Page 83 of Match Point

I thought that after the drama of the evening, it would be difficult to fall asleep, but safe and snug, nestled into my Kieran cocoon, I found myself drifting off easily. Everything will be better in the morning, I thought. But now it’s morning, I’m not so sure. From the look on Kieran’s face, things certainly don’t seem better.

‘The flat is surrounded by paparazzi,’ Kieran finally answers, his whole body deflating. ‘They’ve taken over the road. Today is going to be hell. I’m so sorry.’

‘They know what happened?’ I ask, reaching for my coffee.

He nods. ‘The general consensus is that I’m the bad guy, and Chris is the hero.’

My mug pauses halfway to my lips. ‘Excuse me? How is that possible?’

‘His people got to work very quickly,’ he explains quietly, deep creases etched between his eyebrows. ‘The story that the majority of publications have run with is that, according to “sources”—’ he uses his fingers to mimic the quotation marks and rolls his eyes ‘—I saw Chris talking to you, jumped to the wrong conclusion and punched him before he had the chance to explain that he was generously offering my aspiring-artist friend the chance to meet some of his contacts in the business. Apparently, he’s forgiven me for the misunderstanding. Very generous of him,’ he adds drily.

‘Surely people won’t believe you hit him just because you saw him talking to me. That’s ridiculous.’

‘Not that hard to believe when they see me lose my temper on court over a bad call.’

‘That’s different. And he said horrible things! He was pushing you!’

‘Yeah, but the reporters don’t know that.’

‘Then maybe we should tell them. They should know the truth.’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t speak to the press. Not about stuff like this.’

‘But if they knew—’

‘If I told them the truth, I’d have to tell them exactly what he said,’ Kieran interjects firmly. ‘I didn’t punch him because he spoke to you, although, I’ll admit, that made me want to punch him.’ He hesitates, raising his eyebrows. ‘Did he hit on you?’

‘If I say yes, are you going to punch him again?’

‘I’d hunt him down and kill him.’

‘Then, no. He was, in fact, telling me how he thinks you’re a real stand-up guy.’

‘He did, didn’t he? I am going to kill him.’

‘I’d really rather you didn’t.’

He sighs. ‘If I promise you I won’t, can you tell me what he said?’

‘He may have implied that his wife was away and I should join him for a drink,’ I say cautiously, wincing at the recollection. ‘I knew he was an arsehole right from the off.’

Kieran’s expression has darkened. He’s too angry to speak, his mouth pressed in a thin, straight line. When he finally opens it, he utters, ‘I should have punched him harder,’ in a low, threatening growl.

‘I think the punch you threw was good enough,’ I say, attempting a light laugh to crack the tension. ‘Kieran, it doesn’t matter. He’s a sleazeball – forget about him. You have to focus on the tournament. You’re doing so brilliantly. I’m sorry that I caused all this mess. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I don’t know how, but I’ll think of something.’

He furrows his brow. ‘Why are you sorry? Because of me, you have reporters swarming the flat and prying into your life. I’m sorry.’

‘If it wasn’t for me talking to him last night, you wouldn’t have punched him.’

‘I’ve told you, I didn’t punch him because he was talking to you. I punched him because of what he said about Aidan.’

I pause, frowning at him. ‘Aidan.’

He nods silently.

‘I don’t remember him saying anything about Aidan,’ I admit, racking my brains and replaying the incident over and over in my head.

‘He said I wouldn’t win because I couldn’t handle the pressure. Something that runs in the O’Sullivan blood,’ Kieran says, looking pained.

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