Memoirs of a Millionaire's Mistress - Page 56

He forked some antipasto onto her plate, then his own. ‘What are your plans now, Didi?’

She blinked. Her plans? That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear and the bubbles in her system deflated a little. A lot. She’d hoped he’d suggest some plans that included both of them. Together. ‘I…um…I’m not sure yet. It kind of depends…’ She waited for him to take her cue.

He bit into a cherry tomato, chewed a long time. ‘Stay on here a few more days if you want to think about it. Unwind before you find somewhere else.’

Her heart stopped. Literally stopped. She was surprised it started again because it felt as if he’d sliced it open and her blood seemed to have drained into her feet. How could he sound so…detached after what they’d shared over the past three weeks?

What had she expected? It was over. When the time’s up I walk away, no complications on either side. The deal—she’d said it herself. And meant it. How could she argue now?

‘Thank you. But I’ll be looking for somewhere tomorrow.’ Her voice seemed to be coming from outside her. On the stereo Old Blue Eyes was singing about only having eyes for you, dear. Cameron couldn’t have made a worse choice in music if he’d tried.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he said, ‘There’s no rush.’

‘Oh, I think there is.’

He reached out, touched her fingers. ‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it?’

‘Fun.’ She remembered their first kiss. It was fun, Cameron. Her own words mocked her.

‘I’ve enjoyed our time together.’

‘Yes…’ She pulled her fingers away. He let her.

‘Didi. The trick is not taking these kinds of arrangements too seriously.’

‘You’re so right. If you’ll excuse me, I feel a migraine coming on. I…Thank you for…’ she waved a trembling hand over the table ‘…this.’ Somehow she made herself stand. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll need to sleep it off on my own. I’ll just grab my stuff…’

Clutching her toiletries and fisting hot tears away, she closed the spare bedroom door behind her, leaned back against it. What had that poster said? He’s not the man you think he is. She still didn’t know what Katrina had meant by that, but she’d been right: he wasn’t.

He was more.

And somehow that was worse.

It was over.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CAM braced his arms on the table, mashed his lips together and forced himself not to react visibly in any way as he watched Didi disappear down the passage. But inside…

Inside, some black beast was using Cam’s heart as a punching bag. He had to clamp his hands to the table top to stop himself from going after her and telling her what this evening’s supper had really been about.

Forget the rules they’d made, he’d been going to say. To hell with the three-week agreement. He wanted more, a lot more, and he knew she did too.

Okay, so he didn’t do long-term—there’d be no harm in exploring where their relationship might go, right?

Until he’d learned who she was.

Pushing up, he extinguished the candles, killed the music, then scraped the barely touched supper into the bin. He figured neither of them would feel like eating any leftovers from the evening.

He sloshed more champagne into his glass, then took it out to the sky garden to watch the stars. Her big night ruined by this stupid idea of supper. A mistake of gigantic proportions. It could have been a night to celebrate success if their three-week arrangement on the side hadn’t happened.

If falling in love with her hadn’t happened.

He shook his head, blew out a long breath. For a man who didn’t do commitment that was one hell of an admission.

His heart cramped with pain. And guilt. Because his loving her would be the worst thing that could happen to her, and it was all his fault. A man with his background wasn’t good enough for Katrina, daughter of a future prime minister. He’d never come up to scratch for someone like James O’Flanagan’s daughter.

She must never know.

He hurled his glass against the wall, watched it shatter. Like the pieces of his heart. The heart he’d sworn to keep intact.

He rolled out of bed at five a.m. How could he rest with the knowledge that she was leaving? How could he sleep with her scent on the pillow? Shaking his head to clear the memory of that fragrance against her skin, he saw yesterday’s discarded clothes still on the floor—typical Didi. He was about to scoop them up and put them in the clothes hamper…but that wasn’t going to work any more. She’d have no use for the hamper now.

Tags: Anne Oliver Billionaire Romance
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