A hard look came into her sister’s eyes. ‘Have a fling with him but try and keep it out of the headlines, okay? This is the most important day of my life. I don’t want anyone on centre stage but me.’
Lucca knew Lottie was upset as soon as she stepped into the Chatsfield bar where he had arranged to meet her. She didn’t show it on her face. It was the way she carried herself. Stiffly. As if she was carrying an invisible weight on her head that at any moment was going to topple off. He pulled out a chair for her. ‘You look like you need a couple of champagne cocktails to loosen up.’
Her eyes seemed to be having trouble meeting his. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘Two minutes isn’t late.’ He gently flicked her cheek with his finger. ‘I guess it is when you’re a control freak, huh?’
She gave him a tight smile before looking away again. ‘My sister’s upset with me.’
He brought her chin back round so she met his gaze. ‘What? She didn’t like the lingerie?’
Her forehead was puckered with a frown. ‘She doesn’t like the fact that our fling is taking the attention off her.’
Lucca felt his stomach stumble like a foot misjudging a step. Did she want to end their relationship ahead of schedule? The thought was disturbingly uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. What did he care if she ended it? There were plenty of women who would willingly take her place in his bed. He could replace her in a heartbeat. ‘Aren’t you entitled to your share of the limelight?’
She let out a breath that made her shoulders slump. ‘I can’t seem to please her. For years she’s been at me to get out more. Now I’m finally out having a bit of fun and she wants me to tone it down.’
‘Ever thought of telling her to mind her own business?’
She gave him a fleeting smile. ‘I’d have to have a vodka chaser or two first.’
‘Why are you afraid of standing up to her?’
She slowly traced the C on the Chatsfield coaster on the bar in front of her. ‘I don’t know … I guess it’s because she’s never put a foot wrong. She never makes a blunder.’ She pushed the coaster away as if it had suddenly annoyed her and looked at him. ‘Is must be wonderful to go through life without ever making a mistake.’
Lucca didn’t like to think too closely about some of the mistakes he’d made. There were too many of them to think about. They were backed up behind him like a row of wrecked and abandoned cars, going all the way back to his childhood. He brushed his knuckles beneath her chin. ‘Want to go somewhere a little more private?’
Her eyes got that sparkle in them that always made his groin tighten. ‘Where did you have in mind?’
He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘I have an etching to show you.’
Lottie held the painting Lucca had done of her in her hands. It was no bigger than a postcard even with the frame he’d organised for it. ‘It’s beautiful….’ She traced the gilt edge of the frame with her fingertip. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been given anything more beautiful.’ She swivelled to look at him. ‘Thank you.’
He gave one of his indifferent shrugs. ‘Count yourself lucky. You’re the first lover I’ve ever given a gift to.’
She put the painting down on the dressing table, watching him covertly in the mirror. ‘What will you do with the one of me in the palace gardens?’
‘File it away somewhere, I suppose.’
‘I think you should show it to a top gallery owner in London or New York. Set up a solo exhibition. It would be a way to launch your career as an artist. Painting a royal portrait is every artist’s—’
‘No.’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘But why? What’s the point of doing such delicate and exquisite work and hiding it in the bottom drawer as if you’re ashamed of it?’
His expression tightened. ‘My artwork is private. I want to keep it that way.’
‘But why?’
‘Because there’s nothing else in my life that is private.’
Lottie looked at him oddly. ‘But I thought you liked drawing all that attention to yourself. You seem to deliberately court scandal. You said it’s your brand.’
He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Leave it, cara. I’m not after a big career in the arts.’
‘What do you want, Lucca?’
His eyes moved away from hers. ‘You know what I want. I want my share of the family trust fund.’
She rose from the dressing-table stool and came over to him. ‘You’ve had money all your life and it hasn’t made you happy.’
‘What makes you think I’m not happy?’
Lottie looked into his masked gaze. ‘Happy people don’t create negative drama, even if it’s mostly directed at themselves.’
A mocking smile tilted his mouth. ‘You should ask for a refund on that psychoanalyst degree you’re brandishing about. It’s rubbish.’
‘That’s a defence mechanism of yours. You make a joke of everything but inside you’re not laughing. You’re hurting.’
A line of tension rippled through his jaw but his smile was all easy laid-back charm. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we have two weeks to get through before your sister’s wedding. The world is kind of hooked on us getting it on so calling it quits right now would upset a lot of people and take the shine off your sister’s big day. Not to mention ruin my chances of claiming my trust fund. But hey, I’ll give you the choice. I’m cool either way.’
Lottie rolled her lips together. Did he really not give a damn whether their relationship continued or not? How could he be so easy going about it? Had she made no impression on him at all? Did he care nothing for her other than as just another lover he had taken to his bed?
It would serve him right if she did end it.
But of course she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Madeleine had already cautioned her about overshadowing her big day. Ending her affair with Lucca would draw a lot of unnecessary attention.
Besides, she didn’t want it to end.
Her heart gave a painfully tight squeeze. Admitting her feelings was dangerous. It made her want to think about things she had no business thinking about … Lucca and her together, not just for a couple of weeks but for a lifetime. Getting married. Having babies. Building a life of happiness and security for their family that he had missed out on in his lonely and traumatic childhood. Pipe dreams … all of them. That was the trouble with falling in love with a man who didn’t believe in love lasting. How many women thought they were the one to unlock a closed heart only to have theirs broken for their effort? Thousands. Millions.
‘I don’t want anything to spoil Madeleine and Edward’s wedding,’ she said.
He gave a slow nod. ‘Fine.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘You wouldn’t really forfeit your trust fund … would you?’
‘Not for the sake of two weeks.’
What about for the sake of me? Lottie pushed the thought aside before it could get a foothold. ‘Is it a lot of money?’
He picked up her royal-crested silver hairbrush and turned it over in his hands. ‘Not by some people’s standards.’
‘But it’s what it represents, right?’
He stood behind