by I. A. Dice
“Did he? I wish he would quit fucking them in the office.”
Anthony took an empty cup and stood up. “At least he waited till the end of the day this time.” He looked at me, a smile on his young face. “Can I get you another coffee, Nadia?”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “No, thank you. I’ll get going, I have somewhere to be.”
Nick’s hand on my shoulder made me shudder. I couldn’t focus on anything other than Thomas and Marie. His hands on her hips; her lips on his neck; his dark eyes watching her come beneath him.
“Are you okay? You’re pale, sis. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine, but I need to go, James is waiting.”
He wasn’t, but I had to run before I burst into tears. I kissed Nick’s cheek and rushed down the corridor, my eyes watering more with every step closer to the door as if it represented the end of casual sex.
***
I never felt like an artist, but since early days I loved the smell of pastels on my hands, the vivid colours and images that spilled from my imagination and filled a blank canvas with a part of my soul.
As a child, I used to fill notebooks with scribbles, and got quite good at drawing before I was ten. For my twelfth birthday, Dad bought me a set of acrylic paints, professional brushes and canvases, and the minute the brush touched the canvas, I felt at home. Years later, painting was still the main thing that helped me clear my thoughts.
But not this time.
I stood in front of the canvas for two hours, hoping to forget about Thomas and the blondes. Unsuccessfully. My mind was filled with the images of Thomas worshiping the blondes in his bed, car and on his desk. The painting looked like I bled on it.
I threw the brush aside, made a hole in the canvas with my fist and went downstairs to turn off the phone. Thomas rang every few minutes, but I wasn’t ready to talk. Regret turned to anger, and I was just mad now. Mad at him for messing with my feelings; mad at myself for the feelings and mad for agreeing to the stupid no-strings-attached deal in the first place.
Drama queen much?
Hell yes. Aren’t we all?
Apart from Anthony’s words, there was no hard evidence to prove Thomas slept with Marie, but it didn’t stop me from feeling cheated. And the worst part was that I only had myself to blame, and now I had to find the safest way out of the situation.
The phone rang again, but this time it wasn’t Thomas. It was Amelia.
“Hey,” I said surprised she decided to end the silent treatment.
She wasn’t the kind to apologise first or admit to being wrong.
“Look at that! Your phone works,” she mocked, unaware it fueled the fire. “In that case, can I find out why you’re not picking up from Thomas?” Irony covered her words like honey and the countdown on the bomb that I was ticked faster. “He just called, asking me to check on you. Trouble in paradise?”
I pulled a bottle of white wine and one glass from the cupboard. I couldn’t be more pathetic if I tried.
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“And you can’t tell him that? You’re adults, damn it, so act like it.” She sighed and her attitude changed. “He’s worried, Nadia.” Cue in the patronising tone. “He’s worried. I have never heard him like that. He’s going crazy just because you missed his call! You won’t convince me it’s just sex. Why are you ignoring him? What did he do?”
I shrugged, aware she couldn’t see me. “Nothing. At least nothing I should be mad about.” I collapsed on the couch and hung my head low. “I saw Marie today, and then heard Nick and Anthony talking. Looks like Thomas is sleeping with her.” A jab of anger jolted me upright. “I’m so pissed off! He didn’t promise me anything. It was supposed to be just sex, and it was so why do I feel cheated?!”
“I told you he’s not a monogamist, honey.”
She just had to get the “I told you so” out of her system or else she would get ill. At least she tried to conceal the condescending tone. It didn’t work, but I gave her a few brownie points for trying.
“I know. I remember.” I filled the glass to the brim, then shoved half of its contents at the back of my throat as if it were vodka. “I thought we were exclusive. I know I was.”
I fell back and hugged a pillow, staring at the Puppeteer piece on the wall. Once again I felt like I gave up on Adrian too soon.
“Ladies night!” Mel exclaimed. “You need a girl’s night out. I can’t today, but we’ll go to Vertigo tomorrow. You can drown the sorrows in tequila.”
A small laugh was my first answer. A few shots wouldn’t help me forget that Thomas was my antidote. I wasn’t even sure if I was more upset about losing him or the peace he offered. The latter was more probable.
Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to call it quits. He was a playboy but he still deserved more than someone as wounded as me. It was cruel to keep him close, expecting that he could piece me together when half of the elements were missing.
CHAPTER 21
NADIA
Thanks, but no thanks
Nick parked the Range Rover outside of Vertigo, and Amelia jumped out of the car, grinning as if it were Christmas Day.
“We’ll get a taxi back.” She blew him a kiss.
“No, you won’t. Call me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up. And take care, okay?”
We nodded and waved, then closed the door, urging him to go home and enjoy a few hours of peace and quiet. He deserved an evening without Mel more than anyone.
We entered the fancy cocktail bar, greeted by an overdressed bouncer. He looked ready for an Oscars ceremony. Jazz music filled the spacious room, creating a relaxed background noise for quiet conversations. Mel blended with the crowd in a fashionable emerald green dress and too much jewellery. Nick had spoiled her rotten over the past two years, and she owned enough bling-bling to rival a small jewellery shop. I settled for a black, tailored, sweetheart neck jumpsuit for a change. I liked skirts and dresses, but sometimes I didn’t want to watch the way I sit.
Brown leather sofas surrounded small tables and framed pictures of London by night hung on the walls covered in red wallpaper. A couple of pool tables and dart boards were at the back; a long bar was to the left.
“A bottle of tequila, please.” I rested my elbows on the counter and pulled a bank card from my clutch bag.
The bartender sized up Amelia and me, doubting we could manage a bottle by ourselves. Drinking wasn’t the problem; it was getting up afterward that posed a challenge.
Mel took the tray with shot glasses and tequila and left me to grab the salt and a bowl full of lemon slices. We sat on high chairs by the window, and Mel filled the silence with Nick’s opinion on the flowers and menu choices while I gathered my thoughts.
“I’m beyond confused, Mel,” I interrupted her monologue about pink orchids, focusing on a small scratch on the table, above the metal plaque with number seven. “I won’t tell you everything, but I’ll try to paint part of the picture so you can understand me better and give me some advice. Okay?”
She draped her red hair over one shoulder. “You know I’ll listen whenever you want to talk.”
I wanted to fill her in about everything but couldn’t find a reason that would justify breaking her heart a few weeks ahead of the wedding. She loved me, and knowing what Adrian did would affect her almost as much as it would affect my brother.
“There are a lot of things that came together to tip the scales, forcing me to leave Adrian. They say the fault is always on both sides, but not in this case. We fell apart because of him.” I massaged my temples chasing away the memories. “I wasn’t in a good place when I left London, but he helped me through the mourning. Now that I’m back I’m worse than when I left and it’s all Adrian’s fault.”
A bitter, sad chuckle left my lips. “I’m ashamed of not dealing with it better. I’m ashamed of the anxiety, the panic attacks and the fear that puts my life on hold. I’m taking steps in the right direction though. James sorted through m
y meds, and I’m no longer swallowing pills like candy. It’s a start.”
Mel listened with growing concern visible in her green eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip, fidgeting. “What meds?”
“Just diazepam and sleeping pills now.”
I pointed at the bottle of tequila, encouraging her to fill the shot glasses. She looked like she needed a few extra rounds to absorb the information.
“I have panic attacks; I can’t control my emotions … The list goes on, but I think you get what I mean.”
She nodded, her eyes wider than normal. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I would have helped you sooner! I don’t know how, but we’ll come up with something. You can’t deal with this alone.”
Another bitter chuckle left my lips, and I threw the disgusting liquor at the back of my throat.
“That’s the trouble—I’m not alone. I have Thomas. He’s the only person whose proximity doesn’t alarm me, whose touch I don’t mind.”
Mel drew her eyebrows together. “You’re bothered when someone touches you?”
Her reaction to the little information I shared proved that keeping the truth to myself was a good choice. It already hurt me to see the worry and pain in her eyes, and if she found out that Adrian used me as his punching bag for months, she would break down. She didn’t need that. I didn’t need that, not when I was getting back on track.
“It’s surreal, I know. When Thomas is with me, I’m not afraid. And if that’s not enough, after those few weeks with him I see a change even when he’s not around. I sleep and function better.”
Shame burned my cheeks. Admitting to helplessness wasn’t pleasant. There was a time in my life when I couldn’t understand why people were depressed. How was it possible that they couldn’t talk themselves out of sadness or couldn’t control their emotions?
Dad’s death and Adrian’s abuse taught me a vital lesson—a mind could become a prison, letting fear destroy a person from the inside out.
I nudged Mel who seemed lost in thought.
“It’s too much to process so quickly,” she uttered. “I don’t know where to start! I’m so damn sorry that you feel this way, and I want you to know that I’m here for you. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Mel couldn’t just wave a wand to make the negative emotions go away—even Thomas couldn’t. He could only dial down the screams in my head. It wasn’t a cure, but it was a powerful form of therapy nonetheless.
“I know. I’m sorry that I’m only telling you now and that it’s still not everything, but it’s difficult.”
Amelia sighed and squeezed my hand. “You told Nick he didn’t, but I need to ask again. Did Adrian cheat on you? You can tell me, babe.”
Another opportunity to take the easy way out went to hell, but this time I said “no” not because I hadn’t thought better of it, but because I had. Hiding behind lies would hurt them even more if the truth ever saw daylight. Many things could be said about Adrian but not that he was a cheater. He loved me. He loved me more than anything and would never touch another woman. It would be unfair to accuse him of something he didn’t do.
“Okay, I had to know. As for Thomas…” She toyed with the engagement ring. “He has been different since he met you. He tries to upkeep the carless image when he’s with Nick, but he’s not fooling anyone. Nick sees right through him but refuses to admit to himself that there’s something going on between you and Thomas.”
“It’s just sex, Mel.”
That was a blatant lie, but just like Nick, I wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone, not even myself.
She smirked, shaking her head. “Not to him. We talked for an hour yesterday. It’s the longest conversation I had with him to date. You got under his skin more than you think.”
“Not enough if he can’t give up the perfect blondes, and I’m not going to be one of many.”
Mel took her phone out to show me a text message from Thomas.
Remember to call me when you’re done.
“Why does he want you to call?” I asked as I searched for a big piece of lemon in the bowl.
“Because he wants to know you got home safe. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m pretty sure Thomas is a monogamist now. He has been since you came back from New York.” A grin stretched her lips making it hard not to smile. “Call him. I know you want to. He called me five times today to check on you. He’s worried and miserable.”
So was I. Instead of telling him we were over, I ignored his calls, afraid to push him away, afraid that I would never let him go, and afraid that fear would win every time. It wasn’t fair to Thomas.
Cheating was the one thing I wouldn’t forgive, but it was hard to talk about cheating when I had no evidence.
And can you even cheat on someone you’re just sleeping with?
“Did you tell him why I’m not answering his calls?”
Amelia turned pink. “I’m sorry. I snapped. No one can treat you like the third wheel!” She slammed her fists on the table and dropped them to her lap. “I shouted at him a little,” she added, her voice small.
“Shouted a little” in Mel’s dictionary translated to “screamed her head off, swearing and threatening to castrate him”. There weren’t many people worthy of Amelia’s protectiveness, but those who were got a bodyguard straight from hell. If she could, she would tear apart everyone who dared to say one foul word about the people she loved.
“Come on, call him. Please. Do it for me,” she whined.
“Change of sides again?”
She blushed harder. “For the last time now. I’ll be rooting for you two the way you rooted for me and Nick. I swear.”
We drank another shot, and I rested my forehead on the cool table. If it weren’t for the tequila, I would have spent a few more hours overanalysing, but José pushed my overthinking to the side.
“Get another bottle to go, call Nick and meet me outside.”
She saluted, gathered her things and walked away to the bar. Tequila whooshed in my head when I stood. I didn’t feel drunk, but my lack of coordination proved otherwise.
I stopped around the corner and rested against the wall, a cigarette in-between my lips.
A phone call to Thomas while tequila spoke for me wasn’t the best idea, but a decision once made shouldn’t be questioned. I pressed the phone to my ear and exhaled a cloud of grey smoke.
“Hey sweetie, why are you here alone?” A tall blond guy in rimless glasses appeared in front of me. “I’m Max. Pretty girls like you aren’t safe here. You could get hurt.”
“Are you hitting on me?” José spoke through me fearless and arrogant. Stupid, too. His words didn’t hint he was into me. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“What are you talking about?” Thomas said to my ear.
Max took my hand. “You had too much to drink, didn’t you? You shouldn’t be alone.”
I snatched my hand free and anxiety arrived acting better than smelling salts. “Don’t touch me.”
“Nadia, what’s wrong, baby? Who’s there?” Thomas asked.
I turned on my heel, ready to leave, but I stepped on a pebble, twisted my ankle and fell face first on the pavement.
So very gracious.
The phone slipped from my hand and bounced off the curb, landing on the road, and the screen turned black.
“No need to do that.” Max took my arm to help me up, then gathered my phone off the street and handed it back. “I’m genuinely just trying to look out for you. You’re very pretty, and a bit drunk, and we both know this city is full of idiots.” He bent down and pressed his fingers to my ankle. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“It doesn’t.” I moved my leg back. “Who are you?”
He smiled, showing off a row of immaculate, white teeth. A blue t-shirt hugged his back, and an expensive-looking watch was on his wrist.
“I’m Max. And you are …?”
“Nadia!” Amelia screamed, rounding the corner with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a phone to h
er ear. “Oh my God,” she panted, zeroing in on the guy beside me. “Oh my God!”
She tucked the bottle in her bag and shoved her phone in there too, disconnecting the call and gawking at Max.
“Nadia,” Max repeated, testing the word. “It’s French, isn’t it?”
“You’re …” Mel stuttered, her eyes shining. “You’re Max Gawn!”
He smirked under his nose, then turned his attention to an exhilarated Amelia. “Yes I am. And who are you?”
“I’m your biggest fan! Amelia Roberts, soon to be Grimwald.”
I stifled a laugh. She was one of a kind.
I studied Max’s face—he must have been famous—but for the life of me, I had no idea who he was. An actor? A singer? A news presenter? You would think Mel would be used to famous people by now. She was surrounded by them daily.
“I saw all your movies! You’re amazing!” she continued.
An actor. Okay.
Mel rummaged through her bag and fished out a notepad and a pen. “Can I please have an autograph?”
Max chuckled again. “Sure. You must be the first person in forever who hadn’t asked for a picture.”
She face-palmed herself, her cheeks pink. “Picture, or it didn’t happen,” she muttered to herself. “Can I have a picture too?”
Max signed a blank page in the notepad, then wrapped his arm around my swooning friend, and let her take more selfies than necessary. She stepped away, flushed and bothered.
Nick wouldn’t approve.
“What a coincidence! I mean, I know you live here, but this is crazy!”
The sound of a large engine halted their conversation. A black Mercedes rounded the corner and tyres squealed when it stopped by the curb right in front of us. Scorpio shot out from the driver’s seat, leaving the door open and engine running. His eyes roamed over my body as if looking for injuries.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“What do you think? I’m making sure Thomas doesn’t fucking sprint back here. What the hell happened? He’s losing his shit. Why aren’t you picking up from him?” he asked Mel.