Page 81 of Match Point

‘Like trash talk?’

Kieran presses his lips together. ‘Worse. He knows exactly what to say to make you lose your footing. He stoops low and he’s not afraid to sting right where it hurts.’

His eyes darken as he continues to watch Chris from afar. I can only imagine the kind of comments Kieran has had to endure from someone like that. Finding his hand, I lace my fingers through his so he tears his eyes away from Chris and fixes them on mine.

‘One more voice to shut out, then,’ I say. ‘You’ll have to find a way to ignore him and not let those comments get to you. Hey, do you remember how you told Jonah that you don’t like people who belittle others to make themselves feel bigger? Right before you pinned him up against the fridge?’

‘I have a vague recollection.’

‘Chris is doing the same. Throwing around insults doesn’t make him some kind of big dog on the court. It’s a sign of weakness. By going to the effort of making those cutting comments, he’s letting slip his own self-doubts. He knows you can beat him; that’s why he wants to bring you down.’

He considers my point, his eyebrows pulled together.

‘Kieran!’ Neil interrupts, sidling up to us accompanied by a very familiar face. ‘I’d like to introduce you to John McEnroe.’

Kieran’s eyes light up as he shakes his hand. ‘It’s an honour, sir.’

I might not be a tennis expert, but I know John McEnroe, one of the greatest tennis players of all time. I smile politely as they strike up conversation but, not long after Kieran has introduced me, I take the opportunity to place my drink down and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. It’s obvious that Kieran is talking to one of his heroes – both of them joking about the perils of losing one’s temper on court – and I didn’t want to get in the way of such a momentous meeting. Neil was doing his best to edge me out the conversation anyway.

While I’m in the bathroom I wonder if I should use tonight as an opportunity to win over Neil. I’m sure if I’m charming enough and make it clear that I’m not here to distract Kieran from Wimbledon, he might warm to me.

Worth a shot.

Having checked my reflection and freshened my lipstick, I emerge from the bathroom and begin to navigate my way through the guests back towards Neil and Kieran. But when I’m halfway across the room to them, someone steps directly into my path.

‘Flora, wasn’t it?’ Chris Courtney says, his hazel eyes flashing at me. They flicker down to my empty hand. ‘You don’t have a drink! Let’s sort that.’

‘It’s okay, I have one over—’

He clicks his fingers at a passing waiter to get their attention, taking a glass of red wine from their tray and passing it to me. ‘There you go.’

‘I actually wasn’t drinking red. I’d rather—’

‘So, what’s the deal with you and O’Sullivan?’ he cuts in, raking a hand through his hair. ‘What did he do to land a girl like you?’

My cheeks flush with heat. ‘Uh, nothing. We met recently and it’s been great getting to know him.’

He snorts. ‘Great? Not a word I’d use for him.’

‘Guess we’ll agree to disagree.’

I go to step around him but he moves to block my way.

‘The thing is, Flora, I’d hate for you to be under the wrong impression here,’ he says, leaning in conspiratorially, forcing me to stumble backwards. ‘Kieran isn’t the sort of person you want to align yourself with. He’s not a favourite, if you know what I mean.’

I glare up at him. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

‘He’s a loose cannon on the court. Impulsive and reactive. These are not good qualities.’ He sighs, giving me a sympathetic look. ‘You should be with a winner. Not a loser.’

Ignoring him, I try to step past him again, but he stops me.

‘Look, I was serious about the art meetings I can set up for you,’ he says in a low voice, his eyebrows raised. ‘If ever you want to come over for a drink, my door is open.’

He reaches out to brush my arm lightly with his fingers.

I physically recoil, staring at him in disbelief. ‘You’re married.’

‘She’s away filming.’ He shrugs with a sly smile.

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