Page 15 of Until You (Forgive Me)

“It sounds ideal, and this area is beautiful,” Patrice added. “An amazing place to practise.

“Whether I’ll be able to make any of the classes after tonight, we’ll have to see. I’m not as young as I used to be, and jet lag...”

“No need to explain. I get it.” Isabella returned her smile. “Tomorrow morning may be slightly painful for me too. I’m usually in bed by nine.”

“Not a party girl, then?” Patrice asked. “Christian said your father was a Lord.”

A look of horror must have crossed Isabella’s face because Patrice gripped her hand and squeezed.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she said, her voice remorseful.

“No, it’s okay,” Isabella stuttered. “I keep my old and new life completely separate. I left that entitled part of my life in England. It’s not something that holds any weight here in Thailand. Here I am, Isabella King, and that’s how I like it.”

Very few people knew about her past other than May. She’d told May, which was why her friend had offered her Thailand as an escape.

Patrice squeezed her hand.

The two women shared a glance before they fell back into lighter conversations. Patrice told her about their children, who were both of University age and studying in America. Patrice and Henri had moved from Paris when Henri had accepted the role of American CEO with The Dupree Group. She had learned to adapt, although she missed Europe, and made plenty of trips to and from Paris to catch up with old friends.

After dinner, they made their way back to The Lounge. It was nearly midnight.

Isabella tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “I’m so sorry,” she said, the colour rising in her cheeks.

Christian smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. “We are in a mixed time zone, you are not.”

“True. Plus, I have to teach sunrise yoga in the morning to my guests. I’d love to stay, but I really do need to get some sleep. Thank you so much for a wonderful evening.”

Patrice stopped and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll be in touch,” she said.

“I’d love that,” Isabella said, returning the other woman’s hug. They’d exchanged telephone numbers and email contact details earlier in the evening.

Henri kissed her hand before taking Patrice to move further into The Lounge and grabbing a table.

“I’m sorry if tonight has been boring. Henri and I are terrible when we get together,” Christian said, his voice apologetic.

Isabella smiled. “I’ve had a wonderful night. Patrice is a lovely woman. I think we’ve exchanged our life history, as well as contact details.”

As they made their way through reception, Christian rested his hand on her lower back, an unfamiliar warmth flooding her body.

“Taxi?” the doorman asked as they approached.

“Please,” Isabella said, waiting while he called for one.

They stood in silence, his hand sending lightning bolts of heat through her.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Isabella said, looking up into Christian’s face.

She’d never felt this awkward at the end of an evening. What was the protocol?

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” Christian asked, surprising them both.

Isabella’s eyes locked on his. His hand swept up and over his hair, an ache forming from the loss of his touch. “We didn’t have time to catch up tonight. I’d really like to have the chance to do that, while I’m here,” he explained.

Before she could think, Isabella agreed. She wanted that, too.

Giving Christian a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

“How about dinner in my suite tomorrow? I have a private pool. We can talk undisturbed.” Christian’s eyes widened at his words. “Sorry, that sounded wrong.”

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