Page 15 of Where She Is
“If I gave you the chance to live and work in beautiful foreign surroundings for two years, would you refuse? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to see one of the most incredible countries in the world.”
“I see your point, but I also imagine a lot of thought goes into such a big move. I assume you want to make a success of it?”
“I do, but I don’t live to work, I work to live and get amazing opportunities like this one. Don’t get me wrong, I put my heart and soul into my job and I love what I do, but all I need is to be there to make Richard’s life easier. I wouldn’t want to go home every night and worry about numbers and deadlines, it’s not me. When I get home, I want to switch off. Apart from weekends like this.”
“I’ve just realised I don’t really know anything about you, apart from the fact that I like the taste of those perfect lips. Iwant to taste them again,” he says while focusing on my mouth with intense hazel eyes.
“I like the taste of you too.”
The rise of his eyebrows and cheeky grin has my body in a controlled spin, especially when he says, “Just my lips?”
“And the rest of the body that comes with it.”
It sounds slutty, even if I didn’t mean it to. His soft kisses distract my thoughts and my body ignites with his touch. Our need intensifies, and I move closer against his hard chest. Our eyes meet for a split second before his fingers comb softly through my hair and guide me back to his mouth. A familiar sandalwood and soap aroma surround my senses and arouses every part of me. I search for my sensible side, although I don’t look too hard. I don’t want this to stop. With one hand still in my hair, his other drifts downwards while my hand smooths the length of his upper body. I’m so aroused but unable to get close enough.
“Not here, Hannah. I don’t want us to be a sideshow for some unsuspecting party guest. I want you all to myself.”
Everything stops and I know we’ve gone too far. Our bodies are still, our eyes locked. This is Daniel Grant—a man who can have any woman he wants. I’m under no illusions this would be a one-time only affair, I’m not stupid. And what are the repercussions of sleeping with one of my employers?He’s neverin the office, he said so himself. This could be easy.Can I come to termswith a one-night stand? It’s not something I’ve experienced before. I have to decide quickly. Do I want this? Do I really, really want this? Yes, but not in this way.
My reply is a very breathless, “I’m sorry, we’ve already gone too far.” I sit up abruptly and adjust my clothes. “I got carried away.” Before I can change my mind, I stand, but Daniel catches my hand and pulls me towards him. I stare at the tiles below my feet, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
“This is my fault. I’m moving too fast.”
“No, it wasn’t just you, it was my fault too. Now is not the right time for me. I should have thought this through. I’m sorry.”
I take a few steps back.
“Can we at least talk about what just happened?” His tone holds so much confusion and I feel like shit for doing this to him, but I have to stop this now.
“It’s best if I just go. I’m so sorry.” I ignore Daniel’s pleas to stop as I run as fast as my legs will take me. When I reach the ballroom, my palms take the weight of my body against the outside wall while I control my ragged breaths. I wipe the beads of sweat from my brow, abruptly straighten up, and smile politely at the drunken party goers as they pass me by. When I think of what I’ve done, my insides want to make an appearance. This is the right decision. It has to be. At least, my head is in agreement. My heart has an entirely different idea altogether.
Chapter Four
I closethe door to my room and launch onto the immense bed. What the hell did I do? I think I’ve royally fucked up. My train of thought goes into overdrive as I stare up at the ceiling. Why can’t I meet an ordinary man? My past relationships always had to involve bankers, lawyers and high-flying stock market boys. You can’t get away from stereotypical go-getters when you work in the heart of London. They all have a mutual passion for the thrill of the chase. It’s an excitement they crave and in those early days of a relationship, they do whatever they have to, to win you over and get into your panties. For a time, there’s excitement, passion and even swoon-worthy words if they go the extra mile to impress. You become sucked in and lap up every ounce of their ‘honesty.’ They’ve never met a girl like you before. You’re special, and they have feelings for you which they can’t explain. Your heart thumps, your breathing is erratic as the thought of them being madly in love with you is too much to wish for, but wishing is precisely what you do. You say to hell with it, what if he’s the one? If I don’t try, I might miss my chance. You let them in and give yourself entirely. You convince your brain this is the beginning of something amazing. So why isDaniel so different? What made me stop? The answer is simple. This game is very familiar to me. As soon as they’ve claimed their prize, the fight is over and they win the battle. Your panties have been well and truly cast aside and so have all your hopes and dreams of a happy-ever-after. This is the moment of dread. When you find out, he’s like every other arsehole you’ve ever slept with. This is what I now call the Rob Factor. He was my last boyfriend and the worst. Actually, it was twice as bad because I surrendered my heart before my brain fell in line. I made the most monumental mistake when I moved in with him.
I remember how Rob was when I first met him. I should have known better than to get involved with a good-time boy. He loved the ladies, and they loved him right back. All of them. He was a one-night stand kind of guy and came out in a rash every time someone used the word ‘commitment’. The rumour mill in our set of friends was rife with what a big tart he was, yet I took a chance. Apparently, when he met me, his life changed. He felt different and no longer like a lost soul. I was there to save him. Yes, I fell forthatline. He said he’d had enough of quick shags. He wanted something more with me, so after only three months, I moved into his Clapham flat. The weeks and months that followed are a blur in my mind. Predictably, we found ourselves in a rut all too quickly. Somehow, I was becoming a stereotypical wife without the wedding ring and paperwork. I’d make his breakfast, then go to work. When I got home, I’d cook his dinner, wash his clothes and iron him a shirt for the next day. It was up to me to tidy the flat because I knew he wouldn’t. A word of thanks never fell from his lips and stupidly, I never expected any.
I tried to make it work and fix the damage, but we’d lost the enjoyment of being together. I wanted that back more than anything. I remember a trip I’d planned to Somerset House. Originally a Tudor mansion set in the centre of London and now home to the arts, this amazing and special venue opens up itsgrounds every Christmas to a full-sized ice rink. Add some romantic lights, Christmas music and the sheer magnificence and beauty of the house itself, and I was sure it would be the best recipe to get us back on track.
It didn’t go well, in fact, it didn’t go anywhere at all. I waited for nearly two hours. I called seven times and don’t remember the number of texts I’d sent. Deflated, disappointed, and tearful, I walked because I wanted to think and couldn’t deal with the hustle and bustle of rushed commuters as they fought their way home on the tube. To make matters worse, from nowhere the sky turned black, and the heavens opened. I walked into our flat, drenched, freezing and miserable. Rob was sprawled out, engrossed in the football, but I caught how he sunk further into the sofa when he felt my presence. I wouldn’t let him get away with it. I picked up the remote lying in front of him and turned the TV off. I spun on my heels, hands on hips, and teeth firmly gritted. Then he spoke and I instantly wanted to punch his lights out.
“What’s wrong with you, woman. I was watching that!” There was such venom in his voice, as if I’d committed the worst crime possible.
“I waited for you.” I’d said while I held in my tears.
“What are you talking about?”
“At the ice rink. I waited two fucking hours!” He could turn on the charm in a matter of seconds with his puppy dog eyes and the voice that could soothe the painful ache in my chest.
“Was that today? I’m sorry Sugar, I must have forgotten.” He could just about be bothered to pull himself up from his comfy seat and walk to the airing cupboard. He returned moments later with a warm fluffy towel and the comfort of his arms. “Let’s make it all better.” He crooned as he rubbed my back. Then he sat me on the sofa where he cuddled away my anger. After only a minute, he released the remotefrom my hand and flicked the football back on. His arm held me closer to hisside to appease my now dwindling anger. Later, he suggested hot chocolate would make me feel better. He headed off to the kitchen and I noticed his phone peeking from under the cushions. Maybe he hadn’t heard it or the volume was muted which was why he hadn’t answered my calls. I wasn’t worried about him coming back in the room at any moment when I pressed the button to illuminate the bright display. I didn’t care. I needed to find out if this was my fault. Then my fears were confirmed. There were no notifications which meant he’d listened to my voicemails and read my texts. He knew he should have been meeting me, knew I would wait, and knew I would try to get in touch. It was then I realised he couldn’t be bothered with me.
I wake up in darkness, but still fully dressed. I wipe away the line of saliva along the side of my cheek and look around.What the hellhappened? The music has stopped, but I’m deafened by the silence.Wallowing in self-pity, I am sad and alone in a strange house I’m not altogether familiar with. Sadly, there is no one but myself to blame. Daniel didn’t put a foot wrong. It was me who led him on. I knew what I was doing and I wanted it to happen. I feel sick, homesick. It’s not for the lazy arsed piece of shit I lived with in London, although the fact he invades my mind with painful memories doesn’t help. No, I wish my parents were here to make me feel safe. I want a little normality. If only I could laze in front of the telly or sit at the kitchen table and share a story with them. They don’t always have the answers, but they listen and comfort me. I’m so mixed up right now, the best and only option is to take myself away from temptation. I can’t trust that Daniel won’t steal my heart so I need to leave for Sydney and I need to go now.
Chapter Five
Diana’s lookof concern turns my insides. She didn’t ask, but she’s aware there’s a problem, and I wonder if Daniel has spoken to her. Diana and Peter have been nothing but hospitable. I hope they don’t think I’ve thrown it back in their faces somehow as they stand outside their beautiful home and wave us off on our journey back to Sydney. As we head down the drive, I note Peter turning back to the house almost immediately, but Diana waves until she is a dot in the distance.
I feel like shit. There was no sign of Daniel this morning and who could blame him. I walked away. God knows he must be pissed off. I couldn’t be any more unprofessional if I tried. I want to cry, but I don’t. Stiff upper lip and all that, plus Richard has a super sensitive emotion radar which is on high alert. He doesn’t know what happened, but I’m sure he can tell I’m preoccupied and upset. He talks all the way home because it’s his way of keeping me busy.
