Page 50 of The Paris Trip

He couldn’t have handled more emotion on top of the churning turmoil he already felt inside.

Telling Maeve about his father’s marriage had made his own emotions easier to bear, at least for a short while. It had acted like a safety valve, releasing a little pressure before it could build to bursting point.

Leo stood in front of the painting for another half hour, fiddling with it, lightening areas that were too dark, shading areas that were too bright, and making the colour more subtle, especially around the face. He wanted a certain look, Maeve’s lightness of being…

A knock at the door disturbed this intense work.

He felt aggrieved by the interruption. But he also knew he still had responsibilities. He couldn’t simply shut out the world while he became a painter again.

‘Come in.’

Liselle appeared in the doorway, glancing about the studio. ‘Has she gone?’ she asked, semi-ironic, flicking back her hair.

‘As you see.’

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Liselle these days. On the one hand, she was a good manager, and he needed someone to take charge of his painting career. It would be stressful and a waste of his energy to find someone new. Someone trustworthy. And Liselle was trustworthy, he had to give her that. At least, she had been so far.

But her unpredictable nature and petty jealousies were becoming an issue. He had dismissed that side of her in the past, too intent on the family business to worry about such trivialities. But then, he hadn’t shown any interest in other women during that time either. So Liselle’s behaviour had remained within reasonable bounds. She had occasionally attempted to seduce him, and he had rebuffed her advances, and thus a state of uneasy tension had existed between them. But never outright war.

Now though, with Maeve sitting for him, Liselle was probably angry. No doubt she must be furious that her long patience had not paid off,

She probably also suspected that Maeve was his lover.

Maeve, in his bed…

Everything inside him tightened at the thought. He wanted the Englishwoman. But he also knew he couldn’t have her. She might have kissed him back outside her room, but only because she’d been so tired and the kiss had taken her by surprise. She wasn’t his type, he reminded himself again, irritated that he needed to drum that fact into his brain. Besides, Maeve would be going back to Britain soon and he would never see her again. He could do without that kind of emotional complication in his life. And if he acted on those urges, Liselle might lash out at Maeve, and that would be devastating too. He couldn’t bear the thought of Maeve being hurt because of his stupidity.

‘Are you sleeping with her?’ Liselle demanded, her gaze sharp on his face, flagging up that she knew what Leo had been thinking.

The woman was a human X-ray machine.

Balancing the paintbrush carefully on the palette, he thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Of course I’m not. I’ve only just met her. Besides, what kind of question is that?’ He paused, frowning. ‘Even if I were, it would be none of your business. You’re my manager, Liselle, not my keeper.’

‘A good manager keeps an eye on their clients’ private lives as well as their work,’ Liselle snapped back, and tilted her head to one side, a deliberate move that drew attention to the locks of glossy Titian hair tumbling over sun-kissed shoulders. She had bare feet and was wearing a tight white tank top coupled with minuscule shorts. He was aware of how sexy she looked. Yet it was strange how Maeve in some shapeless tent of a dress was a thousand times more desirable than Liselle in next to nothing…

‘And I’m worried about you, Leo,’ she went on, her voice coaxing now. A change of tack, no doubt designed to distract him from her true purpose in visiting the studio. Because he was sure she had some hidden agenda; it was in her eyes, the look of someone with a secret to share. ‘You’ve not been yourself since that woman arrived.’

‘I thought you’d be happy that I’m painting again.’

‘I am,’ she said hesitantly, and came in closing the door behind her. ‘I just don’t want you getting sidetracked.’ Her gaze shifted to the canvas, which was not visible to her, but she didn’t ask to see. She knew him better than that. ‘Paint her, yes. Fall in love, no.’

‘Fall in love?’ he scoffed.

‘You forget… I know what you’re like, Leo, and how your heart works.’ She paused. ‘Maeve is vulnerable. She’s lost and alone. She need someone to help her.’ Her hungry eyes devoured him. ‘That ticks all your boxes, doesn’t it?’

There was enough truth behind that accusation to make him flush with annoyance. ‘Was there something you wanted? Other than to disturb my work?’

‘Actually, yes.’ The malicious look in her eyes died away, replaced by something like wariness. ‘I’ve got something to show you. You’re not going to like it. But you need to be aware.’

‘If it’s about my father getting married and coming on honeymoon to Paris,’ Leo drove back at her, ‘you’re too late. I already know.’

She blinked, looking taken aback. ‘Your father got married?’

‘Yes, to a woman half his age. Some young model called Chanelle, for God’s sake.’ He stared at her, perplexed, his brows tugging together. ‘If that’s not why you’re here, then what are you talking about?’

Liselle messed with her already perfect hair, a sure sign that she was agitated. Then scrolled through some screens on her phone and thrust it towards him. ‘I’m here about this.’

He didn’t understand. She was showing him a report in some online magazine. He came closer, and stopped dead on seeing his own face there. And Maeve’s too.

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