One Stolen Kiss (11 page)

It was a blur. People shouted and waved. Camera flashes went off – bystanders, paparazzi – she had no idea whose. At the same time, a part of her brain that refused to be ignored was heckling her from within.

You wanted this
, it was jeering.
Only you imagined you would be on a red carpet with Derek…

CHAPTER SEVEN.

If anyone had been jeering and heckling her in real life right now, it would be striking deaf ears.

Adrik’s hand in hers guided her gently along. She was aware of pausing and being prompted for a photograph, and it was like a dream she had dreamt many times – about someone else.

“Are you doing any new paintings, Paparazzka?” a man’s voice hollered, above the rest, bringing her fuzzy impression of the surroundings into sharp and unwelcome focus.

“
Are you volunteering to pose for them?” Adrik replied, and his arm moved around Christie’s waist, attuning to her concern that the call may have been directed at her. “Not right now. Very busy. We have a wedding to plan for.”

“
Over here, Christie!” another voice cried, and she managed to respond with her best tough-day-at-the-gallery
business smile, before Adrik nodded and nudged her onward into the haven of the glitzy lobby.

“
Well done,” he whispered against her hair.

“
Wedding?” she hissed, and his finger went to his lips to hush her, unconcealed amusement in his eyes at her affront.

Along with the other privileged invitees, they were politely and discreetly urged to move inside and take their seats before the Royal guests arrived, in order not to hold up proceedings.

“What did you say that for?” Christie’s stage whisper would not have been out-of-place amongst the prospective performers for that night. “We’ve only just…”

“
Ssshh.” Adrik indicated the attendant standing at the top of the stairs by the door to their box. “If you want to rant and rave at me in here, do it by text. But make sure you switch your phone to silent.”

“
I didn’t bring my phone with me. Half of Manhattan has been trying to invite me out to lunch. They don’t even know I’ve left yet.”

“
Oh dear.” He shook his head resignedly. “How are we going to have a civilised public spat if you leave your phone at home? Here, use mine. We’ll just pass it back and forth.”

Christie stared at the cell phone he was holding out to her.

“What? No…” She pushed it away. “I don’t want to fight. I just wanted to know why you said that.”

“
Because that’s what engaged couples do, isn’t it?” He grinned at her. “Get married.”

They went through the door as it was held open for them, and found the box contained seating for four, and two bottles of champagne on ice.

“I don’t think Zory is coming.” Adrik checked his messages before putting his phone away. “Still not feeling well. I think we will have the place to ourselves.”

“
Hardly…” Christie breathed, leaning over to glimpse the auditorium slowly filling up. Other boxes were also occupied by various luminaries. It was a veritable
Who’s Who Live
.

“
Yes – try not to look too star-struck,” Adrik chuckled, and hooking a finger into the lacings of her dress once more, he gently drew her away from the edge. “Have a seat. If you want to doze off, wait until the lights go down.”

She stepped backwards, and found a seat. Slipping off the McQueen scarf, she draped it over the cushion behind her.

“I can see at least one person I have done a naughty portrait of,” she admitted, speaking through her hands in awe.

“
Really?” he pondered, and his tone turned slightly humorous. “And why have you not done one of me, I wonder?”

“
You hadn’t crossed my mind before – the day before yesterday…” Christie lied, struggling to figure out the time that had passed since the gallery fiasco. “And as you say so yourself – you’re too much of a recluse. Usually.”

“
Strange,” he mused. “The circumstances of our last meeting seem to have been perpetually on your mind. In your paintings, particularly.” His fingers trailed down her back, twisting the lengths of the ribbon around them thoughtfully. “I’m in your artistic subconscious.”

Christie caught her breath to retort, and an announcement prompted the audience to stand for the admission of the guests into the Royal box opposite.

“Give me your phone!” she whispered crossly, as they stood up.

“
Wait,” he murmured in reply.

Fuming, Christie debated whether or not she could get away with stamping on his foot. It occurred to her that she had a lot to learn about being out in public with a man. Probably the last time she had fully indulged that urge had been to get her father’s attention twenty-five years ago, when candyfloss was in danger of being refused.

So instead she stood her ground, bit down on her tongue, and applauded with the rest of the audience as appropriate. When it was permissible to do so, Adrik waited for her to seat herself and get comfortable, before sitting alongside, and taking out his phone.

The house lights dimmed, and the audience applauded the conductor and his orchestra, before he held it out towards her.

She took it in the hush that followed, and saw that he had already typed something.

I’m right, am I not? X

The opening bars of ‘The Magic Flute’ entangled with her thoughts as she tried to summon a response. It was ten minutes later, and the performers were attacking their opening scene with gusto, by the time she managed to unfreeze her brain.

I have NO idea what you mean.

Adrik smiled as he read it, but instead of typing a reply, he put his phone away. Christie glared at him, but he merely picked up the end of her ribbon again, and started to wind it idly around his fingers while watching the scene.

Christie wondered if electric shocks could travel along satin ribbon – and somehow connect directly to her legs. When he’d pulled her against him in the dressing-room earlier, just for that split second… how on Earth did he have this effect on her? Courting Derek was like trying to interact with a Greek or Roman statue in comparison – hard, cold, omnipotently powerful, and utterly distant. While just being in a room with Adrik was like running naked through a thunderstorm…

Her blisters were starting to twinge, even with the gel soles provided by Elsie for her new high heels. Guessing that no-one would be the wiser, she wiggled the platform suede pumps off her feet.

A sharp tug on the ribbons at the back of her waist alerted her. Adrik snaked out his other arm and slid her seat closer to his.

“Not thinking of running away, I hope?” he murmured in her ear. His right arm rested along the back of her chair in nonchalant view, while her ribbon laces were now wrapped double around his left fist.

“
No,” she whispered back. “Just resting my feet.”

He nodded, and let one fingertip trail along the curve of her neck and shoulder.

“Want to play a game?” he suggested.

Eeeek…
Christie’s mind did somersaults, while his touch sent sizzling snowflakes down her spine.

“
What sort of game?”

“
I call it, What Are They Up To?” he grinned. “You score a point if you spot someone in the audience doing something they shouldn’t. Two points if you can hear them as well.”

“
What?” Christie was shocked. “It’s the Royal opera! Not a Saturday night drive-in movie!”

“
Okay,” he said, humouring her. He craned his neck slightly. “Far side, four rows back. Redhead, with her purse in her lap. Bald guy sitting to her left. Where’s his other hand?”

Christie looked. At first glance – nothing. But then, a telltale wriggle…

“Oh my God…” she breathed.

“
One point to me,” Adrik confirmed.

“
Not fair, you already spotted them. You have to give me a chance.” Christie scanned the audience. “Wait – points? What does the winner get?”

“
Winner gets the honest answer to any question they want to ask when we get home.”

“
Ah.” Christie considered. “Deal. Now – let me look next…”

“
I think we played something like it before,” he reminded her, still tracing patterns of exquisite torture on her bare shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “In Switzerland.”

“
Spotting who was sneaking out of the ballroom with whom?” Christie recalled faintly, vaguely aware of wandering back into conversational territory she had never yet properly visited.

But of course, Adrik was there at the time. He was the only one who knew everything.

Almost
everything.

“
That’s right,” he murmured. “And then we decided to follow a couple, to see What Are They Up To? I think that might have been your ruse.”

“
I beg your pardon,” Christie coughed. “That was
your
idea…”

“
Pretty sure it was yours… but we lost them, and ended up alone in a room together…”

The backs of his fingers tailed lightly up the nape of her neck, and the sensation was so heavenly that she found her eyes closing.

“You’re cheating,” she whispered. “Stop distracting me.”

“
Is it working?” he asked. “Distractions can be fatal, you know.”

She forced her eyes to stay open and focus.
He knows what he’s doing, damn him.

“
You’re not going to win,” she warned.

“
I’m winning so far.” He tickled her spine just above the laces in her dress. “And I’m keeping hold of these, in case
you
decide to cheat.”

The audience was beginning to forget themselves and become enthralled by the performance, showing less signs of fidgeting and self-consciousness. Combined with the darkness, it wasn’t easy to see anything now – unless you knew what to look for.

Christie worried that she was in danger of forgetting herself a bit too much, out in public with Adrik.

She recalled how many times she’d secretly thought about him, remembering that night, that dance, that little game they’d played, and that job she’d had to do… At the time, she’d been in the role befitting a finishing school debutante – albeit a misbehaving one – vanishing like a more mischievous Cinderella promptly at midnight, without a care as to how that night and that great secret would affect her in the years that followed. Or affect
him
.

She’d had plenty of time to worry about that part since. About what might happen, had he reappeared in her life. But she had always assumed – or maybe just hoped – that the diamond issue would have been resolved first. And then, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

They could have simply shaken hands at
Harding’s
, perhaps exchanged a meaningless, uncomfortable pleasantry, and now she’d be in Manhattan cheerfully coping with the fall-out of her other masquerade – the Paparazzka affair – while still tiptoeing around Derek Goldman and his rules.

Instead of –
this.

“
I think I see another scandal in the making,” Adrik remarked. “In the gallery.”

The word ‘gallery’ confused Christie for a moment, thinking of her own gallery back in New York. Curiosity brought her back to the present, and she scanned the rows of seats high up at the rear of the auditorium.

“They’re only kissing,” she replied.

“
He has his hand inside her bra.”

“
Oh.” Christie blushed on behalf of the couple, who were either blissfully unaware of or deliberately titillating their own audience. “I couldn’t see beyond her bolero jacket.”

“
That’s two points to me now.” Adrik tweaked the ribbons on her dress. “You need to catch up.”

She struggled to concentrate. And the music was incredible. The real performers of the night cast a powerful spell, that even the kissing couple in the gallery and Mr-and-Mrs-Where’s-His-Other-Hand in the stalls couldn’t ignore for long.

When a scene ended for more applause, it gave her a chance to properly scrutinise the crowd, to see who might be otherwise occupied.
Come on
, she told herself.
You used to be able to spot a fellow student up to no good a mile off…

“
Aha…” She only just remembered to mute her voice, grabbing Adrik’s sleeve. “Look – two across from the Royal box. That old man didn’t arrive alone, did he?”

“
Definitely not,” Adrik chuckled. “Maybe she went to the Ladies’ room.”

“
So why can’t he sit still?” Christie pointed out.

“
Hmmm,” he agreed. “There certainly seems to be some adjusting going on…”

Taking out his phone again, he tapped on his contacts list, and selected a number. A second later, the old man visibly jumped, fumbling for his jacket pocket – and the mystery lady popped abruptly back into view.

“Well done,” Adrik conceded. “You get a point. Still one behind, though.” He indicated the champagne. “Thirsty?”