“I was saying that your interest in my family only goes as far as a quick, how’s your father, I don’t know why but my father thought …” He trailed off seeing her shoulders shaking, her hands cupping her mouth as a blush spread across her cheeks that would have put the stars to shame. “What am I missing here?”
“It’s a euphemism for sex.” She chuckled, pushing her hair back behind her ears.
“How?” he questioned incredulously. She even blushed as she said the word sex, her gaze dropping coyly to the coffee in her hand. “Just, how?” Damn, now his mind was filled with another image, her, writhing beneath him as he made her come. His gaze drifted to her lips, wondering again what his name would sound like as she screamed for him. He cleared his throat, attempting to dispel the constriction. Oblivious to his internal struggles, she answered.
“It was a way for a suitor to see if the lady’s father was about or if they could, you know, slip away. Why were you talking about me? I thought your parents despised me.” He hated the slight flicker of hurt that passed through her eyes as she spoke the words with such reluctant acceptance. Her teeth teased her lip in a way that drove him mad. It should be his teeth nipping her.
“Move in with me.” She straightened so quickly she almost fell from the stool. He was off his seat, his arm was around her waist even before her hand reached out to grasp the counter. It was impossible for him not to notice how close they were. He could smell the sweet fragrance of cinnamon mingled with his favourite coffee, all there, just inches away, his for the taking.
“What?” she gasped breathlessly. Her stool scraped across the floor as she stood, putting a small amount of distance between them. He smoothed his frown before she could notice.
“When I get back, move in with me, at least until your father’s affairs are in order.” Forever, stay with me forever, he thought, even as he spoke. Once she was under his roof, he would do whatever it took to keep her there. He’d wasted too much time denying what he felt. Screw fate, screw timing. Just say yes.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” A lock of hair spiralled around her finger as she glanced to the work surface, avoiding his gaze.
“Say you’ll think about it. I have a spare room—”
“What about your mother?”
“I told her yesterday. Come on, Sin, let me help you.” Damn, help was the wrong word to use with her, and it certainly wasn’t the word playing in his mind at the moment. What the hell had she showered in, he couldn’t keep a single thought straight.
“I’ll think about it.” She grasped the coffee, taking a large sip. Her eyes widened, tears forming, as she did her utmost best to pretend she hadn’t just burnt herself trying to shield her discomfort. Her effort was admirable. Perhaps she’d let him soothe the burn.
“How’s the job hunt going?” he asked quickly, watching the tension drain from her shoulders as he broached a more neutral topic. He would press her for an answer, for the answer he wanted, but he’d give her time, for now. She quickly ran through everything she had accomplished last night before crashing on the breakfast bar.
“I think I’ve exhausted all my leads for this area. The next stop is looking further afield, but I want to see what this brings back first. I don’t really want to leave Manhattan.” The way her eyes lifted to meet his seemed to say something else. She didn’t want to leave him. That was all the invitation he needed. Reaching forward, he cupped her cheek in his hand. His gaze dropping to her lips as her tongue swept over them.
He could feel the warmth of her shallow breaths against his cheek and just like that, he leaned in. His lips brushed against hers, seeking permission to change their friendship. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His pulse quickened as she gazed into his eyes, searching for something, whatever it was he prayed she would find it.
Her lips grazed his, welcoming him with the smallest kiss on the corner of his mouth. He took a deep breath. She smelt like coffee and cinnamon, like his own piece of heaven. He sought her lips with his, ready to claim her, to make her his—and he would have, if not for that annoying pop song interrupting as it sent her phone shimmying across the counter.
She froze for a moment in his arms before another feather-light kiss skimmed his lips. She pressed her forehead to his before, with a reluctant sigh, she pulled away, snatching the phone from the work surface. He vowed there and then he’d hate that song forever.
“Hello,” she whispered breathlessly, her eyes fixed on him with promise. The husky tone of her voice was bound to have given whoever was on the other end of the line an erection as painful as his own. He stepped away, excusing himself to the bathroom to allow her a moment of privacy before he stripped her bare to see just how far her blush extended beyond her neckline.
When he emerged his high spirits plummeted. She leaned on the breakfast bar, her hands covering her face as crystal droplets of grief pooled, collecting on the counter between her elbows. Tears, the perfect antaphrodisiac.
“Hey,” he soothed, “what’s wrong?” His hands slid over her shoulders, pulling her towards him.
“That was the life insurance company. It’s going to be three months before they pay out on Dad’s policy. Apparently they have a holding time for amounts that large. Fuck,” she whispered, subtly wiping the tears away as her hands moved up her face to push her fingers through her hair, giving it the slightest tug.
“Hey, it’s alright. Move in with me. I mean it. I’ve got you.” He knew she had been relying on that payment to make herself appealing to her future landlord, or maybe to even get a place of her own, but with no job and no savings there wasn’t a landlord alive who’d take her under their roof. He knew she hated asking for help, accepting help. He’d wanted moving in with him to be a choice. Now it would feel more like her only option, which meant she’d fight it at every turn.
“But … what if I annoy you, what if we don’t work under the same roof?” She was already talking herself out of it, cementing in her mind why her only option was something she couldn’t consider. She knew they worked under the same roof, they’d spent countless nights sharing hotels. He hated she did this.
“We work, you know we do, and if you really can’t stand being with me, I’ll use my old room. We’ll work something out, I got you, okay?”
Miles had been amazing. After their almost kiss being interrupted by the bad news, her mood had plummeted. Digging in her freezer, he’d pulled out a tub of ice cream and watched a marathon of awful movies that no man should ever have to endure. She’d snuggled into him, taking comfort in his strong presence, and thought about his offer.
It was reassuring to know that even if things went wrong, she had somewhere to sleep. The problem was, now she had no other choice, she couldn’t possibly accept his proposal. She had to do everything she could to ensure she had another option. He was not a last resort.
If she said yes it needed to be something they both wanted, not because there was no other choice. Besides, his mother couldn’t stand her. Being in their home, even their guest house, would create a rift between Miles and his parents, and she knew first-hand how important the relationship between parents and child was. She had lost both of hers and she couldn’t imagine deliberately driving a wedge between anyone, which was precisely what her presence would do.
When she finally crawled out of his arms, it was almost eleven at night and she instantly felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, knowing he had an early start tomorrow. He didn’t like to talk about his family to her, so she wasn’t really sure what it was he did exactly, but there were some days he came home and was so exhausted he’d sleep for nearly two days straight.
This trip was only going to be for a few days, and she hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as the last one. She’d tried to find out a little more about what he was doing, but the only information he’d given her was he did contract work. Even when she’d teased him about being a hired assassin he’d not corrected her, only laughed.
She felt terrible that he’d spent all day just holding her and feeding her, keeping everything friendly but not trying to recapture the moment they’d lost. She had almost let the phone ring, but the only people who would call her would either be ringing about her father’s insurance, or the job applications. Neither call could go unanswered.
“Hey, I should let you get off. I hear you’re taking out the pope tomorrow,” she teased, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him as she evaded the pillow he threw. She caught it, sticking her tongue out at him playfully, feeling strangely re-energised.
“Don’t you worry, there are few problems that can’t be solved with a high explosive projectile, or a bunny,” he retorted, pushing his hands through his hair with a charismatic smile. “I’ve got an army of Thumpers on standby as we speak. Even now one is positioning itself inside his funny hat thing.” He made a pointed gesture going up from his head.
“Mitre?” she volunteered, trying to keep her face straight.
“That’s the one.” He glanced at his watch, sucking in a breath through his teeth that told her all she needed to know. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I am, thank you. Let me know you arrive safely, unless it will compromise your position.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek at the door, wishing at that moment she could offer him more but she was too emotionally drained, and he had somewhere he needed to be, such as the airport—she glanced at the clock—in three hours. Well, four, given that he usually only made his flights by the skin of his teeth.
With Miles working away, and Becca still on her inspiration-finding vacation, the next few days passed in a lonely blur of disappointment and rejections. People weren’t looking to employ, and those who advertised were declining her application before she even had a chance to prove her worth in an interview.
Sitting at the breakfast bar, she cradled her head, trying to force back another wave of panic as the world around her grew ever smaller with what seemed to be an endless stream of rejections. She squeezed her burning eyes closed, trying to force away the image of another rejection.
A sharp knock sounded at her door. With the day she’d had, she really didn’t know if she had the strength to drag herself across the dark room to answer it. Outside the sky was as black as her mood and, like her eyes, the clouds were swollen with the threat of rain.
The knock came again, sharp, impatient. How was it possible for a knock sound irritable? She could almost imagine the tapping of the person’s foot as they stood in the hall. With a groan, she dragged herself from the stool, her posture as deflated as her sombre mood.
A glance through the peephole caused her pulse to race. She had to take another look to make sure her eyes weren’t play some bizarre trick on her. But no, it seemed her eyes could be trusted. She released the chain, opening it to reveal someone she hadn’t laid eyes on in years. Miles’ mother, Mrs Evelyn Taylor.
The regal-looking woman had gained a few more wrinkles since their paths had last crossed, but she still sported the same blow-dried blonde hair which always just brushed against her perfectly postured shoulders. She had never seen a time where Miles’ mother had not looked polished.
If Barbie had a grandmother, Mrs Taylor would have been the model, once they found a way to make her smile that was. Slender and regal, she had looking distinguished down to a fine art and the very air around her became richer from mere contact with her expensive-labelled presence. She was walking finery, from her bespoke earrings all the way down to her Louis Vuitton shoes which cost the equivalent of a week’s rent on Ivy’s apartment, if not more.
She always felt inferior and unworthy in this woman’s eyes, and so instinctively lowered her gaze as she greeted her with a quiet, hello. Silently counting the seconds until she could close the door and return to the security of her sanctuary,
Despite being a few inches shorter than Ivy’s five foot five, Mrs Taylor still managed to look down her nose at her. Their eyes met only briefly enough to convey her obvious disgust at being here. Her lips pinched as if just standing in her hall made her feel like she had stepped in something unpleasant which, given that the apartments here were far below her standard, she probably had.
“You are going to refuse Miles’ offer to move in with us.” It wasn’t a question. The statement was clipped, direct, authoritarian. She extended an envelope towards Ivy, and for a movement she hesitated before taking it. “It will just complicate matters and start vicious rumours about another woman. We don’t need that kind of attention. Especially since they will announce their engagement next month. The best present you can give him is to disappear. You confuse him, as his friend, you should want to see him happy.
“She makes him happy in a way a little viper like you could never possibly hope to.” Ivy opened her mouth to speak. “Leave him to his happiness or I will ruin you.” The woman turned on her heel, her phone pressed to her ear before she even reached the elevator.
Ivy knew she was standing with her mouth agape long after the woman’s stiletto heels had reached the sidewalk, but she couldn’t believe that she’d had the audacity to come to her home and make demands, or that she even knew where she lived in the first place.
Pushing the door closed, she opened the envelope. Again there was that voice in the back of her mind, telling her not to, that she should know better. She half expected to find a cheque, a payoff to leave her son’s life which she would refuse, but the moment the images of Miles and a stunning blonde spilt onto the kitchen counter she felt a vice crushing her chest. Even a sharp tug on the belt of her grey cardigan made little difference. Leaning forward, using the counter for support, she tried to draw in a breath through the radiating pain, but all it did was bring her closer to those damn photographs.
In the first one, they were walking arm in arm. It was clear why Mrs Taylor loved this woman. Streetwalker Barbie, as Ivy lovingly dubbed her, wore so much jewellery that if she was ever thrown from her yacht, she’d sink like a stone. Her Philipp Plein crystal-embellished knee-high boots covered more of her perfectly sculpted, glitter-kissed body than the rest of her clothes combined. Her blonde hair shone like silk, catching the sun as her head was thrown back in laughter while Miles walked beside her, smiling. He was smiling.
The next one she hadn’t needed to see, just his smile had said enough. Ever the glutton for punishment, though, she examined the others, cementing the heart-breaking truth in her mind. Miles was taken. Through the window of the hotel the naked woman was pressed against him, her hands to his face as she drove her tongue into his mouth. The time stamp on the photograph was dated yesterday. One more photo, one more twist of the knife. Miles was pinning the busty blonde against the wall with her hands above her head in the same domineering way that had invaded many of her own fantasies.
Her hot tears blemished the image of the perfect couple. Damn it, she was crying, again. Just a few days ago she thought she and Miles were finally about to open a new chapter of their relationship, and now it turned out he was playing tonsil hockey with someone else. Why hadn’t he told her, why even ask her to move in with him if he was with someone else? Of course, she knew better than to take Mrs Taylor at her word, but fiancé or not, they were clearly something.
Her gaze dragged across the woman’s perfect curves again. How could she even compete with someone who looked like a goddess in mortal form?
The song that had prevented their kiss, prevented her from cheating with another woman’s fiancé, came as a welcome interruption to her unwavering gaze, finally releasing her from the spell and allowing her to turn her focus elsewhere. Her hand hesitated above the phone for a moment before lifting it from the counter, bracing herself for whatever foul blow life delivered next.
“Hello.” Her voice wavered slightly. Clearing her throat she swiped her hand across her eyes. Damn these tears.
“Hello, is that Miss Sinclair?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat a second time, adopting a more professional tone. She was done with
tears. This last week she’d cried more than she had all year. It was time for it to stop. As Miles would say, stiff upper lip, Sin. Miles, damn him. The thought of him with that woman caused heat to burn behind her eyes.
“Hello, Miss Sinclair, I’m Amanda calling from The Reverie Muse Group. Your interview was sent to us by one of our recruitment agencies, and we were impressed. You are exactly the person we are looking for. If you’re interested in the role, we’d like to have you attend site to complete the necessary paperwork and an informal interview about our expectations.”
“Th-that would be amazing. Can you tell me a little more about the position?” A job offer. This sounded like a job offer, not an interview. Maybe her luck was finally changing.
She listened with building excitement as Amanda explained the position was as a facilities manager and such she would be expected to arrange repairs, and payments for the luxury hotel chain and ensure all their trading certificates and inspections were not only completed, but that the chain maintained the high standard of quality that their clientele expected. She would be responsible for one of their six hotels, providing cover as needed. The salary was attractive and they would provide her with a room and meals as part of the package, which, of course, made the offer seem too good to be true.
“So if you are interested in the position we will cover airfare and comp you a week at the hotel before you sign the contract so you can get a feel for the area and its clientele. You will need to sign an NDA, but that’s just standard practice for our group.”
“Fly?” Ivy felt her pulse quicken. “Where are you based?”
“I’m sorry, The Reverie Muse hotels are based in the Bahamas, which is why we offer live in positions.”
Breaking Sin: A kidnap abduction story (Addicted to Sin Book 1) Page 5