Page 20 of Match Point

‘You what now?’

She giggles. ‘Can you imagine Jonah’s face when he sees this? Fucking idiot, he’s going to lose his head thinking you’re dating a world-famous tennis player. And the tennis player in question happens to be sexy as hell.’

I chew on my thumbnail. I can’t pretend like it hadn’t crossed my mind that Jonah might see the video. It was, in fact, one of the first thoughts I had when it started spreading across the internet like wildfire. I couldn’t work out if it was a good or a bad thing that he might be left under the impression that I’m dating Kieran. I guess it’s a good thing so long as he doesn’t think I’m throwing the wine at Kieran’s face because I’m being dumped by him.

‘Flora, you still there?’ Iris checks.

‘Yeah, I just… I’m trying to get my head round how to play this.’

‘No-brainer. Let the world think you’re an item. Better that way in the eyes of your tragic ex-boyfriend and your landlord.’

I hesitate. ‘My landlord?’

‘Yeah,’ she says, as though it’s obvious. ‘You don’t want him thinking you’ve rented out the flat to a tennis player, right? I thought you said to me a while ago when you were first thinking about renting out the place for the tournament that you weren’t sure if that was allowed in the terms of the lease. Did you ever check?’

My blood runs cold. ‘Uh.’

‘Okay, look, if the paparazzi are already at your flat, then the cat’s out the bag. They’ll photograph Kieran leaving or coming home at some point, and if the landlord sees, he might put two and two together. Better for him to think that Kieran’s your boyfriend. You don’t want to risk him kicking you out.’

‘Iris,’ I squeak, my throat constricting, ‘I have to go.’

‘Okay, but don’t ignore me! I want to hear about what happens!’

I promise her I’ll keep in touch and then hang up, my heart hammering against my chest. Shit, shit, shit. I hadn’t even thought about my stupid tenancy agreement! HOW had I not thought of that?! I don’t want to lose this flat, not yet. It’s the one place I feel safe right now.

Spinning around, I swing open my door and hurry into the living room. Kieran is nowhere to be seen and Neil is lurking by the window, typing furiously into his phone. He glances up at me, unimpressed, as I walk in, then returns his attention to his screen.

‘Hi,’ I say briskly, my hands growing clammy, ‘where’s Kieran?’

‘He’s taking a shower,’ Neil says distractedly. ‘I know we don’t have the flat until five, but since you two are already so well acquainted, we thought it would be all right.’

‘I need to speak to him,’ I say, ignoring his pointed remark.

He grunts in response, his eyes fixed to his screen.

Frustrated, I go to the bathroom and knock loudly on the door. ‘Kieran? Kieran, you have to leave.’

No answer. With an impatient huff, I hammer my fist against it.

‘Kieran, I know you’re in there! Did you hear me? You have to get out!’

‘I’ll be five minutes,’ he calls out, irritably. ‘I’m about to shower.’

‘No, I don’t mean you have to get out the bathroom,’ I hiss, trying to keep my voice down so Neil can’t hear me. ‘I’m talking about the flat. You have to go.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you have to,’ I seethe, glancing down the hallway to the living room door. ‘I’ll explain, but I can’t through the door.’

‘Why not? You made a point of making me talk through the door earlier.’

OH MY GOD. There are so many tennis players in the world. Why does the one renting my flat have to be the most INSUFFERABLE one of all?! Attempting to remain as collected and calm as possible, I glare at the door.

‘Please,’ I say through gritted teeth.

As painful as it is to say out loud, the right word does the trick. The door swings open so suddenly that I stumble forwards, catching myself and regaining my balance by grabbing hold of the side of the doorframe. Kieran is standing in front of me shirtless, holding a towel round his waist. Stunned into silence, I stare shamelessly at his insanely muscular bare torso, my eyes roaming down his solid tanned chest and perfectly sculpted abs.

I swallow.

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