New Title 1 (8 page)

Chapter 3

I was fuming as I strode back to my hotel.
Whether it was the chill night air of the memory of his hurt expression as I walked out, my anger began to cool.

And no matter how inappropriate his behavior,
I realized it was because he was concerned about my well-being. I shook my head: I really couldn’t figure him out. One minute he was either ignoring me or just plain rude, the next trying to sleep with me, then acting like a jealous boyfriend when he found me with Marc. And
how
the
hell
did he find me in the first place? Twice.

I wished we could have talked like two normal human beings. That seemed unlikely.
There was too much history, too much turbulent water under the bridge.

By the time I slid the keycard into the door
of my hotel room, my ire had leached away. Instead, I felt restless and irritable. I checked my cell to see if I’d had an email from my editor, but although he’d written to say he was still chasing his contacts in the Defense Department, there was no other news. Worse still, it was beginning to look like the delay would be numbered in weeks, not days.

I threw the phone onto my bed in disgust
, and decided a hot shower might relax me. It was a futile hope.

I
’d just wrapped myself in a towel when I heard a knock at my door. My instincts told me it wasn’t going to be room service.

“Yes?”

“Caro, it’s me. Can we talk?”

“I think we
’ve said everything, Sebastian.”

“Can I come in? Just to talk.”

“Is that a joke? No, you can’t.”

There was a pause, then his voice became quieter and more strained.

“Caro, please. I won’t… try anything. I just want to talk to you. Please.”

His voice sounded so deso
late, my resolution began to waver, buckle, and give way entirely.

“
Okay,” I sighed. “Listen, I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes. That’s my best offer.”

“You… you don
’t trust me?”

I didn
’t reply.

“Ok
ay,” he said, softly, “I’ll be waiting.”

I ran a comb through my wet hair and pulled on a pair of jeans, T-shirt and jacket.

I half expected him to be waiting outside my door, but the corridor was silent and empty.

The elevator slid to the ground floor,
exhaling with a soft hiss as the doors opened. My eyes scanned the room and I saw him at once. He was sitting on a long, low sofa, his head in his hands.

When h
e looked up and saw me, his expression cleared, a small smile appearing on his face. He stood up politely as I approached, but my own gaze, I’m sure, was wary.

I sat on a chair next to the sofa
, and waited for him to speak.

“You came,” he said, quietly.

“Evidently. What do you want now, Sebastian?”

My voice was cool and distant
, although inside I felt anything but.

“Would you like a drink?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No… I
…”

H
e looked longingly towards the bar, then dropped his gaze to his hands.

I crossed my arms and waited for him to speak.

“What you said earlier…” He took a deep breath, and that simple action seemed to raise some sort of emotional barricade.

“
I didn’t really assault you, did I,” he said, confidently. “You were just saying that to get back at me.”

Is that why he
’d begged me to come here? To call me a liar? A fantasist?

“No, Sebastian, you really
did,” I replied with some heat. “You were drunk… I couldn’t… couldn’t stop you.”

I closed my eyes
, and shivered at the memory.

“If you hadn
’t passed out when you did… you scared me,” I said, looking him in the eye. “It reminded me of your…”

I bit my lip
to stem the flood of my hasty words, but it was too late. He gasped.

“I reminded you of… of my father?
”

I nodded
, and his expression was stricken.

“
You were really afraid to let me in your room just now? I scared you that much?”

I didn
’t reply, leaving an appalled silence hanging in the air.

“Oh God!
Caro… I never… I couldn’t…”

I stared at him doubtfully. The boy I
’d known would never have hurt me – but he was long gone. I didn’t know who Sebastian was any more – he was a stranger.

“Fuck, Caro! I
’m so sorry.”

He dropped his head into his hands
again.

I beat back a long-dormant urge to comfort him, to hold him and tell him it would be ok
ay. Instead I continued to stare at him, tracing the memories of ten, long years in the past.

My
cellphone rang, which was a very welcome interruption.

“Chérie! I have been calling and calling you! Are y
ou alright?”

“Oh, shit! Sorry, Marc. Yes, I
’m fine. Really. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, ok
ay, you are still with him?”

“We
’re just sitting in the lobby at my hotel. I’m good, really.”

“Bien, ma chère. If you say so. Call if you need me.”

“I won’t, but thanks, Marc. Have a safe flight and look after yourself – I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Ciao.”

Sebastian frowned. “Was that your
friend?
”

I rolled my eyes.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

I laughed
, but without humor.

“Marc is a good friend. He was just… being concerned.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Actually
, I think you’re more his type.”

Sebastian looked surprised.
I’d known for years that Marc was gay, but he didn’t broadcast the fact – it wouldn’t have been good for his career.

“Did you… tell him about me?”
he asked, quietly.

“Which bit?
” I sighed. “It doesn’t matter: the answer is ‘no’ – it’s not anyone’s business but mine.”

I looked pointedly at my watch.

“Sebastian, it’s late and I’m tired. If you’ve got anything else to say to me, say it quickly. Otherwise I’m going to bed.”

He stared at his hands again.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” he said, his voice quiet, almost humble. “It was just… a shock… seeing you again.”

“For me, too,” I said, softly.

He looked suddenly hopeful, and I regretted giving him a reason.

“Let me make it up to you, Caro. Let me take you out tomorrow. I could show you the city. I
’ve been here for months – I know my way around pretty well.”

“I don
’t think so…”

“Caro, come on. I
’ll be on my best behavior, I promise – I know your travel permit hasn’t come through.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Well…” He paused. “That was just the impression I got. You’d have been packing otherwise.”

There was something off about his tone, but I couldn
’t put my finger on it. On the other hand, this whole conversation had been more than usually fraught.

“Please, Caro, I know some great Italian restaurants. It
’ll be like…”

He hesitated, so I finished the sentence for him, “…old
times?”

He gave a small smile. “
Do you have anything better to do?”

I sigh
ed, giving in. “No, I don’t. Fine. But one false move, Hunter, and you’ll regret it.”

He grinned hugely. “Yes, ma
’am!”

I couldn
’t help smiling back.

I was exhausted by the heat
ed emotions that had been superabundant lately. A glass of wine sounded damn fine. I looked over towards the bar.

Now we
’d talked and he’d apologized, I was able to relax a little.

“I think I will have that drink now.”

Before I could stand up to go to the bar, he was on his feet.

“I
’ll get it. A red wine?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I slumped in my seat, watching him lean against the bar while waiting to be served. The last time we’d spent time together like this, he hadn’t been old enough to buy alcohol.

I was surprised when he returned with two glasses
of wine; I’d assumed he’d be hitting the whiskey again. I was very glad to see he wasn’t.

“I got you a Barolo
.”

“Mmm, my favorite.”

“I know. I remembered you liked it.”

I stared at him in amazement. How on earth did he remember something like that?

“Oh, well… thank you.”

I suddenly felt awkward again, his gaze was too intense. I sighed. It was time to have
that
conversation.

“How was it… after I left?”

He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes, as if in pain. When he opened them again the old wounds were raw.