Wedding Night
Page 114
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Yuri wants to talk to me.” Ben seems totally puffed up. “He asked for me personally. We’re going to meet on his super-yacht.”
“That’s amazing!” I squeeze his arm.
“I know. It is amazing. And Lorcan can—” Ben stops himself. “Whatever,” he says moodily.
There’s some weird vibe going on which I don’t understand, but I don’t care. We’re going to move to France! And we’re about to have sex, finally! I’ve forgotten my earlier irritation. I’m back to super-bliss. As I happily swig my Coke, I suddenly remember something I’ve been meaning to say to Ben for days.
“Hey, last year I met these scientists at Nottingham who were researching a new way to make paper. More eco. Something about a special filtering process? Have you heard of them?”
“No.” Ben shrugs. “But Lorcan might have.”
“Well, you should link up with them. Do some funding or whatever. Although I suppose if you’re selling the company …” I shrug too.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s a good idea.” Ben nudges me. “Do you have lots of good ideas like that?”
“Millions.” I grin back.
“I’m going to tell Lorcan right now.” Ben starts typing at his iPad. “He’s always going on about research and development. He thinks I’m not interested. Well, bollocks to that.”
“Tell him about the Zhernakov meeting too,” I suggest. “Maybe he’ll have some good advice.” Immediately, Ben’s fingers freeze and his face closes up.
“Not a chance,” he says at last, and shoots me a warning look. “And you’re not saying a word to anyone either. Not a word.”
20
FLISS
The morning after is always hell.
In Sofia, Bulgaria, after too many glasses of wine, an excruciating argument, and a night of sexual frustration, the morning after achieves fresh levels of hellishness.
From Lorcan’s expression, he feels the same way. Noah ran joyfully to greet him as soon as we entered the dining room, which is why I’m sitting with him, not through choice. He’s savagely buttering a piece of toast, and I’m crumbling a croissant. From our desultory conversation we’ve established that we both slept terribly, that the coffee is abysmal, that there are 2.4 Bulgarian leva to the pound and that the flight to Ikonos today hasn’t been delayed, as far as we can glean from the airline website.
Areas we haven’t touched on: Ben, Lottie, their marriage, their sexual conduct, Bulgarian politics, the state of the world economy, my attempts to sabotage my sister’s honeymoon and thus risk losing my relationship with her forever. Among others.
The restaurant is adjacent to the bar we were in last night, and I can see a pool attendant dabbing at the pristine water with a filtering net. I’ve no idea why they bother. I expect Noah is the only person to have swum in that pool all year. Although, to be fair, he might well have peed in it.
“Can I swim?” he says, as though reading my thoughts.
“No,” I say shortly. “We’re getting on the airplane soon.”
Lorcan has his BlackBerry to his ear again. He’s been speed-dialing all through breakfast but never getting through. I think I can guess who he’s been calling, and this is confirmed when he says, “Ben, at last,” and pushes his chair back. I watch in slight resentment as he walks right away, to the side of the pool, and perches in front of the sauna entrance. How am I supposed to eavesdrop now?
I try to ignore my tension by slicing up an apple for Noah. When Lorcan returns, I force myself not to grip his lapels and demand information. Instead, I ask, with only moderate urgency:
“Well? Have they done it?”
Lorcan gives me a disbelieving look. “Is that all you’re interested in?”
“Yes,” I say defiantly.
“Well, they haven’t. They’ve just arrived at the guest house. I guess they’re planning to do it there.”
The guest house? I stare at him in horror. I can’t get at them there. There’s no Nico. It’s out of my power zone. Shit. Shit. I’m going to be just too late—
“Your sister is quite something,” Lorcan continues with animation. “She’s come up with a great idea for the company. We’re far too weak on the research-and-development side, and I’ve known it for a while. But she’s suggested we tie up with a research project in Nottingham she knows about. It’s a tiny team, which is why I hadn’t heard of it, but it sounds as if it’s directly relevant to us. We could get some joint funding going. It’s brilliant.”
“That’s amazing!” I squeeze his arm.
“I know. It is amazing. And Lorcan can—” Ben stops himself. “Whatever,” he says moodily.
There’s some weird vibe going on which I don’t understand, but I don’t care. We’re going to move to France! And we’re about to have sex, finally! I’ve forgotten my earlier irritation. I’m back to super-bliss. As I happily swig my Coke, I suddenly remember something I’ve been meaning to say to Ben for days.
“Hey, last year I met these scientists at Nottingham who were researching a new way to make paper. More eco. Something about a special filtering process? Have you heard of them?”
“No.” Ben shrugs. “But Lorcan might have.”
“Well, you should link up with them. Do some funding or whatever. Although I suppose if you’re selling the company …” I shrug too.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s a good idea.” Ben nudges me. “Do you have lots of good ideas like that?”
“Millions.” I grin back.
“I’m going to tell Lorcan right now.” Ben starts typing at his iPad. “He’s always going on about research and development. He thinks I’m not interested. Well, bollocks to that.”
“Tell him about the Zhernakov meeting too,” I suggest. “Maybe he’ll have some good advice.” Immediately, Ben’s fingers freeze and his face closes up.
“Not a chance,” he says at last, and shoots me a warning look. “And you’re not saying a word to anyone either. Not a word.”
20
FLISS
The morning after is always hell.
In Sofia, Bulgaria, after too many glasses of wine, an excruciating argument, and a night of sexual frustration, the morning after achieves fresh levels of hellishness.
From Lorcan’s expression, he feels the same way. Noah ran joyfully to greet him as soon as we entered the dining room, which is why I’m sitting with him, not through choice. He’s savagely buttering a piece of toast, and I’m crumbling a croissant. From our desultory conversation we’ve established that we both slept terribly, that the coffee is abysmal, that there are 2.4 Bulgarian leva to the pound and that the flight to Ikonos today hasn’t been delayed, as far as we can glean from the airline website.
Areas we haven’t touched on: Ben, Lottie, their marriage, their sexual conduct, Bulgarian politics, the state of the world economy, my attempts to sabotage my sister’s honeymoon and thus risk losing my relationship with her forever. Among others.
The restaurant is adjacent to the bar we were in last night, and I can see a pool attendant dabbing at the pristine water with a filtering net. I’ve no idea why they bother. I expect Noah is the only person to have swum in that pool all year. Although, to be fair, he might well have peed in it.
“Can I swim?” he says, as though reading my thoughts.
“No,” I say shortly. “We’re getting on the airplane soon.”
Lorcan has his BlackBerry to his ear again. He’s been speed-dialing all through breakfast but never getting through. I think I can guess who he’s been calling, and this is confirmed when he says, “Ben, at last,” and pushes his chair back. I watch in slight resentment as he walks right away, to the side of the pool, and perches in front of the sauna entrance. How am I supposed to eavesdrop now?
I try to ignore my tension by slicing up an apple for Noah. When Lorcan returns, I force myself not to grip his lapels and demand information. Instead, I ask, with only moderate urgency:
“Well? Have they done it?”
Lorcan gives me a disbelieving look. “Is that all you’re interested in?”
“Yes,” I say defiantly.
“Well, they haven’t. They’ve just arrived at the guest house. I guess they’re planning to do it there.”
The guest house? I stare at him in horror. I can’t get at them there. There’s no Nico. It’s out of my power zone. Shit. Shit. I’m going to be just too late—
“Your sister is quite something,” Lorcan continues with animation. “She’s come up with a great idea for the company. We’re far too weak on the research-and-development side, and I’ve known it for a while. But she’s suggested we tie up with a research project in Nottingham she knows about. It’s a tiny team, which is why I hadn’t heard of it, but it sounds as if it’s directly relevant to us. We could get some joint funding going. It’s brilliant.”