The Vine

by C. A Ellis

  “Well then, if that is the case, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. I do like him, and I know that he’s got a reputation, but he’s never been anything but polite, well-mannered and gentlemanly to me, so that’s the Lucas I’ve accepted dinner with. So please, can you just be happy for me?” I asked her, doe-eyed.

  “Oh, Lizzy, not the puppy dog eyes; you know I’ve never been able to resist them,” Katy joked, hiding her eyes with her arm so she couldn’t see me and I knew I was forgiven. I giggled, and Katy looked back at me seriously. “I just worry about you, Lizzy, that’s all. I’m very protective of you; you know that, and yes, of course I’ll help you prepare for your date, but I’m also going to stay home on Saturday night, and if at any point you want out of there, just one call and I will be there, okay?”

  “Wow, you must be worried to stay at home on a Saturday night!” I laughed, glad the mood had lightened. “I am,” she retorted, “but I’m not going to rain on your parade anymore, so that will be the end of it for now.”

  Our lunch arrived to our table, and we tucked in and ate in silence, both of us obviously deep in thought—probably different thoughts, but about the same man. Katy broke the silence. “Right, so when are we going shopping then?”

  “Tomorrow night? It’s late night shopping on a Thursday,” I suggested.

  “Cool,” Katy agreed. “Then Saturday, you and I are in the salon, girl.”

  “Deal.” I laughed.

  “Well, speaking of the salon, I’d better get back. I’ll see you at home tonight, hun,” Katy said as she came around the table to give me a hug. Whilst in her grasp, I muffled “Yes, I’m going to make a move now anyway.” After a moment, when Katy finally pulled away from her reassuring ‘we’re all good’ hug, we left the deli and went our separate ways—me toward Green Park, and Katy toward Berkley Square. I exhaled as I walked along thinking how intense Katy was about my date, and then I felt a rush of giddy excitement. I’ve got a date, argh! I thought to myself, and had to stop myself from practically skipping back to the office.

  Chapter Three – Lucas

  BANG! That’s what it was like when it happened, and I don’t just mean the girl crashing into me as I entered my building heading back to my office after yet another meeting. I’m talking about the walloping after effect I had once I steadied her and looked into those big, Bambi, brown eyes.

  Everyone says you’ll know when you meet ‘The One’. Well, I for one didn’t believe in that load of old bollocks…until that moment. Don’t get me wrong—I’m a wealthy bachelor, so women are not exactly what I’d call ‘thin on the ground’. I’ve had my fair share over the years, but her…wow!

  It was weird, because before that moment I’d never met her before, but strangely, I felt like I knew her. In the nanosecond that we’d collided, she’d done so far what no other woman had ever done—she had gotten under my skin, and not just in a good way, but in the best way ever. As I gaped at the doors where she had made her exit, I just couldn’t shake the emotions she had set off in me.

  My hands still tingled with sensation where I had touched her arms, and if I closed my eyes her luscious smell surrounded me, and probably would forever. I knew my dreams from now on would be clouded with her face and those eyes—my God, those eyes—unforgettable. It was like I was a snow globe and she’d just popped in, shaken me up a bit and disappeared, leaving me standing like a statue with flurries and a haze around me.

  I’d class myself as fairly gifted in the looks department, and being in my mid-thirties, I have to work hard to keep a fit muscular body, but the truth of the matter is—and I was no fool here—I know most women are definitely more interested in my money than me. I have dated some gorgeous women, but most had zero personality. I had dated a few nice women who were funny and intelligent, but there was always something missing, just no real connection. I already knew this girl was different; I don’t know how I knew, but I just did.

  I knew I was capable of feelings of lust and passion, but I thought I was incapable of real feeling, emotion and sentiment. Clearly, I was wrong, and it felt good to know I had it in me. It felt exciting, which was something I definitely had never said about another woman.

  My last relationship was with a woman called Saskia, and we had been together for a few years. Admittedly, when I was with her, there were no other women. If I was in a relationship, I was monogamous, despite the rumours that circulated and surrounded me. That was a major problem with me—even if I did meet a decent girl, I don’t think she would stick around long once the rumour mill got going about me and some bimbo I’d never met, but was allegedly dating or sticking it to.

  All that never really bothered Saskia; she was hard-nosed, ruthless and had very thick skin, and to top it off, she was quite a stunner too. So in her eyes, I would never cheat on her because I was lucky to be with her, and although I do like a girl with confidence, arrogance is an ugly trait. So everyone thought we’d be together forever, and I suppose I sort of thought we would too. I’m a workaholic businessman who’s very rarely at home, and even when I am, I have to admit that I can be a miserable bastard; but Saskia seemed happy giving me attention when I needed it, and leaving me alone when I just wanted her out of my face. It never really occurred to me that if I really loved her, I shouldn’t want her out of my face.

  She was wined and dined at the best restaurants, went to all the best society functions, had weekly spa days and went on some of the best holidays that money could buy. So she was happy, or so I thought. The fact that we weren’t engaged was a big flaw in our relationship for her. In my head, I thought we would get there eventually, but something always stopped me.

  Maybe in my heart of hearts I knew she really wasn’t ‘The One’, that I didn’t believe existed.

  That fact was proven last year when I returned early from a business trip, and as I hadn’t been around much lately, my plan was to surprise Saskia at home and whisk her off to Paris. Only when I arrived home, she certainly was surprised, but not in the way I had hoped.

  I walked in, dropped my bags and began searching the bottom-half of the house. There was no sign of her, so I headed upstairs thinking that being the lady of leisure that she was, she was probably having a nap or something. Lazy cow, I thought, smirking to myself. As I opened our bedroom door, that smirk soon disappeared off my face, because as I entered our room, I found her in…let’s say a rather compromising position, with a guy at least ten years her junior and in my fucking house.

  When I found them, he had his eyes closed in ecstasy—clearly about to shoot his load any second as she was sucking the life out of his juvenile dick—and both of them totally unaware I’d walked into the room. I just stood there watching them, my arms folded and slightly shocked, but not as shocked as him when he met his release about five seconds later and opened his eyes to me standing there. Then I gave a subtle cough—oh, yeah, that got her attention. I couldn’t give a shit about him as he grabbed his clothes and got his limp dick out of my house, because in that moment, I saw sophisticated Saskia for what she really was—a total cocksucker. Nothing suited her more in that moment than being on her knees with some other guy’s cum all over her mouth; she was nothing more than a money-grabbing skank.

  As she stood, I calmly told her to get the hell out of my house.

  The funny thing was, she didn’t even apologise, not that it would have changed anything if she had, but it would have been nice to see some remorse. Instead, she just asked what would happen to all her things. Fortunately, although she stayed at my place a lot, she still had her own place, so I told her in no uncertain terms to get the fuck out of my house and I’d send all her crap over to her…cheeky bitch.

  I hadn’t seen her since; she had tried to contact me on numerous occasions, never to apologise, but to tell me what a mistake I had made, and how no other girl would put up with all the shitty gossip or all the time I spent away from home. She also informed me that I was a miserable bastard anyway, and had become a
complete bore.

  I knew it was all bravado, and deep down she was pissed that what we had between us—whatever that was—was now over. I really don’t think she regretted doing what she did; she just regretted getting caught.

  While she spouted out insults, I couldn’t be bothered to retaliate, so I told her that if that’s how she felt, then she’s better off without me, and not to bother contacting me again. So I was then enjoying my new found freedom and having my home back to myself, but that afternoon, after bumping into that young, beautiful stranger, and then her pulling away and running out onto the busy streets of London, I knew for certain that there was such a thing as fate, and more importantly, I wanted ‘The One’—I wanted her. As certain as I needed air to breathe, I knew I had to look into those pools of brown again. As I begrudgingly turned from the main doors, I headed to reception.

  “Megan,” I said to our receptionist.

  “Yes, Mr. Castle.”

  “Who was the young lady that just left the building?” I asked calmly, although I felt anything but calm.

  “That’s Elizabeth Maynard, from Sinclair’s, our accountants. She is George Sinclair’s P.A. actually. She was just dropping off some papers for Cole to look over before his meeting with Mr. Sinclair next week.”

  When I didn’t respond, Megan enquired, “Are you okay, Mr. Castle? Is there a problem?” In my head, I was thinking, No, there’s no problem, unless you call me wishing I could kiss this Elizabeth girl all over before sliding my tongue into her wet core, doing all sorts of things to her for her sexual pleasure, and wanting to make those beautiful brown eyes wide with shock before making wild passionate love to her. I stunned myself by my use of the term ‘make love’, but for her, it just seemed fitting. She just looked too beautiful and innocent to be fucked. But to Megan, I just said, “No, no problem at all. I can take the paperwork to Cole for you; I’m heading up to him now anyway.”

  It must’ve been unusual for me to be so helpful, as Megan’s mouth was still agape as she handed the paperwork to me, and with that, I got into the lift and went up to Cole’s office.

  Cole, Smyth and I may be brothers, but we are as different as they come. I’m the eldest, and everyone calls me Mr. Castle unless told otherwise. Only close friends and family use my first name, and I make sure they use it properly—Lucas—I can’t abide being called Luke. Smyth is thirty-two, and Cole has just turned thirty. There’s six years between Smyth and I because Mum had a stillbirth when I was two, and it had taken her a good few years to get over the loss. As it turns out, it would have been the only little girl she would’ve ever had.

  When she did eventually have Smyth, she babied him so much, and to be honest, she still does. She had worried herself sick through the whole pregnancy, and had been so elated when she gave birth to her happy, healthy, baby boy. Although she never got over losing Caitlyn, she doted on her boys, and was back in the swing of things when Cole came along two years after Smyth. Her family was complete, and Dad had the snip just in case Mum changed her mind. They love us all so much, but I know that Mum would have loved a little girl to dress up in pink, plait her hair and do all that girly stuff with.

  In fact, when Smyth was young, he had long hair and with his pretty boy features, people often used to think he was a little girl. I often wonder if that was Mum’s secret plan. I’ve always had that Mediterranean look about me, from Dad’s side of the family. Smyth and Cole have the dark, tan, olive skin like me, but with blond hair.

  Smyth’s hair is still fairly long and layered. He runs his hands through it all the time and girls love it; they tell him that it gets this messed-up, sexy look about it, so now he does it even more. Cole’s is the same blond colour but shorter, really short around the back and sides, but messy on top. I suppose if you were going to define us—and many women do—I’d be the serious one, the one who’s the best at everything, the don. Smyth is the good boy; he’s every girl’s best friend, every guy wants to be like him and no one’s got a bad word to say about him. And then there’s Cole. Well, Cole’s the fiery, hot-headed one, the one that if we didn’t keep him on the straight and narrow, he’d be off in big trouble somewhere.

  I knocked for effect, as I immediately entered Cole’s office.

  “Hey, buddy,” he greeted me cheerfully.

  I rolled my eyes in annoyance at my little brother before starting, “Question, Cole. Our accountants, Sinclair’s?”

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “Brown-haired, brown-eyed beauty…George’s P.A….name, please?” I asked, just to make sure I had the right girl.

  “Oh, Lizzy, you mean?”

  “Lizzy?” I questioned, confused. “Elizabeth Maynard to you, Lucas. God, take the stick out of your arse sometimes, fella, and loosen up a bit.” Cole was smirking now, thinking he was amusing.

  “Her full name is Elizabeth Maynard,” he continued, obviously seeing the pissed look on my face.

  “Anyway,” I said, not amused, “she left these papers for you at reception. You needed them, apparently, before your meeting next week.” I turned to leave Cole’s office.

  “Lucas, you’ve still got the paperwork in your hand,” Cole said smiling.

  I stopped and turned my head to him.

  “That’s because you won’t be attending the meeting; I will.” And with that, I walked out. That wiped the smile off of his face, cocky little bastard, I think, grinning to myself.

  The next week, I stood outside Sinclair’s, ready for my first meeting there. It’s been a strange week; firstly, because Cole was pissed that I had taken one of his jobs—although he was pacified when I explained I just wanted the meetings, and anything I got from those meetings was all his. I did have to quell his confusion as to why, so I told him I needed to see Elizabeth.

  “Hey, brother,” Cole warned me, “please do not go in with that bull-in-a-china-shop attitude of yours, because Lizzy really isn’t that kind of girl. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you won’t get anywhere with that chick. I think she’s got some serious issues, that one, so don’t go in thinking she’ll be falling at your feet like all the rest of the female population.”

  The other strange thing about that week was the fact that I couldn’t get this girl out of my mind for barely a second, and that was not like me at all. So there I was, standing outside her building, and the laughable thing about it was—I…Lucas Castle…was truly shitting myself. And with that thought, I walked in trying to ignore the racing heart, sweaty palms and dry mouth that I’d suddenly acquired.

  I announced my arrival to the young girl at reception. She batted her eyelashes at me so much that I thought she might take off at any minute. She printed out my visitor’s pass, asked me to take a seat and told me I’d be collected imminently. I nodded at her, and walked over to the seating area.

  I didn’t sit down though; oh no, I was way too nervous. What is wrong with me? This is ridiculous, I thought as I started to pace. Until…Ding! went the lift, and I looked up. Three Japanese businessmen walked out, then an older gent, and the doors shut. I exhaled the breath that I didn’t realise I was holding. Ding! The next lift arrived, then Wallop! It felt like a gut-slug as I saw her step out of it. I let her walk all the way over to me, even though I knew who she was and could go to meet her, but I needed time, time to take her all in. Wow, she looked even better than I remembered—black pencil skirt, tan legs, black heels, beige silk blouse, and her hair was all up in a loose bun thing, but with tiny little tendrils that had clearly fallen down around that beautiful face of hers. She was even prettier than I thought before.

  I thought about her naked except for her shoes, and slowly pulling the clips out of her bun so her hair would cascade down over the swell of her breasts. I bet she’s got perfect breasts. I averted my thoughts as I felt a twitch in my trousers. God, that’s all I’d need, I thought as I realised Elizabeth was now standing in front of me.

  She held out her hand, and I heard her voice of pure treacle say, “Pleased to m
eet you, Mr. Castle.” I took her petite hand she’d offered to me, and it felt so small and delicate in my huge hand. I shook it gently, and as I released it, I fell into step with her as we made our way to the lift. I said nothing of our first meeting, when she collided into me, as I’m sure she wouldn’t even remember and I don’t want to make myself look like a complete prat.

  As the lift doors closed, I could feel the close proximity of our bodies, and although we made polite conversation, I could feel the pull between us. Surely, it’s not just me; she must be able to feel it too. She looks totally unfazed, so maybe not. As I smiled and nodded along, I suddenly envisaged pushing her against the mirrored lift wall, holding her arms up above her head whilst my lips assaulted hers. I moaned, which brought me out of my daydream. Oh, dear…please, God. I did not just moan out loud. Oh, how embarrassing. I was a thirty-eight-year-old man acting like a horny teenager.

  We continued our easy conversation, and then I was off to have my meeting with George. When I left, she wasn’t there, and I felt bereft to not see her. Sorry, but these cannot be natural feelings surely.

  I continued to take Cole’s place for the meetings, and after a while, when she warmed up to me, I began to look forward to our banter and friendly flirting. For the next couple of months, we continued this ritual every meeting and built up a friendship, and hopefully some sort of trust. On the day I finally plucked up the courage to ask Elizabeth out to dinner, I’d decided I needed to spend more time with this woman than the odd moments we currently shared. Elizabeth had become a bit of an obsession for me, and I had even taken to driving by her office just on the off-chance I might see her. I obviously realise this is not healthy, so I thought before I turned into a full-on stalker, I had better do something about it.

  I was pretty convinced she would turn me down, but I had to ask anyway. It was just dinner, so hopefully she would agree. All these feelings were new to me; I never worried about getting turned down by a woman, because quite frankly, I never got turned down…ever.