Darkest Fears Trilogy: Fallen For Him / Freed By Him / Forever With Him

Home > Other > Darkest Fears Trilogy: Fallen For Him / Freed By Him / Forever With Him > Page 141
Darkest Fears Trilogy: Fallen For Him / Freed By Him / Forever With Him Page 141

by Clair Delaney


  “Coral!” Tristan whips me up into his arms, takes me under the shelter of the canopy and sits me down on one of the sofa’s. “What is it baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, pulling his shades off.

  “I...” I stare blankly at him, still in shock.

  “Coral?” Tristan prompts.

  I start to laugh, hysterically. I fall back onto the sofa, clutching my belly.

  Tristan instantly relaxes, and laughs along with me. “What are you laughing about?” He asks, in-between chuckles, running his hand up and down my hip.

  When I finally manage to compose myself, I sit up and take his beautiful face in my hands.

  “Good morning Mr Freeman, my husband, my love.” I lean forward and kiss his full soft lips.

  “Good morning to you too,” he says, reaching up and softly stroking my cheek. “Want to tell me why you almost gave me heart failure? He adds sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry baby,” I say falling into his arms, embracing him tightly.

  “It’s ok, I’m just glad you’re alright, but I would appreciate an explanation?” He says, softly stroking my back.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” I say, pulling back and grinning widely at him. Then I tell Tristan all about the dream...

  Now he’s the one that looks like he’s seen a ghost. “No wonder you looked like you did,” he says, shaking his head in surprise.

  “I know, spooky, right?” I say.

  “Very spooky,” he says, his eyes wide, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s a little freaked out.

  I look up again and check out the yacht and the cove. “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Cornwall.” Tristan beams from ear to ear, his dimples on full wattage. “That’s Polzeath beach,” he adds, pointing inland.

  “Wow! It’s beautiful,” I say, still feeling strangely odd about the premonition.

  “Still freaked out?” Tristan asks.

  “Yeah...” I laugh, shaking my head slightly – I still can't believe it was going to come true!

  “Me too!” He laughs. “Hungry?” He adds.

  “Yes!” I beam, feeling ravenous. God knows what time we actually fell asleep this morning? Tristan and his sexing! Then again, I initiated it twice, so can't really blame him.

  “Sore?” Tristan chuckles as we walk hand in hand over to the breakfast table.

  “Dirty boy!” I chide playfully. “And yes, I am. No more sex for at least a couple of days,” I tease.

  Tristan pouts, making me giggle aloud.

  “Oh I do love it when you giggle Mrs Freeman.” He leans forward, takes my face in his hands and kisses me so softly I have to fight back the tears...

  IF ALL NEWLY MARRIED COUPLES HAVE THIS MUCH SEX, I’m surprised they get anything done! The most blissful (with one very sad moment) month of my life has passed by in a whir of activities. Gladys and Malcolm’s wedding, Joyce’s very, very tearful goodbye, Rob and Carlos flying to China and returning with Xiao-Mei (pronounced Shao-Mei) the cutest little baby girl I have ever seen. Cookery classes, therapy with George, Hypnotherapy with Cindy, and instead of training with Will (which I’m still not allowed to do yet, but I am swimming again) I’ve been having Physiotherapy.

  I just love my Physiotherapist’s. His name is Raj and he’s a very dedicated sikh, who wears a large turban and has a wicked strong Indian accent. He’s one of the nicest, friendliest people I have ever met, and he’s really funny too, so when he’s doing his thing with my shoulder, and I’m in pain, he makes some random joke that just has me laughing so hard that my belly hurts.

  In-fact, he and his wife Amarjeet have been over for dinner a couple of times, sampling my cooking. They have also returned the offer and had Tristan and I dine with them – they can cook a mean curry. It took a lot of persuading to get Raj to part with the family recipe, but eventually he did.

  Other news is that I no longer want to move to Cornwall – Tristan was right, again! I just don't think I could give up Brighton, my family or my friends. I’d miss them all too much, besides, now I’m the owner of a luxury motor yacht we can travel down there as much as we want – I still haven’t got over the shock.

  Plus, Tristan and I are now godparents to little Mei, so what good would we be if we were never around, besides it’s good practice – At least we get to give her back!

  Debs and Scott are still arguing about Spain, not sure what decision they’ll come to, I just hope they keep their shit together, for Lily’s sake.

  I still haven’t taken the sailing lessons yet, not healed enough for that. Tristan say’s next spring or summer, I’m very excited about it...

  I look up at my desktop. I am at Chester House, and I’m sat at my desk scrolling through agencies for work. Even though I have loved seeing Tristan so much, I need my independence, and I think it’s just as healthy to have time apart as it is to have quality time together – so I need a different job!

  But as I sit, in all honesty, getting bored with the agencies offerings, I can't help thinking back to last Friday. Just before Rob and Carlos flew to China, we all went out dancing. Debs and Scott joined us, as well as Joe, Claire and Karen (my new girlfriends) and we all had a blast. Rob was equally as impressed with Tristan’s dance moves.

  Hmm, Tristan’s dance moves, and I drift off into another daydream...

  Tristan and I are in the club, practically having sex on the dance floor as we grind our bodies against one another in a very slow sexy tempo as Justin Timberlake sings Mirrors – Such a top tune! Debs, Rob and Joe have their mouths gaping open as we continue to bump and grind against each other – “Coral?” I look up, feeling quiet startled.

  Tristan is stood outside his office door, his hands on his hips – He doesn’t look very happy.

  “I’ve been calling you?” He says, his head cocked to the side.

  “You have?” I squeak. Damn he looks hot today. He’s in his gun metal grey suit, white shirt, dark blue tie – I’m swooning!

  He shakes his head and laughs at me, then walks over to me. Unfortunately, in my mesmerised state, I haven’t switched programmes. So the first thing Tristan notices as he steps behind me is the webpage with the job agency splattered all over it – Uh-oh!

  “Job agency eh?” He says. I bite my bottom lip – Oops!

  Caught at work doing something I shouldn’t be doing! He frowns down at me, his one hand on his hip, the other hand rubbing his chin – He’s contemplating something, but I’m not sure what it is? I immediately picture the sexy time we had last night and start to get breathless.

  I thought being blindfolded was sexy enough, but being tied up, teased until you can't take anymore then having hot, make your legs shake sexy sex, with a few sexy spankings in-between, is enough to make any girl drool over her man.

  Maybe he’s considering doing that, a sexy punishment for being caught slacking on the job? My sex starts throbbing, my heart relocating to my throat – I can hardly breathe. In an effort to control myself, I press my thighs together, trying to stop the throbbing, and take several, deep calming breaths.

  “Oh fuck it!” He finally says, reaching down and clasping my hand in his. In the next breathe, he has pulled me to my feet and we are marching down the hallway, towards reception. I am struggling to keep up in my heels and tight pencil skirt.

  “Tristan, what are you doing?” I protest.

  “I want to show you something,” he says, I am almost running as I try to keep up with his long strides.

  “Joe. Take messages.” Tristan orders as we march past reception. I give her a brief wave and a I-don't-know-what’s-going-on look.

  Tristan pushes the glass door open for me. “After you wife,” he says, winking at me as I duck past him and out into the cloudy morning.

  “Tristan, what’s going on?” I question as he firmly clasps my hand in his and we continue walking, my heels clicking loudly against the pavement.

  He doesn’t answer me. I want to huff at him, but he seems slightly bemused by what he’s doin
g. It’s as though there’s an internal battle raging. We make a right turn, taking us deeper into the block of offices, then a left, and finally he comes to an abrupt stop.

  We’re only five minutes from the office, in the business sector. Then, standing behind me, he places his hands on my shoulders and turns me around so I’m facing a sandwich shop called Arnie’s Sarnie’s. Is he trying to tell me he’s hungry?

  “Tristan, why are’ – “First impression, what do you think?” He asks.

  “What?” I twist my head around to look up at him.

  “Coral, just go with me on this – please?” He begs, his eyes dancing with mirth.

  I shrug, wondering what he’s up to, but decide to play along, I turn back around and stare up at the shop.

  “It’s too dark,” I say. I have been to this sandwich shop several times – they do nice sandwiches –it’s small and quaint, but it seriously needs a lick of paint. The shop sign is painted in black, as is the door, and the interior makes you feel like you’ve just walked onto a navy ship; it’s that military grey colour.

  “What else?” Tristan asks, his lips inches from my ear, his breath on my cheek. I swoon for a moment, my legs slightly trembling, I want to pounce on him – How does my husband still do this to me? Concentrate Coral!

  I take a deep, calming breath. “Um...well they have no board outside, so there’s nothing to entice people in.”

  “Very good. What else?”

  “They have the room, so why haven’t they got two or three tables and chairs outside too?”

  “Keep going,” Tristan prompts.

  “They could have a canopy fitted with the shop’s logo on it. At least then, the people sitting outside won’t get blasted by the sun – in summer!” I dryly add, because our beautiful summer is coming to an end, I can feel it. The wind is cooler and the sun has lost its intense summer heat, autumn is on its way – and then there’s the dreaded winter – I hate the cold!

  Tristan is nodding along with me, but I still don't know what he’s up to.

  “Tristan, is this some sort of test?” I ask, glancing up at him.

  “No.” His eyes are narrowed and fixed on the shop. “Anything else, before we go inside?” We’re going in? Maybe he does want to eat?

  I look at the shop again. “Yes.” I firmly answer. “They could put a screen door up so the front door can stay open, which means the smell of the food would entice people in too.”

  Without a word, Tristan slowly spins me around, 180 degrees; then he repeats the process, whispering in my ear as he does. “What do you see?” He says.

  Apart from feeling a little dizzy from being spun around, and Tristan’s close proximity, I take a good long look, trying to work out what he wants me to see. Lots and lots of office buildings?

  “This is the only place to eat?” I guess, eyeing the sandwich shop. “Unless you go to Munchies, but that’s ten minutes from here.” I add.

  “Excellent.” Tristan clasps my hand again and we walk over to the shop. He pulls the door open, I can tell it’s stiff and heavy, and gestures for me to go first again. “After you wife,” he says again, his eyes glinting wickedly at me.

  “Why thank you husband,” I tease, winking at him as I step inside. Yes, I was right. This place definitely looks like the inside of a battleship.

  “So,” Tristan says, standing behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders again. “What do you see?”

  “It is too dark, just like I remembered. Um...the lighting is really bad, and the chairs and tables definitely need changing.”I look down at the four large tables that are in here, they look old and as though they should be in some greasy cafe. You could really modernise this place!

  “Why do they need changing?” Tristan asks.

  “Well, this is the business sector,” I say. Tristan nods in agreement. “Most people go to lunch alone, or with one work colleague, two max’ – “What makes you say that?” He interrupts.

  “Because most businesses don't close for lunch, so somebody’s got to stay behind to cover the phones?” I say shrugging slightly, wondering if I’m right? “Well, that seems to be how it is at Chester House.” I add, turning to glance up at Tristan, surprised to see he has a very smug smile on his face. “What are you’ – “Please by all means do continue,” he interrupts, gesturing to the room and grinning widely at me.

  I turn back around. Scanning the room, I decide it would be possible to put ten small tables and chairs comfortably into the space. “So get rid of the four tables,” I say. “Replace them with more modern, small two-seater tables, I reckon you could probably get ten in here?”

  “So they could seat sixteen before, and now they can seat twenty?” He says, sounding proud.

  I smile up at him. What’s this all about?

  “What else?” Tristan says.

  “Hmm, it’s quite a long, narrow space, so if you positioned the table and chairs correctly, you could get a long breakfast bar/type counter along the back left wall. What do you think, you could get maybe...ten stools along there?” I ask.

  Tristan shakes his head, in amazement, I think?

  “Am I wrong?” I huff, frowning at him.

  “No baby,” he chuckles, leaning forward to kiss my temple. “What else stands out to you?”

  I look around the shop. “They may have it, but there’s no sign saying Wi-Fi available? Most people want to jump on-line at lunch, and free Wi-Fi is always a bonus!”

  “And another enticement to eat here,” Tristan adds.

  “Yes,” I smile, agreeing wholeheartedly.

  “What else?” He asks, his eyes shining with love.

  “It’s too quiet,” I whisper, because the people who have just been served have sat at the closest table to us, and there’s no radio, no music playing so you can't hear people’s conversations.

  “How would you change that?” Tristan whispers back.

  “Well, that’s a difficult one,” I say, shaking my head in thought. “Don't really want it to sound like a doctor’s or a dentist’s by playing classical music, but don't want to push away the Radio 2 lovers because Radio 1 is always on. So maybe, just playlists, you know, different kinds of music, catering to everyone’s needs?”

  “Interesting,” Tristan murmurs in my ear. His hands are still on my shoulders so he slowly turns me to face the counter. “This is the part I’m most intrigued about,” he adds.

  “You are?” I chuckle.

  “Yes. What do you think?” He asks.

  “About what?” I ask bemused.

  “All of it, the menu, how it’s displayed, what they offer...” Tristan trails off, his hand waving in front of him; I glance up at him again and narrow my eyes – What is this all about?

  Not coming to any kind of conclusion, I take a deep breath and begin. “Ok, well they have a good selection,” I say, perusing the menu.

  “Meaning?” Tristan prompts.

  I roll my eyes at him. “Of bread, you know, white, brown, granary, baguettes, ciabatta’s, crusty or soft rolls...etc, etc...” I say, waving my hand in the air like Tristan did.

  “And that’s good?” He questions.

  “Well yeah...if we all liked the same things, life would be very boring, don't you think?” I cock my head to the side and smile sweetly at him, it makes him chuckle.

  “Ok, so they have that part right, but what’s missing?” He questions. Missing?

  I look up and scan the menu board again, they have a good selection of fillings. Meats, fish, seafood, vegetarian. But not everyone wants that, where’s the salads? And why haven’t they got ready-made sandwiches and meal deals going on?

  “They haven’t got any meal-deals,” I say. I glance up at Tristan, he’s grinning triumphantly at me. “Tristan’ – “Go on,” he interrupts.

  I frown at his odd behaviour and continue. “They’re not selling salads either!” I point out. Tristan cocks his head to the side, and has his one eyebrow arched. “People enjoy cold salads! Not ev
eryone wants bread every day, I know I don't,” I add.

  “Cold salads?” Tristan questions, his eyebrows forming a v.

  I roll my eyes, exasperated. “Yes, people like pasta salads, couscous salads, rice salads, bean salads.” Tristan doesn’t seem convinced. I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow. “They always sell out at the little M&S in town!” I say a little pompously, trying to prove my point.

  “Really?” Tristan is pulling an I-didn’t-know-that-face and slowly nodding his head in approval. “So you would add salads and meal deals to the menu?” He questions.

  “Yes, and maybe ready-made sandwiches. Sometimes, if you’re in a rush, you don't have time to wait in a queue. They could put a board outside advertising the fact, keep one girl on the till here so people can dash in an out, so there’s no waiting around.”

  Tristan nods once. “So you’ve added pre-made salads and sandwiches, would introduce meal deals, and free Wi-Fi, and you’d change the decor. Anything else?” He asks.

  I shrug at him. “It’s a sandwich shop,” I say. “Tristan, what exactly are we doing here?” I add a little exasperated by it all.

  “Humour me.” He laughs, which makes me frown. “So you wouldn’t change anything else?” He adds as I stare at his profile. Yes, I’d add lots more, but that’s not the point!

  With my arms still crossed, I start tapping my foot. “No!” I bite. He’s up to something, but I’m not sure what? He turns and pulls me into his body.

  My beautiful husband, he smells divine, is head to toe handsome and happens to be the most well mannered, chivalrous man I have ever known. I peek up at him through my lashes, he is gazing down at me, his eyes full of love and warmth.

  “What?” I giggle.

  Leaning down, so he’s millimetres from my lips he whispers, “I want something hot!”

  I blink up at him, his cheeks have flushed and his eyes have darkened.

  “Hot?” I breathe. Starting to feel hot and bothered myself!

  “Yes, hot and spicy,” he whispers seductively. I know there’s a double meaning there.

  “Like what?” I whisper breathlessly.

  “What would you suggest?” He says, teasing me with his heated look.

 

‹ Prev