“Insane? This is genius man. You should get one. It's literally magic. Perfect icebreaker.”
I scratched the stubble coating my chin. “Some of us don't need a dog to pick up women.”
“Oh yeah? Sorry to be the one to tell you this, dude, but I've been back in town for a few weeks now, and as far as I can tell, you're all on your lonesome. When was the last time you had a decent ride, eh? Maybe you need to borrow little Dumbledoor here and go and find someone to keep your bed warm tonight?” he winked.
I thought of Mia, spread naked beneath me last night. The ride of my fucking life. One single night. It was supposed to be the cure for my obsession. The finale to the months of flirting and games between us. But instead, I felt like I needed her even more now. I wanted to go back there already. If anything, that little taste of being with her, had fuelled the flames of my obsession to the point of madness. I could hardly concentrate on a thing Ryan was saying, my mind continually wandering, picturing the expression on Mia's face when she came on my dick. She was mine in that moment. Completely and utterly mine. I wanted to see it again and again. It was hard to believe I would ever get bored of seeing her so vulnerable and open and sweet. Damn, she was going to drive me insane before this was over.
I tickled the dog on the chin and he licked my hand with his tiny pink tongue. I had to admit, he was kind of cute, for a rat. “Don't worry about me, man,” I said. “I'm doing just fine.”
Chapter Fifteen
Mia
I slid the key into the lock of my parents' front door. I hadn't been back here since I'd moved into the flat and I was prepared for my mother's disapproval. It wasn't as if she lived far. My family home, a three story town house on Chelsea Square, was just three roads from my new place. I really didn't have any excuse for not visiting, at least I knew that was how my mother would see it. I closed the door quietly behind me and slipped my shoes off. Mum was extremely paranoid about scuffs on her polished wooden floors and I didn't want to rile her up before I'd even said hello. I padded down the hall, through the kitchen and into the glass walled conservatory where I knew I would find her.
She was bent over the table, a pot of tea beside her as she scanned the page of a book, her index finger running quickly along beneath the words. Muttering under her breath, she pushed the book aside, made some quick notes on a pad and dropped her pen down with a flourish, turning to me with a smile. “Hello dear.”
“Am I interrupting?”
She gave a tut and stood up, coming to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “No, no, I'm just planning the new design for the back borders. It's going to be gorgeous come next summer.”
For as long as I could remember, my mother had been a fanatical gardener. She had spent my entire childhood digging and pruning, ordering exotic species of plants in from all over the world. It made me smile, because despite her views that gardening was a practical and industrious hobby, she never seemed to realise just how much it displayed our similarities. She'd never admit it, but she was fiercely creative and gardening was her outlet.
We weren't close, not particularly, but I was lucky in that she had always been kind and decent to me. She was a fair parent, though it had been her who'd put her foot down when I'd declared I wanted to be an artist, pushing me into a more stable and sensible path, as she'd referred to interior design. She wanted me to be a successful, strong woman, career minded and independent, which was a complete joke since she had never worked a day in her life. But she had always encouraged me to make my own money and I knew her guidance came from a place of love. Dad hadn't had anything to say on the subject of my career. He was rarely around and his interest in me or what I did was cursory at best. I had always got the impression he would prefer not to have to see me at all if it were up to him.
“Tea?” Mum offered, lifting the pot.
“Yes, please.” I slumped into the squashy armchair closest to the window, looking out at the pretty garden. Mum handed me a cup, frowning.
“What's the matter, darling? It's not living alone getting you down, is it? You know you're welcome to come home anytime.”
I shook my head. “Nothing's the matter. The flat is great and I'm way too busy to be lonely.”
“Even busy people can suffer with loneliness,” she said taking the chair opposite me.
“I suppose so. But I'm not. Honestly, I'm fine.” I took a sip of my tea and scrambled around for something to say that would change the subject. “Um, how's Dad?”
Mum's face dropped and I wished I could swallow the words back up. Why did I have to mention him? “Well, I suppose it had to come up.” She placed her tea on the low table beside her chair.
“What?”
She looked me in the eye, her hands clasped tightly together and I felt suddenly small, like I was an eight year old little girl waiting to hear if Santa was really made up, holding my breath for an answer I didn't want to hear. Dad had been the one to spoil that for me too, deciding he couldn't be bothered with the whole charade any longer. My gut twisted uncomfortably as I saw how serious my mother's expression was. She took a deep breath then spoke. “I'm leaving your father, Mia. Well, I should say, I've asked him to leave, and he has agreed. I'm keeping the house.”
I stared at her wide eyed, forgetting to breathe for a moment. “What?” I said again.
“Is it really such a shock?” she asked gently.
“I – well – yes!” I spluttered. It wasn't as if they were ever happy together. That wasn't the shock. In fact, I knew that for the past six years at least, he'd been having an affair. He kept a flat for his mistress just round the corner from the family home and it was the worst kept secret in London. I also knew that Mum knew. She wasn't stupid. But we had never spoken about it. It was the permanent elephant in the room, and it had never seemed to matter to her. She was so traditional, I honestly believed she would stay married to him no matter what he did. That was the shock. Seeing her declare that she was leaving him, with no trace of uncertainly in her voice.
“I'm sorry, darling. It's been my plan for a long while now, but I wasn't quite ready.”
“But why? Why now?”
She frowned, looking out of the window and I took a steadying sip of my tea. “You know that he has a mistress.”
I choked on my drink, coughing hard. “I – ” The shock of hearing her say it out loud was too much for me. I wanted to crawl into a hole and avoid this conversation for the rest of my life. I did not want to discuss my father's infidelity with my mother of all people. But it was too late. The floodgates had been opened and there was no way to stop the dirty truths from crashing out now.
“He's disrespected me for years,” she said, her voice soft, contemplative. “He has never been a good husband to me, and he isn't a good man. The final straw was... well, I won't go into too much detail, but the bare bones of it are this. He took a deal at work which was utterly reprehensible to me. Not illegal, but morally repugnant. I begged him to call it off and it was in his power to do so, but he wouldn't. It will cause a lot of upset and loss to a vast amount of people, but he didn't care. Not as long as he got his money. Quite frankly, Mia, he disgusts me. I'm sorry, but it's true and I can't pretend any longer. I can't keep living a lie. I'm sorry if it makes you sad, darling.”
I shook my head slowly. “Don't be. I don't mind. In fact,” I smiled, “I'm really proud of you.”
She returned the smile. “It's something I should have done a very long time ago. I've done you a disservice, given you a very poor view of what a healthy marriage should look like.”
“It doesn't matter. I won't be getting married anyway.”
“But don't you see? That's my fault. I'm to blame for your negative views on what it means to be married. It's my fault you think it's an awful institution.”
“No Mum, it's not. I know enough about men to know I can't trust them with my heart.”
“Mia, that's not true!”
“It is.” My eyes filled with tears and befo
re I knew it, for the first time in my life I was confiding in my mother, telling her all about Cranleigh, how he'd broken my heart, how I could never let myself fall in love again no matter how much I might want to. She listened quietly, for once not jumping in and telling me what to do or trivialising my feelings. Just letting me talk. I hadn't released just how much I needed to let it all out until now. “I just can't let myself be hurt like that again,” I sniffed. She passed me a tissue and I took it gratefully, feeling strangely unburdened.
“Mia,” she said, moving to sit on the arm of my chair. “What do you think it took for me to start all over again at my age? Do you think I've had my chance at love and I should accept growing old alone? Because I won't. I plan to make new friends. I want to travel. And who knows? I might even meet a decent man who I want to spend my time with. I want to live while I still have it in me.”
“You're brave,” I said, dabbing at my swollen eyes with the tissue.
“Yes. It took me long enough, but yes. I'm finding my courage at last. I'm taking control of my life, which is exactly what you should do.”
“I don't know how to.”
She smiled. “By being brave. Taking risks. You're so much younger than me. You can afford to get it wrong. Make mistakes and learn from them. Don't close yourself off to the possibility before you've even started, Mia. Give love a chance to prove you wrong.” She wrapped her arms around me in a warmer hug than I could ever recall her giving, and I leaned into her, wondering if I even knew how to begin thawing my icy heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Liam
“Mmm.”
“Is the pain too bad? We can stop here and book another session to finish it off if you prefer?” I said, lifting my face to check on the state of my client. Naomi King was pop royalty right now. Her last five singles had shot straight to number one in the charts and were played on non-stop repeat on the radio. Her face seemed to be on every magazine cover, that sparkly toothed smile grinning out of her fake tanned, perfectly contoured face. She was barely twenty, crazy rich, Californian and completely full of herself. She expected the best of everything, so of course when she'd had her assistant call to book her tattoo, she'd insisted it was me who did the honours.
I wasn't one to talk down my skills. I was fucking excellent at what I did and it wasn't unusual for the celebs to personally request me. But since Naomi had climbed on my table, sliding her tiny denim skirt over her hips and tossing it to the floor, spreading her thighs open so I could transfer the mandala design she'd chosen, I'd known she hadn't booked me for my artistic abilities alone. She stared up at me now, a coy smile playing on her over plumped lips.
“No, sweetie, it doesn't hurt too bad. You have a gentle touch.” She leaned back, pushing her breasts up. They didn't even wobble. Pure plastic. I wasn't sold on the idea of these big fake boobs. They looked great under clothes, I couldn't deny that, but up close and personal, they were kind of weird. Alien almost, the way the skin stretched just a little too tightly, as if the silicone was trying to burst free. But then maybe I'd only seen the hack jobs. I knew Naomi would have made sure to go to the best cosmetic surgeon money could buy. Even so, I'd still choose a natural rack, even if it was smaller, over the melons she was sporting. I loved the softness of a natural breast. The bounce. I closed my eyes, picturing the round soft curve of Mia's breasts. Now those would turn any man on.
Naomi cleared her throat. “Hey, daydreamer,” she giggled. “Where did you go?”
I blinked. “Sorry. I'll just keep going then, if you're sure?” It was almost ten p.m. and I could hear Jared finishing up with his client in his studio across the hall. Sandy had left early, far more quiet since our little incident, and I was glad that she seemed to be trying to reinstate the professional relationship between us. I couldn't stand an atmosphere and it looked like I wouldn't have to fire her thankfully, now that she was behaving herself.
I began to lower the gun back down towards Naomi's bronzed thigh and froze. She'd come in wearing a barely there, lacy pink thong which left nothing to the imagination. I'd studiously avoided looking in its direction all night. Now though, she'd moved her hand down, her fingers moving in slow deliberate circles, pressing on her clit through the sheer material. I could see everything. The slick moisture darkening the lace as her breathing slowed. What the fuck? This girl was outrageous! I looked to her face, finding her eyes on mine. Challenging. Inviting. I knew exactly what she wanted. It wasn't like I was a stranger to being offered it on a plate from these big celebs. They were rich and bored and craving excitement. They loved the thrill of being fucked by someone like me in a place like this. They wanted to be owned. And in the past, I'd been only too happy to oblige in fulfilling their fantasies. Who was I to turn down a beautiful woman on her back? But this time, I already knew it wasn't going to happen. I should have been salivating at the sight of what she was doing, but I felt nothing but annoyance. I couldn't have been less interested.
What the hell was wrong with me? I had a young, attractive woman lying on her back with her pussy glistening, and all I could think of was how I was going to turn her down without offending her. This wasn't like the incident with Sandy. I couldn't just be straight with her and tell her to cut it out. She wasn't my employee. Naomi was young and spoiled and likely to throw a strop when she didn't get her own way, and with her influence, that could cause a lot of trouble for Stallions and Sprites. I didn't want to risk bringing down a shitload of negative publicity on my business.
“Uh, Naomi,” I said, keeping my eyes on her face and lightly grasping her wrist. I pulled her hand away from her crotch and placed it on the bed beside her. “Look,” I started. “I don't know what you've heard...”
She raised herself up on her elbows. “Oh, I've heard some very good things. I'm looking forward to finding out if they're true. It's been ages since I've not had to fake it.”
I placed the tattoo gun on the table beside me. Fuck. This was going to be monumentally awkward. I doubted she'd ever been turned down in her life. I hoped there wouldn't be tears. She lifted her hand – thankfully not the one she'd been using to play with herself – and brushed her fingers through my hair. I leaned back, smiling politely as I tried to figure out how I was going to ask her to leave without pissing her off. With a sigh, I realised it was impossible. There was no way around it – I'd just have to tell her straight that it wasn't going to happen, and hope she'd be too embarrassed to try and cause trouble for me. She didn't look capable of embarrassment with her legs spread wide, an expectant expression on her face.
“Let's get on with it then, gorgeous. I'm dying to see your dick.”
There was a noise at the door behind me and I turned sharply, my heart stopping in my chest. There, with a pale, expressionless face, stood Mia.
Chapter Seventeen
Mia
I stood frozen, unable to speak, a horrible sense of deja vu washing over me as I stared at the scene in Liam's studio. Naomi Fucking King was spread eagled on the cushioned table, every little detail of her anatomy on display, one hand resting on the side of Liam's face as he smiled down at her like a lovesick puppy. If I'd walked in two minutes later, I'd have found them fucking. I was sure of it. The thought made me want to vomit.
I grabbed hold of the door frame for support and Liam snapped his head round, staring wide eyed in my direction. Shocked to be caught no doubt. But not as shocked as I was. He wasn't my boyfriend. I didn't have any right to be upset. But I was. I really fucking was. I realised with an edge of panic that I was dangerously close to bursting into tears. That really would have been the icing on the cake, wouldn't it? I had to leave, I had to go right now, before I turned into a sobbing wreck of a woman in front of Liam and his so called client, and this situation became even more humiliating for me. I stumbled backwards and turned, running for the door and back out onto the street. It had rained earlier in the evening and the dim glow of the white-blue street lamps reflected almost eerily in the wide puddles linin
g the pavements. I ran blindly, my legs jelly beneath me, my movements heavy and clumsy. Why did this shit keep happening to me? How many times would I have to walk in on the same predictable scene?
Breathless, I paused outside the darkened windows of a hairdressers, resting my forehead against the cool glass. I had to get myself together and calm down. Breathing hard I swallowed back the tears. I would not let myself cry about this. I had no right to be this upset. But I knew why I was. I had stupidly started to hope. To believe that maybe, just maybe, something had changed between Liam and I. That if I stopped putting up barriers, pushing him away, we might even have a chance at being properly happy. It was that ridiculous heart to heart with my bloody mother, putting ideas into my head. In what universe would it ever be deemed sensible to take relationship advice from her, after everything she'd put up with from my scumbag of a father? She had no idea what she was talking about. I'd known all along what Liam was like. I'd promised myself I wouldn't let him close enough to hurt me, precisely because of this. But it did hurt. Hearing Naomi King talk about seeing his dick... it had made me want to scream. To jump on her and punch her right in her stuck up, smug little mouth. Kick her out of there, stake my claim on Liam. But that would have only made me look deranged and obsessive. He wasn't mine. He was hers now. And there would be others. So many more.
I had two choices. I could cut him out of my life and never see him again. Never have to watch him fall in love with someone else. Keep myself wrapped up in my safe little bubble, and turn into a spinster with a load of cats for company. Or, I could find a way to accept all the other girls he would date in the future, relegating myself to the sidelines of his life. His friend, but nothing more. I wasn't sure which option would bring the most pain, but they both sounded horrific.
Damaged: Dare to Decide, Book 2 Page 9