Page 32 of Never Tell Secrets
“No sex.” He cut me off, giving me that small smile. “I know. I’ll keep my hands to myself. Even if you did show up at my office at dawn in a fuck-me dress.” He roamed a side eye down over my body.
“I blame the alcohol.”
“You aren’t drunk, Lola. If you were, I wouldn’t be driving you to my house right now.”
I didn’t know how to answer that so we drove in silence for a while, but the silence was anything but comfortable. The tension was deafening. I could practically feel his need to touch me. The same needs sang through my body. His knuckles whitened on the wheel, my thighs pressed together. His hand brushed my knee as he switched gears and my breath hitched. He tensed beside me, his jaw clenching. But instead of pulling over and taking me like he once would have done, he cracked his window, bathing us both in the cool air not yet touched by the morning sun.
I looked out of the window, trying to ignore the gnawing in my chest. My heart wanted Alfie and it wanted him bad. Instead, I focused on the passing shops, the houses turning into bigger houses, then townhouses, mansions, until finally…
“Is this your house?” We pulled through the steel gates and my jaw dropped when his house came into view.
Alfie chuckled. “Bit of a shit hole, isn’t it?”
Just like that, I was plunged back into the first night we’d slept together. A night that I had re-lived in my dreams so many times. That moment had been the first time I’d seen Alfie laugh. The shrapnel in my chest throbbed and I swallowed the pain, forcing my gaze away from him and out at the ‘shit hole’ in question.
The stucco-fronted mansion looked to be five stories tall, the many windows dark and foreboding. At the front, an imposing set of black double doors greeted us as we drove up the expansive wrap-around driveway. Instead of pulling up, however, Alfie drove around the side of the house. He slowed to a stop, pressed a button on the dash, and suddenly the ground beneath us lowered until I found myself in an underground garage accompanied by a dozen other luxury cars.
“Holy fuck, Batman.”
“You think it’s excessive.” He pulled into a space, switching off the engine.
“I think it looks like you’re trying to compensate for something.”
“You’re saying I’m lacking in that area?” He raised his brows at me and, despite everything, I couldn’t help but smile.
“No, Alfie. You have a magical penis. Happy?” He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “What?” I asked.
“I’ve had nightmares about the conversation I’m about to have with you and yet here I am, about to have it, and you’re making me laugh. You just make everything better, Lo.”Don’t you soften, Lola. Don’t you dare.He gazed at me for a moment more, waiting for my mask to crack. When it didn’t, he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come.”
I followed suit, shivering as I stepped into the cool air. I could see his temptation to wrap a warm arm around me and was surprised that he didn’t. I wasn’t used to Alfie denying himself when it came to me.
He directed me to a small elevator that had him way too close for comfort. Luckily, the ride was short and a moment later we stepped out into what looked like a cloak room. Empty coat hooks and an unused table that should be for keys or a purse. A strange black square was attached to the wall. It looked almost like a flat screen but what was the point of having a television in here?
He opened the door into a darkened hallway that lit up as soon as we stepped into it. The walls were pure white, the floor white marble to match, and again on the walls I noticed two more black squares. I followed him down the hallway and found myself on the other side of those black front doors, in a circular entrance way, a grand marble staircase ahead of the doors and a large chandelier hanging high above me. To my left I couldsee through to a large sitting room, to my right, a dining room. Everywhere was white and grey and black. A strange sense of unease crept over me. I felt like I was in a haute couture igloo.
“It's cold in here."
"I can have the heating adjusted."
"Not that kind of cold." It felt dead inside. Like I was standing in the skeleton of what a home should be.
"Can you fix it?" he asked, his gaze watchful. I knew what he meant. He wanted to know if I would burst in and fill it with colour like I'd tried to do with his life last time. I didn't answer.
I turned and found more of those black squares lining the walls but nothing else. No mirrors, pictures, art, or sculptures. No rugs or careless shoes kicked off at the door. He’d been right. I hated his house. The place unnerved me and I found myself stepping closer to Alfie for some kind of comfort. I quickly corrected myself but it was too late, he'd seen it.
"Would you like me to take you home?" I could hear the fear that I would say yes. I shook my head no. I needed to stay.
Silently, he gestured towards the staircase and I followed, finding it strange to walk without his arm around me. He led me up the black banister staircase and down another crisp white hallway, my heels clicking on the marble floor. I wondered if every inch of his house was as hard and cold as this. The black squares continued, interspersed along every wall. I figured they were some kind of contemporary art.
He opened a door and I stepped through into an office. The decor from the rest of the house followed into here. A black desk at one end, with cream-draped floor to ceiling windows as a backdrop, a small balcony, and what I only imagined was a stunning garden beyond. A marble fireplace with two cream arm chairs sat either side, a glass coffee table with a twin piece sofa set lay between us and them. It felt like a lie. A room that was meant to be comfortable but in reality was soulless. I shivered.
"Can we light the fire?"
"Of course.” He moved to a…was that an intercom? He saw my confused expression. “I'm calling for someone to light it for us."
"You can't do it yourself?"
“I’ve never tried.”
