Page 116 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘Just that Javier was so difficult.’ She hesitated.

‘So what happened?’ Damien said. ‘Come on, Elizabeth. You usually have a tongue like a switchblade. Spit it out.’

‘Please, stop bullying me.’

‘You’ve phoned me to moan about your ex in the early hours of the morning. What do you expect? The spell’s broken, Elizabeth. Get to the point.’

‘Well, he just casually said that he was going back to Buenos Aires to marry a twenty-three-year-old Argentinian girl. Told me in bed… I think he expected me to congratulate him.’

‘Maybe it’s got something to do with you. Perhaps he didn’t see you as wife material.’

‘For God’s sake, Damien, who said anything about marriage?’

‘But that’s the answer, isn’t it? An Argentinian alpha male from a wealthy conservative Catholic family, of course he wants a wife and kids. And you, what do you want?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Why are you really ringing me? Dangling Javier in front of my nose. Seriously, Elizabeth. Why should I care if he’s left you, after what you put me through?’

‘Because I’m lonely. And I want us still to be friends. All those chess games that we played, which you mostly won and you understood so much. I didn’t have to explain anything. I miss you, Damien.’

‘Yes, well, it’s probably just because you’re not used to being hurt or alone. I’m sure you’ll get over it.’

‘So that’s it. We can’t be friends?’

Damien held the phone away from his ear.

Don’t worry, I’m still here for you, the Voice said.Now come on. Give her a wide berth. You know she’ll do it again. Get you all churned up. A sweet beginning and then– BOOM– you’ll be back down the rabbit hole. Don’t be a schmuck… Tell her to get lost.

‘Damien… come over… now…’ she whispered. ‘Why sleep alone dreaming of me when we can be together?’

Yes. Why not? It would be a good litmus test. See if hecould just have sex with Elizabeth without being obsessed with her.

‘Come on, Damien, you know you’ll love it. I’ll make you so hot.’

He couldn’t hear the Voice, only hers.

He had a quick shower and dressed. Jeans, a crisp white linen shirt, slip-on loafers that he wore sockless, a last look in the mirror to check his hair, and off he went.

A warm June night. And as he revved the engine of his car his other half hoped it wouldn’t start.

Apart from the odd one-nighter, he’d managed to temper his sex addiction. And tonight he would fight the good fight. Take what he could without falling into the bottomless pit.

***

She stood at the door with a champagne glass in her hand, Titian-red hair tumbling on her shoulders just so, and she wore that green silk kimono, the one he’d bought her in a vintage store in Paris, loosely belted round her wasp waist.

Barefoot, sleek, graceful… That smile, almost real. But her eyes, they looked tired and red under the lamp light, and a web of fine lines round her mouth betrayed her age.

Wordless, she cupped the back of his neck with her hand and drew his mouth to hers. Just the lightest touch to tease.

And yet… Damien was surprised that she hadn’t used a little more imagination, a more inventive approach, not so predictable. Maybe start with friendly, and less of the textbookseductress. What happened next? More thriller. Leave him room to flex his muscles first.

He slipped his feet into a pair of Moroccan slippers. ‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked.

‘Wouldn’t mind a cup of Horlicks,’ he replied.

Elizabeth giggled. ‘You’re teasing me, aren’t you?’ She held his face between her hands. ‘Are you trying to cool me down?’

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