The Millionaire Affair. Sophie Weston
Читать онлайн книгу.
But if Alec was going to pick at her all the time, she would be better off living somewhere else.
So her heart sank when she went into the kitchen that night and found Alec was the only one home. He was standing at the stove, stirring onions into a Bolognese sauce.
‘The others have gone clubbing,’ he said, his back to her. ‘They said they were going to try to get into the Equinox Club. You could always catch them up.’
Lisa tossed her briefcase onto a kitchen chair.
‘Frankly, I can do with a quiet night. It’s been a pig of a week.’
‘The burdens of responsibility,’ said Alec, with an edge to his voice.
Lisa tensed. But he waved his spatula at the pan of boiling pasta.
‘Want some spaghetti?’
Lisa seized the olive branch gratefully. ‘That would be great. Just let me change.’
She went and had a quick shower, then pulled on jeans and a sloppy shirt and went back to the kitchen.
Alec had set the table and opened a bottle of red wine. Lisa sank onto a pine chair. She took the glass he offered her and raised it to him in a silent toast.
‘This is a real treat. Thanks, Alec.’
‘Pleasure.’
He dished up and put the plate in front of her. She grated some parmesan onto the meat sauce and began to eat hungrily.
At first it was easy. They talked about the food, plans for the weekend, families. Even work, carefully. But then Lisa asked idly, ‘Is Equinox part of the on-going birthday celebrations?’ and Alec blew up.
‘You’ve got no right to sneer.’
‘I wasn’t—’
‘A six-figure salary doesn’t make you better than the rest of us.’
Lisa sighed. As far as her housemates were concerned she was an East End kid made good: irrepressible, hardworking, quick on the draw. None of them knew the hours of work it had cost her, or the loneliness. And not one of them even suspected the private burden of the responsibilities she carried.
‘I’m too tired for this, Alec.’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Too tired,’ he mimicked savagely. ‘A big job is all-consuming, isn’t it? I suppose I should be grateful that you had the time to eat my food tonight.’
Lisa winced. But she said indignantly, ‘Garbage.’
He stood up and came round the table, looking down at her broodingly. ‘When did you last have time for me?’
‘Alec—’
He seemed not to hear. He searched her face.
‘You don’t even see it, do you?’
His own face twisted. For a horrible moment, Lisa thought he was going to cry. She winced away from his too revealing expression, but it was too late. He had seen her distaste. He grabbed her up from her chair.
‘Look at me, Lisa.’ Suddenly he was a stranger, panting and desperate. ‘Please. Please. I love you. No one loves you like I do.’
Lisa was appalled. It came out of the blue. The house had an agreement: no relationships between tenants. She had thought of Alec as a friend, and, lately, as a self-selected competitor she would have to treat carefully. It had never occurred to her that he was in love with her. She had no idea what to do.
‘Don’t say that,’ she begged.
But he wasn’t listening. He held onto her like a lifeline.
It pressed all the wrong buttons for Lisa. She had been vulnerable and in love herself. The sight of Alec’s vulnerability twisted her heart. I can’t bear it, she thought.
‘Let me go.’
She struggled to free herself. He didn’t seem to notice.
‘You think you’re so strong,’ he muttered into her hair. ‘But you need love. Everyone needs love. I can give you love.’
And, to Lisa’s inexpressible horror, he slid down on one knee and pressed his face into her stomach.
‘Alec, please don’t do this.’ It was a cry of real pain.
She pushed at his shoulders. But his grip was like a vice. Lisa looked round, helpless, hurting, and acutely embarrassed. He seemed unaware of his own strength. Or the fact that she was trying to get away.
Lisa stood very still and held her breath. Keep calm, she told herself. She had deflected plenty of over-enthusiastic guys in her time. This was just another one, for all his anguish. She just had to keep calm and stay discouraging but kind. He would stop in a minute. And then they could be friends again.
Who was she kidding? They could never be friends again. Not when he had let her see his feelings naked like this. Lisa leaned away from him, wincing.
Alec didn’t notice that she was discouraging him. Intent on his own feelings, he was oblivious of hers. He began to tug at the fabric of her shirt. Whether to get it off or to pull her down onto the floor, was not clear. He kept muttering, like a mantra, ‘I love you, I love you, I love you…’
Lisa’s heart leaped in primitive disgust. She tore herself away.
‘Love,’ she spat.
That was when Alec looked up at her at last. There was a gleam of anger in his eyes, along with the tears. He came lithely to his feet and took hold of her. His lips were clumsy, suffocating, desperate.
Lisa closed her eyes. She was torn between pity and simple horror. She tried to push him away but he was too intent to pay any attention to her resistance. She wasn’t even sure he noticed. It was faintly ludicrous, this pretend battle with a man she had thought of as a friend for more than three years. She jerked out of his hold.
‘But I love you,’ he repeated insistently, as indignant as if she had shot him.
He had stirred up old memories he had no idea of, and, between them, Alec and the memories had shaken Lisa to her core. They left her too upset to remember to be kind.
‘Love. Huh! Don’t insult my intelligence,’ she said, retreating behind the table. ‘You want to get into my bed and you think saying you love me will do it. Well, I’ve got news for you. That doesn’t work with me. Not any more.’
‘Lisa—’ He was full of despair. And the beginnings of anger. He advanced on her with unmistakable purpose.
Lisa stopped even trying to spare his feelings. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she cried.
She ran.
The next morning she got out of the house before anyone else was up. She toyed with the idea of going to her mother’s. And rapidly discarded it. Joanne would say that she had enough problems dealing with Kit. Lisa was supposed to be the strong one, the one who found her own solutions.
In the end she went to the dance studio in Ladbroke Grove. There was an early class in jazz dance. Lisa flung herself into it.
With such effect, indeed, that as they left the studio at the end one of the other dancers said to her, ‘And who were you trying to kill?’
‘What?’ Lisa looked round. ‘Oh, hi, Tatiana. I didn’t know you did jazz dance.’
Tatiana Lepatkina must be over seventy years old, but she still taught a ballet class at the centre. She and Lisa had bumped into each other first at an enthusiastic salsa session over a year ago. Now they strolled along to the changing room together.
‘Dance!’ sniffed Tatiana. ‘What you were doing wasn’t dance. That was pure combat training.’
For the first time since Alec’s pounce, Lisa laughed.
Tatiana grinned. She