Victoria couldn’t believe the uplift in her business. It was absolutely as she wanted it—and keeping her busy. But being the scribe who recorded the love notes of other people? Right now it hurt.
But it also kept her faith alive. She’d survived betrayal and divorce and isolation. She could survive this too. Other people did. Other people went on to find happiness. And one night was only one night, right? So she shouldn’t be this hurt. Only this wound was deeper than any other. It wasn’t only the death of that secret fantasy long locked away—it was the death of the incredible reality of being with him. It had been so much better than she’d ever believed it could be too. But she wasn’t thinking only of sex. She’d laughed with him, talked with him, felt so content in his company, so inspired. It was so much more than sexual. She was drawn to him on many levels. He worked as hard as she. Was as determined as she. He helped out—and she’d helped out too. They had so much to share.
Only he didn’t want to. He didn’t want her.
In the early evening she sat outdoors at a café in a trendier part of town, glad to get out of the oppressive feeling of her studio. She had a portfolio with her and a laptop to show pictures of some of her larger assignments. It was safer that way, plus it got her a little ‘Parisian café scene’ fun.
Her prospective client was a guy wanting to do something romantic for the woman in his life—a beautifully printed series of clues that were going to be part of an elaborate proposal. Lucky woman.
‘Do you think she’ll like it?’ he leaned forward and asked for the fifth time.
‘I think she’ll love it. And I’d be honoured to do it for you.’
His entire face lit up. ‘Merci. Perhaps if she says yes you could do the invitations. I like your work. I think she will too. It’s unique.’
‘Thank you.’ Victoria felt the heat bloom in her cheeks, pleased she’d shown him her personal stationery portfolio as well.
‘I must get going or she’ll wonder where I am.’ He stood and Victoria rose too, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
He stepped around the table and leaned forward to kiss her on each cheek in that polite, Parisian manner. ‘I’ll call you.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ And she would. She smiled as she watched him walk down the street.
‘Victoria!’
She turned, put a hand out to grip the back of the cane chair.
Liam was striding towards her. Looking icy. He swiftly got to where she stood superglued to the footpath. He was more tanned than usual, his eyes burnished. Gorgeous.
‘It didn’t take you long to move on.’ He glared after the guy who’d just left her.
Coolly Victoria glared at him; the excitement that had burst into being only a second ago was instantly doused at the implication of his words. ‘No.’ She let the word hang ambiguously.
A muscle in Liam’s jaw twitched. ‘He’s not your type.’
‘Who is?’
He looked at her directly, eyes aflame. ‘Me.’
She was furious. He was only interested because he’d seen her with another guy—someone he saw as a competitor. ‘This was a business meeting, Liam,’ she snapped. ‘That guy’s about to propose to his girlfriend of four years.’
‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, I—’
‘Anyway, you’ve no right to comment on who I meet or talk to or sleep with, should I choose to,’ Victoria interrupted. ‘We had our one night. You left. It’s over.’
‘You wanted me to leave.’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t want someone ruining her career prospects. She didn’t want someone who wasn’t going to be there most of the time. She didn’t want someone who didn’t love her. Not again. And she’d agreed never to see him again because it was what he’d wanted. He didn’t want more.
He’d gone pale beneath his tan. ‘I had no idea it was a business meeting. I misread the signs and thought—’ He broke off and visibly regrouped. ‘I’d never want to jeopardise your work,’ he continued stiltedly. ‘That’s why I stayed away the week of the wedding. I knew you had to concentrate. Your business is amazing. You’re talented. You’re making it work and you deserve every success.’ He backed up a pace. ‘I’d never stand in the way of that.’
Unlike Oliver. Who’d been resentful. Who’d been as competitive.
‘So you only called out because you thought that other guy was flirting with me?’ She felt even more furious. Because that was it, wasn’t it? The only time she got serious attention from guys was when there was more than one on the scene. ‘You know, Oliver only wanted to marry me to keep me from finding someone else,’ she said bitterly. ‘Protecting his investment rather than looking at me.’ He hadn’t really loved her. Wanted her, yes, but more than that he’d wanted no one else to have her.
Liam’s eyes widened—and a second later he frowned. Big-time frown. ‘You think I was that someone else?’ He leaned closer. ‘That my presence somehow forced his hand?’
Had Oliver sensed the attraction between her and Liam? He had to have. ‘He hadn’t planned that proposal. The ring was a family heirloom. He had access to it any time—it was in the safe in the house.’
‘But you said yes.’
‘Because they were all sitting there. Because they expected it. Because I wanted to please them, and him. Because I was a coward.’
Liam breathed in deep before stepping forward and taking her by the arm, drawing her away from the café and around the corner into a quieter side-street.
‘I didn’t come over because I saw you talking to that other guy in some random quirk of fate. I’m not supposed to be in Paris. I just abandoned my training and drove for hours to talk to you. I came to find you.’
This wasn’t a chance meeting? Victoria stopped walking, so he did too. ‘How did you know where I was?’
There was a long moment of silence. Victoria watched— fascinated—as colour slashed across his cheekbones. Don’t-give-a-damn Liam was blushing?
‘I put an app on your phone.’
She frowned. ‘What kind of app?’
‘I have the matching app on mine—our phones can track each other. It comes up on a map.’
‘You basically bugged my phone?’ With some kind of GPS tracking thing? ‘That’s a first-class stalker thing to do.’
‘Yep.’ He stared into the distance. Eventually he brought his gaze back to meet hers head-on. ‘I didn’t want to lose you again.’
Victoria’s heart thundered. No. No, this couldn’t be. She killed the hope making her heart skip double-Dutch style. ‘Liam, I know you had to fight. You’ve competed against extreme odds to get to where you are. But I’m not some challenge. I won’t be a prize.’
She didn’t want to be a possession again—someone there to look good and support and not ‘be’ someone and something in her own right. She wanted to be valued for herself. Wanted. Supported in her own endeavours and not just the one supporting. She didn’t want to be a sexualised object or fought over like two dogs did with a bone. Because in the end the bone wasn’t of interest. The bone wasn’t actually what was wanted.
‘Is that how you think I see you? How I treat you?’ He frowned. ‘What am I to you? The bit of rough from your past? Am I not good enough for you? ‘
‘How dare you?’ she challenged, her voice low and raw as angry tears burned the back of her throat. ‘You were the one who said we could only have one night. You were the one who said he couldn’t give