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The restaurant was not large, and outside there was nothing to suggest it was anything special except for the upmarket cars in the car park. Inside it was all exposed brick and industrial furniture, with some probably very expensive modern art on the walls.
All the tables were full. Tilda did not feel over-dressed—though perhaps under-jewelled. They were met by themaître d’, who obviously knew Ezio. As they walked through, conversation stopped and heads turned, eyes following the progress of the tall, dynamic figure she walked beside. It was a bizarre experience for Tilda, but she supposed a normal day at the office, or on this occasion outside it, for Ezio.
They were led outdoors where there was a series of intimate courtyards, clearly much coveted by A-listers. Saul, it seemed, had commandeered an entire courtyard for the lunch party.
Themaître d’left them at the ivy-covered arch that led into their courtyard and gestured with a smile, adding, ‘You are the last to arrive.’
‘Oh, God... I feel sick.’
‘You’re hyper-ventilating.’
‘No, I’m taking deep, calming breaths.’Just too many and too fast.She squared her shoulders and tried not to think of Ezio being a perfect father. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He laid his hands on her shoulders. ‘You don’t look fine. You look like you have something uncomfortable shoved up—’
‘Ezio!’
His grin appeared. ‘Better, but you still don’t look like a woman on her honeymoon.’ He bent his head and kissed her long and hard. As he drew back, she felt the hair she had spent an age arranging in a really sleek knot tumble free.
Her mouth opened in a silent ‘O’ of shock.
‘Now, that isdefinitelybetter. If I had a table here right now to bend you over...!’
He gave her a gentle push towards the table, just at the same time as she promised Ezio, in a voice that upheld her drama teacher’s opinion that she had excellent projection, that she would kill him.
Hair spilling down her back, she saw the faces at the table looking their way, and her sense of humour kicked in; she started to laugh.
Ezio smiled as soon as he heard the contagious deep, throaty sound. He knew she had the room in the palm of her little hand... He thought about being in the palm of her hand himself and it took him a few moments to follow her to the table.
Their host stood behind her chair and Tilda spoke to the entire table. ‘Sorry about that. I spent hours on my hair and...’ She nodded to Ezio.
‘I prefer it loose,’ he said with one of his ‘devil on steroids’ grins that had every female at the tables sighing into their wine glasses as he took his seat.
Introductions were made and Tilda settled back into her seat, her eyes meeting Ezio’s across the table. He winked. The man was shameless, she decided, but he had helped her out—which didn’t mean she wasn’t going to kill him later... Her lids lowered, hiding the gleam there as she added silently,or something?
Ezio sat back, feeling very much a passenger and quite enjoying the experience as he watched his wife charm the table.
Men watched her and envied him. Women envied her a little, but responded to her natural warmth and the fact that her interest in what they said was utterly unfeigned.
She was the genuine article in a room of imitations. She shone and he felt...proud?
He had very little interaction with Saul until they were about to leave. The older man leaned in and said quietly, ‘I know I offended Tilda, but I hope she has forgiven me and she enjoyed the flowers? Oh, and tell her that I’ve had a word with Murphy, and he is really interested in her idea.’
‘That wasn’t too bad.’
‘Belt up.’ Ezio backed up until he heard the car’s warning bleep. ‘You were the star turn and everyone there, including me, knew it.’
‘Don’t be stupid!’
‘There you go with rejecting those compliments again... What I want to know is, how did Saul offend you? And how do you know Doyle Murphy?’
‘Offend...? Oh... He phoned and, well, he sent me some flowers, and I phoned to thank him but he was fishing, and he asked me if I minded that you slept around and I... I said you didn’t, or wouldn’t. I had my fingers crossed, but I must have been good, because he apologised. I always knew you’d, well, not be celibate, but I just never thought you’d not be celibate with me.’
‘And you are OK with that?’
‘You know I’m very OK with that, Ezio, and I don’t need any warnings. I know this is just sex.’ Sadly, for him it would never be more. He was the wrong man for her, she knew that, but being with him felt so right.
Aware that the dissatisfaction that settled over him was an irrational response to her pragmatic little statement, he drove on in silence for a few minutes.
