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“Until you became… distracted—” Caspian gave me one of the delicious naughty smiles that I liked to think he saved only for me, “I was about to tell you that steak au poivreoriginated in the 19th century in the bistros of northern France. Gentlemen would take their female companions for late suppers, and then hurry them away to discrete upstairs rooms wherepoivre's purported aphrodisiac properties may have proved most useful.” He laughed. “Just a mention of it was enough to get you going.”

“In a minute, you can clear up all the mess from cooking it,” I growled. I was very particular about the state of my kitchen. “But I haven’t quite finished with you yet.”

He was cleaned up and ensconced in my lap, wearing clothes. Aftercare was as important as foreplay, according toPerfect Peach. Formyperfect peach. Who, incidentally, was also the best steak chef ever. Better than the steak prepared in the fancy restaurants Éti sometimes dragged me to, especially asla mer Caspiennesat on my lap while we ate. (I had to open the cupboards for him, even though I promised Kaa had decamped to her summer home in the woodpile.) And his chocolate thingy was almost as good as my mum used to make. Except I lied and said it was better.

“I didn’t use a condom,” I confessed. “I… um… got carried away and forgot about the consent thing.”

“I know,” he answered and kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry. I was tested after my marriage broke up. I’m good to go.” Another forehead kiss. Nico did that to Éti all the time and she loved it. I was beginning to understand why. “And I’m willing to take a chance on you, big man. All 15.9 centimetres of you.”

CHAPTER 24

CASPIAN

Rotating my shoulders, I sucked in a few breaths and let my eyes shutter closed. I could do this. I could do this. Three more weeks. Only three. Then I was free.

“Hi.”

Leigh loitered in my eyeline. He was always going to corner me alone sooner or later. As casually as I could, I took another bite of my apple, determined to swallow it down even though it had turned to sawdust. My ex’s fake orange tan had developed into a real one over the last week or two, and his nose was peeling. Orange peel. I almost smiled.

“You okay?” he tried again.

There was a longwinded, complex answer, which he didn’t want to hear, and I had no intention of sharing with him. “Yep. You?”

“Not bad. The vines are looking good. The segments on the birdlife are all done; I’d say we’re on track.”

So we were still pretending it was all about the vines, were we? Whatever.

His voice took on a whiny tone. “Where have you been? I went over to the gatehouse, and your stuff had gone. I thought you’d fucked off. We can’t afford not to finish, Casp. There’s only about eighteen days of filming left.”

Hah. Now we were getting to the nub of the conversation: less a concern for my welfare, more a concern for his wallet.

“I’ll finish,” I answered, tossing my apple. “I want to see these vines harvested, given how much work I’ve put into them. As well as collect my money.”

His eyes widened. “What? Are you going to hang around afterward to join in the vendage? It’s not part of the TV contract.”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything to rush back to.”And everything to hang around for.

“Except for signing the breakfast telly thing. Libby texted this morning, pushing for our commitment.”

“She can wait.” There was a delicious thrill in making Leigh sweat andthendropping my bombshell. I recalled my conversation with media-savvy Éti. “Jonas’s wonderful unfolding exposé on the state of my mental health might push our value up.”

“Oh. Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.” Impressed, he plopped down next to me, leaving a nervy foot of grass between us.

“Don’t worry. I’m still sane,” I added. “Just. Despite yours and his best efforts.”

“Look, I had no idea Jonas had planned the show to be like that, Casp. I’d never have gone along with it. You know that. I swear I found out exactly the same time as you. Jonas doesn’t tell me everything,” he insisted. “He thought it would be more authentic this way."

Didn’t know, or didn’t want to know? His lips pinched as his forehead creased in a veneer of care even thinner than the veneers bonded to his imperfect teeth.

Despite my interactions with either of them these days leaving me as limp as a used chamois leather, I stifled a smirk. There was the Leigh I’d always known. Always pushing forward down whichever track best suited his career. Always playing a part, a chameleon, his handsome features nothing but a superficial text-based emoticon. This one was labelledfaux concern.

"I admit it came as a shock, and I’m not entirely sure it paints me in a totally good light either, to be honest.”

A very wise, very strong man recently told me there should be no secrets in a relationship. I’d carried the flavour of that man around with me all day. Even now, a little bit of him still lingered in my mouth.

“And you’re happy with that state of affairs, are you? Still happy to let him bang you against that rattly headboard every night?” I leaned across and whispered in his ear. “Who knows what he’s plotting next? I’d keep working on your blowjob technique if I was you, just to be sure he hasn’t got you in his sights.”

Leigh shook his head as if humouring a small child. “Now you’re just being melodramatic. And, having had time to reflect, I think we’re both going to love what he’s done with the footage when it comes out. Studying a relationship breakdown when times are tense and deadlines are looming in the sphere of live television is cutting edge, to be honest.”

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