One Stolen Kiss (28 page)

“
I know why my father gave you that order not to kiss me,” Adrik confided. His fingertip traced the outline of her lips, turning them into the touch-paper for her entire being, which was suddenly on high alert. “Although I’m sure all that stuff about corporate thievery is true as well. My punishment from him was more about – this – than the diamonds. One of his real reasons was quite mean, and I think you might have already guessed it. You were working for him, and stereotypical working girls aren’t supposed to kiss, if you know what I mean.”

“
Hmm.” Her acknowledgement came out as a sob.

He was right. She knew she had been used because she was the lowest common denominator in the school. That kiss had been to spite his father’s opinion of her place in society too, not just because she felt sorry for Adrik.

Or that she had wanted it to happen…

Adrik cupped her cheek and kissed her hair, her temple and her jawline, comforting, nuzzling her.

“And there was another reason.” He raised his head a little, his fingertips teasing the corners of her mouth. “When he first met my mother, she kissed him, for a dare. He didn’t know it had been only a dare for a whole year.” Adrik heaved a sigh. “But it was too late by then, because he had instantly fallen in love with her.”

Christie forgot to breathe, feeling him stroke her lower lip back and forth, slow and light as a feather.

“Like I did,” he said. “With you.”

Her mouth parted, to try and catch her breath.

“Christie…” His voice lowered. “I love you.”

There was an implosion of emotion in her chest, that her heart could barely keep up with.

“You…” she began, but his finger rested across her lips, hushing her.

“
Night before the wedding rules,” he warned her. “No touching, no sleeping over. Even Lucas wouldn’t be my enabler on this occasion.”

So why is he doing this?

And then his resting finger tapped gently, reminding.

“
But I will take back that kiss you stole,” he said. “Maybe only until you come.”

Her gasp of surrender barely escaped, before he claimed it.

At first, movie-star style as he had done a moment ago – then the tip of his tongue briefly chased imaginary ice crystals again from the contours, teasing her lips apart so that he could taste hers. She moaned helplessly against his mouth, as the contact completed a circuit that he had only allowed her so far when they were both ready for oblivion.

“
Touch me,” she begged, feeling him smile, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

“
I seem to recall saying that too,” he whispered. “And not a chance. On the night before our wedding? Bad Christie…”

He kissed her again, and she shuddered. Her insides felt as though they were molten lava, and riding a helter-skelter.

“Maybe just here…” he conceded, and she felt the flat of his hand cover her navel, and circle gently, warm and soothing to her increasing tremors, while she succumbed to the kiss he had been seeking for eleven years.

She couldn’t believe the tugging that she was experiencing deep inside, wanting him desperately, while having to hold back her own body from straining too hard against her ties at either end of the bed.

How could a kiss do this much? Was this really what she had inflicted on him?

“
We’re going to have to kiss tomorrow too, you know,” he remarked, as a sudden shiver seemed to pierce her to the core. “When the priest says, You May Now Kiss The Bride. Probably a good idea that we should rehearse a bit.”

“
Adrik…” Christie’s own warning tone crept in. “Shut up and kiss me. Please.”

He did, his mouth gentle, his tongue stroking hers, mercilessly teasing, tasting, and feeding from her hungrily, until her gathering shudders joined forces within to become a convulsion. Only his hand on her stomach stopped her arching away from the bed, risking an injury from her restraints. She cried out her release against him, and he relented to encircle her with his arms and hold her still until the forces ebbed, peppering her lips and cheeks with smaller kisses.

“Well – don’t do that tomorrow,” he advised. “One more. Before your bath gets cold. I wish I’d held you like this sooner.”

Those words had almost as much power as his kiss did, and she melted into his embrace, letting him take back from her what was already his.

* * * *

“
I know you can’t undo my knots, so I’m going to have to ask you to lie back and count to a hundred, so that I’ve got time to make my getaway,” said Adrik, and she felt him loosen the ends of the stocking from around her wrists, before moving down to do the same with the ribbon at her ankles. “Unless you hear a scream and a crash outside the window, then I recommend you stop counting, and call an ambulance instead.”

“
You don’t have to leave the way you came in,” Christie told him.

“
Georges is downstairs with his toy poodles running around loose, so yes – I do,” Adrik replied, with feeling. “Don’t worry, I’ve had lots of time to practise climbing. Carrying welding equipment too. Stop looking at me like that through your blindfold… ah. The
thing
I was going to make for you.” He chuckled, and tickled the back of her knee again. “No. I meant, I practised on half-finished ships. Don’t give me ideas though. You’re still allowed to change your mind. Are you ready to be Paparazzka yet?”

He stood up by the bed, and Christie blinked at him through the second silk stocking, unable to answer that question promptly.

“Didn’t think so,” he mused, thoughtfully. “You can keep the stockings this time. Wear them tomorrow if you want – in fact, I dare you. And the ribbon. I really liked that dress you wore to the opera. I was very close to making you part of the entertainment that night.”

He leaned over, to give her one last kiss. It lingered, achingly near to reducing her to tears once more.

“Remember – count to a hundred,” he whispered. “Oh – if you want to know where I had the key hidden last time we were here… it was in my hand all along. Good thing you didn’t guess. If I had got hold of you then, I’d never have let go. When I saw you climbing out of that window at Eileen’s yesterday… I knew I couldn’t allow you to escape from me again.”

And he was gone.

Christie was certain it took her that long to remember to breathe, straining to listen for any possible incident that might follow. But all she heard eventually was the rumble of one of the sports cars starting up, and the crisp crunch of its tyres making piecemeal of the drive as it pulled away.

She worked her wrists free easily, and slipped off the blindfold before slowly sitting up. Her stomach was still aflutter. Even more giddy than she had been following her massage earlier.

The ribbon was already untied, and she unwound it from her ankles carefully.

She still had no idea where she stood. He hadn’t told her whether or not he believed all of her confessions. One or two of his own had definitely shocked her in turn. All she knew for certain now was that he was heading off to stay overnight with one of his – decidedly
dodgy
– uncles… and she had a bath waiting, that her body needed more than anything her mind could provide in the way of answers.

And – for some reason, that he loved her…

* * * *

She still didn’t know what to think the next morning, after what was a fitful sleep populated mostly by dreams of Adrik – either returning to finish what he had started, or to finish her off altogether, Russian Mafia-style. It left her with an ambivalent sense of anticipation regarding the day ahead, and what fate might befall her.

Hannah brought her breakfast in bed, and she accepted another massage from Joan gratefully. Giving her time to wonder if she was meant to be waiting for a wedding to happen – or running away altogether this time.

Her first surprise arrived in the form of Mary-Lynne – the stylist.

“Squee!” the magazine crew member greeted Christie. “I get to do your wedding hair and make-up!”

“
I’m sorry…” Christie giggled, bemused. “Did you actually just say ‘squee’?”

“
I’ll say
‘squee’
and raise you an
‘OMG’
,” Mary-Lynne chuckled. “Humour me. Right, let’s get you started. My assistant is doing the bridesmaids. Wow – you smell fabulous. What was in your massage blend?”

“
Bridesmaids…” Christie barely had time to form the question, before the door to the stateroom creaked open gently – and the two faces of Watkins-Mosse peeked around it, grinning shyly. “OMG – Millie and Audrey!”

“
And don’t forget – Roksy,” said Adrik’s cousin, appearing behind the mother-and-daughter rock-chick team, striking a pose in imitation of the musical
Chicago.
Millie had run in to give Christie a hug, and Audrey gave her a kiss on the cheek, already drying a tear. “We brought a number four. Hope you don’t mind. Adrik called her for you.”

Roksy hauled on the hand she was holding on the other side of the door, and the owner popped through, reluctantly.

“Sorry,” said Olga Rose, timidly. “I don’t think I should be here…”

Christie stood up, opened her arms and beckoned. Olga’s hesitation before the hug was exactly as she had done herself when Adrik beckoned to her for her first hug, in New York two weeks ago.

“Thanks for telling me about Derek Goldman,” said Christie, and Olga’s skinny arms gave her a sudden squeeze.

“
I fired him,” she confirmed. “Tosser.”

“
I know someone who fancies Olga!” Millie whispered to her mother, within earshot. “And he’s coming to the wedding…”

“
Are you okay?” Christie asked, turning her attention to Roksana, while Millie and Olga proceeded to throw grapes at one another from the abandoned breakfast tray. “Is everything all right…?”

“
Yes… yes, it’s fine,” Roksana nodded. “We had a long talk last night. Paolo had worked it out by himself already… it’s still complicated, but – better.”

A jewel-encrusted, albino peacock feather-enhanced turban suddenly materialised in the doorway.

“I come bearing your something old, your something borrowed, and your something blue,” boomed Eileen, beneath the turban, in another of her batik kaftans and clinking with beads. “And no, those do not refer to my dear Giovanni, my dreaded Xaviér, or my delightful veins in the backs of my legs.”

She floated into the room, giving Christie an affectionate peck on the cheek. She was followed by Consuèla, who was thankfully minus the scarlet macaw. Instead, Eileen’s Spanish housekeeper was carrying a dress in a hanging garment protector, and a sizeable locking vanity case.

“Vintage Balenciaga, strapless lace over silk…” Eileen said dismissively. “Flamenco inspired, I believe… is it to your taste?”

Christie’s jaw dropped as Consuèla unzipped the protector. Millie literally screamed.

“If it fits…” Christie breathed. “Yes!”

“
Consuèla, darling, we might not need to unpack the six other alternatives,” said Eileen. “But for the moment, take the girls here downstairs with you and start on the bridesmaids’ dresses.” There was a stampede out of the door. Even Mary-Lynne vanished from the room with another
‘squee’
. “Now – for your something borrowed. A little jewellery and headwear…”

Christie found herself wondering what unfeasible shape of hat would emerge from the vanity case, as Eileen pondered over the keys and finally selected the right one.

Instead, a diamond tiara emerged, followed by a matching choker.

“
These are on loan from Zory Tamarkin and his wife,” Eileen announced with a wistful sigh, as Christie admired them in silence. “Beautiful, are they not?”

“
If Zory has loaned them, it would seem rude not to…” Christie hardly dared touch the gems. “They’re out of this world.”

She worried what Adrik’s reaction might be, upon seeing her wearing that many diamonds. She was already worried enough about whether or not he would be there at all, following each other’s confessions on the previous night.

“And something blue.” Eileen reached into her own deep macramé-covered purse, and drew out a bottle of Curaçao liqueur. “Have you ever had a Blue Mimosa?”

“
I was planning on trying to avoid the Dutch courage,” Christie laughed. “Mine would have to be – not royal blue, or sky blue, or even light blue – duck egg blue? Pastel blue? A thimble-f of champagne with a hint of blue, maybe… I wouldn’t want to spoil your amazing dress…”

“
There’s plenty for everyone,” said Eileen, patting her shoulder conspiratorially.

Mary-Lynne returned, fanning herself and apologising for her abrupt exit.

“This is going to be epic,” she announced. “Ooh – are we making Blue Mimosas?”

“
Never even remembered my first wedding,” Eileen continued. “Away with the fairies before I even put the dress on. The green fairy, it was too, so people told me afterwards…”