Untaming Lily Wilde

by Olivia Fox

  "Missed you too. You could have called," he said, but Lily's expression seemed to stop that line of thought. "I guess not."

  She swallowed. "I wanted to."

  "I get it. I don't like it, but I do understand. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't forgiven me either."

  And that was all the confirmation she needed. Wonky instincts or not, any fool could see Seb was carrying a world of guilt. She'd had no right to put this all on him. It wasn't his fault. She knew that now. It was like the dirt and grime which had dulled her thinking for the past few months had been neatly squeegeed away. It wasn't his fault. There it was; the crystal truth, gleaming sharp and bright. Lily sighed, finally looking away. If only it were enough. It wasn't his fault. It doesn't change anything.

  "I - I shouldn't have blamed you. I was a bit messed up and - and it was easier to blame you... it made it easier to stay away. I'm sorry."

  "No, you were right. For fuck sake; I got you to commit to six months of a lifestyle I wanted nothing more to do with. What kind of arrogant bastard behaves like that? I pushed you into it. I thought I knew best." From his tone you'd have thought he was just passing the time of day, but his words were loaded with regret, soft coated bullets tearing toward her heart.

  He didn't understand. Was that really what he thought? He had it all wrong. She'd never once regretted her resolution. She might have questioned the wisdom in pursuing it once she'd hooked up with Seb, and yes, maybe he'd pushed his point too strongly. But as far as she was concerned, he'd been right. She'd wanted to experiment and she wasn't about to start regretting that decision.

  She frowned at him, reaching her hand up to his face and brushing her thumb across his cheek bone. He covered her hand with his, inclining his head to inhale her touch. "This morning," Lily said, her voice a pale whisper, "I was thinking about you. Same thoughts as always. I was thinking maybe you knew how screwed up your friends were; thinking that maybe you trusted them out of recklessness because - because I wasn't worth that much to you. But - I think I got that wrong. I'm sorry."

  He shifted her fingers to his lips, closing his eyes. She could get lost in the softness of that beautiful mouth, float away on a tide of technicolour memories; his lips, hungrily exploring every inch of her, his tongue tasting her, wanting her. She forced herself to pull away, folding her arms tight across her body in a bid to keep her impulses under control. She'd gone too far, had to be more careful. His eyes opened, his brow a tight knot.

  “I don’t regret it, Seb. The six months thing. It was a good idea - my good idea. You just tweaked it a bit.” She was smiling despite herself.

  “I fucked up.” Seb’s lips refused to smile.

  “You did - ” Lily nodded, shaken by the clarity of her thoughts, “- a little. I fucked up a lot. We trusted the wrong people.”

  A flicker of pain crossed his eyes. He nodded. “You trusted me.”

  “I didn’t mean -” she started, but didn’t know how to finish her sentence. She hadn’t meant him. But did she trust him? Could she?

  Seb’s eyes bore into Lily’s. His fingers entwined with hers, belonging there.

  The temptation was too great. She moved in to him, reaching her free hand round to the back of his neck, feeling the smooth line of his hair, drawing him close. Their foreheads met. She felt the heat of him, breathing fast, his pulse racing in step with her own, and then she was kissing him, and everything else fell away. He pulled her closer still, tight against his chest, answering her hunger with his.

  “I still want you, Lily,” he said. And at that moment she thought she could do it. Put the past behind her. Make Seb her present. Her future.

  And then he shut down. His eyes closed. His lips drew into a firm line. “But I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving…” the word taster bitter on her tongue. “Why?”

  “Lily, you need to report what happened. I don’t think you’ll do that with me around. I don’t know why,” he said, shaking his head.

  And there it was. The other reason she’d needed to stay away from Seb. She knew he’d do this; push for justice, when all she wanted to do was lay the past to rest. But he was right to push. Her conscience was tormented by a fat, ugly ‘what if’. What if Tom assaults someone else… She pushed that thought aside, as she had so many times during the past months.

  “I’m moving to New York.”

  “For me? More decisions made on my behalf? How chivalrous of you.” Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. The worst of it was, he had been the reason for her holding back. The idea of dragging Seb’s name through the mud sickened her. She wouldn’t do it. She’d blamed him for that too, she realised. Blamed him for the way she felt; caring more about Seb’s reputation than about doing what’s right. But that wasn’t his fault. It was hers.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She couldn’t look at him.

  “Come with me.” His cool fingers stroked the tears from her cheeks.

  They’d done this before, she remembered. This same conversation. She knew how it ended. She didn’t follow him to New York last time, and for different reasons her answer would be the same again.

  She shook her head. If only. “When do you leave?”

  To her horror, Seb glanced at his watch.

  “Today?! What about your show?”

  His jaw set firm. “It can run without me. There are - things - I need to take care of.”

  Something was wrong. What things? She opened her mouth, ready to ask him, then faltered. His expression had hardened. He didn’t want to be asked.

  “Are you… Is everything OK?” She said, half whispering.

  He pulled her near again, closing his arms around her, breathing her in. “I’ll be fine,” he sighed. He didn’t sound fine.

  “Promise me something,” Seb said, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

  Lily looked up, confused.

  He rolled his eyes. “About moving to New York. You wouldn’t have to live with me - at first - not if you needed space. I could help you out with rent. And if it doesn’t work out with us, at least you won’t spend your life wondering,” he said. He lent in close so that his lips brushed her ear, and whispered four words which threatened to break her. “It will work out.”

  How easy it would have been to just say yes. It would have been like breathing. No was harder. No was stopping your heart mid-beat and hoping it would start up again when you were ready to feel something again.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said. “But I’ve got a life here -” she stopped herself. How could she explain the complexities of her reasoning? There was more at stake than she could possibly describe in words. She had to just hope he’d understand.

  But later, alone with just the memory of that inadequate exchange for company, she wished she’d tried harder.

  Those unspoken words taunted her. They splayed like a chasm between her and Seb. Like an ocean.

  32

  Wed, June 1st

  I haven't written in here for months, not since 'it' happened. But now I have an ending. Seb is leaving. For good. It feels right that I should write the words, and finally bring my diary to a close. He’ll do well in New York. He’d be successful anywhere. It’s not about being born into money - at least I don’t think so. It’s the way he is. Full of fire. And he’s leaving.

  He’s got his life, I’ve got mine. I have to calve out my own path and stop relying on other people to show me where to tread. I have a job I love and I’m strong. Stronger than I was. As I write this I know I’m trying to convince myself. I could so easily go with him.

  Is it strength that keeps me here, or is it weakness? I’m scared to trust him. That much is true. I wish it weren’t. I wish I could give him the trust he deserves. I don’t blame him any more. So why can’t I trust him? I know the answer, though I don’t like to think it. I can’t trust. Not anymore. It’s like a little bit of my heart has set solid. I’m growing used to the feeling now. When he’s
with me, I soften inside. He makes me vulnerable again. I can’t live that way anymore.

  So goodbye diary. I’m sorry we didn’t make it through the year. But here it is - my final full stop.

  Yours to the end,

  Lily Wilde x

  “Jesus, when did I become so damn serious?” Lily sighed, reading back over her final diary entry.

  Emma shot her friend a sympathetic look, and Lily instantly regretted asking. Enough of victim-Lily already. She’d moved on. Or had she? That report still hadn’t been filed. What if…

  “Em… I think I’m ready to talk to the police.” She watched as recognition washed across Emma’s face.

  “Do you want me to come too?”

  Lily nodded. It would be a hundred times easier with Em there. “Tomorrow morning?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  They sat in silence a while before Lily’s face broke into a smile. I was wrong before. I can trust. I trust Em. I’m not broken, see? Not yet.

  “So, guess who I saw today,” Lily said, breaking the silence and tossing Seb’s exhibition catalogue into Emma’s lap.

  “Christ!” Emma looked from the catalogue to Lily and back again. “Are you OK?!”

  Lily shrugged. She wasn’t OK, but she’d live. It’d suck for a while - possibly a very long while - but -

  “You’re in here…” Emma gasped. She shifted along so that Lily could see the photograph. Crowded escalators. Embankment Station. All the world a blur, except for one woman amongst the rush of bodies. Lily.

  33

  The email came was waiting for her at work the following Friday. She didn’t notice it at first among the other hundred or so emails waiting to be sifted, then when she did, his name made her double take with an audible hiccup of surprise. But no one noticed. Nor did anyone notice when she opened up the email and room span topsy-turvy.

  Happy Birthday, Lily Wilde.

  When had she told him her birthday?

  Think about it.

  Seb x

  Attached was a flight voucher. So much money. Too much. She just had to book the flight.

  If only. There was too much to lose. Too much risk. After all she’d been through she needed stability. Safety. Not a new life on a new continent with a man she barely knew. He was crazy for suggesting it. She was crazy for considering… but no. Absolutely, definitely, unequivocally N-O…

  At least - probably no.

  Probably.

  “Visitor for you, Lily. Reception. Keep it quick,” Nigella Chambers snapped, pulling Lily from her reverie.

  What on Earth?! No one visited her at work. No one. Unless… no it couldn’t be Seb. Could it? Her heart stuttered a little in anticipation. “Won’t be a minute,” she called back, already half way to the lift. You’re being crazy, she told herself. He’s gone. Get over it. But as she pressed the Ground Floor button, she nursed a little grain of hope. Would he visit? Would he do that for her? New York’s not so far… he could be here… he could be…

  She had to get a handle on herself. She smoothed down her skirt, raked her fingers through her hair, stole a quick glance at her flushing cheeks in the mirror, forced herself to breath. The lift doors parted and…

  Christoph. Arms folded. Leaning back into the grey reception sofa, watching her, his eyes smiling, his lips doing nothing of the sort.

  She stood motionless in the lift. What was he playing at? Her eyes shifted toward the number panel inside the lift; with a press of a button she could be back on Floor 9 pretending this little head-trip had never happened. But as as the lift doors made to close, she found herself stomping an angry foot in their path.

  “What do you want?” She ignored the twitching attention of Floyd the receptionist, and focused her death-stare on the man in front of her.

  “Good to see you too.” He patted the sofa next to him, indicating that she should sit down. In her work place. Perhaps they’d snuggle up together in front of the Floyd and reminisce about the rape they’d never quite managed to share. Suffice to say, she didn’t sit.

  “What do you want?” If she kept up the stuck-record routine perhaps he’d skip the cow-shit. Or perhaps not.

  His brow knotted a little as he scanned the neat and glassy reception. “You like working here?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You know, I never had the slightest interest in publishing until now. Suddenly I feel like adding to my business portfolio. Isn’t that odd?” He fixed his stare upon her angry pout, and the hint of a smile tweaked at the corners of his lips.

  It was hard to speak with him staring so intently at her mouth, like a tiger ready to pounce on her words. But she pushed through the hammering tension in her jaw and chest and spurted out, “Listen. You’ve got two minutes. Two. And if you want to bore me to death with your business portfolio then that’s fine with me. But if you’ve got something you want to say then bloody well get on with it.”

  His smile broadened. He was infuriating.

  He stood up, and suddenly the sheer expanse of him flooded Lily’s memory. For a brief instant she was back in Seb’s bedroom with Christoph directing her, powerful, intimidating, controlling to the point of her own blissful abandon. And she must have given a little of herself away in that instant, because Christoph laughed. He actually laughed, as he took her wrist and pressed two fingers against her quickening pulse. “As I thought.”

  She pulled her wrist free. “What do you want?” This time she sounded a lot less confident than she’d have liked.

  “You know what I want.”

  She glanced over at Floyd, still behind his desk, still pretending not to listen. “Are you like this on purpose?” she hissed at Christoph.

  “Like what?!” He arched his eyebrows, pretending to be offended.

  “Maddening. Look. I’m on a deadline.”

  “Then come outside, away from Kermit here, and let me make myself as clear as possible, as quickly as possible.”

  She would really have loved to have scowled at that, but the Kermit thing was just so un-Christoph that she snorted instead. Poor Floyd, in his emerald green suit. Not his fault that he had the voice to match.

  Floyd coughed waved the Signing In book frantically as they took their leave, but Lily assure him they wouldn’t leave his sight as they moved street-side of the revolving glass door. This wouldn’t take long.

  “I want you to reconsider my offer -”

  She shook her head, incredulous. “No. I’m not your fucking prostitute. You - you make me nothing. Just some toy you can buy, play with, toss aside. I’m not doing it.”

  His cool tone didn’t shift, and he continued as though she’d not spoken a word, “And here’s why you’ll do it: because you’ve wondered. Ever since you changed your mind. You’ve wondered if you made the wrong choice, for the wrong reasons; if you did it just to appease your boyfriend. Your monumentally hypercritical boyfriend no less.”

  “Seb’s not my boyfriend,” she interrupted. “So I guess whatever petty rivalry you’ve got going on, this isn’t going to factor. Sorry to disappoint you, Christoph. We’re no longer a thing. Barely were to begin with.”

  “Oh, now I doubt that’s quite true.”

  “What can I tell you?” And she meant it. This was ridiculous. He didn’t want her (and even if he did, he wasn’t getting her), he wanted one up on Seb. Games. Idiotic rich-boy games.

  Christoph pulled a packet of Lucky Strikes from his jacket pocket and lit up, offering one to Lily, who shook her head.

  “You too huh?” She mumbled.

  He looked quizzical for a moment then seemed to catch her meaning. “Oh, you’d be surprised how much Seb and I have in common. He likes to think he’s more gallant, of course. And I know I’m more ruthless.” He inhaled deeply, then tilted his face to meet the warmth of the sun as pushed a slow trail of smoke from his lips. “But really, we’re almost the same man. Just with very different starts in life.”

  It was her turn to look quizzical, though she
wasn’t particularly in the mood for a Compare and Contrast session.

  Christoph sighed. “His, sugar-coated, rosy and coddled, mine - well - not so much. But let’s not dwell - it’s worked out fine for me. Lily -”

  “What?” Why do I get chills when you say my name like that? Why do I like getting chills!?!

  “This has nothing - not nothing - but very little to do with Seb.” His eyes were piercing hers now, holding her transfixed to the point of barely being able to blink. “We’re not finished, you and me. Tell me you’re not the slightest bit curious to know what it’d be like. No Hatherly. No contracts. Just me,” he looked her up and down, “wanting you. Taking you.”

  “Raping me.”

  A smile cracked across his face. “With your permission. Hardly seems like such a punishable offense.” Then, as he took her in, all of her, nearly shaking with something not-quite-fear but not far off, his smile slipped. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Lily.”

  “Wouldn’t you? My backside begs to differ.”

  He stubbed out his barely touched cigarette and moved closer, too close. Too close for a would-be-rapist who absolutely definitely wasn’t getting her hot under the collar right now. Too close for someone who’s unimaginably beautiful lips she absolutely would not be kissing as they dipped toward her. Any second now she’d turn away. Any second.

  “Your backside loved it,” he spoke against her lips. “And you know that’s not what I meant.” His tongue eased along her lower lip which he then took lightly between his teeth, tugging playfully, a billion times more playful than she’d seen him before. He held her like that, laughing as if they were two excitable teenage lovers, experimenting with each other’s bodies. He released her lip, then pressed in fully, kissing her in earnest, tasting her with a curling swipe of his tongue as she leaned instinctively into his embrace. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t even bring herself to try. He wasn’t like Seb, far from it. He was everything Seb wasn’t; self-serving, cutthroat, unyielding. And she wanted his kiss. She wished to God she didn’t.