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the States. I married William before I was twenty. I wasn’t even legal.” Her cheeks flushed at the phrasing and she released her grip on the bottle.
“And now?” He held it in both hands, studying her thoughtfully, as though the answers he sought might seep from her skin. “Do you want to experiment?”
Her body was tingling with unfamiliar emotions. She cleared her throat and cast him a reproachful glance. “I don’t know.” She reached for a tea towel and clutched it protectively in her hands. “I have Ellie to think of. Everything I do is about Ellie.” She was grateful for the fact she was preparing dinner. It gave her something to do, when she could no longer bear the intensity of his gaze. She lifted the lid off the luxurious seafood stew and stirred it thoughtfully.
“You cooked?” He asked, coming to stand just behind her.
“Of course.” Her eyes flew to his face. “I mean, it’s dinner time, isn’t it?”
He thought of the date he had for later that night. A famous actress at an even more famous restaurant. Dinner, seduction and uninhibited sex were all guaranteed. And yet he found himself nodding at Chloe. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Oh, good.” Her relief warmed him in a way he resented. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat. But I made enough. So I’m glad.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I told you already. I babble when I’m nervous.”
His laugh was little more than a whisper. “Do I make you nervous?”
He was reclining with indolent ease against the door of her kitchen, looking the complete opposite of how she felt. “I suspect you make most people nervous,” she retorted thickly, reaching for two bowls and placing them onto the melamine counter.
“What makes you say that?”
She ladled the soup silently, her hand unsteady as she lifted a lovely mix of seafood and saffron stew into a deep vessel. “I just … get a feeling about you.”
He took a step closer, pretending to help by lifting the bowls closer to the pot. It smelled delicious. “And what feeling’s that?” He enquired silkily.
Chloe finished putting dinner into the bowls and then placed the ladle onto a chopping board. “You could command the attention of any room you walk into. I’ve no doubt you’ve got people tripping over themselves to do your bidding. You just seem very …” she searched for the right word. Powerful. Controlling. Commanding. Authoritative.
“Very?” He prompted, his dark eyes glossy as they examined her face.
“Intimidating,” she finished weakly. Her smile was apologetic. “But maybe that’s just me. I guess William’s taught me to run a mile from men like you.”
The inference had his chest compressing frantically. Indignation was hard to suppress from his tone. “You think I’m like your husband?”
“Oh.” She darted her tongue out and licked her lower lip. “No. And yes.” She shook her head, and reached into the cutlery drawer for a couple of spoons. “He was also very intimidating. Powerful and wealthy.”
Hendrix said nothing. How could he respond to such a disgusting insult? “Where shall we eat?” He changed the subject, but Chloe knew she’d said something wrong.
She thought back to her description of her husband and winced. She’d painted him as a true bastard of the highest order, when she’d described William to Hendrix, and now she’d compared the two men. “That was rude of me,” she said sincerely, not moving from the kitchen. “I don’t know you well enough to analyse your character. And from what I do know, you’re nothing like William. He would never have helped someone like me for the sake of being kind. He would have expected to get something out of it. Not like you.” She didn’t catch the flicker of an emotion like guilt in his eyes. “I only meant that you are both very awe-inspiring, in different ways.”
Hendrix nodded, his expression inscrutable.
“Come through here,” she said, unable to shake the feeling she’d said something completely off-putting. She led the way into the lounge, and cleared some partially dried-out play dough from the top of the table. “My apartment’s quite tiny,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Even though it’s just the two of us, we’re already tripping over one another.”
She indicated for him to take a seat and then walked swiftly back to the kitchen, to fetch the garlic ciabatta from the oven. When she returned, Hendrix was studying a photograph on the wall. “Your wedding,” he said unnecessarily. Chloe put the bread down and moved to stand behind him.
The photo had been taken by one of William’s friends, right after the ceremony. It was a candid shot; they had both been laughing at something, though Chloe couldn’t remember what now. A wistful smile of remembrance tickled her mouth. “Yes.” She lifted her fingers to the frame and wiped across it slowly. “A long time ago.”
“I find it curious that you choose to display it,” he said with a strange hardness to his voice. His eyes were locked to the picture as though he’d seen a ghost. “Given the fact you’re suing for divorce.”
She nodded. “He’s Ellie’s father.” Her voice cracked a little.
Hendrix slanted her an assessing glance. “He hasn’t even met her.”
The rich disgust in his voice caught her off guard. “No,” she moved to the table and settled herself into her seat. “But Ellie deserves to know where she comes from.”
“Even though he’s an abusive son of a bitch?” The venom in his tone drew her gaze sharply.
“Yes.” She fiddled with her spoon. “I don’t like my husband. I don’t particularly want to see him, ever again. And if I’m honest, I’d rather Ellie had nothing to do with him.” She paused to find the right sentiment. “But that might change. Who knows what the future holds? I never want Ellie to resent me for pushing my agenda onto her.”
A thousand thoughts ran through his mind but he stayed silent. His smile was forced. “This smells delicious.”
