Page 67

I climb the stairs to the big bathroom by my old bedroom, the nearest one, the biggest one, with the brass lock that actually holds. I go in, and shut the door behind me.

I'm washing my hands when the door opens behind me. I flinch—I wasn't expecting anyone, least of all him—and I snap my gaze up to the mirror. There he is. He turns the lock. Then, because he's who he is, he straightens the hand towel hanging crooked on the rail before he even looks at me.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I thought you were dead."

He says it quietly, his back against the door, hands loose at his sides. He reaches past me to straighten a bottle on the shelf, turns it so the label faces out, and waits. I watch his hands do it while facing the mirror and can't make myself turn around.

"Obviously I wasn't."

"I know that now."

"You had a video of me sitting on my own floor. You knew where I'd been."

"Where you'd been. Not where you were the moment I was watching." He hasn't moved. "Every time my phone rang, I expected someone to tell me they'd found your body."

The tap's still running, so I turn it off and then I dry my hands. I can't think of a single thing to say, which has never once happened to me in my life.

He takes a step towards me and stops close enough that I can smell his cologne.

"There you are," he says.

"What?"

"You care that you hurt me. You've been trying to hide it since the drinks came round."

"I don't care. I'm a doctor. I recognize distress."

"Manon."

"You bought me a grave. That's not a normal response, Laszlo."

"I've never claimed to be normal."

"You don't love me." It comes out harder than I meant. "You want to own me. That's not the same thing."

He doesn't answer right away. His eyes drop to my mouth and come back up.

"There isn’t much difference between the two."

We're inches apart now. His hands stay at his sides and he won’t touch me, because I have to be the one to bridge that gap. He's going to stand here, however long it takes, until I'm the one who reaches for him.

"You still don't own me."

"Then stop coming back to me."

I kiss him.

I can't stand waiting a second longer, so I break this insane moment myself. I grab him by the lapels and pull his mouth down to mine. For a second he lets me have it my way. Then his hand fists in my hair and he takes complete control of the kiss. It isn't gentle now. His teeth catch my lip. He walks me back a step until my hips hit the counter.

Then his hands close on my waist and he lifts me onto the marble beside the sink like I weigh nothing. God help me, it does something to my insides I'll be taking to my grave. Which, conveniently, he's already bought.

"Spread your legs."