Page 49 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
He looks pleased; even… Is that respect I can see? Or maybe admiration?
‘Well, well, well,’ he murmurs, the words a soft, sexy rumble. ‘You’ve spotted a loophole. You’re right, I did not specify what kind of time I required.’ His smile deepens as he searches my face, and I can feel the thing inside me melt still further. He told me I was rare, that I was unique, and the way he’s looking at me now almost makes me feel as if I am. I’ve never been unique to anyone before. I’ve only ever been a problem.
‘I could, of course, insist that it’s your personal time I want and make that part of my demands,’ he goes on. ‘But that seems churlish. Also, I do like a challenge.’
It’s a reprieve but oddly it doesn’t feel like one. And, while I’m satisfied that I’ve managed to get one over on him, I’m also strangely annoyed by it too. I can’t actually havewantedhim to win this, can I?
Ulysses breaks my gaze, looking down at his watch, and I feel as if I’ve been released from some powerful magnet. ‘My jet is ready,’ he murmurs. ‘And I have other appointments.’ He glances at me again, hot golden eyes pinning me to the spot. ‘I will have a lawyer draw up an agreement and send it to you ASAP.’
An agreement? I’m a little offended. I always do what I say and never lie. ‘I told you I’d give you some time, and I will,’ I say coolly. ‘There’s no need for agreements.’
He ignores the offence in my tone. ‘Indeed, but you’ll forgive me if I require some legal certainty. Sometimes one’s word is not enough.’
This is so uncannily similar to the way I view the world that for a moment I can’t think of anything to say. Because he’s right, isn’t he? People say one thing and then do another, so you can never be certain of anyone’s word.
It makes me wonder what happened to him, who lied to him…
But, no, that’s curiosity and I can’t be curious about him, not when I’ve given him too much already.
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Send it to me and I’ll look over it.’
His smile turns lazy and hot. ‘In that case, please don’t let me stop you from enjoying the rest of your Christmas party.’ He gestures towards the door, indicating I should precede him, but I’m not sure I want to go back to the party quite yet. I need a few minutes to get him out of my head, to collect myself, because I can still feel the shape of him against my palm, feel his heat, and it’s doing things to me that I can’t quite control.
But I don’t want him to know that, so I walk past him, determined to act as if nothing happened between us, and open the door to the communal office space and the noise of the Christmas party outside.
John is waiting for me near the doorway, and he frowns at Ulysses, who is following hard on my heels.
‘You were in there a long time,’ John says. ‘What were you doing?’ He’s smiling but there’s a tinge of familiar jealousy in his voice. It’s the same tone he used whenever I worked late, or went out with a friend, or any reason when I interacted with people who weren’t him. He always wanted to know who I talked to, where I went and what happened.
I didn’t like that tone before I left him and I like it even less now I’ve been free of it for months. ‘Talking,’ I say as Ulysses moves past me towards the exit, his entourage gathering around him. ‘About business. That’s all.’
John stares after Ulysses, his gaze narrowing. Then, clearly dismissing him, John glances back at me. ‘So, do you have an answer for me, Kat?’
‘I’ve already given you one.’ I try to be patient, because I told him when he first turned up here that I didn’t want to go back to him. ‘It’s no, John.’
He smiles, but it’s sharp, angry and impatient. ‘You don’t mean that.’
He’s always telling me what I do and don’t mean, and I hate how it makes me second-guess myself. ‘I do mean that,’ I insist. ‘I’m not coming back, and that’s final.’
John has never been physically threatening before, but suddenly he reaches out and grabs my arm. ‘Come on, Kat, don’t be like that. Don’t play hard to get.’
But I’m not playing, I never do. I open my mouth to tell him so, but he pulls me closer, his fingers digging into my arm. He’s still smiling, but it’s even sharper now. ‘I just want you to come home,’ he says. ‘That’s all. Once you’re home, everything will all be okay.’
My stomach tightens. During the last month of our marriage, just before I left him, he flung one of my little knickknacks against the wall, a glass paperweight. He was angry I’d agreed to a business trip to Paris with Mr Tanaka and hadn’t told him. The paperweight shattered, and as I knelt on the carpet, trying to gather up the pieces, I knew then that I had to leave; there was no other option. He was furious when I told him, and for weeks afterwards he’d send me up to fifty texts a day, venting his anger at me. But he didn’t do anything else and I thought I was finally rid of him…
Until tonight. Even then, though, when he arrived at the party, I didn’t think he’d try anything as physical as grabbing me. Not in a room full of people. Trying to pull away might involve an altercation, and I don’t want to cause a fuss, I don’t want to spoil people’s enjoyment of the party, so I let him walk me towards the exit.
As he does so, I have a strange thought: I had two men at this Christmas party wanting me, both insistent, and both don’t like being denied. Both make me feel afraid. But one makes me afraid of my own desires, while the other makes me afraid, full-stop.
John’s hold is painful and he doesn’t make it easy as he urges me towards the doors. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he says soothingly. ‘Don’t worry. I just need you home. It’s where you belong, Kat, don’t you see that? It’s what you want.’
We pass everyone having fun and laughing. They’re all saying goodbye, ‘Happy Christmas,’ ‘See you next year,’ and John tells me to smile so as not to draw attention. I do, but my face feels stiff and my smile is a rictus. Anger seethes inside me at him and what he’s doing to me, but anger won’t help my situation, so I swallow it instead.
‘I don’t want to come home with you, John,’ I tell him as we leave the office and approach the lifts. ‘Let me go.’
‘No,’ he replies, his fingers digging in harder as he reaches for the lift button. ‘My car’s downstairs. We can talk about this there.’
CHAPTER FIVE
