people could be quite damaging.’ Leaning back in his seat, he raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine what your new boss would think if he heard about it.’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said softly.
His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Try me!’
He could see the conflict in her eyes—frustration and resentment battling with logic and resignation—but he knew the battle was already won. If she was going to leave she would already be on her feet.
With immense satisfaction he watched her sit back stiffly in her seat. This wasn’t about revenge, but even so he couldn’t help letting a small, triumphant smile curve his mouth.
‘So…’ He gestured towards the pack of cards. ‘You’re still a magician, then.’
Teddie stared at the cards. To anyone else his remark would have sounded innocuous, nothing more than a polite show of interest in an ex’s current means of employment. But she wasn’t anyone. She had been his wife, and she could hear the resentment in his voice for she had heard it before.
It was another reminder of why their marriage had failed. And why she should have confronted the past head-on instead of pretending her marriage had never happened. She might have been strong for her son, but she’d been a coward when it came to facing Aristo.
Only, she’d had good reason not to want to face him. Lots of good reasons, actually.
In the aftermath of their marriage he’d been cold and unapproachable, and later she’d been so sick with her pregnancy, and then, by the time she’d felt well again, George had been born—and that was a whole other conversation.
She was suddenly conscious of Aristo’s steady, dark gaze and her heart gave a thump. She had to stop thinking about George or something was going to slip out.
‘Yes,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m still a magician, Aristo. And you’re still in hotels.’
Her heart was thumping hard against her chest. Did he really want to sit here with her while they politely pretended to be on speaking terms? Her hands felt suddenly damp and she pressed them against the cooling leather. Clearly he did. But then, he didn’t have a secret to keep.
He nodded. ‘Mostly, but I’ve diversified my interests.’
She gritted her teeth. So even less time for anything other than work. For some reason that thought made her feel sad rather than angry and, caught off-guard, she picked up her coffee and took a sip.
Aristo looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘You must have done well. Edward Claiborne doesn’t often go out of his comfort zone. So how did you two meet?’
His eyes tangled with hers and he felt a stab of anger, remembering Edward Claiborne’s proprietorial manner as he’d turned and gestured across the room towards Teddie.
She shrugged. ‘Elliot and I did some magic showcases at a couple of charity balls last year and he was there.’
Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘You work with Elliot?’
For some reason her defiant nod made a primitive jealousy rip through him like a box-cutter. In his head—if he’d allowed himself to picture her at all—she had been alone, suffering as he was. Only, now it appeared that not only had she survived, she was prospering with Elliot.
‘We set up a business together. He does the admin, front of house and accountancy. I do the magic.’
He felt another spasm of irritation—pain, almost. He knew Teddie had never been romantically or sexually involved with Elliot, but he had supported her, and once that had been his job. It was bad enough that his half-brother, Oliver, had displaced him in his mother’s affections—now it appeared that Elliot had usurped him in Teddie’s.
‘From memory, he wasn’t much of a businessman,’ he said coolly.
For the first time since she’d sat down Teddie smiled and, watching her eyes soften, he had to fight an overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke her cheek, for once her eyes had used to soften for him in that way.
‘He’s not, but he’s my best friend and I trust him,’ she said simply. ‘And that’s what matters.’
It was tempting to lie, to tell him that she’d found love and unimaginable passion in Elliot’s arms, but it would only end up making her look sad and desperate.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely what matters is profit?’
She’d always known he felt like that, but somehow his remark hurt more than it should, for it was the reason her son would grow up without a father.
Her fingers curled. ‘Some things are more important than money, Aristo.’
‘Not in business,’ he said dismissively.
She glared at him, hating him and his stupid, blinkered view of life, but hating herself more for still caring what he thought.
‘But there’s more to life than business. There’s feelings and people—friends, family—’
She broke off, the emotion in her voice echoing inside her head. Glancing up, she found him watching her, his gaze darkly impassive, and it was hard not to turn away, for the heartbreakingly familiar masculine beauty of his face seemed so at odds with the distance in his eyes.
‘You don’t have a family,’ he said.
It was one of the few facts she’d shared with him about her life—that she was an orphan. Dazed, Teddie blinked. She was about to retort that she was a mother to his son, when abruptly her brain came back online and she bit back her words. Given how he’d behaved, and was still behaving, she certainly didn’t owe him the truth.
But George was his child. Didn’t he deserve to know that?
Her heartbeat stalled, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her stomach seemed to be turning in on itself. Wishing that she could make herself disappear as effortlessly as she could make watches and wallets vanish, she forced herself to meet his gaze.
‘No, I don’t,’ she lied.
And suddenly she knew that she had to leave right there and then, for to stay would mean more lies, and she couldn’t do it—she didn’t want to lie about her son.
Neither could she carry on lying to herself.
Up until today she had wanted to believe that she was over Aristo. But as she stared into his dark, distant eyes, the pain of pretending erupted inside of her, and suddenly she needed to make certain this never happened again.
She’d made the mistake of letting him back into her life before—made the mistake of following her heart, not her head. And although she didn’t regret it—for that would mean regretting having her son—after that one-night stand she’d accepted not only that their marriage was over, but that it was the best possible outcome.
Only by staying out of his orbit would she be safe—not just from him, but from herself.
She lifted her chin. This meeting would be their last.
Ignoring the intensity of his dark gaze, and the full, sensuous mouth that had so often kissed her into a state of helpless bliss, she cleared her throat. ‘Fascinating though this is, Aristo, I don’t really think there’s any point in us carrying on with this conversation,’ she said. ‘Small talk—any kind of talk, really—wasn’t ever your strong point, and we got divorced for a reason—several, actually.’
He held her gaze. ‘Are you refusing to talk to me?’
‘Yes, I am.’
But she didn’t want to explain why. Didn’t want to explain the complex and conflicting emotions swirling inside her.
Her heart was banging against her ribs and, breathing in deeply, she steadied herself. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a pen and a notebook and scrawled something on a