something to be enjoyed. It was just a tool, and sometimes a weapon, to get what you wanted, or even needed.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. Business relationship only, remember?’
‘I remember.’
‘So.’ She straightened, gave him an expectant this-is-your-cue-to-leave look. He ignored it.
‘Aurelie.’ She wished he hadn’t said her name. He said it the way he always said it, deliberately, an affirmation, and it made her ache inside. Stupid, because it was just her name. A name she hated and yet—
When Luke said it, she didn’t feel like Aurelie the pop star. She felt like Aurelie the girl who’d grown up wanting only to be loved.
‘What?’ she demanded, too harshly, because he’d stripped away all her armour and anger was her last defence.
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
She stared at him wordlessly, dread rolling through her, making her sick. He was letting her down. Of course. The concert hadn’t worked and he didn’t want her Aurelie act, so he was going to tell her to go home. It was over. So much for trying to change.
Four hours ago she’d told herself she wanted that but now she felt the sting of tears. Another failure.
‘Well,’ she forced herself to say, even to smile, ‘we tried, didn’t we? Never mind. I knew it was a long shot.’ And she shrugged as if it were no big deal, even managed a wobbly laugh.
Luke frowned, said nothing for a long, taut moment. ‘What do you think I’m talking about?’ he finally asked.
She eyed him uncertainly. ‘The concerts, right? I mean … the audience didn’t really go for it today—’
‘They would have if you’d done what you were supposed to, and sung your song.’ He spoke without rancour, but she still prickled.
‘They would have gone for it even less.’
‘Yet you weren’t willing to risk that. I’m sorry for that too. I should have spoken to you before you went onstage. I was trying to keep my distance because—’ He stopped, blew out a weary breath. ‘Because it seemed simpler. Easier. But I think I just made it harder for you. I’m sorry I let you down.’ She didn’t answer. This conversation had gone way outside her comfort zone. She had no comebacks, no words at all. ‘But I wasn’t apologising for the concerts,’ Luke continued quietly. ‘I’m not cancelling them. I still think you can turn this around.’
‘You do?’ She felt a stirring of hope, like a baby’s first breath, infinitesimally small and yet sustaining life.
‘Yes. But I don’t want to talk about that.’ He gazed straight at her then, and she saw the hard blaze of his eyes, golden glints amid the deep brown. ‘I want to talk about us.’
‘Us—’ The word ended on a breath. She had no others.
‘Yes, us. I’m still attracted to you.’ Aurelie felt her heart lurch with some nameless emotion, although whether it was fear or hope or something else entirely she couldn’t say.
‘So it is about sex.’
Luke said nothing for a moment. He gazed out of the window, the sky turning dark, twinkling with the myriad lights of the city. ‘Do you know how many women I’ve slept with?’ he finally asked.
‘I’m not sure how I would have come by that information—’
‘Three.’ He glanced back at her with a rueful smile, his eyes still dark. ‘Three, four if I include our rather mangled attempt.’
‘Right.’ She had no idea what to make of that.
‘I’ve had three relationships. Relationships. They all lasted months or even years. And the women involved were the only women I’ve ever had sex with.’
‘So you really are a Boy Scout.’ She felt incredibly jaded, with way too much bad experience behind her.
‘No, I just … I’ve just always taken sex seriously. It’s meant something to me. Emotionally.’
‘Except with me.’
Luke was silent for so long Aurelie wondered if he’d heard her. She sought for something to say, something light and wry to show him she didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but it was too late for that. He’d already seen and heard too much.
‘It did mean something,’ he finally said, his voice so low she almost didn’t hear him. ‘From the moment I saw you slumped on the floor from what I thought—assumed—was an overdose. You opened your eyes and I … I felt something.’
‘Felt something?’ she managed, still trying for wryness. ‘What, annoyance?’
‘No.’ He glanced up at her, and she saw the honesty blazing in his eyes. ‘I don’t know what it was. Is. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel something—for you. For the you hiding underneath the pop star persona, the you who wrote that song.’
She swallowed. ‘But you didn’t even hear that song until—’
‘I saw it in your eyes.’
She looked away. ‘I never took you for a romantic.’
‘I didn’t, either.’
Aurelie could feel her heart beating so hard it hurt. She felt dizzy and weirdly high, as if she were floating somewhere up near the ceiling. And she felt scared. Really scared, because she didn’t know what Luke was trying to tell her.
She licked her lips, found a voice. ‘So what … what are you saying exactly?’
‘I don’t even know.’ He raked a hand through his hair, let out a weary laugh. ‘Part of me thinks we should keep this strictly professional, get through the next nine days, and never see each other again.’
‘That would probably be the smartest move,’ she agreed, trying to keep her voice light even as her mouth dried and her heart hammered and she hoped. Yet for what?
‘I think it would be,’ Luke agreed. ‘But here’s the thing. I don’t want to.’
‘So what do you want?’ Aurelie whispered.
He stared at her for a long moment, and she saw the conflict in his eyes. Felt it. He didn’t want to want her, but he did. ‘I want to start over,’ he said at last. ‘I want to forget about what happened—or didn’t happen—between us. I want to get to know you properly.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ she joked, but her voice wavered and it fell flat.
‘I’m not sure about anything,’ he admitted with a wry shake of his head. ‘I’m not even sure why I’m saying this.’
‘Ouch. Too much honesty, maybe.’
‘Maybe.’ His gaze rested on her. ‘But I want a second chance. With you. I want you to have a second chance with me.’
A second chance. Not professionally, but personally. So much more dangerous. And so much more desirable. A chance to be real. Aurelie closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to feel, and yet at the same time she felt so much. Too much.
‘The question is,’ Luke asked steadily, ‘is that what you want?’
She opened her eyes. Stared. His hair was still mussed, his suit still rumpled. He had shadows under his eyes and he badly needed to shave. He looked wonderful.
‘Why?’ she finally whispered.
‘Why what?’
‘Why do you want a second chance—with me?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Is it so hard to believe?’
‘You don’t even