I didn't sleep at all well that night, constantly turning over the details of that kiss in my mind. Eventually, I gave up, and got up early. I tried to take my mind off things by catching up with some mundane chores, telling myself that I'd need to be organised to deal with the next three months of looking after Henry. Truth was, I spent most of that morning making sure I was impeccably groomed, just in case he hadn't been drunk, and genuinely liked me. I even spent a good fifteen minutes flossing my teeth.
I wasn't due to pick him up till lunchtime for his interview, so I went straight into the office to sort out the Italy trip, and sort out the list of questions he'd be asked that day.
I read through them, checking the answers he'd been instructed to give. They were mostly innocuous, relating mainly to his role as Superman. Only one related to his private life, asking if he had a girlfriend. PR had written that he was to say 'no', and that he was looking for the right woman. I scowled slightly, before attaching it to an email, and sending it to him at henry@superman.com, smiling at the address.
"Hey Sarah, have you checked out the sites this morning?" Clive said, as he walked into the office. "Seems like you caused a bit of a stir. They're all asking who the mystery date is. Plus, and this is a biggie, they're not ripping you apart like they did the last one."
I clicked onto the gossip sites, only to be faced with pictures of us arriving and departing the restaurant. Our body language looked comfortable, even intimate. They actually weren't bad photos, and it was glad I'd got my hair done. I read through the comments, smiling at the outlandish guesses, and wincing at the hatefulness of some of the posters, who clearly had a bit of a crush on him. Not one person guessed correctly who I was.
"Genius move, taking him out like that," said Clive, "shut up the speculation about his orientation, and got him on every gossip site going. The kiss in the car at the end was inspired."
I froze.
Then I clicked through the pictures.
Sure enough, there it was, a grainy image of our clinch. I racked my brain to figure out how, and then recalled a motorbike going past. The paparazzi must have followed us.
A seed of doubt planted itself firmly in my mind. Maybe Henry had realised we'd been followed, and staged that kiss to get the studio PR off his back. I resolved to ask him about it later.
I'd just booked our rooms at the Grande Vizente, when my email pinged. Clicking it open, I found an email from Henry, requesting the removal of the girlfriend question from that day's interview. It was a cold, impersonal email, with no hint of playfulness. Sighing, I emailed 'Heat' to request the question be removed, and got on with booking flights.
I picked him up at mid-day, having braced myself to face him again. I'd decided not to mention our kiss, having spent the morning convincing myself it had all been staged for the cameras. "Hi Sarah, busy morning?" Henry said, after opening the door. He smiled warmly.
"Yeah. Sorted that hotel, and our flights on the 20th July," I told him, trying to gauge his mood.
"Excellent. Where have we gotta go for this interview?"
"Covent Garden."
The journey over was an exercise in surviving sexual tension. In the close confines of the car, I could smell his delicious scent, and was hyper-aware of him sitting next to me. "Are you alright Sarah? You seem very quiet," he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I paused. "Did you see the gossip sites this morning?"
"I did."
I took a deep breath. "Were you aware that we were being followed?"
