Free One Stolen Kiss by Lauren Boutain Page B

drink in front of you, when you weren’t drinking,” Adrik guessed, accurately. “What else did he do in front of you? Flirt with other women? Take their phone numbers, maybe?”
    “ You don’t know him, or his business,” Christie retorted. “You wouldn’t understand.”
    “ Lucky me,” Adrik agreed, with just the smallest hint of hostility at the idea. “Let me see… I’m wondering what other bad habits he taught you… maybe he told you it was not a good thing to be seen together in public.”
    Christie avoided his eyes, keeping her own on the TV screen. She had never suspected Derek’s motives – not once. His rules were immutable, like inscriptions on sacred tablets, and his clients who followed them to the letter were the most respected and dignified public figures imaginable. Derek’s lifestyle was aspirational and inspirational to all who met him. He knew how people thought and what made them tick, and showed them how to behave in order to attract success, and to deflect unwelcome intrusions. From the press, from the public, and from the past.
    Her phone buzzed in the side pocket of her jeans, and she put her cup of tea aside, wondering if this was the ironic instance that Derek tuned in to her feelings for him, and he was already racing across the Atlantic, on his way to her rescue right at this very moment…
    Text message – ADRIK: You look sad. Xx
    “ Sorry,” he said out loud. She looked across mutely, phone in hand, as he dropped his own onto the table next to his tea. “Prying. I guess you learned to blank that too.”
    Christie put her phone away again. She could feel her eyes smarting, but not because of what Adrik said.
    Because Derek should have called her by now. To see if she was all right. For an explanation. To salvage the last two years of their lives…
    “ Here.” Adrik tapped his sternum, and held his arm out. “Put your feet up, or lie down. You’ll feel better.”
    Christie heaved a sigh and checked her eyes quickly with both hands for any stray tears that might be escaping, before she moved tentatively towards him. Adrik didn’t wait, shifting one of his feet to bring her closer, catching her gently against his chest and cradling her against his shoulder.
    “Are you cold?” he asked curiously, brushing his hand up and down her bare arm slowly, feeling the slight tremble.
    Christie wasn’t cold, but her body seemed to be running with shock. Meanwhile, her brain had gone numb. The comfortable continuity of careful courtship she was accustomed to had been snatched away abruptly – and less than twenty-four hours later she was three and half thousand miles away, being given a cuddle by her Russian blackmailer.
    Derek never cuddled. He called himself an ascetic.
    ‘ Look, but don’t touch,’ was one of his catchphrases. ‘Looking won’t get you into trouble.’
    As her body attempted to report an overload of new experience, she had the notion that ‘trouble’ was an understatement.
    “Are you all right?” Adrik kissed the top of her head. “You haven’t said anything for ages.”
    “ I…” Christie raised her chin, to find her glance dropped from his too-close, too-inquiring gaze immediately to his mouth, only centimetres from hers. “I’m…”
    “ Just in time,” the other Nigerian voice interrupted. “Elsie did say you would both be eating the furniture if I didn’t feed you at once.”
    “ Hey, Lucas.” Adrik steadied Christie, and eased them both up into a sitting position. Lucas, tall, bearded and lanky, was sliding the dinner tray onto the table alongside their drinks. “What’s cookin’?”
    “ Never gets old,” Lucas grunted. “And you get lasagne.”
    “ And you get the cold one.” Adrik picked up the beer from the other tray and handed it to him. “Not for me tonight.”
    “ Cheers.” Lucas grinned, and bit the cap off the bottle, strolling out again and calling over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, future Mrs Adrik.”
    “