ââ
âWeâre here to enjoy ourselves. Donât worry.â He leaned forward. âMind, out with this lot you need to drink as much as you can.â He sat back. Looked at her. âThe famous Marina Esposito. Been looking forward to meeting you.â
âFamous?â She felt herself reddening again. âIâm not the one with the media career.â
âTrue.â He took a mouthful of wine, closing his eyes as he swallowed, making even that gesture seem sensual. The wine gone, he opened his eyes once more, fixed them on Marina. âBut youâve got the experiences. First hand. Youâve
lived
what I just write.â
âBelieve me,â she said, taking a drink without realising, âI would have been happier to have just written about it.â
He waved his hand, dismissively. âWhatever doesnât kill you makes you stronger, and all those old clichés.â
âI donât believe that,â she said.
âNo?â
âNo. Whatever doesnât kill you might not make you stronger. It might harden you. But itâs more likely to weaken you. And probably kill you eventually. Slowly.â
He gave her another crinkly-eyed smile. âIâm glad I made the effort to turn up now. I like a woman with spirit.â
Oh fuck off
, she thought, and turned away from him. She felt a restraining hand on her forearm. She turned back.
âEveryone has the right to die. Everyone has the right to choose their own death, to determine it, donât you agree?â
âThatâs the shittest chat-up line Iâve ever heard.â
He put back his head and laughed. Then looked at her, green eyes alive. âMy new book. Iâm researching it at the moment. Voluntary euthanasia. I believe itâs morally wrong to punish those who want to die. And those who assist them shouldnât be found guilty of murder. Iâm sure you agree.â
âAre you?â
He leaned in closer. âMy research has thrown up some fascinating stuff. Really fascinating. Stuff you wouldnât believe. I didnât.â His eyes locked with hers. âIâd really like your opinion on it.
Really
.â
Marina was dark-haired and olive-skinned, her Italian roots showing in her features. She dressed well and, in her late thirties, had a good figure. She had seen off more than her fair share of unwelcome attention over the years, and was about to do the same to Hugo Gwilym. But something in the intensity of his words, his gaze, made her stop.
âWhy me?â
He frowned as if the answer was obvious. âBecause youâve been there. Youâve
seen
it. Youâve stared into the abyss.â
âOh please.â Marina had had enough of him. She made to move away once more. Again she felt a restraining hand on her arm.
âYouâre the only reason I came here tonight. I want to spend some time with you. Get to know you. I think we could⦠hit it off.â He kept his hand where it was, made no effort to move it.
âIâve read your work,â Marina said, staring at his hand like it was a spider.
Hugo Gwilym smiled, gave a mock bow of his head. âIâm flattered. Thank you.â
âI didnât agree with a single word of it.â
He froze. For a second or two something dark passed behind his eyes. Quickly â but Marina caught it. He soon replaced it with his smile. âWe really are going to get on, you and I. I can tell.â
His hand fell from her arm. Slowly, trailing as it went.
Marina stared at him. âIâm married, you know.â
âAbsolutely,â he said, taking a mouthful of wine.
âTalk to my husband. Heâs done more abyss-staring than I have.â
âPerhaps. Eventually.â He put his glass down, stared at her. âBut itâs you Iâm interested in. You I want to talk to.â
Clearly
, she thought
. I should go. Talk to someone else, even
.
Joe - Dalton Weber, Sullivan 01