by Anna Bloom
“Really?” I repeat. “They are just flowers.”
He raises an eyebrow and looks all kinds of cute. “Sure, just flowers made of glass.” He reaches a hand for my hip and pulls me in. I’m dressed in only one of his work shirts and doesn’t my body know it. His lips skim my throat and I tilt my neck to give him better access. “It’s why I can’t let my mother ruin everything for you. It’s why I’m here instead of spooning in that pink room of yours.”
My hands slide into his hair. My mouth hot on his. He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms clinging around his neck. “Turns out I don’t have any food other than strawberries and cream,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Sounds like heaven.” My body scorches like dry tinder. Even though we’ve already been together since I knocked on his door, it’s not enough. I want more. I want to drown in him.
With a gentle bump, he places me on the island. It’s cool against my bare skin, but it does nothing to calm down the inferno inside my body. His fingers unbutton the shirt, his hands dipping inside the material, easing it back from my body. He pushes me back a little and spreads my knees, so he can slide between them. His lips trail kisses from my collarbone down the valley between my breasts. When he reaches my navel, he pushes me back until I’m bared on the marble. His mouth drifts lower, his teeth nibbling the inside of my thigh. I want him there, right there with his tongue currently trailing lazy circles on the tender skin of my inner thigh. I grasp at his hair and push him in the right direction. My breath catches in my throat as he strokes long firm licks along my lips and delves deep. His hands lift my ass and I splay my fingers against the marble as I groan and writhe under his mouth.
“Fuck, I love that,” the words escape; I’m unable to control them.
He burrows deeper, one finger pushing inside and then another, his mouth and tongue never stopping licking and sucking until I’m bucking my hips and pushing myself into his mouth.
“Scream my name.”
His mouth returns, his tongue delving in deep as his thumb presses at my other opening. Then as he pushes it in slowly, spinning me out some place in the universe where the stars and sun shine at the same time. I scream his name so loud it imprints into my heart.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Paints.” I motion to the array of different types and colours. “You’ve all got a canvas each.”
“Each?” Dylan eyes the wall of canvases. I’ve grown to like him, and actually out of all the of the kids we’ve seen, he’s the one with the most natural talent. I’m going to talk to Gerard about him—which reminds me I need to do that.
“Yes.” I nod. “So, the idea is—and you’ve all got to use your imagination for this—we are going to fill the walls of the ballroom with our dreams. I want you to use the canvas, use the paints in any way you like to create a replica of a dream or the thing you want most.”
“If I want a Fiat 500?” quips Maisie.
“If that’s your biggest dream in life, then yes.” I smirk at her, but it’s wasted. “Here’s the thing.” I add, making sure I have all their attention. “There are no paintbrushes, no sponges, nothing but your fingers and body.”
Stunned faces meet mine. “Like we’re supposed to get dirty?” A small brunette near the back, and who’s always at the back, pipes up.
“Hell, yes. Dirty as can be.” I flush a little. Last night I was definitely dirty, in a way that can’t be replicated on a canvas, even by an artist as skilled at Eli.
I grab an easel and pull it over to the centre of the room, and then grab some tubes of acrylic paint.
“Why is everything she does blue?” Dylan mutters, but someone shushes him as I unscrew the top and smear some directly onto the canvas. It’s a giant splurge but then I start to spread it with my fingers. It’s wet and cool beneath my touch and there is something incredibly pleasurable about making the finger spread mess, and I don’t even like painting.
“What are you all waiting for?” I ask. “Get stuck in.”
I grin and turn back for the canvas. My idea for the big dream ball is quite simple. We will provide the backdrop—Elijah will provide the centrepieces, and I’ll make sure every person there knows he’s the true artist, not me.
I don’t know how long we’ve all been in here, when the door open and Tabitha slips in. Her face is blotchy: pale in places, bright red in others, like she’s fallen into a pot of jam. I drop my paints and wipe my hands on an oil rag. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She gives a small shake of her head.
“Well that’s a big fat lie.”
Red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “Nothing.”
“Where’s Lewis?” I’m not stupid, there can be only one reason she’s crying like this.
She shudders a breath. “He’s gone.”
“Where?”
I only saw Eli last night, and he didn’t mention Lewis being able to go back to the city.
She shrugs, and alarm bells sound in my brain. “Wait here.” I walk out into the outhouse hallway and take my phone out of my back pocket. I know Eli and I aren’t communicating in public, but this is work—sort of. He answers on the second ring.
“Where’s Lewis?” I ask, ignoring the little stab of desire that darts through me at hearing his voice.
“What do you mean, where is Lewis?” He has his business voice on and I know he isn’t alone.
“He’s not here. Tabitha says he’s gone.”
“Not that I’m aware of.” He pauses. “This isn’t good. There’s been a development on his mother’s case.”
My stomach clenches. “And?”
“The other witness… she isn’t willing to give evidence.”
“So what now?”
There’s a hefty pause and I can all too clearly visualise him rubbing his hand through his hair. “Now I think again.”
“Okay.” I want to ask him if I’m going to see him later—if somehow we are going to manage to find a way to be together—but I don’t. “I’m going to find your mother. Maybe she knows where Lewis is.”
“Ah crap, I hope you survive.”
I chuckle, even though the sound is leaden and heavy. “I’ll lick my wounds later.”
“Bye, Faith.”
“Bye, Elijah.”
I hang up and find Elaine watching me clutching a tray of tea and biscuits. “I was bringing a snack for you all.”
I smile at her gratefully. “It’s a mess in there.”
She chuckles and bustles past me. “I’m getting used to that with you around.”
I turn for the main house. If anyone will know where Lewis is, it’s going to be the Baroness.
The door to her study is open. She’s sitting at her desk reading some paperwork. A warm smile curves her lips as I knock. “Have you got a minute?” I ask, although for a moment I wonder if she’s lost her sensibilities—she seems almost pleased to see me.
“I do, I do, come in.” She motions for the visitor chair. “How are things going? Gerard tells me you are moving onto paints and canvases this week. I can’t wait to see what you create.”
It’s impossible. I shake my head and stare at her in confusion. “I’m sorry, are we friends now because Elijah saw sense and pulled out of our little fling?”
Her smile tightens. “It’s for the best. We all want you to succeed, and this way you can.”
I sag a little in my seat. It doesn’t matter that Eli and I met last night, it doesn’t matter what I feel for him—which is scarily close to everything. It will still never be. Because of her.
“Anyway, I’m here about Lewis. What have you done to him?”
“Lewis? That vulgar young boy?”
“Yes, you know, Elijah’s client.”
“No idea. I’m staying out of the way of all your visitors.”
I eye her speculatively. “Until the ball, and then you will pretend to the press that the whole thing has been your idea.”
Her lips press together tight and she
leans onto her fingers, resting her chin. “And there will be a lot of press. I’ve had confirmation today that Sky Arts are attending with a film crew. It’s possible they will think of televising this whole project if we run it again next year.”
I stare at her in alarm. “I can’t be involved in that.” The idea is awful. Imagine all the people who know my darker side seeing my tattoos on television.
“Whatever, dear, although I believe Elijah has different ideas.”
Her carefully calculated words pull the world from under my feet. What does she mean?
Is Eli expecting me to come back next year? Has he been planning this? Does he think this is going on beyond our two-week agreement? But how?
My heart hammers and vibrates in my chest.
“Care to elaborate?” I try to keep my voice even.
“Not right now.” She waves her hand at the door and dismisses me.
This woman has such a wonderful way of making me feel like complete shit. How she produced someone as wonderful and kind as Eli I have no idea. I push out of the plush seat and stomp for the door. “So, you haven’t seen Lewis?” I double check.
“No, thank goodness.”
I open my mouth to tell her she’s a bitch of the highest order, but what’s the point? I’d just be wasting hot air.
Back in the hallway, I pull my phone out of my pocket again and call Eli back. “I don’t know where he is. I’m going to search the grounds.”
“I’m coming back; just finishing some urgent files.”
“No, don’t.”
“I’m coming back.” His tone is firm.
“Okay. I’ve got to get looking.”
“Faith.” He calls me back as I’m about to hang up.
“Yep.”
“I was coming back anyway.”
A small smile creeps along my face. Stick that up your arse, Baroness.
Before I head outside, I pop to the kitchen and track down Jennings who is talking to a guy in a suit I don’t recognise.
“What’s going on?”
“Security for the ball.” Jennings gives me a wink and I motion him forward with my hand.
“Lewis has gone missing, have you seen him?”
He shakes his head and my stomach drops.
“I’m going to go look for him.”
It’s muggy outside, the oppressive heat that’s been building the last few weeks is pooling into threatening dense clouds. I head up the first gravel pathway and tell myself I’m going to take each section of the garden in turn. It’s a bloody big garden though if you include the deer park as well.
Lewis has got to be here somewhere.
It takes me two hours to find him sitting in an abandoned and decrepit building. “Lewis, for God’s sake. I’ve walked half a marathon looking for you.”
I drop, exhausted, onto the floor by his side. His face is pale, his eyes rimmed with red.
“What’s going on?”
His head shakes, and he kicks his feet into the ground, stubbing the toe of his trainer into the dirt.
“I’ve got a search party out looking for you, and you’re totally missing the chance to create the biggest mess with paint the world has ever seen.”
I don’t look at him, keeping my focus turned away. I remember when Dan and I were kids and he used to hate it when I knew he’d been crying.
“What’s on your canvas?” he turns for me a little, and the breakable fragility glaring at me through red-rimmed eyes makes my stomach ache.
“Blue. Lots of it.” I shrug.
“For Elijah?”
I give him another shrug. “Maybe. I don’t think that’s a dream I get to have though, not really.”
“You like him though, right?” Lewis pays close attention to the dirt at his feet.
“Sometimes.” I give a little smile, my cheeks heating. Last night I liked him a lot—a lot. “But it’s not straightforward, you know. It’s complicated. This family here in this house, they might look like they have everything, but I don’t think they do.”
He makes a huffing noise.
“What’s going on with you and Tabitha? You seem to like each other.”
He shrugs, which is one of my favourite forms of communication and I shrug straight back at him.
“What do you dream of, Lewis?”
A heart-breaking silence floats around us until a small voice, owned by a lost little boy says, “My mum.”
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I get that. Are you angry with her?”
He nods his head and I watch, silently, as a tear rolls down his cheek. “I’m angry that she didn’t fight. Didn’t stay with us.”
My mind skims back to Eli’s words last night. “Sometimes fighting is the hardest thing to consider.”
“What do you know about it?”
“Everything. I run from everything and everyone.” I stare at the vibrant splashes of green above us in the trees. Birds are chirping, summer lengthening and holding on to its glory before autumn comes to steal it. What am I going to do when this is over? What am I going to do when I repack my small bag and leave Eli and this place?
“Once,” I continue. “Someone hurt me, real bad. I didn’t tell anyone for the longest time, until the truth was living like a monster inside me: on my skin, in every molecule that makes me what I am.”
Lewis’ bloodshot eyes land on me. “What happened?”
My head shakes. “It’s in the past now.”
“What are you going to do?”
I stand from the dirt and hold my hand out to him. He uses it to pull himself up, but then drops it quickly as he watches me expectantly. “I’m going to stop running.”
I fill my lungs with air. I’m going to stop running, and it’s going to start right now.
“Are you ready to go back? I know a girl who’s pretty worried about you.”
He nods, and I point to the path I took to find him.
It’s time.
Chapter Thirty-Four
First things first, I called Eli and told him I’d found Lewis and there was no need to drive back. I also told him about Lewis and Tabitha—call me a wimp but it was much easier on the phone than face-to-face. I’m not sure whether my art leader/teenage babysitter role was supposed to prevent that happening, but if so I failed.
After I’d done that I told Gerard I needed to go and get my stuff ready for the ball and that I’d be leaving straight after the afternoon session. Then I asked Jennifer is she could fit me in with Saskia. I didn’t want the Fairclough’s to pay for a damn thing towards my outfit for the ball, but some help in finding the perfect dress would be fun.
I get to Knightsbridge just after six. Lucky for me it’s late night shopping. I can see Saskia from the other end of the street—not that I know what she looks like. I can just tell it’s her. She’s six foot, and skinny as a clothes rail, with choppy and stylish ink-coloured hair.
Her eyes fall on my tattoos with no effort to disguise her reaction. “Wowee.” She steps closer, her hand reaching for my arm like she expects to be able to feel the ink not just see them.
“Hi, I’m Faith.” I cough awkwardly.
“Oh yeah, sorry. I’m Saskia.”
We shake hands and she seems genuine enough. I try to relax a little. “I’m hoping you will help me find something for the Fairclough Ball, only Connie wants my tattoos covered up.”
Saskia shakes her head. “Connie’s a bitch, and no way, these are gorgeous.” She meets my gaze with an impish smile. “I reckon we can find the perfect dress, though, in there.”
I look at the shop behind her, the green and gold window shades are legendary. “I don’t think they approve of my sort in Harrods.”
“Believe me, darling, they let everyone in if you can afford it. Let’s get champagne and then go dress shopping.” She links her hand though my arm. Apart from Tabitha, she’s the friendliest person I’ve met in weeks. “You aren’t driving, are you?”
I grimace a little. “No, I drove down,
but I’ll go back in the morning. I’ve got my college lecturer helping me now, so I don’t have to rush back.”
“We can make that a bottle of champagne then. Come on, this is going to be fun.” We are at the door where the doorman—wearing his long coat and hat—opens up for us, although right until I’m through the door I’m expecting to get bounced straight back out again. People look at us, but Saskia doesn’t even give them a second glance as she glides towards the food hall. “Do you like oysters, Faith?”
“Never had one.” I don’t add I’ve never had one because in my humble opinion oysters look like alien brains.
“Oh gosh, you’re going to love them.”
“If you say so.” I chuckle and let her lead me to the champagne and oyster bar.
An hour and a half later I’m stood in front of the long mirror. “Are you sure?” I’ve only tried on two dresses. And Saskia is almost swooning over this one. It’s clinging to everything I own, which isn’t very much. My angled hip bones are poking through the sheer white satin.
“Yes, completely. It makes your ink stand out so beautifully.”
I give a rueful laugh. I don’t think the secrets inked on my skin are beautiful, but it amuses me the six-foot supermodel in front of me thinks so.
The dress is Gucci. With a Gucci price tag.
“What colour do you think Elijah will wear?” There is no way I can even ask this question without being obvious, so I just put it out there.
“Mm, he always wears black to formal events.”
“Black.” Okay, I’m disappointed. I love him in navy best of all.
“Believe me, it’s a sight to behold.” Saskia winks, and I flush a little.
“Will you be coming to the ball?” I ask.
She nods eagerly. “One of the perks of being Jennifer’s personal assistant.”
“Personal assistant? How come I haven’t seen you around the house that much?”
Saskia arches a perfect eyebrow. “I work from an office here in London. Bowsley is, well it’s…”