Shit, that’s progress, she smiled to herself. She had never pushed Robert about commitment, never fished for compliments – what was the point? She knew there was unlikely to be any traditional permanent future between them. He was bound to Connie with golden handcuffs. And men like Robert rarely appreciated threats or demands.
‘I like you too.’
He stretched over and touched her cheek. ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we go and spend a week at Angel Cay?’
Sasha froze. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about that place since her affair with Robert had first begun. She didn’t want to think what his role had been in that whole mess.
‘No. I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ she said, looking away.
‘Why not?’ he said, stroking her neck. ‘We can swim, eat, or my personal favourite, just stay in bed.’
It did sound tempting, of course. After all, it was all so long ago, and what had they done wrong really? That boy Bradley had stolen a boat and got away, hadn’t he? But still, she didn’t want to go back there. What she had with Robert was starting to feel so precious, she didn’t want to let anything break the spell. What if he had covered it up? What if he had been involved?
‘Not Angel Cay. It’s Connie’s island,’ she said quietly. ‘We can go to any other private island in the world, but not Angel.’
‘Since when have you been one to take the moral high ground? Besides, Connie won’t ever know. I can say I’m in Sydney on business. ’
She looked into his strong, intense gaze. There was nothing she’d like more than to spend a week on a sun-drenched private island with him right now. But she couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t.
‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Robert. We’re trying to sell the company. That’s going to take up every second of my time. I can’t be flying off to Angel Cay. I can’t. Just leave it, OK?’
He looked at her, but she simply shook her head. As far as she was concerned, the matter was closed: she would never go back to Angel Cay. Never.
Six weeks later, Sasha was feeling just as uncomfortable, but for very different reasons. She walked into Philip’s living room to find the dining table set for two with a starched linen tablecloth, scented candles and a gleaming set of white bone china that Sasha had never seen before. Her heart sank. He’d obviously pushed the boat out and she could guess why. Philip had been bugging her to move in for six months, but so far she just had a small drawer of underwear, a few cosmetics and a toothbrush on the bathroom shelf.
‘You said you didn’t want to go out for supper,’ said Philip. ‘So I thought we could do something special at the flat.’
Sasha smiled thinly. She was too tired for Philip’s unsubtle seduction techniques. The amount of sneaking around she’d been doing – the snatched meetings with Robert, the secret planning, the under-the-radar strategising – it had all been exhausting. Besides, she’d come here for a reason and it was obvious it didn’t fit in with Philip’s plans.
‘I said I didn’t want to go for dinner because we have to talk business,’ she said briskly.
‘Will you relax, Sash?’ he said, walking over to rub her shoulders.
She wanted to pull away, but she knew she mustn’t. This wasn’t Philip’s fault; he was a nice guy. Sasha was fond of him and he had worked very hard for the company. But business was business. She went to sit down at the table to get away from him, propping her document folder next to her chair.
‘You look all wound up,’ said Philip, sitting opposite. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, avoiding his gaze.
‘In which case, do you want wine or champagne?’ he asked, turning to the ice bucket beside him.
‘Are we celebrating?’
‘We’ll see,’ said Philip, pulling a bottle of Krug out of the ice. Actually, he was looking particularly handsome tonight, she thought. Freshly shaved, hair well cut, a crisp white shirt that set off his olive skin and pale grey eyes. Why did he have to be so considerate, so good-looking? For so many women he would be the perfect man. She cursed silently, wishing this had been done at her place. Still, it could wait until after dinner, she told herself. What’s another half an hour?
In the end, Sasha could barely eat a thing. Philip had obviously spent ages on the food, but she could do nothing more than push her sea bass around the plate.
‘More wine?’ he asked when he had cleared her untouched dessert away.
‘No, I’m driving,’ she said. ‘I want to get back to the apartment tonight.’
He looked offended. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve got things to do.’
‘Well at least stay for coffee,’ he said, going into the kitchen and coming back with a tray bearing a silver coffee pot and a box of Ladurée macaroons.
‘Gosh, where did you get these from?’ The macaroons were her absolute favourites but the famous patisserie was in Paris. He just tapped the side of his nose mysteriously.