been in New York—and not only in bed, he admitted. Logically he knew he should not allow their affair to continue for much longer. A year was at least six months too long to keep a mistress. An alarm bell sounded in his mind as he acknowledged that he did not want to end the affair just yet, but he assured himself that it was because the sex was good.
Now that he was no longer so worried about Henry he was able to relax, and thinking of the passionate sex life he enjoyed with Marnie evoked an ache in his groin. He felt bad that he had hurt her feelings at the party. Would it compromise the rules he had set for their affair if he gave her a token to show that he valued her being his mistress? He frowned as he tried to think of a suitable gift. Jewellery was too emotive, and he did not want her to think that his emotions were at all involved, but flowers were too impersonal. And he usually sent flowers to his mistresses when he dumped them.
It would be useful if he knew of any hobby Marnie enjoyed, but he had no idea what she did in her spare time when she wasn’t working as a cocktail waitress. She was just there in the background of his life, always cheerful and smiling as she handed him a martini when he arrived home from work, and always as eager for sex as he was at any time of the day or night. She was the perfect mistress, Leandro acknowledged.
He recalled that earlier in the summer they had spent a week cruising the French Riviera on his yacht, and one starlit night after they had made love outside on the deck Marnie had said that she liked looking at the stars. Problem solved—he would buy her a book about stargazing. A book was the sort of gift that showed he had thought about her, but not too much.
Satisfied with his reasoning, Leandro zoned back to his ex-wife’s conversation. He was instantly bored but, although it irked him, he had to be diplomatic with Nicole, and it was a few more minutes before he was able to end the call and return to Henry’s bedside.
‘IT’S SUCH A shame Leandro couldn’t come to the wedding. Your uncle and I were looking forward to meeting him.’ Marnie’s aunt, Susan, who was her mother’s sister, smiled at her across the buffet table at the wedding reception. ‘You said he had to dash off to Paris unexpectedly?’
‘Yes, his friend was hurt in an accident but I don’t know any more details,’ Marnie murmured. She had hoped that Leandro would phone her, but she hadn’t heard from him since he left London two days ago.
‘Perhaps you and Leandro will visit when he has a free weekend?’ Aunt Susan suggested. ‘I’m serious about wanting to meet him. You are my sister’s only daughter, and for Sheena’s sake I’d like to be sure that you’ve met a decent man who will look after you.’
‘I don’t need anyone to look after me. I had to take care of myself after Dad left, and Mum was...’ Marnie grimaced. ‘Well, you know how she was. Sometimes her depression was so bad that she didn’t get out of bed for days on end.’
Her aunt sighed. ‘I wish I’d known the extent of Sheena’s mental health problems. I think she must have been devastated when she found out your father was having an affair.’
‘Mum warned the twins and me that Social Services would take us into care if we told anyone about her depression.’
‘Things must have been worse for Sheena after the accident. Poor Luke...twenty was far too young to die,’ Aunt Susan murmured. ‘Have you heard from Jake?’
Marnie shook her head. ‘I last saw him about five years ago. He admitted he was taking drugs because he couldn’t cope with losing Luke. He asked me for money but I didn’t have any. It was a struggle to manage on Mum’s welfare allowance and the small amount I earned from my part-time job while I studied for my A levels.’
Thinking about her brothers was painful, and tears stung Marnie’s eyes. Growing up, she had adored the twins, who were two years older than her. They had been a happy family—especially when her father had been at home from his job as a long-distance lorry driver. But he had struggled to cope with her mother’s depressive illness, and when Marnie was eleven her dad had abandoned his wife and children and stopped paying the mortgage on the family’s comfortable house.
With their mother unable to work because of her depression, she, Marnie and her brothers had been moved to the estate and the twins had been drawn to the gang culture that existed there until Luke had been killed. It had been a tragic accident: he’d been thrown from the back of a motorbike that Jake had been riding.
Marnie pulled her mind back to the present as a waiter brought round a tray of sparkling wine to toast the newlyweds.
‘Don’t you want a glass of bubbly?’ asked her uncle, Brian, when she opted for fruit juice.
‘Juice is more refreshing in this heat. I seem to have gone off alcohol at the moment.’
‘You haven’t gone off cheese,’ her uncle noted, looking at the pile of cheese and crackers on her plate. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ he teased. ‘I remember Susan ate pounds of cheddar when she was expecting Gemma.’
‘Brian!’ Aunt Susan glared at her husband.
Marnie nibbled on a cheese straw. Thankfully an unplanned pregnancy was something she did not have to worry about. After years of suffering from debilitating menstrual migraines her doctor had prescribed her a type of continuous contraceptive pill which prevented her from having periods and had ended her excruciating monthly headaches.
The wedding buffet was followed by a disco in the evening, before Gemma and her new husband, Andrew, left for their honeymoon, and the guests cheered as the newlyweds drove off, trailing tin cans that someone had attached to the car’s exhaust pipe.
It had been a happy family occasion, Marnie mused the following afternoon, when she boarded a train back to London. The kind of wedding she would like if she ever got married—although none of her immediate family would be at her wedding because her mother and one of her brothers were dead, and she had lost contact with her father and her other brother.
Besides which, Leandro never spoke of the future, and the subject of marriage had never been mentioned. Was it wrong of her to want to have some indication of where their relationship was heading?
She finished reading the magazine she’d bought for the train journey and picked up a newspaper that had been left on another seat. The tabloid was full of celebrity gossip, and Marnie’s heart gave a sickening lurch when she flicked through the pages and saw a photo of Leandro and a stunning brunette.
She recognised the woman as Stephanie Sedoyene, a famous French model who was the current ‘face’ of an exclusive perfume brand. The paparazzi on both sides of the Channel stalked Miss Sedoyene relentlessly—which probably explained why she and Leandro did not look happy in the picture of them emerging from a restaurant in Paris.
Was this the Stephanie who had left a message on Leandro’s phone before he had rushed off to Paris to visit an injured friend? Marnie chewed her lip. Had the story about his friend being in hospital been a cover for his dinner date with this beautiful model? In the photo, Leandro had an arm around Stephanie’s shoulders, and something about their body language suggested they were comfortable with each other, as if they were old friends—or lovers.
Marnie ordered herself not to jump to conclusions. She would not listen to the voice in her head which taunted her, saying that Leandro was bound to find the beautiful model more attractive than a nothing-special, veering-towards-chubby
