Riven Page 10

  “Everything all right, Sarah?” Dianna has stopped at the door.

  “Oh, yeah,” I nod, forcing a smile. “I’m just thinking.”

  “Thinking you might have made a mistake?” she probes.

  “I don’t know,” I shake my head, uncertain.

  “Sarah,” Dianna insists that I look at her, “do you want to be an architect or a revolutionary?”

  “Ideally I’d like to be both.”

  “And you will be. Whether you land the internship or not. You are one of the most talented people I have ever taught. It’s possible that the selection committee may not understand your vision, but do you really think that Gehry or Wright didn’t take any knocks? Your theory is sound, it’s well-developed and well thought out. You’ll get the practical perfect, too, if I know you as well as I think I do. Just make sure that your justification is sound. You need to make sure they interpret your design as you intended – don’t give them any option.”

  “You’re saying I should force them to experience it, on my terms?” I say, half in jest.

  “Exactly,” Dianna replies and she’s deadly serious.

  Leo is waiting at the car when I emerge from the campus building.

  “Hey, Scarface!” I tease, standing on my toes to kiss him. I run my hand through his hair, tracing the ridged scar. Just beyond his hairline it is smoother, but raised, forming an egg-shaped lump of scar tissue. So much for my theory that he was sensitive about it - it turns out that it’s from a bog-standard car accident.

  “Someone has to be the beast to your beauty,” he retorts. As I step away to move around to the passenger side, he grabs my hand and pulls me back. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “Please tell me it involves getting out of Game Night,” I tease, “I’ve had a hell of a week.”

  He cups my face in his hands and kisses me again.

  “Actually,” he murmurs, resting his forehead on mine so that his breath is a whisper on my lips, “it does.”

  “Really?” I can’t contain my elation. “And does Jess know about this mutiny?”

  “She helped me plan it.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Is there no one you can’t charm?”

  “I’m sure there’s a woman out there who’s immune,” he concedes, “but if she exists, I haven’t met her yet.” He kisses me on the nose and releases me. “We’re going home to pack.”

  “Pack?” I’m intrigued.

  “Yes. You need a break. You’ve been working far too hard and you deserve it,” he adds as I open my mouth to protest. “I’m taking you away for the weekend.”

  The thought of breaking the monotony of my days is too good to refuse.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.” He gives me a little shove and then swats my backside as I walk around the car.

  Leo refuses to give me any information about our weekend destination on the drive home. I’m still trying to get it out of him on the elevator ride up to my apartment but the best I can elicit is a lopsided grin. My happy mood dissipates as soon as the elevator doors open.

  Noah is standing at my door. He smiles at me but, when he catches sight of Leo, his expression tightens, his lips pressing into a grim line. The look on his face tells me everything I need to know. Noah may have suspected Leo and I were together but he wasn’t sure until this moment.

  “Hi Noah,” I say, trying to smooth over the awkward situation.

  Noah doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Leo. He draws himself up to his full height and pushes his shoulders back, which would be impressive, if Leo wasn’t almost a whole head taller than him with shoulders twice as broad.

  “I’ll meet you inside,” Leo offers, relieving me of my keys. I think he’s going to leave it at that but the opportunity to piss Noah off proves too much for him. “I’ll get started on the packing,” he declares, winking at me over his shoulder. As he moves past Noah, Noah glares at him like a schoolboy in a locker-room fight. Leo grins in return.

  The second the door closes, Noah rounds on me.

  “So,” I feign brightness, “what’s up?”

  “Packing?” His clipped, curt tone is a sure-fire sign that trouble is brewing.

  “Yes, we’re going away for the weekend.”

  He stares at me in disbelief. “So it’s true. You’re actually dating that idiot?”

  “I am,” I answer without any hesitation. “I’m sorry, Noah I thought you knew.”

  “How would I know, Sarah? It’s not like you tell me anything these days. You don’t even have the decency to return my calls.”

  “I didn’t think it would be appropriate for me to keep talking to you now that I’m in a relationship.”

  “A relationship?” he sneers. “With him? Tell me you’re joking!” His derogatory implication stings because, until I knew better, I had wondered about Leo’s lack of ambition myself.

  “That’s really none of your business. And now that you know about it I think you’ll appreciate that its best if we only communicate professionally. During college hours,” I add meaningfully.

  “Professionally!” Noah snorts. “Well, perhaps if you had bothered to answer any of my calls you would know that what I wanted to discuss is actually relevant to your career.”

  “Oh yeah? How so?”

  “I’ve become quite friendly with one of the advanced placement panellists. From Burke & Duke,” he adds when I don’t respond. “I thought perhaps I could put in a good word for you.”

  “I’m assuming this panellist is female?” I ask dryly, recalling the attractive woman I saw a few weeks ago. I keep my face neutral, not wanting him to know how affected I am by the thought that he could interfere in my application.

  “Yes, actually. Her name is Amanda and she’s become a friend.”

  I can’t help myself. “I’m sure she has,” I say, rolling my eyes. Noah reads my reaction completely wrong and I see a small smile play about the corners of his mouth.

  “Are you jealous, Sarah?” Oh God, can he really be that stupid?

  “No, Noah,” I insist, “I’m not jealous. What I am, is wondering what on earth this has to do with me?”

  “Like I said,” Noah leans casually against the wall behind him, “I thought about putting in a good word for you.”

  “You thought about it… so you haven’t actually done so yet?” He blinks, trying to establish where I’m going with this. “Let me ask you something,” I continue, before he can answer, “who do you think is more worthy of the Burke & Duke internship – me or Samantha?”

  Noah narrows his eyes, finally realising he’s walking into a trap.

  “Because if you believe I deserve it, then you should tell this Amanda woman,” I say. “And if you don’t, then don’t. Like I said, Noah – I’m still not sure what this has to do with me or why you needed to speak to me about it or why you’re here at all,” I add pointedly. Despite my determination to stay calm my cheeks are flaming and my voice has risen.

  “It has everything to do with you.” The words drip incitingly off his tongue. “I’m giving you the opportunity to get ahead in your career. I’m offering to do you a favour. Amanda has become a good friend, yes, but she wants more. She wants us to move forward, but I’ve held back because I still believe that there’s a chance for us, Sarah. What are you doing with that first year loser in there? He can’t do anything for you – he can’t challenge you. You’re wasting time. There’s so much I can do for you. Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “You still don’t get it.” I shake my head in disgust, deliberately ignoring the slights to Leo. “I don’t want any favours. I want to earn this internship. I have earned it. I don’t need you to manipulate the system.” I fix my eyes on his, holding his gaze steadily. “If you have feelings for this woman, you should act on them, because you and I, we’re over!”

  I start to move around him to the door, but he blocks my path, his face losing all trace of softness.

  “You should
think about this, Sarah.” A low warning. “You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

  It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m telling you not to throw your life away on some jock who hasn’t got even an ounce of the potential you do.”

  “How is this about Leo?” I yell, finally losing my temper. “If you want to help me then do it, and if you don’t, then don’t, but stay the hell out of my personal life!”

  “You heard her,” a low voice interrupts. I didn’t even realise Leo had emerged from the apartment but his face is a terrifying sight. His blue eyes are icy and boring into Noah and the muscles in his shoulders are bunched beneath his collared shirt. I can see him trying to get a grip on his temper but he’s not doing a very good job of it.

  “Go, Noah,” I say, moving to stand beside Leo.

  Noah issues a nasty little laugh. “You’ve just thrown your career down the drain,” he sneers. “And you,” he adds, disparagingly to Leo, “good luck with her. You’re going to need it.”

  We leave him jabbing at the elevator buttons and close the door behind us.

  “Do I even want to know what that was about?” Leo asks.

  “No,” I knead my temples, feeling a headache coming on.

  “What did he mean by throwing your career away?”

  “It’s just an empty threat. He’s trying to intimidate me,” I reassure him, wishing I could believe my own words.

  “Sarah…”

  “No,” I say brightly, “we’re not talking about Noah. He’s not worth it. And besides, don’t we have packing to do?”

  CHAPTER 15

  As we leave the City limits the knot in my stomach slowly unravels and all thought of Noah and his disastrous visit blow away in the breeze that rustles my hair through the open window. Leo’s hand rests on my thigh, a mini-inferno of heat that seems to spread as the miles go by.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you?” Leo asks.

  I pretend to seriously ponder this.

  “A solid two-and-a-half.” I grin.

  Leo moves his hand further up my leg. “And now?”

  “At least a three.”

  The trip takes only forty-five minutes but, as we pull into a sweeping drive, I feel as though I’m in an entirely different country. Everything is so green; nothing but endless fields in either direction and behind us, haughtily defying the breeze, a forest of regimented trees.

  “A spa?” I exclaim, spotting the granite plaque beside two imposing wrought-iron gates. “We’re spending an entire weekend at a spa?” My excitement is evident in the squeakiness of my voice.

  “Indeed,” Leo says, opening his own window to address the guard who approaches. He checks Leo’s licence against a list and then signs us in before waving us through the boom. The gates open and we pull up the gravel drive, to the crunch of stone beneath the enormous tyres.

  We follow the clearly marked signboards to reception and enter the main building which must once have been the manor house. Immediately, a caramel-skinned man dressed in a grey suit steps forward and offers us a tray laden with glasses of champagne. Completely unselfconscious, Leo takes two and hands one to me. The bitter crisp tang is a welcome sensation on my tongue.

  “Cheers.” Leo raises his glass to me and I clink my own against it before following him to the reception counter, behind which sits what I can only describe as a Scandinavian supermodel. Her arctic white hair is pulled into a bun and her cheekbones are so sculpted that we could safely rest our champagne flutes on them without spilling a drop. The elegant name badge fixed to her collar tells us that her name is Susan.

  “Welcome to Serenity,” Susan purrs, her voice a honeyed bell. “Will you be checking in, Sir?” she asks, looking at Leo like she’d prefer to be checking into his pants. I clear my throat and she dazzles me with a smile of perfect porcelain veneers.

  “We have a reservation under Russell,” Leo replies politely, giving her the benefit of his own crooked smile.

  Susan leans forward and presses a button on her switchboard telephone. A second later a feminine voice sounds through the speaker.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr and Mrs Russell have arrived,” Susan informs the faceless voice before cutting the link. I open my mouth to correct her and then think better of it. Being mistaken for Leo’s wife is not an altogether unpleasant experience, and besides, with the way she’s looking at Leo, it gives me a sense of satisfaction.

  “Mr and Mrs Russell!” I recognise the voice from the speaker phone. A middle-aged woman with a trim waist and eyes the colour of crushed coffee beans has emerged from a hallway behind Susan. Her grasp is cool and professional as she shakes my hand and then Leo’s.

  “Welcome to Serenity. My name is Ingrid and I’ll be coordinating your stay with us.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” I say.

  “Your treatments have been scheduled for tomorrow, as requested,” Ingrid continues warmly. “There’s not much to do this evening except relax. Our listed menu will be served in the main restaurant which is just through there,” she points down the hallway to our left,” or, if you prefer, we can have something sent to your room.”

  “Perfect, thank you,” Leo says.

  “You’re welcome. Your car is right outside; I presume?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wonderful. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your villa.”

  We follow her back through the open door and into the twilight where she hops nimbly onto a waiting golf-cart and gestures for us to follow.

  “This is amazing,” I say as we pull up to an exquisite little cottage five minutes later.

  “It’s even better than it looks online,” Leo admits. “Better than a two and a half?” he adds smugly and I grin.

  Ingrid whizzes through the small space, giving us a brief tour and then tells us that dinner is served between seven and nine before she finally leaves us alone.

  The second she’s gone, Leo opens the mini-bar and extracts a bottle of champagne. I can still hear the high whine of the golf-cart’s engine as it heads back to reception.

  “Should we sit outside?” I ask, peering through the doors at the gorgeous view.

  “No,” Leo’s answer is immediate, “because I plan on pouring this champagne all over you and licking every drop of it off and I really don’t fancy that golf-cart rumbling through right in the middle.”

  “Okay, we’re definitely up to a high seven,” I say, my voice low and husky.

  “Let’s see if we can’t get you to ten, Miss Holt.”

  Later, sated and tender, I hobble to the SUV, grateful that I thought to pack at least one cocktail dress and a pair of heels. Leo looks very pleased with himself, but then again, he should be.

  “We must have hit ten somewhere in there,” he muses, as he holds the door open for me.

  “I think we may have peaked at around a thirteen,” I agree, flashing him a wicked grin.

  He dips his head and kisses me deeply, taking his time, reminding me that there is no hurry and nothing else for me to do but enjoy myself. The kiss is slow and sensual, and, despite our recent lovemaking, I feel the heat flare between my legs. Leo’s hand comes to rest on my bare knee travelling slowly upward and I catch my breath, arching my hips toward him. When he stops suddenly, I give a groan of frustration. To his credit, he looks pretty pained himself, his blue eyes liquid with desire.

  “First we eat,” he says, with as much resolve as he can muster. “If I don’t stop now I’m going to ruin that dress.” His gaze falls on the shadow of my cleavage and he shakes his head ruefully before shutting the door.

  Ingrid approaches us shortly after our appetizers – polenta squares topped with mushroom ragu which literally dissolve in my mouth. I’ve been watching her move between tables, checking on every guest and I knew it was only a matter of time before she reached us. Unfortunately, I had just shoved a forkful of food into my mouth
when she arrived.

  “Mr and Mrs Russell!” she greets us warmly. “How are you enjoying yourselves so far?”

  “Thoroughly,” Leo responds with enthusiasm and a devilish glance in my direction.

  “Marvellous!” Ingrid looks suitably impressed. “Please let me know if you need anything at all. Breakfast is served from seven-thirty and I’ll collect you from here at nine for your first treatment. I hope that suits you?” she gives us an arch look, displaying all the confidence of someone who knows that her guests have little choice in the matter.

  “Sounds perfect,” I say. “What treatments do we have scheduled for tomorrow?”

  She allows herself a little clap of elation and I wonder how on earth she manages to be so permanently upbeat.

  “You start with a Swedish full body massage,” she begins, “followed by tea and scones on the terrace. Then it’s on to a deep cleansing facial and a manicure or pedicure, whichever you prefer,” she glances critically at the hand holding my wine and I hide the ragged fingernail of my thumb, “after which you have a private lunch booked in the cellar.”

  “The cellar?”

  “The wine cellar,” she clarifies quickly. “It’s our coveted fine-dining experience. Mr Russell booked it in advance.”

  “Oh, did he?” I waggle my eyebrows at Leo.

  “After lunch you finish up with a body wrap and then spend an hour in the Rasul.”

  “What’s a Rasul?” I ask, as the waiter arrives with our main course.

  “Oh, it’s the perfect pampering experience for a couple to indulge in! A Rasul is a traditional Arabian cleansing ritual which takes place in our herbal steam room.”

  “It sounds… interesting.”

  “Basically they slather you in mud and then you wash it off in an oversized shower,” Leo offers helpfully.

  “After that, it’s dinner and then the rest of the evening is yours to do as you will,” Ingrid says, sounding remarkably less hospitable.

  “Thank you.” I’m distracted by the mouth-watering sole on my plate, and Leo has already picked up his knife and fork.