“What on earth are you spouting about?”
Her scornful expression faded as it became clear that he was actually devouring her with his eyes, from coiffed head to Blahnik-shod toe.
“Freedom. It’s valuable. You’re a bright girl, a thinker. I like that.”
“What kind of creep are you? It’s your wedding day. Go and pay compliments to your bride.”
He held her gaze for a while, seeming miles away, then nodded sharply and made a move away. “Come on. They’re serving the food.”
She stood her ground for a minute, waiting for a shiver to make its way down her spine, then followed him into the dining room.
Over the starter of bouillabaisse soup, Mimi muttered to Liam, “I spoke to Stone’s sister. She’s worried about him.”
“Worried about him? Why?”
“Thinks he’s been driven mad with grief after his first wife’s death.”
“So she’s married a maniac? It just gets worse. What the fuck is this?”
The chatter at the table hissed to silence, every eye on Liam after his pained exclamation.
“Liam!”
“Sorry, everyone. Just… What is it though?”
“Conger eel.”
Liam began to retch noisily and Mimi, with a long-suffering apology to her fellow guests, was forced to escort him from the dining room. For the eight thousandth time she reflected that God had put so much fine work into Liam’s appearance that he had forgotten to fill his head.
“I can’t eat eel!” he lamented, back in the comfortable sitting room off the lobby. “It’s like eating a giant worm. Disgusting!”
“Poor baby. I can’t imagine why they didn’t go with kebab soup followed by burgers en croûte. What were they thinking of?”
Liam threw some water down his throat. “I know you think I’m some kind of shambolic oik, Mimi. But I can be sophisticated, actually. Just not where conger fucking eels are concerned.”
“Hmmm.”
“Or anything slimy or fishy. Anything else.”
“Sushi is out then.”
“God, yes. I hate sushi. But I like art galleries. I go to galleries sometimes. And…art house cinemas.”
“Good for you.” Mimi ruffled his hair.
“Don’t touch the hair. This took half a tube of my best gel.”
“It was worth it. Because you’re worth it.”
“Yes, I am, I’ll have you know. I’m well worth it.”
His hand made its way to Mimi’s knee, bare beneath the tight hem of her shiny shot-silk dress.
“Don’t touch the fake tan.”
“Oh, touché.” But Liam’s hand did not move from Mimi’s knee, and they were exchanging looks that mixed exasperation and lust, heads moving ever closer, lips breathing warm air over the other’s face, when Anna put her head around the door and trilled, “Oh, here you are!”
“Anna!” they chorused, counterfeiting enthusiasm and breaking sharply apart. “You’re missing your own wedding breakfast,” added Mimi.