by JC Harroway
‘Hi, Shelia. I’m sneaking in one more. This is Mia Abbott. She’s come to observe.’
Shelia flicks me a cursory polite smile and then her beam returns to Kit. ‘That’s fine.’ She issues me with a visitor sticker and I follow Kit down the hall.
There’s so much turmoil in my belly I’m nauseous. I have no idea which piece of information I want first and I’m fully aware none of it is relevant.
Curiosity killed the cat.
‘How often do you do this?’ The idea of big, sexy billionaire Kit hanging out at the local community centre shakes the foundations of every assumption I’ve made. It’s clearly important to him, not just to hone his own skills, but the motivation to teach others.
‘Once a week.’ He pauses outside an empty meeting room and looks at me, a small frown on his face. Perhaps he senses the dizzying spin of my thoughts, my emotions. He reaches once more for my hand and pulls me into the room, flicking on the lights.
After watching Kit teach the small group of adults for an hour in his confident, husky voice, I’m frayed ragged by the man he’s shown me today. He even tossed in one or two jokes, his clear instructions and light-hearted teaching style so at odds with the controlled, uncompromising man I’ve witnessed so far, it hits me with the force of a sledgehammer. Here, under predictable scenarios, with only the well-being of a rubber-faced mannequin at stake, Kit is fully in control. Just as he likes to be in the bedroom.
I help him pack away the equipment in strained silence, not because I have nothing to say, but because I have so much running through my head, I need to filter my thoughts into coherent sentences. In the car park I spot Kit’s car and driver, my stomach inexplicably hollowing.
At my questioning expression he says, ‘I thought it was easier...for you...if you don’t have to drive me home. You need to get ready...for tonight.’
I nod, force a feeble smile.
‘Great. I’ll see you later.’ I hover for a second, unsure how to leave. I want to kiss him but can’t. Will he kiss me? After two awkward beats, I head for Will’s car.
‘Mia.’
I turn, heat welling in my throat, making speech unlikely.
‘I’m required at the hotel early so I’ll send a car for you. Be ready by six.’
And with that he leaves me in the car park, more dismantled than ever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kit
MIA STRIDES INTO the ballroom, her made-up eyes hesitant, scanning the crowds, and the unsettled gnawing in the pit of my stomach that’s been there all day dwindles away. She was so quiet and watchful during the class, I suspected she might cancel on this evening.
She’s wearing the red beaded and feathered headpiece I selected to match the red dress I hoped she’d wear. Tonight’s party has a nineteen-twenties theme, the hotel ballroom decorated to resemble a speakeasy—a stage and small round tables for two, each dimly lit with a small table lamp.
The dress isn’t exactly in keeping with the period, but my imaginings of how stunning Mia would look in red were spot-on. The silky fabric slides over her tall, toned frame, accentuating the swell of her gorgeous breasts and pooling below the knees of her long, slender legs.
I shift, discreetly adjusting my cock as I excuse myself from our host and make my way to intercept a floundering Mia. I know I flummoxed her earlier with my confession, but it seemed the only way to still the hint of panic in my chest.
She spots me, her cheeks twitching on a smile, and some of the hesitancy slides from her face, just as the tension left those fidgeting fingers today when I held her hand. I exhale slowly and wind my way to her through the clusters of guests.
‘Hi.’ She accepts the kiss I place just shy of her mouth with the hint of a flush. I let it linger there for a second longer than is polite, her warm skin under my lips fuelling my fantasies of how I’ll remove her from this dress. When I pull back, her eyes flash with the flickers of excitement I’ve come to learn.
‘You look beautiful. I’m glad I chose this colour—I was right about it suiting you.’ I dip close again, burying my nose in her hair so I can keep my next statement private. ‘I want to take you somewhere right now and fuck you.’ I soften my crudeness by reaching for her cool fingers and enclosing them in mine so she can’t escape. That they feel right there is a thought I choose to gloss over.
She doesn’t freeze this time. But she shoots me a look that contains enough censure for both of my presumptions. I tighten my grip. After the day we’ve spent together—her hesitant confessions over her need to prove herself, her obvious uncertainty about her past, perhaps even her need to fit somewhere—I just want to get her alone. To communicate that to her in the way that seems to suit us best—physically.
I fight the urge to pull her close now, knowing even before the high dwindles she’ll be out the door, just like she’s probably dying to pull her hand from mine.
She hides any residual discomfort at the gesture with a change of subject. ‘I left my equipment at Reception. Shall I get started?’
I dip close once more, the conversations buzzing around us my excuse if she needs one. ‘Let’s get you a drink, and I’ll introduce you to David Barnett. It’s his party.’
The courtesy my professionalism requires stabs me between the shoulder blades as I introduce my wealthy client to Mia. David, a still fit and virile businessman in his fifties, scrapes his keen eyes over her like she’s caviar about to burst on his tongue.
Mia drops my hand so she can return David’s handshake. I swallow my bile and endure their easy conversation, which begins with him relaying the details of his delightful trip to Mia’s homeland. Within seconds he’s made her laugh three times, pumped her for information on what she does for a living and is already handing her his business card and recommending colleagues in South America.
Fucker.
I look away, the sight of Mia’s excitement, both for her departure from the UK and the businessman’s nepotism, disruptive to my party mood. With impeccable timing, Reid and Drake join us and talk of Mia’s looming departure continues.
‘How are you getting on?’ Reid asks Mia. ‘Everything on schedule?’
Trust Reid to turn a social event into a fucking board meeting.
Mia smiles, fidgeting with the headpiece. ‘Great, thanks. I have some awesome footage in the bag and I’m ahead of schedule, actually. I’ve booked some actors for tomorrow so I can shoot some scenes in the restaurant, gym and spa facilities.’
Ahead of schedule? Does that mean she’ll be leaving sooner than planned?
The back of my neck tingles, making my collar tighten. I want to rip the tie from my throat and use it to gag my cheerful brothers, who look delighted their promised promotional film might be delivered ahead of deadline. ‘Reid. Let the woman have a drink. It’s a party.’ I make a fist, itching to reach for her hand again.
Reid’s jaw muscles pop as he slides me a curious look, and Mia turns away to watch the nearby entertainment—a woman clad only in a heavily beaded corset wallowing seductively in an enormous champagne glass as she fills the flutes of passers-by.
Drake, the easier-going of my two older brothers, engages her in conversation, offering her a tour of the Michelin-starred kitchen at the Faulkner. Mia laughs, her face lighting up, and I’m hit once more with the need to get her alone.
Reid steps closer and lowers his voice. ‘If you don’t want to be here, why didn’t you ask Sally to attend?’
I shoot him a look I know he interprets correctly and take a swallow of my drink. ‘I’d love nothing more than to leave. But I’ll be taking Mia with me.’ Barnett keeps sliding his eyes over her from across the room. Mia, quite rightly, seems keen to crack on with her job. And I... Fuck if I know how I feel or what I want. I just know I feel better when I’m with her.
Reid’s eyes widen, correctly interpreting the situation. ‘Fuck, Kit. Is that
wise?’
I barely hear him, my stare returning to Mia as she speaks to Drake and then pulls her phone from her clutch. Has David, the randy old bastard, managed to get her number already?
Mia smiles down at the screen of her phone and then types a reply. My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache. It’s none of my concern who Mia fucks after me. But my stomach rolls at the idea of wily David Barnett anywhere near her.
‘Mia can handle herself, no need to worry.’ There’s no chance of her heart being the slightest bit bruised when she walks away for the final time. She’ll probably sprint. The uncomplicated end of an affair should lift my spirits, but I’m struggling to feel even a flicker of relief.
Reid interrupts my fantasy of discreetly informing David that Mia is taken, or gay or a nun, raising his voice to hiss above the nearby conversational din.
‘She’s practically an employee, for fuck’s sake.’ He rubs his eyebrow, mouth twisted.
My smile is brittle. ‘None of your business.’
‘You know, Kit, we all have our own shit to deal with, and on top of that, Drake and I are also organising the extended-family gathering for Dad’s retirement bash—the least you could do is tune in occasionally.’
‘What date is that?’ Will Mia still be in town? She could come as my guest. Meet Faulkner Senior and all my overweight uncles. Of course, I’ll have to keep my cousins away.
I glance at Mia, hoping to catch her eye and beckon her over so Reid can invite her formally—she’s more likely to accept his invitation—but she’s still typing, a small frown pinching her eyebrows together.
‘Include Mia on the guest list,’ I say to Reid, who shoots me a curious stare.
Drake is now occupied with a blonde I don’t recognise and Mia returns to my side, sliding her wide smile to Reid. Lucky bastard.
‘Is everything okay?’ My fingers twitch to retake her hand. She’s barely touched her champagne, and the text seems to have left her distracted.
‘Fine. My brother was going to come and help me out with the filming. But he can’t make it after all.’
A grin threatens. So it wasn’t Barnett texting Mia.
Her mouth tightens, telling me there’s more bothering her than inconvenience. I may not be able to whisk her away as I want to, but I can solve one of her problems, escape Reid and hog Mia for the rest of the evening.
‘I can help you.’
She looks at me like I’ve just announced I’m selling my house to relocate Bob and me to a cardboard box.
She snorts. ‘You?’
A shrug. ‘Sure.’ How hard can it be to carry a light stand? The harder part will be keeping my hands off Mia while she works.
Mia hands her untouched drink to a passing waiter and settles her stare back on mine, as if assessing my credentials to hold a tripod.
‘But first, why don’t we get the dancing started?’ There are only two couples on the dance floor. I reach for her hand and she hesitates, shooting a Rescue me look at Reid.
I tilt my chin at Reid in farewell and grip Mia’s elbow, guiding her through the crowds.
‘You’re here to film a party, Mia. Not a wake. If we dance, others will follow.’ She can’t argue with my logic, and this way I get to put my hands on her, something I’ve wanted to do all day.
On the dance floor I pull her close so her sensational body is flush with mine. I smile down at her, loving the flood of colour in her chest and the way her breath catches in her throat.
‘Dancing was definitely not in my contract.’ She’s a little stiff at first. But I lead her deeper into the throng of those who’ve joined us, further from escape, as I manoeuvre her through the swaying steps, although the desired effect, of course, is pressing our bodies together.
‘Neither was fucking the boss. Not that I’m in any way complaining.’ Unless it’s to question the penchant she has for fleeing even before I’ve caught my breath.
I tug her closer, the hairs on my scalp pricking. I’ve no right to question her, no right to expect anything. All I can offer her in return is what we have right now. Would she come home with me, if I asked her? Stay the night?
‘You’re an arsehole, you know that, right?’
I shrug, the flash in Mia’s pretty amber eyes hitting me between the ribs. ‘Sure.’
My hands flex, gripping her a fraction tighter. But why doesn’t she want more? The sex is pretty astounding—I’m not blowing my own trumpet, but she can’t hide her body’s reactions.
I’m done fighting the urge, so I ask her, ‘Will you come to a family party with me before you leave?’
She stills, the tension back.
‘Reid’s going to invite you formally,’ I add. ‘He’s good at that.’
My smile evaporates with her next statement. ‘Your brothers really care about you, you know.’
She’s right, of course. But brothers can be dicks to each other. And she has no idea what I put up with, being the youngest, growing up. Something shifts in me, that feeling when you wake from a dream and know with certainty you’ve forgotten something, but can’t remember what it is. I’ve spent so long pushing people away that it’s become second nature.
‘You’re clearly close to your brother. You can invite him—Josh too if you want.’ I’m babbling now. What the actual fuck...?
Why is it so important to me that she come? That she be included in a family function? That she gives me more of herself than hit and run sex?
She nods. ‘He’s my best friend.’
I swallow, squeezing her hand tighter, pre-empting the flutter of her fingers. My stomach churns. Perhaps that’s why she’s always running, closed down to anything that gives her roots.
‘Are you and Will biological siblings?’
She shakes her head, her shoulders drooping a fraction more.
‘Have you ever thought about finding your biological parents?’ I tighten my arm around her back, sensing, despite her earlier confession, she won’t want to discuss this.
When she looks up at me, her luminous eyes are achingly vulnerable. I want to cut out my tongue.
‘Not really. Life’s been too busy. Will reunited with his birth family a few years back. They live in New Zealand, so he doesn’t see them often.’
‘So he’s settled in London?’
She nods. ‘He and Josh are trying to adopt. And our parents are planning to move over later this year.’
My heart accelerates, the warmth spreading out from my chest. Surely if all her family are here, in London, she’d be back from time to time...? But she doesn’t look happy about the fact her family will be in one place. She looks a little lost.
Just as quickly my spirits slump and my senses are on high alert—the music is too loud, the flashing lights are too bright. ‘Perhaps finding your parents would help you feel more settled, give you a sense of belonging...’
She nods, like she’s had similar thoughts and already dismissed them.
‘Yeah. Last I heard, my mother moved to London. She could be out there somewhere, a stranger on the tube and we wouldn’t know each other.’
My pulse skyrockets. ‘That must be a really hard decision. But if Will’s done it, he could help you. And it’s all the more reason to come back...’ Of course, the benefits for me are pretty abundant too. We could catch up, continue this whenever she’s in London. But I should let it go. It’s not part of what we’re doing, and it’s none of my damned business. Nothing’s changed—I shouldn’t demand more from her because I can’t make her any promises, even if she wanted them.
‘Just like that, huh? Easy?’ Her eyes flash me a warning.
‘Well, it has to be easier than running, holding people at arm’s length all the time. Why should you miss out on your family, your nephew—?’
‘You have to be kidding?’ She slams to a halt. ‘You are the master of keepi
ng people at arm’s length, especially your family, your brothers. Even your dog.’
My shoulders tense. She’s right, of course.
I see red, then the mist clears. ‘And you’re a champion of leaving my bed quicker than an Olympian athlete.’ I mash my runaway mouth closed, swearing under my breath. This won’t help my cause. It’s a dead end, just like our relationship.
There’s a wide space between her body and mine now. We stare each other down. The dance floor beneath my feet shifts as if I’m balanced on the crumbling edge of a cliff. I’ve taken this way further than I normally would. ‘Look, Mia, I don’t need anyone’s pity—’
‘And I don’t need anyone’s approval for my choices.’ She leaves off the ‘especially yours’, but it hangs there in the air between her parted lips and mine.
The crowd around us is still dancing. Mia glances around and deflates. ‘Look, I need to work.’ She lifts her chin, squaring up to the challenge once more, where other women I know would leave or cry or slap me in my conceited, hypocritical, interfering face. ‘If you still want to help me, perhaps we should end this conversation here. This isn’t what we’re about, is it?’
I want to argue, to fight for the right to make her see she has so much to give, so much love around her to enjoy. But I have no fucking right and no leg to stand on.
She looks away, her small smile one of brave inevitability rather than victory.
I bite my tongue and follow her from the dance floor.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mia
I’M PACKING AWAY my equipment when Kit finds me. The party rages on, but I have sufficient footage and, after our disagreement, my whole skeleton aches with a weariness that I fear is more than physical. A weariness that makes the inside of my chest sore.
‘You’re leaving?’ he says.
I nod, keeping my head down, focussed on the job in hand. Away from his perceptive stare.
Kit waits silently beside me while I stuff cables inside the last pocket and then he lifts the backpack, tosses it over one shoulder and takes my hand. He summons the concierge, instructing him to deliver the bag to the car.