Page 41 of Sparks Fly
Walking past Alexandre, he tips his head, and I give him a soft wave. Anaïs smiles tightly as she follows me into the building. Opening my mouth, I shut it again. I don’t know what to say to her, and for some reason, it feels a little more awkward now.
Pushing the button to call the lift, I fold my hands into the pockets of my suit trousers and watch as the lights count down.
Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven…
“Thank you again for tonight. Thank you for asking me to join you for dinner.” Her voice is quiet and I stay silent for a while, trying to keep my mind busy as I continue to watch and count.
Four, Three, Two…
“You’re welcome,” I breathe as the lift doors open, and I step inside, twisting I watch as she cautiously steps inside.
Her eyes sweep over mine, but I tug them away by dropping mine to the floor. She is next to me, close but not close enough. Her scent engulfs me.
Sweet. Floral. Clean. Fresh linen mixed with daisies.
Subtle.
Letting my hand fall from my pocket, I flex my fingers slightly, but she isn’t close enough to even be able to let the tips brush. Sighing, I tilt my head back and watch as the numbers climb and I am ready to get back into the room. The feeling in my gut intensifies as we reach the penthouse floor and there is no reason except that I have managed to work up that something is wrong between us when in fact there is nothing.
I don’t want to say the wrong thing or freak her out.
To her, I’m her ex’s dad. Over twenty years older than her.
And that’s just it. I am older.
She was with my son.
It’s all kinds of weird and yet I am desperate to find something more than what it is. I fancy her, no doubt about it. But, at the same time, I have to tread cautiously. Something may come of this, or it is what it is now, a fuck up, a cross over on a booking—on her part, not mine—and I fly home in a few days, and she goes back to her solo vacation in Monaco.
Nothing will change.
I’ll still be her ex’s dad.
She’ll still be my son’s ex.
And we will both go about our lives exactly the way they were.
Walking towards the door,I unlock it and pace towards the bar at the back of the room. Reaching for a crystal glass, I pour myself a whiskey on ice and glance over my shoulder at her standing inches behind me.
The low light frames her perfectly, her auburn hair a little more red from the warm tones, her eyes dancing with the stars, almost looking turquoise. I pull myself from the depths of her soul and place the decanter back in its place.
I bring it to my lips and take a large mouthful, wincing as it burns my throat. Closing the gap between me and the floor-to-ceiling window, I look down at a peaceful Monaco. It’s so quiet here. It’s not hustle and bustle, certainly not this side. My rival teams are my neighbours here. Sure, we’re enemies on the track, but off the track, they’re like my family. They’ve picked me up more times than I would like to admit. Pieced me back together again when she destroyed me for the last time. She. My ex-wife. I worshipped the ground she walked on but she didn’t do the same back. Should have known when I got with her. She caught me hook, line, and sinker. I was a goner.
I always said I would never love a woman the way I loved her...
I hear the sound of Anaïs’ wedges click along the tiled floor and I find myself holding my breath, her scent consuming me as I inhale as deep as I can, taking her into my lungs.
“May I help myself?” Her tone is cool and quiet, and I nod to her question.
She didn’t have to ask. But I suppose she feels she needs to.
Once I know she has her back to me, I let my eyes fall to her and marvel at the way her dress clings to her curves. The way her wavy auburn hair cascades over her shoulders.
I shouldn’t be looking at her in any other way than an acquaintance, but here I am, staring at her as if she is the only woman in the world in this moment.
Which is stupid.
She grabs her own glass and fills it up just under halfway.
