She’d been avoiding him ever since the end of the first dance and he knew why. It was much safer for her to think that it had all been for show. It hadn’t, of course. But safer for her to believe that.
Because he was almost one hundred per cent sure that if he got one taste of her it would most definitely not be enough. Gritting his jaw, he told himself firmly that Sia Keating would remain untouched for the next twelve days before he sent her on her way. Perhaps with a quiet word in the ears of a few well-placed people in the art industry. She needed to get away from Bonnaire’s and their sullied reputation.
Ajay was leading a smiling and seemingly happy Sia from the dance area back towards him. He wished he had a camera in that moment. She looked younger, the flush on her cheeks healthy and the shine in her eyes? Just incredible.
‘I declare the evening a roaring success,’ Sebastian said with a tilt of his champagne glass in Ajay’s direction.
‘Yes. The staff—’
‘Guests.’
‘The guests will remember this for a long time, Sebastian. It was a good idea.’
‘I think we should do it once a year, not just for the opening,’ Sebastian said, feeling the rightness of it the moment the words were out of his mouth.
‘For Christmas?’ Sia asked.
‘It’s a big season for us,’ Ajay replied, unsure.
‘March is fairly quiet. And we could get staff from other hotels to cover and, in return, we cover them, which would also allow staff to see how other hotels around the world are run.’
‘See?’ Ajay said, smiling, bumping his shoulder against Sia’s and once again accidentally twisting a knife in Sebastian. ‘He says “we.”’
Sia nodded knowingly and Sebastian couldn’t tell whether he was happy or irritated that they had been talking about him.
There were still a few guests dancing and milling around, but Sebastian was eager to go. He told himself he wanted to find a moment of quiet, away from the music and the hum of conversation around him, but he knew that wasn’t true.
After a few more goodbyes than he’d intended, Sebastian led Sia back to the path away from the guests still partying. It was dark but the walkway’s pale stones shone in the moonlight, leading them safely back to the cabin. He ducked under low-hanging palm leaves and held them out of the way for Sia. But when he didn’t feel her following he turned to find her looking up at the stars, wonder on her face, lost in a private moment he didn’t want to disturb.
‘It’s almost otherworldly, isn’t it?’ she asked, surprising him.
Casting a look up to the velvet sky, the bright stars nestled in the smoky swirl of cosmos, ‘Very different to London?’ he couldn’t help but ask.
‘Just a tad.’
‘Where in London do you live?’ He had been honest with her when he’d said he’d not looked into her or her background. It was almost novel—learning about someone only by what they said and by what he trusted.
‘North. Archway. It’s handy for work.’
‘But?’ he asked, sensing some hesitancy there.
‘I’m a South London girl at heart,’ she said, finally turning her face from the heavens to his, grinning with a strange kind of home town pride. ‘I grew up in Peckham with Mum and Dad and then later, just up the road in Forest Hill with Aunt Eleanor.’
‘Why did you have to live with your aunt? Wasn’t it only your father who was arrested?’
‘It was decided that it would be better for me to live with her.’
‘Decided by who?’ He hadn’t missed either the pause or the clipped tone to her voice, but couldn’t help but ask.
‘Everyone.’
‘Including you?’ he asked, incredulous, thinking if he could have just one minute, thirty seconds, ten, five even with his mother again he’d sell his soul for them. He’d come to a stop while she’d continued walking and she was now ahead of him. Even so, he didn’t miss the sound of breath puffed between her lips.
‘Yes. Mum is a complicated person.’
‘But—’
She turned on him then, spinning round as if all the pent-up frustration and hurt that he’d missed in her tone was finally escaping.
‘I get my hair from her,’ Sia practically spat, hating the bitterness in her own voice but unable to stop. ‘I got my name from my dad, but my hair from her. I don’t look like her in any other way. Nose, eyes, face shape...’ she gestured to herself ‘...that’s the