt for a while.”
Thaddeus nodded but he couldn’t accede her point. “What if I tell you I won’t? What if I tell you I just want to talk? We did not eat dinner. Let’s go and find something, somewhere, and talk.”
“No.” She blinked, trying desperately to stem the flow of tears. “I don’t want to eat.”
“Saphire …”
“It’s too late. Don’t you see that?”
“You left me and I was angry. Very angry.”
“I know.” It was a whisper. “I told you, I regretted it. As soon as I got back to London I knew what a mistake I’d made. It was like a horrible dream.” She blotted her eyes with her fingertips. “I couldn’t go home. I stayed in a hotel, trying to sort the mess of my life out. And all I could think about was you. And the island. And the fact I’d never felt happier.”