His eyes moved between each of hers for a lengthy pause. ‘What happened in Vegas?’
Aiesha gave him a bored look. ‘You don’t need me to tell you. You read about it, didn’t you? Everyone on the planet read it.’
‘I want you to tell me your version of events.’
She looked at their joined hands, the way his tanned fingers contrasted with her paler ones. He had strong hands, artistic and clever. Hands that were trustworthy and honest. Clean hands.
Aiesha pulled out of his hold. ‘He didn’t tell me he was married.’ The shame washed over her again. The fact that she hadn’t recognised Antony made her feel foolish and naïve. That she’d allowed him to kiss her, to touch her, to get close to her shamed her. The fact that she’d gone up to his room made her feel ill. ‘He wasn’t wearing a ring. I had no idea he was married until his wife texted me.’
‘How long were you involved with him?’
‘Not long...’
‘How long?’
She hugged her arms close to her body. ‘I had dinner with him a couple of times after my shift. And no, contrary to what the press said, I didn’t sleep with him.’ But she’d been about to, which made her feel even more of a fool.
‘The press showed you leaving his room,’ James said.
Aiesha bristled when she thought of how Antony had allowed everyone to think she was the one who had done something wrong. In the past she would have relished being cast as the bad guy. During her adolescence she had planted herself in the middle of scandal after scandal, actively seeking negative press, the more outrageous the better. To her disordered way of thinking, it showed the world someone was interested in her.
But it was different now.
Over the last few months she had been planning her exit-Vegas strategy. She had become increasingly disenchanted with the life she was living. She lived and worked in one of the busiest and most fun places in the world and yet not a day went past when she didn’t feel lonely and isolated and bored.
She was tired of the negativity associated with her image. Her tell-all interview about Clifford Challender had come back to bite her as the press had unearthed her history as a home-wrecker.
Now Antony had destroyed her attempt to make a fresh start. He had cast himself as the victim, the poor, misunderstood husband reeled in by an opportunistic seductress. But calling him out for a liar—even if anyone would’ve believed her, given her track record—would have hurt his wife and two school-age children. She had decided to disappear and let the dust settle instead.
‘I went up to his room, but while I was in the bathroom I got a text message from his wife,’ she said. ‘I came out and told him what I thought of him and left.’
‘That was a lucky shot for the press.’
‘His wife tipped them off. She knew where he was and who he was with. The press did the rest.’
James was still frowning. ‘You do realise by running away the way you did it made you look guilty?’
Aiesha shrugged again. ‘It suited me to get out of Vegas.’
‘But what will you do now?’
She gave him a worldly look. ‘Find myself a sugar daddy or a rich husband. What else?’
A flicker of annoyance passed over his face. ‘Be serious.’
‘I am being serious.’ She stepped closer and tiptoed her fingers down his chest. ‘How about it, James? You fancy hiring me full-time as your wife? I’ll give good value for money. You can do whatever you want with me—’ she smiled her tartiest smile ‘—for the right price.’
He captured her hand, holding it in a firm grip. ‘I know what you’re doing.’
Aiesha brushed her pelvis against his. This was much better. This was the language she was used to. Sex was much easier to handle than emotional intimacy. He already thought her an outrageous tart. The entire world thought it...and to some degree the world was right. She had been flirtatious and provocative to get where she was, even though she no longer wanted to be there. Why not make the most of his bad opinion of her?
‘What am I doing, posh boy?’
His jaw flickered with a pulse as if his self-control was only just holding. But she could see the naked flare of lust in his dark blue gaze. ‘You’re hiding behind that sex-kitten mask you like wearing. It’s not who you are. It’s just a game you play.’
Aiesha laughed off his assessment of her but she worried he had seen too much. Knew too much. Sensed too much. She prided herself on being hard to read. No one got under her guard. No one ambushed her emotionally. Not even smarmy Antony had engaged her emotions. She had seen him as a means to an end—a first class ticket out of Vegas.