“Are we celebrating?” she whispered, and he nodded with a long slow smile. They had much to celebrate. The shared life that had suddenly become theirs.
After the first time they made love, everything changed subtly. They were more intimate without meaning to be, more was unspoken. They looked at each other and knew what the other meant. They stood closer together, and kissed or touched an arm or a face or squeezed a hand whenever they could. And at night, once Blaise knew Salima was asleep after she’d checked on her for the last time, Simon came to her room and stayed in her bed with her until she got up at four A.M. Then he went back to his own room after he made her coffee and let her read the newspapers. They settled into a delicious routine of making love and sleeping in each other’s arms every night. And they were careful to be discreet around Salima. They both wanted to keep this quiet for a while.
“I’m not planning to keep this a secret forever,” Blaise reassured him, “but we both need time to adjust before we get hit with everyone’s opinions, Salima’s reaction, and whatever the press decides to say once they find out. We don’t need the headache yet.” And he completely agreed. Being involved with Blaise was going to mean more attention from the world than either of them wanted to deal with. They didn’t want anything to spoil it for them. It was perfect for now.
And in spite of the deep currents of love and passion running between them, Salima suspected nothing. Once or twice when they were looking at each other and not talking, Salima asked what was happening, everything was so quiet, but she had no sense that they were involved with each other. Only his mother, with her unfailing French sixth sense, seemed to know. He had no idea how she knew, but she accused him again of an affair with Blaise, and he denied it.
“So how is your famous employer?” Isabelle Ward asked with an edge to her voice, literally the day after they had slept together for the first time.
“She’s fine,” Simon said blithely, trying not to react to her suspicious tone.
“She wants you, you know,” his mother said with an aura of doom, which annoyed him even more.
“Mother, please. She’s a busy woman, we hardly have time to talk to each other. And I’m sure she has a million men chasing her, a lot more important than I am.”
“You’re young, that’s why she wants you. She wants to have an affair with you, and then she’ll throw you away like garbage.”
“For God’s sake, will you stop? She doesn’t want me, she’s not sleeping with me, and she’s not going to throw me away.”
“Aha! You slept with her! I can hear it in your voice!” She was right, but he would have died rather than admit it to her, especially after what she’d said.
“I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore. What are you and Dad doing for Christmas?” he said, changing the subject, but he already knew. They were going to his brother’s.
“We’re going to David’s. And we have tickets to a Beethoven symphony the day after. My favorite, the ninth. You’ll be in New York?”
“Of course. I’m working. I can’t leave Salima.” Or Blaise, but he didn’t say it.
“Can’t she take care of her own child for five minutes? On Christmas Day at least. It would be nice if you could come to Boston.”
“I can’t. Salima needs monitoring all the time for her diabetes.”
“I don’t see why you have to do it.” He didn’t, Blaise checked her during the night too, but he didn’t tell his mother. “I think she’s a dangerous woman,” his mother warned him in an ominous tone. “She’ll devour you, if you let her.” She had nothing but disaster to predict for him at Blaise’s hands, and it annoyed him so much, he got off the phone, and promised himself he wouldn’t call her again till Christmas. There was just no point. She only depressed him.
A few days later Blaise surprised him. She had been to the network Christmas party, which she never enjoyed, and had received a slew of invitations to Christmas parties she said she didn’t want to go to. She didn’t want to be on display, and she said that many people invited her for that purpose, so they could say they knew her and show her off. She only liked going to the homes and parties of close friends, of which she had few. The network party was a command performance every year. And there was no way she could have taken him.
But after dinner that night, when Salima was with Lucianna, Blaise slid an invitation across the table at him. It was red and gold on Tiffany stationery, it was heavy stock, and Simon recognized the host’s name immediately. Adam Lancaster was a very well-known writer Blaise had interviewed that year. He had written countless best-sellers and a long list of films. He was giving a Christmas party the next day at his townhouse, five blocks from Blaise.