“Welcome back.” He kisses me hard, fisting my hair, savouring the satisfying consummation of our
separation before easing out of me. “I’ll never let him take anything from us again. You know that,
right?”
“Yes,” I whimper, needing to believe his declaration.
His grasp slackens. “Let’s get you towelled and into bed. I think we’ve both had enough excitement
for today.”
He steps out of the bath, which by now is barely half full as most of the water is lapping around the
bathroom floor. I lean over the side of the bath, inspecting the damage.
“You’ve made a terrible mess.” I look up to him, only to be met with a bemused expression.
“Someone will have to clear that up.”
“And I wonder who that’ll be?” he asks, knowing perfectly well who. “Here, be careful not to slip.”
He reaches over to lift me out of the bath. The enormous bath robe feels soft and fluffy against my
skin and I tip-toe cautiously into the bedroom.
“Sit on the bed.” I look up to him with loving eyes. “If I’d known you were going to be this much
trouble I’d have hired a nurse,” he teases, towelling my hair.
I reach up and play with the tie on his bathrobe, content to listen to his light-hearted banter while he
fluffs up my hair.
“Wait there while I get the hair dryer and your nightdress.”
I wait patiently, listening to him, “What a fucking mess … where the hell’s all this water come
from?”
When he returns I dare not look up, instead I keep my eyes on the floor while he finger dries my
hair. He’s lavishing so much attention on me.
“There. That’s you done. Stand up carefully.” Still averting my eyes, I stand while he removes my
bathrobe and slips my nightgown over my head and arms. Noticing my avoidance, he tips up my chin.
“I was only teasing about the nurse.”
I smile broadly. “I know.” I take his face in my palms and kiss him softly. “Dry your hair, or you’ll
catch a chill.”
I climb into bed, checking the time: it’s 10.30 p.m.
Where did the day go?
I begin to doze, listening to him curse and swear his way through his bathroom chores. It’s a
strange and unusual lullaby but enough to send me into a deep, restorative sleep with a smile on my
face.
For some reason, when Dan’s car pulls up outside Taylor and Main Estate Agents, Elise looks left
and right down the street before opening the passenger door and climbing in. Her preoccupation with
not being seen, with him, does not go unnoticed.
“You’re very prompt,” she announces. “Are you always this reliable?”
Dan recognises a loaded question when he hears it. “Yeah. Army training, you know. Be on time;
never leave a man behind and all that shit.”
“I hadn’t pictured you as an army man.” She is nonchalantly clicking in her seat belt and
straightening her blouse.
Why the fuck not?
“Did you see any active service?”
What is this? Is she taking fucking notes?
“Some. I was over in Iraq for three years.” He glances over at her but is too busy watching the flow
of rush hour traffic to clock her expression.
“Did you shoot anyone?”
He feels her eyes tunnelling into his cheek. “What do you think?”
“I think you did.” She smiles roguishly.
“Then you’d be right.” He changes gear and accelerates away from the city centre onto a dual
carriageway, heading towards Pinner. At the roundabout he takes the first turn-off and then a left onto
the bridge, ending up in Wealdstone five minutes later.
“Where are we going?” she asks, appearing concerned about the possibility of eating something
she may not like.
“I’ll know it when we get there,” he mumbles, scanning the row of shops for something that looks
vaguely decent. “Do you like spicy food?”
“I can take it or leave it.”
“This place looks okay. I’ll park up.” He pulls into the layby a hundred yards past The Meeting
Palace on the High Street and turns to face her. “We can have a drink or get something to eat, it’s up
to you.”
“Fine.”
They leave the comfort of the car and make their way to the restaurant, neither of them wanting to
say what and who is on their mind. Thinking about Ayden Stone and Elizabeth Parker has become an
exhausting element of every hour of every day; plotting their demise is only the start of what promises
to be the first wave of a far-reaching and prolonged attack.
The restaurant is surprisingly spacious and the ambience is friendly and decidedly Asian; there are
elephants carved out of dark wood and coconut matting has been fixed across the ceiling and walls.
Dan scans the bar area, feeling a little uncomfortable. It’s not the kind of place he would visit as a rule
and certainly not on a Monday night.
They’re sat at a table across from each other separate from the restaurant, waiting for a table to
become available. Elise leaves to visit the ladies and Dan orders her usual. He takes a newspaper off
the bar and flicks through; it’s something he hasn’t done for a while and it feels good to be doing it for
pleasure and not as part of the night shift. To his surprise, on page four there’s a photo of Stone and
his fiancée. The headline reads, ‘ Teacher Wins Heart of Stone,’ and it makes him smile at the prospect
of showing it to Elise. He holds onto the thought. ‘She’ll burst a blood vessel when she sees this.’
Purposely, he leaves the page open on the table, folds his arms and waits for the colour to drain from
her face the minute she sits down.
She settles herself onto the cushioned chair. “Thanks for the drink. I need it. I’ve had a shitty day.”
She throws her blonde hair over her shoulders and takes a long, refreshing slug of lager.
“Well, I hate to say it but your day just got a whole lot shittier. Take a look.” Feeling a twinge of
sadistic pleasure, he turns the newspaper round so she can see the article clearly. To his
disappointment, she doesn’t react.
“I’ve already seen the happy couple. I glanced at the newspaper during my lunch hour and just
seeing them together put me off my sandwich.” She folds the newspaper over and discards it. “Don’t
look so disappointed Dan. I’m over the initial shock now. I’m ready to move onto plan B.”
Dan smiles, surprised by her frankness. “Plan B. What happened to A?”
“A’s still on-going but now it’s time to up the ante.”
He nods, unsure of exactly what she’s saying but prepared to take the time to find out. “What have
you in mind?”
She turns to face him square-on. “Depends …”
“On what?”
“You. What you’re prepared to do to get Queen Elizabeth back.”
He chuckles, knowing she is closer to the mark than she could possibly know.
“How long have you been looking for her?” She gives him a knowing look.
“I’ve not been looking for her. What we had was a long time ago …” He’s finding it difficult to lie.
It’s as if she is reading is thoughts.
“Yeah! Right! Six years of thinking about your little bitch.”
He’s offended by her tone. “Hey, less of the bitch. You were spot on with the Queen thing, although
she’s more like a Princess.” It feels good to
say the word out loud to someone other than himself.
“That precious, is she?”
“She is to me.” He stops dead, realising Elise has him on the ropes; she’s been sizing him up since
day one and now she has him boxed into a corner.
“I thought so, and that’s okay by me, but you know what my Mr. Stone will be doing to her don’t
you?”
“I think it’s best I don’t think about that Elise.”
“I think it’s about time you did. It might get you in the mood for another tousle.” She stops only to
draw breath and to throw back a couple of gulps of the golden liquid which, much to Dan’s
discomfort, appears to be giving her an alarming amount of gumption. “He has quite a reputation with
the ladies …”
Dan’s not impressed. “Tell me something I don’t know…”
Before he can finish, she interjects. “I will. He will have fucked her every which way you can think
of, and probably a few ways you can’t think of by now.”
Dan is floored by her candour and holds his tongue. In the space of ten minutes this woman has
made him divulge his secret and is now pressing more buttons than is advisable, bearing in mind his
already fragile state. His head hurts, his hand hurts and now his pride is wounded too. He leans back
and gains his second wind. “So, what makes your such a fucking expert all of a sudden?”
“Like I said before, we go way back …”
He’s shaking his head from side to side. “I’m not buying it. You’ll have to give me more than that
if you want me to bite. I’m not signing up for anything.” Using his size to intimidate her, he leans
forward and rests his chin on his non bandaged hand. “So …”
She takes an oversized breath. “Well, if you must know… he raped me.”
It’s not what he’s expecting to hear. He leans back in his chair and watches as she fixes him with a
cold stare. “Fuck!”
“That’s one way of describing it.” She turns away and sniggers before zoning in on him. “So …
Plan B? Are you in?”
“I’m not going to sign on the dotted line until I know what it is.”
“Suit yourself. But I’m determined to see it through with or without you.”
“I can see that.”
“You’ll get what you want at the end of it too. I don’t expect you to help me without there being
something, or someone, in it for you. Then again, maybe we should wait until your hand gets better?
She’s bound to be a handful.”
Dan cannot hold back on a wicked smile. “I’m counting on it.”
“So am I,” she states, mirroring his look and reinforcing it with a carefree shrug of her shoulders.
“But, we’ll have to be careful and make sure he’s not around; he’s pretty handy with his fists too.”
Dan laughs out loud. “This just gets better and better.”
She is suddenly serious. “No, I mean it. I don’t want you to hurt him – not seriously, anyway.”
“I can do that. You want his pretty face left unmarked, is that it?”
“And his pretty body…”
“Sorry Elise, no can do. I can’t guarantee that.” He feigns regret. “Anyway, what do you care after
what he did?”
She is unflinching in her request. “No, Dan, I mean it. I want him left in pristine condition.”
“Why?”
“That way he’ll be able to make a lot more friends when he’s in prison.”
Dan lifts up his pint glass. “I’ve got to give it to you Elise. There I was thinking you were a lady
when it turns out you’re a blonde bitch with an axe to grind.” Their glasses chink loudly. “To Plan B.”
A polite gentleman dressed in a colourful shirt approaches them. “Your table for two is ready. If
you’d like to follow me?”
Dan picks up his and Elise’s glasses. She looks to him, their eyes meet. “Ladies first,” he grins.
Side by side they move through the crowded restaurant to a table at the far end of the room, out of
the way and, more importantly, out of ear shot. They have lots to discuss.
8
All through the night we lay side by side, sleeping peacefully. When Ayden leans over to turn off his
alarm, I find myself stretched out across him, clinging on for dear life like a barnacle on the hull of a
polished yacht. By attaching myself, I’ve caused his skin to become glossy with perspiration.
“Morning beautiful,” he says, nuzzling my messy hair. “Go back to sleep, it’s early.”
Mid yawn, I ask, “What time is it?”
“Six o’clock.”
“In the morning?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve done my stint of nursing. Now it’s time to go be your Mr. P.”
I smile into his chest and follow the shape of his pectoral muscles with my fingertips. “Oh, I think I
can give you some time off for good behaviour.”
“Thank you. You’re a very agreeable patient.” He kisses my palm and gives me back my hand. The
bedside lamp clicks on and the room is drenched in subdued light, enough to see but not enough to
hurt my eyes.
I watch him slide out from underneath the duvet and crawl over to his side of the bed, wrapping my
arms around his pillow and breathing him in. “What time will you be back?”
He’s wriggling into his cut offs. “Around two. I’ve got some work to do and then a couple of
meetings. I’ll tie them in with lunch and be back at 2.30 at the latest.” He’s rubbing his chin with his
right hand, feeling the stubble and yawning loudly. “Will you be alright?”
I nod, grateful for the chance to see him like this. Usually he’s done a couple of hours work before I
appear from the realms of slumber. “Is that what you’re wearing?” I ask.
“No, I’m going downstairs to shower and dress in the master suite.”
I raise my brows and he smirks at the implications of his description. “Master suite? How apt,” I
ponder, tightening the grip on his pillow. “And what will master be expecting when he returns home?”
Without warning he plonks himself down on the bed, unravels my hands from his pillow, rolls me
gently onto my back and entwines his fingers into mine, keeping my arms outstretched above my
head. Suddenly, I’m awake and alert. At first I’m wary of my back but, thankfully it’s fine and
actually doesn’t feel as bad as it looks. My breathing hitches at the proximity of his hard body,
pinioning me to the bed.
“Tonight I’m going to give you the tour and you know what that means?”
I shake my head from left to right and back again.
He tips his head to the left, that way he does when he’s being playful. “No? Are you sure?”
Oh fuck! Alenka’s photos? His fantasy fucking room. My eyes widen at the thought.
“I believe the penny just dropped.” Now he’s grinning at me. “No retrograde amnesia then?” I feel
a lush kiss on my lips and arch my back towards him, hoping for more. With a spring in his step he
leaps up, grabs his phone and scoots off.
Once again, left to mourn his departure, I’m alone with my thoughts and that’s not a good thing, not
yet anyway. Taking care not to catch my feet on the cover, I swing my legs out of bed and settle them
on the heated, marble floor. For my own peace of mind, I turn up my right foot to inspect the damage;
all along my instep are tiny cuts that look like pink and red sprinkles on a birthday cake. Same again, I
take a look at my left foot. The cuts are a little larger and a little dee
per, and more painful but
bearable. I take a deep breath, so grateful to have my mobility restored.
With fewer physical grievances to worry about, I inspect the bathroom from the perspective of the
toilet. Facing me is the large bath, thankfully emptied of the remaining gallons of soapy water that did
not find their way onto the marble floor. To my left is an enormous mirror and floating basins, very
chic. A million miles away from my ‘in-need-of-refurbishment’ bathroom complete with miniature
shower cubicle. Just the memory of that little escapade has me chuckling. It’s an ultra-modern, high
tech, top-of-the-range, en-suite bathroom; no more than I would have expected.
Catching my reflection, I try to tamper down my hair, but concede defeat. My fingertips are a poor
substitute for GHD’s. I return to our cosy bed and prop my head up on my left arm in anticipation of
the approaching floor show.
I’m not disappointed. After a ten minute wait the show gets underway. The model of a man
approaches me showered, booted and beautiful in his signature midnight blue suit and matching
maroon tie. Happy to ogle, I say nothing while he fiddles with his watch.
He catches my eye and winks; he knows he looks good, and why wouldn’t he? Mirrors never lie.
“Don’t you look nice?” I say, holding on to some semblance of self-control.
“Thank you. I do my best. I had Lester pick up some groceries yesterday while you were taking one
of your naps. So the fridge is stocked and there’s plenty for you to eat when you get up.”
“Thanks.” I distract myself with idle chit chat. “Do you mind if I take a look around?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “No, be my guest but, whatever you do, don’t open an outside door or a
window.”
I’m puzzled. “Why?”
He lifts his hand and points to the ceiling. “Because when I leave I’ll be setting the exterior alarm.”
“So I’ll be your prisoner? Locked away in your castle, waiting for your return?” I’m screwing up
my nose playfully.
He laughs. “Something like that …”
“What if I want to go out?”
“Call me and I’ll give you the code to punch in downstairs, but I’d rather you didn’t. You’re still
convalescing.”
“I know. I was only asking in case I trigger something by accident.”
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 13