Drowning (8 page)

“The bowl is really pretty. And I see it’s part of a set with the plates. Do they sell a lot of them?”

“Yes. They’re doing extremely well. They do bowls and dishes of all sizes, cups, and mugs. The crockery is sold in a lot of the gift shops and used by a number of the guest houses in the area, and they’re getting more and more orders for complete sets, to be shipped to various countries overseas.”

“You sound very proud of them. Are you involved in that project?”

He nodded. “I am. I helped them start the venture just two years ago. It was one of my first investments, actually.”

“That’s really good to hear.” So Nicholas was a businessman—although, from what he’d said, this was a relatively new career. How did this fit in with being a trained paramedic who’d worked abroad? And, clearly, he was extremely wealthy—where had his money come from?

I was curious to know more, but at the same time found myself reluctant to ask. After all, there was no point in finding out anything about Nicholas when I was actively trying to remain uninvolved.

I speared the last piece of cheese on my plate before putting my knife and fork down. I had my eye on one of the two remaining pieces of toast, but first I was going to have the last few swallows of the tart, tasty lemonade.

“Have more,” Nicholas encouraged me. “I’ve been enjoying watching you eat. I like it that you love your food. I always think…” He stopped himself.

“You think what?” I transferred a third piece of toast to my plate.

“No. I shouldn’t tell you.”

I glowered at him. “Now you have to.”

“I always think the way a woman eats her food is an indication of how she makes love,” he said in a low voice, his eyes gleaming.

“You were right. You shouldn’t have told me.” It was strange how, just by saying those words, he’d been able to fill me with a sense of shivering expectancy. Suddenly, I felt as if I was in an elevator that was ascending too fast.

“You are sensual. Open. Greedy.” His smile flashed again. “And that’s a compliment, to be taken in the best possible way.”

Oh, crap. My decision not to eat in a ladylike manner had backfired on me horribly, and now my face felt so hot, it must look crimson—and it wasn’t the only part of me that was experiencing a sudden increase in blood flow. I shifted in my seat, hoping to banish the overpowering sense of lust that his words had induced. Really, what
was
it about this man?

You’re the only one who can make the decision to stop, I told myself.

“Greedy, maybe,” I replied, changing the subject. “But I love exercise as much as I love food. Is it safe to go walking around here? I’d say running, but you don’t seem to have any sports shoes available in my size.”

Nicholas gave a rueful nod. “That’s a pity. Anyway, there’s a four-mile paved track that runs between the garden and the surrounding bushveld. If you stick to that, you should be fine during daylight hours. In fact, the paving’s so smooth you could probably run it barefoot. Beyond that, there are unpaved paths that lead deeper into the bush, but it would be better not to walk too far alone, even though there are no predators in this fenced area. The black rhino are more timid than the white ones, but any one of the Big Five can be dangerous if it’s suddenly surprised.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll walk the track tomorrow.”

“If you prefer exercising indoors, there is a gym here as well,” he told me. “It’s in the east wing of the lodge. It’s not fully equipped, but there are some weights, and some cardiovascular equipment. A couple of spinning bicycles, rowing machines, and so on.”

“Great. I’ll give that a try, too.”

We were both finished eating. I stacked the dishes and took them back to the kitchen.

“You can leave them in the sink,” he said. “They’ll be washed in the morning.”

“Well, good night,” I told him, feeling suddenly uneasy. “Thanks for the dinner, and for—er—for being so honest with me.”

“Pleasure,” he said. There was maybe a foot of distance separating us and I could have sworn I could see the air shimmering with the force of our awareness for each other. Being near him was dangerous. It was compelling me to step toward him; to melt into his arms.

“Good night,” I said. Summoning every scrap of my willpower, I walked away, through the kitchen, hearing his “Good night,” behind me but not turning round.

I made it back to my room feeling flushed and unsettled, seriously frustrated, but yet oddly triumphant, as if, despite all the odds, I’d won a war with my body. It was early still—only seven p.m. I tried Vince’s number again but, as I’d expected and feared, it rang unanswered.

I left another brief message, then checked my email.

Samantha had replied.

Hey girlfriend! Great to hear from you! But so sorry you’re in a such a difficult situation there. What’s up? You sound like you’re traveling solo, not with Vince? What’s gone wrong between you two? And who’s this man that’s trying to get you into bed? Please tell me more. I’d love to try and help—or offer you a shoulder to cry on. Chat later… got to run now; lunch is being demanded at high volume!! Xxx.

I couldn’t help feeling a sense of crushing relief as I read this. I had forgotten how wonderful Sam was… how loyal and supportive. How long since I’d spoken to her? Far too long. In fact, thinking back on it, when I’d moved in with Vince soon after we’d met, I’d fallen out of touch with all my friends. As soon as I got back home, a visit to Sam was in order.

I’d email her again in the morning, I decided. Hopefully by then Vince would have called me back and we would have talked things through and I’d be able to offer Sam the reassuring news that everything was fine.

I’d been able to spend an evening with Nicholas without succumbing to his charms. And, next time, it would be easier. I’d done it once… how difficult could it be to do it again?

Ten minutes later I was in bed.

And that was when the thoughts of him filled my sleepless mind, unstoppable and undeniable, causing me to realize that the pleasure he’d given me this morning had only been enough to whet my appetite.

This man, this amoral Nicholas de Lanoy, was revealing to me a more rapaciously sexual side than I’d ever known I possessed. I caught my breath as the memories of what we’d done replayed themselves in my mind. The way his fingers had felt thrusting deep inside me… the urgency of the desire I’d seen in his eyes.

There was no way I was going to sleep—not now, not staring up at the darkened ceiling and thinking about how he had sucked the taste of me from his hand before kissing me deeply… I drew a shuddering breath. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time in my life when I’d felt so aroused… and when the object of my sexual frustration was under the same roof as me. Perhaps when I’d been sixteen and at summer camp.

Well, at least I could do something about it now. And I intended to. To stop myself from going insane with frustration, I was going to masturbate to the fantasy of making love to Nicholas… and at this hour of the night, I could be certain nobody was going to be knocking on my door and interrupting me. Although… imagine if Nicholas himself did just that.

Lust flooded me as I thought of him slipping between the sheets beside me, in total darkness. No words would need to be said; we’d both know why he was here. With the intense urgency sparked by prolonged denial, he’d be kissing me deeply, possessing my mouth with his own. And I would run my hands over his incredible body, learning the feel of him, the smell of him, knowing that as I pressed my fingers into the taut muscles of his back and caressed his firm buttocks, my touch would be fuelling his desire.

I caught my breath as I visualized his hands instead of my own now stroking between my moistened, swollen lips. And if, this time, his expert fingering was only serving to prepare me for the bigger, deeper penetration to follow…

My breathing grew faster as I remembered how he’d felt when he pressed himself against me while we were in the swimming pool—thick, hard, aroused.

Oh God, what would he feel like inside me? The thought of making love with… no, of fucking this lustful stranger was causing a sheen of sweat to appear on my skin. It would never happen in real life. I was going to make sure of that. But it was happening now, in my mind, and I intended to let it go all the way. I was going to immerse myself in the fantasy of raw sex with Nicholas de Lanoy in the hope that I’d finally be able to rid myself of this seemingly unquenchable desire.

Thrusting two fingers inside myself, grinding my pelvis into my cupped hand to satisfy the throbbing need of my clitoris, I came hard, breathlessly, my body convulsing as I sobbed with pleasure at the release. My heart was pounding fast, and I kicked the sheets aside to cool myself. Then I lay, feeling the aftershocks spasm through me. Despite all my efforts to ban him from my thoughts, I found myself wishing that Nicholas was there to taste my arousal as he’d done so sensually before.

Sleep followed sometime after, and I didn’t know how much later it was when the shrill ringing of my phone wrenched me out of my dreams.

I groped groggily in
the direction of the noise and succeeded in knocking the phone off the bedside table. It hit the floor with a clatter but the ringing didn’t stop. I fumbled for the light switch, turned it on, and squinting in the bright glow, peered over the edge of the bed until I located the instrument, which seemed to have been ringing forever. Hastily, I answered.

“Hello?”

“So don’t you call me by my name any more?”

It was Vince. Hearing him, relief filled me… he’d at least called back, even though he was still moody.

“I was fast asleep when I heard the phone,” I explained.

“Is that so? Who else did you think would be calling?”

“Well, the insurance company, maybe.” Damn. Wider awake now, I could have kicked myself for not realizing it would have been Vince. Now, his suspicions were inflamed again. He clearly thought that I had been expecting somebody else to call.

To my relief, he didn’t dwell on my slip-up.

“I was out late doing the shoot. We put up lights and worked through the evening and into the night.”

“Oh, wonderful, Vince. That’s so exciting. How did it go? Did you get some good images?”

“I got some great shots. But I need another assistant.”

“Huh?” I frowned, taking a moment to process the words, before realizing with a stab of surprise, that he was implying
I
would have been his…

No. Surely not.

“What do you mean, ‘assistant’?”

“Well, you tell me you’re stranded elsewhere,” he responded coldly.

“But I wasn’t going to be your assistant!” My voice sounded very loud in the quiet house. “I was going to be your partner. We were doing this fashion shoot as a team. I mean—sure, I was going to help you, but you said this was going to be a showcase of both our talent…”

With an effort, I cut myself short. Now was not the time to pick a fight, even though his words had hurt me. Probably he hadn’t meant them that way. And I knew Vince preferred to work with somebody helping him. Realistically, as I had done before so many times, I would have ended up filling that role.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m glad you have at least done some productive work.”

“I’m thinking of flying Helena out here. She got in touch yesterday and said she was in the country at the moment. In Cape Town.”

“Helena?”

“You know,” he said. “That model I was dating a while back. Oh, hang on a sec. The studio in New York is calling in.”

Abruptly, I was switched over to the “on hold” signal and waited, seething, for him to return to the phone. I knew about Helena—I’d seen many photos of her in Vince’s portfolio and he’d spoken of her often, telling me about the stormy relationship they’d had, and how he’d broken her heart by leaving her because she was never going to understand him well enough. She was my physical opposite, with warm brown eyes, deeply tanned skin, platinum hair, and breasts that had been artificially enhanced to D-cups.

This was really unfair. I wanted to lash out at him for his double standards. We had rules in place regarding exes—rules that Vince himself had laid out.

I had been told that contact with previous partners was forbidden, because he believed that it could and would lead to infidelity. I had agreed to this unwillingly, because I’d stayed good and platonic friends with a couple of my exes, but it was surely not worth jeopardizing my marriage over this.

The point had been driven home to me just a month ago when I’d taken a call from an unfamiliar number one evening, only to hear the cheery voice of Mike, an ex-boyfriend I’d dated briefly when I was twenty-one and who was now married to another good friend of mine. Mike had been phoning to let me know he’d changed jobs, and that he and Jen would be in New York after Christmas and wanted to get together with me.

“Mike!” I’d exclaimed, thrilled to hear his voice. I was delighted he’d gotten in touch, and couldn’t help feeling relieved that he’d called just after Vince had left the apartment to go to a meeting. We’d spoken for a few minutes—he’d updated me on how Jen was doing, and I told him that I was now married.

“Married?” Mike echoed. “Hey, did you elope, or what? How about our promise to go to each other’s weddings?”

Mike had invited me to his, but I hadn’t done the same. My wedding had been attended by my mother, my aunt, and many of Vince’s friends and family. Inviting one of my exes wouldn’t have been acceptable to Vince, and the last thing I’d wanted was to cause friction on that special day.

“Yeah, I guess you could say we eloped,” I said in a small voice.

Then, to my horror, I’d glanced round to see Vince standing in the bedroom doorway, watching me. His face was dark with fury and the expression in his eyes had caused my stomach to tighten almost painfully.

“Anyway,” I continued quickly, desperate to implement some hasty damage control. “I’ve got to go. I’m glad you and your wife are doing well. But I don’t think it’s appropriate to meet up with exes. Please don’t call me again.”

Mike had said goodbye, sounding hurt and confused, just before I slammed the phone down. Immediately, Vince’s inquisition had started. “Why was he calling you at all? Why did he want to give you his new number? Why did he think you’d be available to see him?”

Defending myself had been exhausting, and my efforts to make him understand had been futile. He had simply refused to believe I’d been telling the truth. His anger had become so immense, so vicious, that I had burst into tears under its onslaught. Even that had not been enough to deflect his intent, and I remember fearing at one stage that he might hit me.

He hadn’t, although at one point he had grabbed me by my shoulders hard enough to leave bruises, before shaking me like a rag doll until my head spun.

The next day, when we had made up, he had been back to the normal, focused, serious, and driven Vince that I adored. Before he’d started working on a stunning series of new images, he’d apologized for losing his temper and I, in turn, had said I was sorry for having caused the problem in the first place.

“I don’t know why you put up with me when I can be so difficult,” he’d remarked darkly, swiveling his chair round to face his computer screen. “I’m too much for you to handle, Erin. You should look for somebody else. I don’t know if we rushed into this commitment too quickly.”

“No!” I’d exclaimed in a panic—what
was
he suggesting? That we split up when we’d only just gotten
married
? That I wasn’t able to deal with him? Of course I was—more than able, and I intended to try even harder to prove it.

Speaking fast, I continued, “We’re perfect for each other, Vince! And I can handle you—of course I can. I love you. I love being with you. You are my soul mate. The person I waited twenty-seven years of my life to meet. I will never, ever leave you.”

Vince had turned away from his work. He stood up, wrapped his arms around me, and pressed his head into my shoulder. We stayed like that for a long while, with me blinking tears of relief out of my eyes at his uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. I had never loved
him more fiercely than I did at that moment, and I had resolved that I was never going to let a similar situation happen again.

Later in the day, I’d emailed those exes I was still in contact with, including Mike, and asked them please not to call me in future, but instead to communicate via email, and only then if there was a pressing reason they needed to get in touch.

I hadn’t heard back from any of them, and knew I’d had no right to feel hurt over Mike’s silence. Not that I’d had much time to feel hurt. It was as if being married to Vince had become my full time job—but it was a job I loved and I intended to do it to the best of my ability. Enjoying all our good moments. Managing his moods. Going with him everywhere…

“Hi.” Vince’s voice on the line interrupted my thoughts, dragging me back to my present circumstances. Finally, he’d finished speaking with the studio.

I gathered my courage together. I so seldom spoke up against Vince that I didn’t know how I should start. But surely a marriage was also about balance and compromise, and in this case I felt he was upsetting the balance and needed to compromise.

“Don’t you think what you’re doing is unfair?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” He sounded defensive. I guessed he knew exactly what I meant.

“Why are there two sets of rules here, Vince? I’m not allowed to speak to exes, but you are. I’m not allowed to have contact with male friends, but you can get in touch with your female ones. Even though, as you yourself said, it can lead to infidelity.”

My words were strong, but all the same I felt uneasy saying them, knowing how hypocritical they were given the events that had played out earlier today.

“I know I can trust myself,” Vince responded, his voice icy. “Have I ever flirted with another woman when you’ve been around?”

“I…” Well, no, he hadn’t. But he’d certainly spoken to other women socially, and given his star status, they tended to fawn over him—often even while I was with him. I guessed that when that happened, it didn’t count as flirting, though.

“All right.” With a sense of relief, I found myself backing down. “I was just checking. As long as you get the shoot done.”

“I might not need to fly her up here if you can get back in time. Did you ask about the helicopter?”

“I did. Nicholas says it’s not available. It’s being used to fly emergency supplies to another stranded community.”

As I finished speaking the words, I realized my slip-up. I clapped a hand over my mouth, feeling a cold rush of terror flood through me.

“Nicholas? Who’s Nicholas?” Vince’s words were like blades.

For a moment I couldn’t speak. I was too panicked by my mistake. Then, desperately trying to keep my voice calm, I responded. “I’m sure I told you. He’s Mrs. de Lanoy’s husband.”

“Strange that you’re on first name terms with him but not with her,” he observed, icily.

“The staff all refer to him as Mr. Nicholas. For all I know, his surname could be something different from his wife’s,” I replied, noticing my hands had started trembling. “If and when I see him again, I’ll make sure to ask.”

“You do that,” he said. “You go ahead, Erin. Tell me whatever lies you like. Do you really think I believe you? I’m going to find out where you really are, and you and I are going to have a lot to talk about when you’re out of there.”

“Vince, I…”

“I have to go,” he snapped. “I’ve got New York on the line again.”

And, just like that, he disconnected.