‘It was a nice touch to the story,’ he purrs, ‘but what reason would you have to embellish? To lie? Then to go along with it afterwards?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’ There’s no way I’m admitting I felt sorry for him being all alone in a foreign country. Or that I just wasn’t ready to let him go. Because that’s just hilarious, right? ‘You could’ve mentioned at a later point that you spoke English. You know, when you remembered,’ I retort snarkily.
‘Perhaps I was saving your blushes. Do you make it a habit of confessing your innermost thoughts to complete strangers?’
It’s clear he’s not saving my blushes right now as I open my mouth to respond, finding no words within reach.
‘What was it you said? You hadn’t had the pleasure for over a year? Was that true?’
Sweet mother-of-pearl, the man is as hot as he is annoying. And the fact that he is annoying is the reason I won’t mention that, up until just now, I was sure the sex we’d had back then would be enough to tide me over for another year.
Now, standing this close to him, I’m not so sure.
‘I’m not sure I mentioned sex,’ I reply evasively.
‘I’m pretty sure the only thing we spoke of was sex.’ His tone is even, but there’s a glint of provocation in his gaze.
I find myself inhaling audibly as he reaches out, drawing his forefinger lightly down my cheek. Heat blooms deep inside me at the touch.
‘That’s not fair.’ I’m not sure if I mean his words or his touch. I wet my lips, telling myself that my voice is suddenly husky because my throat is dry, and that it has nothing to do with thirsting for him. ‘You deliberately kept me in the dark.’
‘It was for your own good.’
‘No man gets to decide what’s right for me. If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it was that.’ Even if I came by that lesson watching her mistakes.
Whether my mulish reply is responsible for the change in his demeanour, or the mention of my mother, I’m not sure. He might not physically withdraw, but it’s almost as though a barrier has fallen between us. But if I’m sure of one thing it’s that the man in front of me isn’t the light-hearted tourist I found on my doorstep that night. The real Remy seems calculating, mercurial even, as his attention moves to the manila folder to the side of him.
He flips it open, sifting through the sheets of paper inside.
‘Your mother, Nora?’ His eyes are shrewd as they meet mine.
Her name was Noorah, but he hasn’t earned the right to that information.
‘What of her?’ I draw myself to the full extent of my five-foot-seven height in heels, determined not to be caught off guard by his change of pace.
‘On your medical insurance application, it states your blood type is AB positive. Is that correct?’
‘Last time I checked,’ I answer facetiously as he reaches out and grasps a silver Mont Blanc pen. He turns the page and begins jotting notes. ‘Just like my personality. A be positive person.’
It’s a dumb joke, as well as a stretch right now, but as he doesn’t acknowledge my answer, it definitely falls flat.
‘Do you happen to know what blood type your mother was?’
‘I do.’
His pen poised over the page, he turns his head, his eyes flaring angrily, his words staccato. ‘This is important.’
‘Jeez, chill out. Fine.’ I’m pleased my response sounds so unaffected. It’s so jarring to feel like I know him when I don’t really know him at all.
‘Well?’ His expression is unchanging.
‘I guess your parents deserve a refund from that charm school of yours. My mother was the same as me. AB positive. What’s this about, anyway?’
‘You’re sure?’ His eyes appear suddenly darker, and there’s an intensity in his gaze that’s a little unnerving. This isn’t the playful or languid gaze of the man who crept from my bed while I slept. And I’m sorry to say that it doesn’t make me want him any less.
There, I admit it. At least I kept it to myself this time, English or otherwise.
‘How sure are you?’
Can you simultaneously want to wrap yourself around a man while also wanting to wrap your hands around his neck?
‘I spent two years of my childhood caring for her while cancer ate her from the inside out. I’m pretty sure I know her blood type.’
There is so much of this time marked indelibly on the walls