by Sarah Morgan
Digesting the implication of those words, Damon breathed deeply. ‘So it was your first time.’ Her confession intensified the suffocating feeling that had begun from the moment he’d woken up. ‘Polly—’
‘It’s hard for me to work out how to staff this account until I know what your plans are.’
‘Theé mou, will you stop talking about work?’
Startled, she looked up at him. ‘Sorry, but this account is really important. It’s worth loads to the company …’ Her voice trailed off as she looked at his face. ‘You’re behaving really weirdly, if you don’t mind me saying. Just a couple of days ago you were telling me to take my lazy self and do some work and now you’re telling me to stop thinking about work. It’s very confusing.’
She couldn’t possibly be more confused than him. ‘I was wrong to say that. I was wrong about you,’ Damon breathed. ‘I’ve already apologised, but I apologise again.’
‘Well, I was pretty wrong about you, too. I thought you were a demented workaholic with an unhealthy focus on the bottom line. But right now, when I really need you to talk about work, you seem incapable of focusing. It’s very frustrating.’
‘Why were you a virgin?’
‘What sort of a question is that?!’ Her face turned scarlet. ‘Because no man ever wanted to take me to bed before, I suppose. Thanks for pointing that out. And now can we end this conversation? I don’t know much about morning-after etiquette but I’m pretty sure that embarrassing your partner isn’t on the list.’
‘You were excluded from school at fourteen because you had three boys in your room,’ he said thickly. ‘So we both know you’re not some blushing innocent.’ The error in his thinking blazed in front of his eyes. She might not have been blushing, but she had been innocent. He’d suspected it at the time but he’d been too carried away by the whole erotic experience to act on that suspicion. ‘What the hell transformed you from vamp to virgin?’
‘I never said I was a vamp. You made that assumption. Along with a few others.’
‘I made that assumption based on the evidence.’
‘Mmm. Good job you’re not a lawyer.’ She gave a tiny shrug and fiddled with her pen. ‘So—Arianna obviously never talked to you about that episode?’
The tension was like a layer of steel in his back. ‘I didn’t ask for details. I decided it was safer to put the whole thing behind us.’
‘Right. Probably wise.’
Exasperation rose in him. ‘I remember that day very clearly and you didn’t make a single excuse. You just stood there with a defiant look on your face and let them throw you out of the school. Permanently. Not once did you defend yourself or try and stop it happening.’
‘I didn’t want to stop it happening.’
Far beneath them the sound of horns blared as the impatient French negotiated the Paris traffic but Damon was oblivious. ‘You wanted to be excluded?’
‘Yes. That was the plan.’
‘Plan?’ He breathed slowly. ‘You’re telling me that you engineered the whole thing so that you’d be asked to leave the school? Why would you want that?’
‘Because I was being bullied. Badly bullied.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact. ‘I tried other ways to sort it out but none of them worked. So I decided I had to leave the school.’
‘You decided—?’ Digesting the implications of the statement, Damon struggled to focus. ‘And your father didn’t have anything to say about that?’
‘I didn’t ask him. It was my problem. I sorted it.’
‘If I have a problem, I’m expected to sort it out myself.’
‘Did you talk to the teachers?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at him as if he were clearly stupid. ‘They spoke to the bullies, who were so angry that I’d told on them they set fire to my hair. Fortunately Arianna walked into the room and we managed to put it out, which was a relief because burnt hair is not a good look.’
Damon gritted his teeth. ‘What happened then?’
‘We trimmed the ends. It was fine. It actually suited me shorter.’
‘Not your hair, the bullying. Why didn’t you tell your father?’
‘Why would I tell my father?’
‘Well, because—’ Damon found himself at a loss for words. ‘You were fourteen years old. It was his responsibility to come down to the school and sort it out.’
‘That isn’t his style. He prefers me to sort things out myself and that’s fine with me. I’m grateful to him. I’m quite independent as a result of it. But I did feel guilty that Arianna got drawn into the whole episode.’
‘So you didn’t invite the boys to your room because you wanted to party?’
‘No. I paid them to come and hang out while I danced in my underwear with a bottle of whisky in my hand. Someone tipped off the head teacher who promptly caught me. Which was as we’d planned, obviously. I thought it was an extremely creative solution. Anyway, it did the trick and the boys didn’t seem to mind helping us out.’
Mind? Damon tried to obliterate the image of Polly writhing in her underwear with the express purpose of getting herself thrown out of school. ‘Why did the other girls bully you?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Mostly because of my dad, I suppose. As I said to you last night, it was social suicide having a parent turning up in a sports car with a young blonde in the front seat. I suppose if it hadn’t been that it probably would have been something else. They just pick on whatever suits them—red hair, glasses, fat thighs—you know what bullies are like.’
He didn’t, but she obviously did. ‘What about your next school.’
‘Oh, that worked out really well. I picked a nice day school close to my house.’
‘You picked it?’
‘Yes. I went to see a couple and chose one that did a lot of art and creative stuff. I thought it would suit me perfectly.’
‘You—’ Damon broke off, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘You’re saying that you picked the school by yourself? That your father didn’t go with you?’
‘Why would he? I got myself kicked out of school. It was my job to find myself another one, which turned out great,’ she added cheerfully. ‘I don’t see why you’re so shocked about the whole thing.’
‘Bullying is unacceptable behaviour. You should have had support. You shouldn’t have had to leave.’
‘Leaving was the best thing that happened to me. I hated that school and so did Arianna.’
‘Arianna hated it?’
‘Yes. The girls were vile. Honestly, I think we were just unlucky with our year group or something. She didn’t really want to hang around there without me and she thought my party plan would work better if she joined in.’
The news that his sister had also hated the school was a solid blow deep in his gut. Shaken by those unexpected revelations, Damon turned the full force of his own guilt into anger. ‘Why the hell didn’t one of you tell me the truth?’
‘Arianna did say that she might, but you were storming and ranting and looking like thunder so I think she lost her nerve. Look—just forget it. It’s such a long time ago I can hardly remember.’
He didn’t believe her for a moment. It had obviously left deep, permanent scars. ‘Don’t lie. For once, I want the truth.’
‘The truth is that it doesn’t matter any more. None of it. I’ve moved on.’ She was silent for a moment, as if her own words had come as a surprise to her. Then a tiny smile touched the corners of her mouth and she sat back in her chair, as if she were surprised by something. ‘Wow. I’ve said those words a million times and never really meant them. But this time I really mean them! I really have moved on.’ Her smile widening, she sprang to her feet and did an impromptu twirl. Then she grabbed the front of his coat and her eyes shone into his. ‘Do you have any idea how good that feels? You can deal with something, you can put it behind you, but that’s not the same as actually being over it. And I’m over it! Honestly, truly over it.’
Observing this unrestrained display of ec
stasy with growing bemusement, Damon found himself overwhelmed by a sudden urge to drag her back to bed. Staring down at the tiny dimple at the corner of her mouth, he wondered what had happened to restraint and discipline.
‘I can see now what a difficult time you’ve had.’ The words stuck in his throat. ‘And then I took over your father’s company and stormed and ranted and looked like thunder.’ And made things worse for her.
And he was about to make them worse still by telling her that their relationship was over. That whatever they’d shared was just a one off, never to be repeated.
‘You were worried about your sister. I get that. Don’t worry.’ Still smiling, she stretched her arms above her head and yawned. ‘Arianna is lucky to have you. You might be misguided sometimes, but I know you care. That’s the thing that matters.’
Damon dragged his eyes from her slender arms and tried to wipe the memories of her sliding those arms around his neck. ‘Misguided?’
‘Well, you smother her, which means she always feels the need to rebel. But don’t worry about it. Plenty of parents make that mistake and you’re not even her parent.’ There was a flash of admiration in her gaze. ‘I don’t know how you did it. None of the sixteen-year-old-boys I’ve met are capable of caring for themselves, let alone someone else. My dad, who was several decades older than you, completely freaked out when my mum walked out on him and left me with him. Not that I remember because I was only two. But I remember us both having a laugh about it one day. He told me that he sat there looking at me, and apparently I sat there looking at him. I didn’t quite have to change my own nappy, but I learned pretty early on that if I wanted something done I had to do it myself. And I did things for him too.’
Damon was appalled at her parents’ utterly selfish behaviour. ‘How long was it until your father remarried the first time?’
‘It felt like about five minutes. My dad is rubbish at being on his own. As soon as a relationship breaks down he latches onto the next person. I didn’t even think much of it until I went to senior school—’ She gave a matter-of-fact shrug. ‘Everything is so much more complicated at senior school. Younger children are much more accepting of differences.’
Examining his own behaviour, and not liking what he saw, Damon paced to the balcony and stared down at the Paris streets, jammed with traffic. ‘You are a very bright, very clever young woman. Why didn’t you go to university?’
His question was met with silence and when he turned his head to look at her she gave what could only be described as a forced smile.
‘I spent my childhood in and out of the company. The people were like my family. Once I started at the day school I often hung out there because it was more fun than going home to an empty house. I used to help Doris Cooper in the post room and then I’d find an empty desk somewhere and Mr Foster in Accounts used to help me with my maths homework. By the time I reached eighteen I could see the company was a mess. I could also see a way I could make a huge contribution and pay back some of their kindness to me. They were always worried that they’d lose their jobs. I didn’t want that to happen.’
‘My sources tell me your Mr Foster is struggling.’
‘Because the board never invested in training.’ She defended her colleague hotly. ‘He just needs help with spreadsheets. I’ve been doing my best to train him because frankly he’s the reason I did well at maths, but there isn’t a whole lot of time in the day.’
‘I imagine there isn’t when you’re running an entire company single-handed.’ His dry tone earned him a frown.
‘Don’t mock me.’
‘I’m not mocking you.’
‘If I was responsible for the company then I didn’t do a good job, did I?’ she said in a gloomy voice. ‘Because everyone could still be made redundant.’
‘Theé mou, if I give you my assurance no one will be made redundant can we talk about something other than work for five minutes?!’ Damon jabbed his fingers into his hair and wondered how the conversation he’d been planning had somehow been so dramatically derailed. Somehow what he had to say felt even harder in the light of what she’d just revealed. ‘Polly—’ with a huge effort, he controlled the tone of his voice ‘—we have to talk about what happens next.’
‘Well, if you’re serious about not making anyone redundant then I’ll get straight on the phone to reassure everyone and—’
‘Polly!’ His tone finally snagged her attention.
‘What? You’re not about to tell me you were joking, are you?’ Her face lost colour. ‘Because that would be a really cruel thing to do.’
‘I’m not joking. Everyone who previously worked for your father can keep their jobs.’
‘Really?’ Her expression was transformed from worry to wonderment and she flung her arms around him, dancing on the spot and hugging at the same time. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, I take back every evil thing I ever said about you.’
Easing her away from him before he found himself repeating his mistakes of the previous night, Damon realised that her cheeks were wet. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘I’m just so happy! You have no idea—’ She covered her face with her hands and drew in a juddering breath. ‘I knew what a mess everything was but I just didn’t know how to sort it out.’ She wiped her cheeks on her sleeve. ‘Sorry. But those people have been part of my life since I was small.’
A small, lonely little girl whose father had no time for her, finding friends and comfort among the people he worked with. Shaken by a depth of emotion he hadn’t felt before, Damon instinctively withdrew. ‘If you could stop crying, that would be good.’
‘Sorry.’ She produced a tissue and blew her nose hard. ‘I expect you’re used to mopping up tears from all those women you make cry.’
‘I do not make women cry.’
‘Of course you do, but don’t worry about it. Today you’re my hero. You can do no wrong. Thank you so much. Can we fly straight back to London now? I want to tell everyone.’ Her nose was pink and her eyes glistened with tears and still she’d made no reference to what had happened between them.
He wondered whether she’d already mentally moved her things into his penthouse?
‘Polly, we have to talk about what happened last night.’
No longer looking at him, she pushed the tissue into her pocket. ‘What is there to talk about? We both know what happened, but honestly there’s nothing to talk about as far as I’m concerned.’
Damon, who recognised evasive action when he saw it, refused to be deflected. ‘So that’s it? We have hot sex all night and you don’t intend to mention it again?’
‘Basically, yes. I’d rather no one knew, obviously, because I don’t want all those nudges and winks, but I’m fairly sure you don’t want that either, so I’m not worried that you’ll say anything. Just forget it.’
She expected him to forget it? ‘Polly—’
‘Last night you kissed me to prove a point. I kissed you back to prove a point. It got a bit out of control.’
‘Are you saying you didn’t know what you were doing?’
‘Of course I knew what I was doing! I wasn’t drunk or anything.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I don’t understand the post mortem. So we had sex? This is the twenty-first century. No one is involved except us. We used protection. What’s the problem?’
‘You’d never had sex before.’
‘Well, there’s a first time for everything.’ Her BlackBerry buzzed and she picked it up and opened an e-mail. ‘I’ve never visited Paris before either, so it’s been a time of firsts. What time are we flying home?’
Shocked by her matter-of-fact response to the situation, Damon failed to process that question. ‘So you have no intention of repeating the experience?’
‘Visiting Paris?’
He ground his teeth. ‘Sex.’
‘Some time, probably.’ Gathering up her notebook and pen, she stuffed them into her bag.
Goaded by her indifference, Damon shot out a hand and y
anked her against him. ‘Are you pretending you didn’t feel anything?’
‘No, of course not. What is the matter with you?’
‘We spent seven hours having sex last night.’
‘You don’t have to tell me that. I was there.’
‘Generally women want to talk about it afterwards,’ he said silkily, ‘not walk away.’
She was silent for a moment and then she lifted her gaze to his. ‘You’re telling me that after sex you like to lie there and talk about it? Sorry, but I find that incredibly hard to believe. You strike me more as the get-her-out-of-my-bed-before-she-grows-roots-type.’
Damon inhaled sharply, because that assessment was startlingly close to the truth, and Polly gave a faint smile.
‘See? I’m right again. And that’s fine. You don’t have to exhaust yourself trying to let me down tactfully. As far as I’m concerned, it’s forgotten.’
The fact that she was proposing forgetting something so incredible irritated him as much as the thought of her prolonging their relationship had aggravated him just moments earlier.
The knowledge that he was behaving illogically simply fuelled his frustration. ‘You want to forget it?’
‘Yes, of course! You must have gathered by now that I’m rubbish at relationships. And you’re obviously not exactly brilliant either. So that’s fine. We’re cool! I’m going to pack while you read my proposal.’ With a reassuring smile, she disengaged herself, scooped up her laptop and strolled across the terrace towards the door that led to the second bedroom. ‘I’m so thrilled you’re not going to make people redundant. I feel really happy.’
Speechless, Damon stared after her.
She was happy because he wasn’t going to make her colleagues redundant, not because they’d spent the night having mind-blowing, intimate sex.
She wanted to forget it had happened. There had been no awkward conversation, no full-scale demolition of inflated expectations. Apparently she didn’t have any expectations. As far as she was concerned it had been a one-night stand.
This was his definition of a fairy tale ending and he waited to feel a rush of relief.