Page 68 of Sparring Partners
Jonathan was deliberately winding him up. He knew it, Jonathan knew it, but Adrian wasn’t sure if Luca did. Much as he wanted to kick the man out on his arse, he could play along. Just as long as the game didn’t go on for too long.
As he made the coffee, he tuned in to the conversation going on behind him. Jonathan’s new furniture and colour schemes — maybe Luca would like to call around to the house and take a look at his choices and give his valued opinion?
No fucking way.Adrian ground his teeth hard, his jaw stiffening. The guy was winding him up, that was all. And it was working. He needed to get a grip, not react to the man’s prodding and poking because to do so would be both senseless and irrational. But Jonathan’s presence, sitting next to Luca and prattling away about fucking home décor had nothing to do with either good sense or reason as it wormed into his primitive lizard brain.
Because this wasn’t about Jonathan Owen-Jones.
Unlocking his jaw, but unable to plaster another fake smile on his face, Adrian turned around. Handing over the coffee, Jonathan barely had time to take it before a message pinged into his mobile.
Jonathan’s brows scrunched hard. “It’s the decorator. He’s fouled up, because I specifically ordered Warm Terracotta, but he’s claiming he’s only been able to get hold of Tuscany Sunset. They really arenotthe same colour.”
“Aren’t they both just dark orange? Bit gloomy, I’d have thought. I see you more as a magnolia kind of man.” Adrian grinned, the only genuine expression to break out on his face since he’d walked into the room. Screw it, he was fed up pretending.
Jonathan pressed his lips together as he got up and turned his back on Adrian.
“I’m terribly sorry Luca, but I must go. Believe me, it was good to see you again.”
“Yes, I’m glad we were able to?—”
“Jonathan, let me see you out. There’s a decorating disaster to head off.”
Jonathan picked up his pristine Barbour from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and shrugged it on. “Luca. Perhaps another coffee sometime? In the village? You know where I am. I can see myself out,” he said, throwing a glance at Adrian. Seconds later the front door closed with a thud.
The silence was deafening, as Adrian’s blood whooshed and whistled in his ears.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing? How dare you treat a guest — any guest — like that, somebody I invited into my home.” Luca’s voice, hard and tight, cut through the white noise in Adrian’s head.
“What the hell was he doing here?”
“To return my books. Just as he said.”
“For a man you rejected, he was making himself very much at home.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Adrian. I never rejected him as afriend.I made that clear, to him and you.” Luca jabbed his finger towards Adrian. “And you know what? I was glad he called round, because before we started talking about decorating, and his consultancy, we were talking about the guy he’s started seeing in London — yes, really, because that’s the real reason he’s going to be spending most of his time back there. We also cleared the air between us. And that makes me feel so much better. Or that’s how I was feeling, until you started.” Luca crossed his arms over himself. It was a self-protection gesture, but Luca stood his ground as he glared.
“He was deliberately winding me up.”
“It really doesn’t take much, does it?”
Adrian thrust his fingers through his hair, tightening his hands into fists. “When it comes to him, no, it doesn’t. I wish he was moving away for good, back to Kensington with its easy access to bloody Harrod’s. I’m glad he’s not going to be here much, because I hate seeing that man anywhere near you.”
Luca’s eyes blazed. “I’m not going to filter who I can be friends with. Don’t you dare tell me to do that.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Aren’t you? Because that’s exactly how it sounds to me.”
“No. Seeinghimhere, knowing how muchhewanted you?—”
“That’s right. Wanted, not wants. His life’s moved on, just as mine has. I thought yours had, too. But it hasn’t, has it? I’m not even sure any longer that you’re capable of moving forward.”
Adrian’s arms dropped to his side. Ice crystals formed in his blood.
“What? What do you mean by that?”
“Sam,” Luca whispered. His anger spent, he sounded sad and resigned. “All this rage you’re holding on to, seeing things that aren’t there. None of it’s got anything to do with Jonathan, because it’s all about Sam, and a man you’ve never named, a man you believed was your friend. Don’t deny it, Adrian. To yourself or to me.”
“I—” Adrian’s throat closed, cutting off the denial he knew was a lie. Staggering to the sofa, he slumped down onto it as his legs buckled beneath him.
