Maybe he’s too drunk to think anything at all.
Another humourless crackle of laughter breaks the silence, and he releases my hand, clenching his fist and flexing his fingers before he pushes himself off the sofa.
“What a thing to say,” he mutters, shaking his head lightly, as if telling himself he’s a fool for having mentioned it. “I’m so sorry. Good night, Diana.”
I sit in silence, staring at him as he walks away. I know it’s bad this time, because I’m too stunned to even appreciate his arse.
33
RAFE
“Melanie had a great time the other night,” Henry says as the elevator doors open into the penthouse. I’m barely listening to him; after meeting the woman at Delirium and calling out Diana’s name, the time I spent with Melanie at Lizzie’s goodbye party has faded to insignificance.
“Did you enjoy it?” Henry continues. “Julian could be onto something, you know. Melanie’s very attractive. I thought it might—”
“It won’t,” I snap.
Henry frowns, a bemused smile distorting his mouth, but he knows me well enough not to push it. “And how is it now Lizzie’s gone?” he asks. “Your first Christmas without her.”
“Fine,” I say, forcing myself to stay focused on him, but unable to ignore the twinge of discomfort that passes through me as we enter the penthouse. I’m hyper alert, trying to determine who’s in the house through some sixth sense before I turn the corner and have to face…her.
I haven’t seen Diana since my outburst on the sofa, and every time I come home, I cringe at the recollection. I haven’t beendown to the pool, and I’ve deliberately been working late and leaving early.
Cowardly, perhaps. I know she’s leaving soon, and the staff have been moving around the apartment, packing up her things and rearranging the place as if she was never here.
Is allowing her to leave without acknowledging my inappropriate outburst a good idea? I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I told her what happened; I was half-cut and confused as shit.
Henry and I turn into the main living area to find the room swarming with staff; the housekeeper and three cleaners are crawling over the floor, asses in the air.
Henry throws me a look, eyebrow arched in amusement. “What’s going on here?” he bellows, and the housekeeper, on her hands and knees beneath the coffee table, bounces up, only to thwack her head on the underside.
“Sir,” she says.
“Are you all right?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
She kneels back on her heels, one hand still rubbing her head. “Miss Diana wanted us to check she hasn’t left anything anywhere in the flat before she leaves. She misplaced a few items.”
“Oh?” I ask, but the sound is vapid.
Is Diana in the building? Am I going to see her?
My heart is beating fast enough to break a four-minute mile.
A cry comes from the other side of the room. “What about this?” One of the cleaners runs in from the other room, brandishing a pink mask with gold piping.
The sight hits me like a smack to the face.
“Is that… yours?” Henry asks me, clearly entertained by the idea.
Ignoring him, I snatch the mask from the cleaner. “I’ll take that,” I spit. The cleaner pulls back, and if I were more able tocontrol the turmoil whirling through my system, I’d apologise. But as it is, I feel like I’m about to fucking die. The room swims, and I almost lurch like the ground is shifting beneath my feet.
Trying to steady my field of vision, I stare at my shoes, scrunching the mask in one hand. When I glance up, Henry’s frowning.
“All okay?” he queries.
“Fuck, no,” I mutter, ushering him to my office and shoving him in before me, closing the door behind us.
He faces me, a smirk curling his lips, his hands spread wide. “If this is how you finally proposition me—”