Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1)

by Isabella Wiles

  “What the fuck, Chris? Why on earth would you do that? What is your problem? You knew I’d spoken to Tim before we came out here and that we’d planned to meet up. If you didn’t want to come tonight that’s fine, I’m not your bloody keeper but you damn well cannot tell me who I can and cannot see or spend time with. What is it with you? After everything we’ve been through, why are you not able to trust me?” her tone accusatory.

  Without realising it, she’s hit the nail on the head. I want to trust her, I really do, but I’m insanely jealous.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I do trust you, Victoria,” using her name in full, my tone softening slightly, my clenched fist relaxing for the first time since her return. I move my hands to the outside of her arms gripping her firmly. “I just know what men are like and I don’t trust them around you. You’re so gorgeous, Vicky, it would be impossible for every man to not want you. It’s them I don’t trust, not you.”

  She closes her eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath in as if absorbing what I’ve just said.

  “But you can’t stop me being around every man on the planet, Chris,” her eyes pleading with me, her voice now soft and as smooth as silk. “I know what men are like too,” she raises her eyebrow at me with her last comment, the meaning crystal clear for both of us, “and if this is going to work… if we’re going to work, then you’re going to have to trust me. OK? Otherwise by default, even though you’re saying you trust me, by your actions you actually don’t.” She now puts her own hands on my hips as we continue to stand facing each other. “Look, let’s take a breath. We’re both really tired, jet lagged, and we desperately need a good night’s rest. Come on, let’s go to sleep and talk about this again in the morning.”

  I know she’s talking sense, she’s being the grown-up here and it’s not her fault my jealousy is out of control, so even though I’m not over this and I’m still as tense as hell, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. “I’m sorry, Vicky” I say softly, “It’s just so damn hard.”

  “I know,” she says, “but we will get through this, Chris. I promise. I love you and despite everything that’s happened, you must know that it’s you I want.”

  “I do,” I say eventually, my breathing finally slowing to a more normal pace, “... and I haven’t changed my flight. I was just bluffing. I wanted to make you worried.”

  “Well you succeeded,” she says, pulling back slightly to give me a friendly punch in my chest, the smile having returned to her beautiful face.

  “Sorry,” I offer as way of an apology. “I was just so angry.”

  “I noticed,” she says reaching up to kiss me.

  I know that this issue is a long way from being resolved but we’ve reached a truce for now at least and if there’s one positive that always comes from having had a heated argument, it’s the fantastic make up sex that always follows. Despite our jet lag or the lateness of the hour, Vicky and I roll around the sheets for the next hour or so, consumed by our hungry, aggressive and needy passion for each other.

  Chapter 14

  Victoria

  As I lie in the darkness, my mind attempting to make sense of the confusing events of the evening, I’m perplexed. I turn to look at Chris as he sleeps peacefully next to me. The calmness of his features as innocent as a sleeping baby’s as I listen to the soft rhythm of his breathing, his chest rising and falling in an unconscious peace, and I can hardly comprehend the angry, venomous, jealous creature he’d transformed into, just hours earlier. His verbal attack, shocking, but not completely unjustified. The stillness that surrounds me now as I lie in the darkness does nothing to calm the torrent of emotions I feel inside.

  In one day, how could we have gone from such a shared love and happiness in the morning, fantasising about getting engaged, filling me with such joy and expectation, to ending the evening in such a nasty fight, finally re-connecting through the only way we seem to know how - by consuming each other physically? The sex with Chris is undoubtedly fantastic and I’ve never felt such a physical pull with anyone before. I love him with my whole heart, of that I am sure, but I’m beginning to feel that his jealously and rage is linked to his insistent need to possess me physically, as if that is the only way to erase the past.

  If any intellectual or emotional connection can only be formed after we connect physically time and time again, how can we hope to come through all of the challenges that life will inevitably through at us. It’s like we’re addicted to each other. I, to the love and devotion he gives me, he to our physical connection, and he can only give me what I need after he receives what he needs. Our two needs hopelessly and unhealthily intertwined.

  I know I need him to be able to communicate in other ways as well, not just through his body. I’ve noticed that if I withdraw physically, for any reason, which to be fair isn’t that often, but when I’m genuinely ill or on my period, he can be terribly moody. Only turning back into the loving Chris after we’ve made love once again. I’m trying to decide how much of a red flag his behaviour last night is - how much gravitas I should place on the whole affair. It was without doubt the worst mood I’ve ever seen him in.

  I just don’t understand why he was so angry. I’d told him before we flew out here that Tim was out here on business this week. If Chris really didn’t want to meet up then why didn’t he object at the time when I’d suggested it? Before I’d faxed Tim giving him the details of our flights and our hotel in Hong Kong. If anything, I am the one who’s entitled to be angry - when he refused to come out this evening, behaving like a petulant child who wasn’t getting their own way. How juvenile, I’d thought at the time, before ignoring him and going out as I’d originally planned. But if he thought by refusing to come out he would guilt me into staying with him and standing up my friend, then he could think again.

  I love Chris deeply, in fact I would go as far to say, he is my first great love, nobody before him has even come close and I can’t imagine my life without him, which is why his attack is so worrying. I knew when I left he was pissed off, but in no way had I anticipated the wall of anger that would greet me on my return. It seems Chris spent the four or so hours while I was out, sitting in the dark and working himself up into a right tizz. If I’d had any inkling into how far his gasket was going to blow, then perhaps I would have handled the whole situation differently. Perhaps I would have chosen to stay with him rather than go out and meet up with Tim. Perhaps? I’m not sure. I know, had I made that choice it wouldn’t have been right. I know I never want to hurt Chris or do anything to make him unhappy, but when we don’t seem to be able to find a way to resolve our differences by talking, we always resort back to what we do best, which is to connect physically.

  As it was I had such a lovely time with Tim, that while I was out I didn’t really care. Staying behind and throwing a hissy fit was his choice and I can’t deny it was nice to spend time with Tim, just the two of us, chatting and catching up. He’s such a gentleman, treating me to dinner followed by cocktails and coffee at the famous Peninsula Hotel over in Kowloon. There was a grand piano in the mezzanine of the lounge and I’d impressed him by playing the first sixteen bars of Elgar’s ‘Nimrod’ from the Enigma Variations (to be fair it’s the only thing I can play on the piano these days - the tutoring from my early childhood long erased through lack of practise!) There’s definitely nothing between Tim and I, but I do think he has a soft spot for me. Like an older brother looking out for their younger sister. At least that’s what it feels like to me. So to return back to our hotel, with a belly full of fine food, in a mellow mood from the easy conversation and expensive wine that had flowed freely and rather than be met with a warm hug and an inquiring question such as, “How was your evening?” it was so shocking and disturbing for Chris to have flown off the handle as he did. He was physically shaking with rage and I’m sure if I’d been a man, he would have hit me. It was pure jealousy and insecurity coursing through his blood and it worries me. Worries me that despite how mu
ch I know he loves me, he also has the capacity to hate me so intensely (even if it was only for a passing moment). We’ve been dating long enough to appreciate that neither of us are perfect and that real life is not one long fairy story. Hell, we were essentially living together from day one of our relationship, so of course we’ve had our fair shares of tiffs over the past six months. Usually over the classic stuff that most couples bicker about; wet towels left on the bedroom floor, driving the car until the fuel tank is all but running on fumes, leaving dirty dishes in the sink, the usual; but 99 percent of the time, being with Chris has been pure bliss. I’ve never been happier, which is why tonight was so jarring. I’ve never seen him so angry and it scared me.

  I roll onto my side, listening to the soft rhythmic breathing of the tiger behind me and resign myself that he has me within his grip in more ways than one. I’m desperate for his love, for his connection. I can’t imagine my life without him, if he left or withdrew his affection it would absolutely rip me apart. But as much as I need him, I feel powerless to stop him controlling me. He controls my passion, my emotion, he’s trying to control my choices and who I do and don’t see and now I also believe he has within his power the control over my personal safety.

  The next morning, we wake up within minutes of each other and Chris rolls straight on top of me, kissing the end of my nose, smiling warmly before saying simply, “morning,” making no mention of the events of last night. It’s as if it all never happened. As much as I feel the intensity of his reaction last night, order, was disproportionate to the crime and I want to address the injustice I feel, I’m worried that any further discussion could spark off another major row or worse still, Chris will withdraw his love and turn all moody. So I decide that it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie. What good would it do to rake it all up again this morning and risk upsetting him and spoiling the rest of our time here?

  By the twinkle in his eye I know exactly what he wants, his hard-on pressing into my thigh as he shamelessly grinds his hips into mine, while he looks at me seductively, hoping that I will soften and respond as I’ve done so many times in the past. So rather than reject him and push him away I consciously disconnect my mind from my body, as I’ve done so many times in my past, as I slip easily back into that familiar pattern of numbness, so that I’m able to give him what he needs right now without giving him my heart.

  I know that this is a sad watershed moment for our relationship. It’s the first time I’ve not given myself fully to Chris. He’s the only person that, up until now at least, has made me feel safe enough to be able to trust him with my whole heart and I’ve only ever been fully open and honest with him - until now that is. I’ve allowed him into the deepest parts of me. He’s the man who found the way to unlock the parts of me that for years I’d unconsciously kept safely locked away, so that now he’s the one that holds my heart and my deepest passions in his hands. But his behaviour last night scared me and for that reason, right now I can only offer him my body, as I wrap my heart in the numbness that falls over me like a familiar cloak.

  ***

  The next few days pass without incident as we throw ourselves into everything Hong Kong has to offer. Chris never mentions ‘Tim-Gate’ again so the whole episode is swept neatly under the carpet, even if I don’t feel, for my part at least, as if it’s resolved. On one of the days we take the number six bus to rummage around Stanley market buying trinkets and souvenirs.

  “More things for the illustrious shelf of tat,” he joked, as we’d decided on what junk to purchase.

  We spent one day mucking around at Ocean Park, playing on the sideshows or scaring ourselves silly on the rollercoasters. Chris won the biggest stuffed teddy on one of the sideshows and we nicknamed him Hong Kong Phooey, after the kids’ cartoon character. I have absolutely no idea how we will get him home - he’s huge! It was nice to cross over to the other side of Hong Kong Island, which is less densely populated and lusher, even though land and space are still very much at a premium here on this tightly packed island. We’ve tasted every type of cuisine Hong Kong has to offer. From modern and complex Michelin-starred delicacies to curbing our food cravings for familiar fare with fish and chips from Harry Ramsden’s.

  On Wednesday evening we did meet up with Tim as I’d originally planned, and he kindly treated us to a night out at the famous Happy Valley racecourse. I was nervous broaching the subject with Chris, half bracing myself for another full-blown row, but it became such a non-event I’m beginning to wonder if I’d imagined the blow-up from earlier in the week. Once we were there, the boys had a great time, laughing and joking together, that I’m even more confused as to why Chris was so upset earlier in the week.

  After the races and saying goodbye to Tim, who headed back to his hotel as he had an early breakfast meeting the next morning, Chris and I head over to Joe Bananas nightclub to dance the night away. We down a few shots to warm us up, before hitting the spirits, I on the vodka and him on the whiskey, so combined with the champagne and wine from earlier in the evening it’s not long before Chris and I are both moderately drunk, dancing seductively in each other’s company. We laugh and joke together as we wrap our arms around each other, our eyes never leaving each other’s face, both of us so happy having enjoyed such a great day and evening.

  I nip off to the bathroom briefly and I’m stunned by what greets me on my return. A gaggle of Asian girls have gathered around Chris in the short time I’ve been away. They are all openly flirting with him, pawing at him, touching his chest, his face and one girl actually has her hand on his bum caressing his butt cheek, sliding her fingers up and down the crack in his jeans. I can’t tell if they’re hookers, or just have no shame but as I approach, even through my drunken haze and the blare of the background music, I’m sure I hear one of them whisper in Chris’s ear,

  “British passport, you have British passport?”

  I reach the group, just as this particular girl is attempting to wrap her arms around him and lean up to kiss him. I can’t see Chris’s face as I’m approaching from behind, so I can’t tell if he’s enjoying this unadulterated female attention or is annoyed by all these girls throwing themselves at him. Either way the scene playing out directly in front of me does nothing to soothe my own insecurities. My underlying fear; the fear that he might leave me at any moment, ever present. How would I cope? I know my world would collapse.

  As I stride deliberately towards the group, most of the women who are buzzing around Chris like bees round a honey pot, take an instinctive step back as they spot me approaching, except one, the one who is attempting to reach up and wrap her arms around him. She’s tiny, a good five inches shorter than I, with tiny hips and a slender body. She has a perfect heart shaped face with delicate features, the distinctive oval shaped eyes and her long dark straight hair falls perfectly down her back. The very definition of femininity and I feel like a huge big ungainly oaf in comparison to her. My jealousy rises like bile in my throat as I have to mentally resist the urge to literally scratch her eyes out. Instead I forcibly push her backwards, my hand connecting with her shoulder as I shout directly into her face, “GET … YOUR … HANDS … OFF!”

  I’ve caught her by surprise, her only focus having been Chris, so she was oblivious to my approach. She topples backwards awkwardly, knocking into some other club goers who spill their drinks as she collides into them causing them to gesticulate and shout obscenities at both of us. I know she’s got the message, her eyes widening in surprise as a sly smile crosses her lips but instead of apologising and scuttling away with the other girls, she reaches up to stroke Chris’s face. A pure act of defiance. As fast as lightning I instinctively knock her hand away, my aggression now gaining the attention of the doormen who I spot out of the corner of my eye as they begin to head in our direction.

  “Why don’t you just take your bony ass and fuck off?” My voice raised as I’m now jabbing my finger in her face. She finally gets the message, raising her palms in admitted defeat as sh
e walks backwards away from me and to the comfort of her waiting girlfriends.

  Furious, I turn to Chris just as the doormen approach us, probably to throw us out anyway. Before I have a chance to question Chris, the doormen are almost upon us. So instead I grab Chris’s hand and lead the way through the throng and out of the club, spitting venomously to the approaching bouncers. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving anyway.”

  Outside on the street we look for a cab to take us back to our hotel. I’m hopping mad and I really want Chris to give me an explanation or to thank me for arriving just in time. I need him to put his arms around me and tell me that he loves me, to reassure me that he belongs to me and no one else but instead he says and does nothing. Either because he’s too inebriated, or because he wasn’t fully aware of what was going on, or because… my mind whirring trying to make sense of what has just happened… because he was enjoying the female attention and enjoyed making me jealous, or because he simply doesn’t care how I feel. I’m desperate for his affection and validation but fearful of creating a scene and instigating another potential bust-up between us, like the huge row we had earlier in the week, I swallow my feelings and say nothing.

  On our last day, our flight is not scheduled to leave until just after midnight, so Tim has kindly offered to store our bags for the day in his own hotel room, while we head off to Aberdeen, taking a boat tour across the famous harbour. At 6pm we returned briefly to Tim’s room, to shower and change. Chris has told me he has a special surprise for our last night in Hong Kong, but I have no idea what he has planned, other than he’s told me to get dressed up, so it must be something special.