by Lee, Corri
I laughed to myself and recalled my mother’s undying fixation with Paul Young. “Well it’s certainly not wherever I lay my hat, as it may well still be dangling from Cole Fiore’s crotch.”
Nathaniel’s brow furrowed critically, as though he was unimpressed by my making light of the situation. “Yes, well the less said about that the better.” He waved a hand to dismiss the matter and nodded towards a building on my side of the road that we’d just stopped in front of. “This is home, Cecelia.”
His loft was the same size as Cole’s but looked bigger for the aura of power it held. A far cry from the uber-male and ultra-modern bachelor pads I’d come to expect of men with overly inflated egos, Nathaniel’s home was a perfect reflection of his deeply romantic office. Immediately to the left of the front door were three claw footed Chesterfield couches arranged around a grand marble fireplace that sat beneath a large bronze framed mirror, which replicated the image of the entire open plan lounge and created the illusion of a much larger space.
The walls to either side of the fireplace were stacked with fully stocked oak bookcases that each had the top shelf reserved for photographs. Seeing him as a teenager was a revelation- his hair swept down over his eyes, something I imagine must have pained his parents, and he donned all manner of baggy band merchandise t-shirts. He’d been grungy. We would have gotten on like a house on fire.
He headed right from the door while I took it upon myself to run my fingers down the spines of the classic novels stocking the bookcases. “Have you eaten since last night?” he asked me, while I cautiously removed an As You Like It first edition from a shelf. I shook my head in reply and gently opened the book to stick my nose between the pages and inhale the smell of antique and iconic literature. Embarrassed, I laughed at myself and put the tome back in its place before stepping over the sporadically placed woven rugs to meet him in the kitchen.
His hands gripped the black granite worktop behind him and he rocked slightly on his heels as I approached, pausing for a moment to drink me in before turning to the fridge with a weak smile. “I’ll cook.” Did I focus on the fact that he cooked his own meals or the fact that I was still standing in nothing but a basque and he had made no attempt to ravish me?
“I’m not hungry.”
“Not caring.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’m going to make you something to eat, and then I’m going to take you to bed.” He quickly glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at the lazy smirk over my features. “For sleep, Cecelia. You’ve been breaking the rules and working too hard.” I opened my mouth to protest but he immediately cut me off. “You’ll rest tonight without argument, or I’ll put you back in the Langham for a week.”
“That’s not fair.” I hated being threatened with expense and denied my right to be bitten from my underwear.
“Get used to it.” My jaw dropped. “I’ll lose you to terminal illness, old age or natural disaster, Cecelia, but I won’t lose you to negligence- neither mine nor your own.”
Sensing my defeat, and a second battle lost, I slowly retreated to one of the Chesterfield’s and watched him slyly as he prepared my food. It wasn’t like the last time I’d watched a man cook- his movements weren’t a seduction. They were precise and methodical, like cooking was some sort of complex algorithm that required utter concentration and care. He looked intellectually foreboding as he chopped away purposefully, every move calculated and well planned, and that razor sharp brain was another reason to love him.
Plus he looked damn fine in a suit.
I dozed while he cooked, too afraid to fall asleep properly and end up back in Hell. I didn’t know how many more times I could see him shredded open and empty before it would break me completely. I swatted away an imaginary buzz that hovered around my head and heaved myself up to my feet to join him in the kitchen again.
Slumping down against the cool surface of a small island that stood independently from the preparation area, I spread my arms out in front of me and rested my face on the granite, sighing thoughtfully. “Why did you bring me here, Nate?”
“Back to Nate now?” I razzed at him and pulled myself straight as he placed a plate of homemade French bread pizza in front of me and paced around the island to position himself behind me.
It was such a ‘normal’ meal and I couldn’t hold back the smile it caused. “Do you want me to eat this with a knife and fork?”
His hands crept up to my shoulders and began to knead at the tight muscles around my spine. “Eat it with your feet if you have to- as long as you eat it.” He didn’t speak again until I picked up the first slice and bit into it, not realising until that point just how hungry I was. His hands parted from my skin and left me feeling deprived of his touch- I objected with a grunt but he just shook his head with a soft laugh and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge. “I brought you here because this is home.”
I raised my hand to my mouth. “This is your home, I have a lovely little crapshack of my own.” He cracked the seal on one of the bottles and handed it to me, keeping a grip on it as I pulled it towards me so he was pulled forward too. His eyes glistened with something reminiscent of grievance, like he was mourning the loss of ‘us’ as much as I was. Taken aback, I released the water and turned back to my meal, seeking an escape from that unexpected sadness. “The uncharacteristic absence of satire in this room is unnerving, Nathaniel. Stop looking at me like I’m in a casket.”
“I’m no-…” He sighed and sagged against the island, one leg stretched out behind me as though it was prepared to sabotage any attempt I made of escape. “Why did you go to him, Cecelia?”
I rubbed at my forehead in frustration, unwilling to admit that I’d been stubborn and defiant. “I made a mistake. I was coming to you but something drove me to change my mind.”
“But that nightmare-…”
“I didn’t have that nightmare until after-… After. I screwed up, Nathaniel, and I’ll pay for that for the rest of my life.” When he looked at me, I knew that he understood that I felt an obligation to stand by my commitment, no matter how dishonest and misguided it may have been. “I said too much to just change my mind,” I clarified, “I should have said it all to you but the fear of losing myself over-rode common sense. You have no idea how much that-…” my voice cracked and my eyes welled, “… how much I hate it.”
“So let’s leave.” He shrugged his shoulders at me and spun me around to hold me by the waist. “He can’t have you if you’re not here. I have another publishing house in Arizona, I can work from there.” I half laughed and leaned my forehead against his. I deeply admired his tenacity and hopeless attachment to romance. Sailing off into the sunset was a great way to end a film or a book, but wasn’t practical in real life.
“I can’t leave Bethany. Her family is back in Shropshire and her life is here.”
“We’ll take her with us. And her family. Anything to keep you with me.” I wilted against him and pushed myself away by his shoulders, shaking my head in defeat and swiping up another slice of pizza.
I covered my mouth again and rolled my eyes in good humour. “Bloody hell, Alexander, if you’re that desperate to steal me, let’s just hot-foot it to Vegas and elope.” He gave me the same look that I gave him when I put serious consideration into a ludicrous concept and I instantly understood why he always looked so panicked. “My god, I was joking! But at least I know where you stand on the subject of impulse purchases, jeez.”
“Why are you being so obtuse?” His hands thrust into his hair, and for the first time since our argument on the restaurant mezzanine, I saw how much frustration I caused him. “Why are you still fighting me when you know you can’t win this war?” He grabbed my free hand and pulled me close, gripping me so tightly that my breath caught. “I won’t just walk away like Aiden did because I know that you want me in your life. If you really wanted me gone, you’d have told Fiore how you spent yesterday afternoon screaming my name.” His eyes grew heavy, burd
ened with all the love he felt that I battled against so relentlessly. “Stop fighting me, Cecelia. I can’t stand it.”
So I did. I gave up on my efforts to elude the only man that I couldn’t force away when he fell in love with me. He could take me anywhere in the world and tear me apart, leaving my disembodied remains in every corner of the planet if he wanted to. Life would be less painful with him that it would be without him and, one way or another, I would lose him one day. But I’d seek to postpone the inevitable for as long as possible.
“Nathaniel,” I sighed, leaning my head against his chest and relishing the steady thrum of his heart, “rest with me. I’m so tired.”
“I want you to see something first.” His face lit up with sudden excitement and he pulled me towards the master bedroom, leaving me at the doorway to raise the blinds.
The bedroom was enormous and housed little more than one queen sized four poster bed, two nightstands and an excessively large television hung to the wall. One door led to an en-suite bathroom, and the other to a walk in wardrobe that housed an impressive collection of pristine suits and carefully hung ties.
The wall that he stood against comprised only of floor to ceiling windows that led out to a long wooden decked balcony. “I had this loft converted,” he explained, “so this view could be abused.”
The blinds rose to reveal a spectacular panoramic scene of the Thames and the London Eye reflected on its surface. The generously dotted lights of the city crowded behind the structure, begging to be as magnificent as the glowing wheel that stood so proudly against the blackened blue haze of almost-midnight sky.
Most awe-inspiring of all was the sight of that wonderful man watching me in eager anticipation of my reaction- his lean and bold frame imposed on the landscape behind him, creating something far more beautiful than the miracle of natural and modern construction that stood behind him.
“Well?”
I shook my head in quiet disbelief. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe I’ll sleep with that outside.”
“You will,” he strolled towards me and swept me up in his arms effortlessly, “and you’ll wake up to it. Every day if you want to, because this is home.”
“Home” I repeated, sealing the sentiment with a nod.
It never occurred to me for a single moment that it might be the last time I saw that view.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I awoke to the sound of gentle snoring and the weight of an arm tightly wrapped around my waist. We had fallen asleep this way, and slumber had been so peaceful for both of us that neither had moved a muscle all night. Nathaniel lay still next to me, head turned towards me and mouth curved up just slightly at the corners, like he was in the throes of a pleasant dream or possibly even just that happy. His sleep tousled hair just brushed his ears and fell across his face slightly. It was just at the point of being too long but I loved the softness that it gave his face- a face that was so beautifully placid and youthful. Well, he was just twenty-three.
I turned my head slowly to admire the sight of the London Eye in the early morning light, just slightly obscured by a fine fog. The blinds had been left open at my request so I could commit the view to memory and carry it around with me for the rest of the day. But something nagged- a little voice in the back of my mind that told me that nothing could seem this perfect without a major drawback looming in the shadows.
That voice was deftly drowned out by the sound of Nathaniel waking behind me and setting a trail of kisses across the exposed skin of my neck and shoulders.
“Marry me” he whispered with no preamble, weaving his legs between mine as anchorage to pull me on top of him, “so I know you’ll be here like this every morning.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I know the regional dialect in which ‘marry me’ means ‘good morning’.”
“Ugh!” He growled at me and pushed me back onto the mattress, securing my wrists by the sides of my head and towering over me with a dark look of desire rippling in the white flecks of his irises. “Will you ever stop being so sardonic?”
I grinned at him and shook my head briskly, pushing my body against his suggestively. “Never. What are you doing to do abo-… ah, Jesus!” My fists balled as he pushed into me and filled me with the completeness I could only feel when I had him in my life, permanently and irrevocably. How does one get out of a clause such as that?
He bit his lip to stifle a laugh as he withdrew and stole my buzz. “You were saying?”
“You’re going to toy with me to adjust my behavio-, oh god!” The tease came again and I retaliated by bucking him off.
“Oh, well then. If you’re not interested in negotiations.” He shrugged haplessly and threw back the sheets, making to leave the comfort of the bed and his only too welcome place between my thighs.
I grabbed his hand and whined pathetically. “No, come back! I’ll behave!” He smirked smugly and pulled me up into his lap, nipping at my chin when I scowled at him for being so damned irresistible.
“Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t recognise him from those eyes, he looks so different now.” My reflection shook it’s head with me in disbelief that anyone couldn’t recognise Nathaniel in less than a second. “He was just some bookwormy little emo anti-socialite with great work ethic.”
“So he was me with a penis.”
“Yeah, you would have gotten on well. He was at some of the same parties as us, I should have introduced you.” I stared back at my reflection, which seemed to mutter ‘for fucks sake’ and stroll off into the hallway leaving me to drive blind. I spat my mouthful of toothpaste into the previously unused basin of the twin sink fixtures and wiped my lips on the back of my hand.
I was still struggling to get my head around the fact that Nathaniel had a twin sink at all, let alone the fact that he’d kept the spare constantly stocked with hygienic essentials for a woman he hadn’t met. Had his abstinence not of been so publicly noted, I might have worried how many new toothbrushes this bathroom had seen. He told me he’d spent his time ‘living in hope’. I told him that he was living in Misery. He didn’t disagree.
“Well thanks very much for keeping me and my future husband separate and forcing me to spend six years hanging around for him, Aiden.”
“Well, Princess, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet Pri- hang on, ‘future husband’?” Aiden exhaled and blew a raspberry, “well that would really blow my chances of another shot at you, wouldn’t it?”
I murmured in agreement and dragged a comb through my sex tangled hair. I had wanted to be ravished and that was exactly what I’d gotten. I wasn’t entirely sure that my basque wasn’t beyond the point of repair after being savaged. Be careful what you wish for. “If I don’t agree to it voluntarily, I fear he may fuck me into it.”
“Can I film that?”
“Pervert!” I laughed and pulled the switch for the bathroom light, pacing back into the bedroom to press my nose against the glass of the windows and stare out longingly across the landscape. “You would not believe the view from this place, Ade. I’ll send you pictures, you’ll write obnoxious poems about it.”
“Promise?” I heard the car door slam behind him and the engine start before he spoke again. “I slept rough with Isaac in Cherry Vine, last night. I’m amazed I’m still gifted with sight.”
“Are you alright to drive?”
“No, but when did that ever stop me?” He was still as foolish and reckless as ever. I was glad to be around people who never changed- I needed that kind of constancy in my life. “Cole was pretty humiliated, by the way. You should have heard him whining to his mate.”
“Did he cry?”
“Nearly.”
“Awesome.” I snickered and snuck into Nathaniel’s walk in wardrobe to retrieve my suit, which he’d very kindly hung up for me before we’d gone to sleep. “I’ll talk to you later, Ade, I’m going to go and make my bitch breakfast.”
“He’s using sex to coerce Miss Noncommittal into marriage and he’s
the bitch?”
“Shut up. Wait, Aiden!”
“Yo.” I slumped down onto the edge of the bed and scratched my chin, wondering whether it was wise to verbalise my thoughts. “Spit it out, Cici.”
“Why did you let him take me home?”
The silence extended between us for a while but then I sensed Aiden’s smile before I heard it. “Because he’s ‘the one’.”
“Thank you for the cliché, I needed that.”
The lounge was devoid of Nathaniel when I walked through, dressed to the nines in my suit but looking slightly less maleficent for the lack of trilby. I pursed my lips as I scoured the fridge and set my mind back to the beastly fry ups the twins had prepared the morning after my Wonderland saga. That was a feast I could surely recreate from the vastly stocked ingredients in front of me. Somebody clearly fancied himself a chef.
My teeth caught my tongue as I located his CD collection and helped myself to the Lolita official soundtrack. There was an undeniable spring in my step as I jigged to the satirical compilation, leaving drawers open as I moved around foreign territory trying to locate crockery and whisks.
The kitchen was a delight to work in. The space was far less restrictive than my tiny kitchenette in the townhouse and the appliances were top range. With this kind of equipment, I dared to believe that I might be able to cook as well as Bethany.
I squealed loudly when I spun around mid-lyric in T’aint What You Do and found Nathaniel standing in the front doorway, dressed in loose jeans and a black slogan t-shirt, smirking at me with his phone held to his ear and car keys in his other hand. He was twice as delectable in casual attire, so much so that I immediately bit my lip and flared my eyes at him.
“No, Lobke, you’ll have to cancel it but I want to see the cover artwork tomorrow morning. I’m quite sure I don’t need a doctor. Order in lunch for two please. You bloody wish- of course it’s for Cecelia. Lobk-Lo… L-… Lobke, shut up, I have to deal with something in my kitchen. Yes, it’s urgent.”