by Jules Wake
‘Siena, where are you? It’s 7pm. We’re going out to dinner in half an hour. I expect you home immediately. Yves is already here.’
Jason wanted to smile, that was one cool Mama. Imperious and calm.
Message two sounded equally measured. He had to give it to her mother, she owned froideur. ‘I’m in no mood for your childish tricks. We’re waiting and Yves is not impressed.’
A man’s voice in heavily accented French but flawless English, followed with message three. ‘Where the hell are you? We’re leaving for the restaurant in ten minutes. You’d better be here.’
Jason frowned at the hint of threat. Mr-not-so-cool.
This was followed by. ‘We’re leaving for the restaurant. Meet us there.’
Message five. The same man with hissed fury. ‘Where the fuck are you? You’re going to be sorry. Embarrassing me like this. I have clients here. How dare you?’
Jason stiffened and sat upright listening intently to the next message.
Siena’s mother again. ‘I have never been so humiliated in my life. Poor Yves. How could you do this to him? I am mortified. Is this how you show your gratitude after all we have done for you? Harry is very upset.’
His skin prickled. This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear.
It was a missed dinner for Christ’s sake. So they were cross, but this went beyond that.
‘What were you supposed to be doing? Having dinner with Sarkozy?’
Siena worried at her lip and said in a dull flat voice, ‘A meal with my parents, Yves and some business contacts. Then going onto a nightclub.’ She shrugged.
The messages were still rolling and before he could comment, he heard Yves’ angry voice again, ‘You selfish stupid bitch. You’d better be at the apartment when I get there. These disappearing acts every time you don’t get your way are becoming very tiresome.’
Then her mother again. ‘Where are you? I can’t believe you are shaming us so badly. What will people think? I expect you back today by 6pm.’
The loud angry voices were carrying and it was clear that Siena could hear every word. Her face grew paler and Jason felt a dart of guilt, although, they were still in the angry rather than worried phase.
‘Have it your way young lady. I’ve cancelled your cards and stopped your allowance. See how long you can stay away now.’ Her mother’s voice carried a hint of spite.
Jason felt quite sick. Where was the concern about Siena’s whereabouts or safety? She could have been lying dead or in an unknown hospital as far as they knew. They’d cut her off without a penny when she could be anywhere. They clearly had no clue where she had gone.
The final message came from her mother two days ago.
‘Wherever you are I hope you are happy at the damage you’ve done. Yves is furious with you, but is prepared to put up with your atrocious behaviour. I want you to call me immediately. I—’
He stabbed the touch screen to stop the message. He felt heartsick at the lack of affection displayed.
Siena’s eyes had clouded, filled with haunting grief.
‘Oh fuck, I’m sorry.’ Of course she knew her own family better than he did. What a fucking idiot, supposing, no insisting he knew better. For assuming that the rest of the world played by the same rules.
She shrugged, her face bare of any emotion, a blank mask. ‘It’s not your fault.’
With mechanical stiffness she took the phone from his limp fingers and switched it off with resignation.
He hated that he’d done that to her. Doused the euphoria she’d shared at getting her first job. Her face crumpled slightly and he saw defeat in her eyes. Siena was never defeated. The slump of her shoulders made him clench his hands. It was so far from her usual sunshine attitude. For the first time he realised how isolated she was. Everyone needed family. Someone on their side. His sisters drove him mad but he never passed a few days without receiving a call, a text or an email from them
Wanting to wipe the desolation from her face, he looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. She wasn’t completely alone. This defeated, bowed Siena wasn’t the Siena he’d come to know in the last few weeks. He thought of her and Lisa, laughing as they covered the kitchen in glitter, Ben’s puppy love adoration for her which she treated with gentle respect, Will’s admiration for her and Marcus’ quick loyalty.
Guilt tugged. No wonder Laurie had asked him to keep an eye out for her. She knew all this. And in spite of everything, Siena had blossomed. She’d been far more resilient than he’d given her credit for.
Under his fingers, her shoulders remained rigid and he wondered if it were to keep a tight rein on her emotions. He couldn’t imagine his own mother speaking to him or his sisters like that. He rubbed her back, like he would a child’s. She seemed so vulnerable and lost. Eventually she turned to him, her body softening and he leaned back into the sofa taking her with him. Silence held, punctuated only by their breathing. He had nothing to say, all he could offer was the comfort of his hold and reassurance that she mattered. Mattered to someone. She mattered to him. Honesty. Courage. Dogged determination. Her sunny nature.
Her head lifted from his shoulder and he looked down.
‘Thanks.’ She looked up at him, her face so full of hurt. He wanted to ease the sadness away, soothe the confusion from her eyes. A woman of contrasts, fragile and strong, brave and uncertain, sophisticated and naïve. He leaned down and kissed her.
It was purely innocent, a kiss to offer succour. Gently he caressed her mouth with soft kisses, tracing her lips with the lightest touch. He felt her sigh of pleasure. It kicked into him with a punch of desire that he hadn’t anticipated and when she shifted, pressing closer against him, instinct and sense warred in his head, but her stuttered breaths made him want more.
He deepened the kiss, unable to resist the sharp scythe of want, feeling a satisfying sense of possession as Siena met him, her lips questing and nuzzling at his without hesitation.
For once it didn’t feel as if he were in a race to the end. With painstaking leisure he explored her mouth, taking his time, easing out the kisses, his lips gliding over hers, his tongue making gentle forays to touch hers and his hand slipping up to cradle the fine bones of her face. As kisses went it was a slow, long burn, as if they had all the time in the world. His arms were full of her soft pliant body. He wanted to hold her closer still and pull her into his arms to keep her safe.
When he finally pulled away to catch his breath and to smooth some of her hair away from their faces, she moaned in complaint, her hands tightening on his arms.
‘Ssh, it’s OK.’ Shifting, he pulled her down lengthways on the sofa and they lay there face-to-face. He stroked her face as her eyes, limpid and large stared at him. Words seemed out of place and he didn’t want to spoil the moment of complete accord and understanding between them. There was no expectation, no explanation, just the two of them, anchoring each other. He hadn’t realised how empty and lonely he’d been feeling. Perhaps he needed Siena as much as she probably needed him. Just for this moment, this time.
Her lips curved in a sweet secretive smile and she lifted her hand, her index finger tracing his brow as if to wipe away a frown. She tracked her finger, down his face to outline his lips, touching the lower lip that bugged him so much. When she did it, reverently with that enigmatic look in her eyes, it made him feel that maybe the stupid girly lip had its attraction. Invitation shimmered as she considered him and he answered with a plundering kiss, delving his hands into that mane of hair and holding her head. Conscious of her fragility, he held her as if he were holding the tail string of a balloon, enough to keep hold but gentle enough to let go if need be.
He felt her confidence grow. A hand caressing his neck. Her breasts nudging against him. Her leg slipping between his. Their bodies gradually entwining. Low level heat began to build. Sliding his arms slowly down her back with lazy intent, making it clear she could stop him at any point, he brought his hand inexorably down to her bott
om and urged her to him. Hands full, he cupped and shaped the pert cheeks, massaging her through her jeans and failed to bite back the groan. She felt so damn good.
Scant seconds later, she stiffened, her whole body suddenly rigid. Corpse-like, she lay beneath him before suddenly lurching into life, pushing against him, hands scrabbling, knees flailing and her breaths short, sharp and panicked.
Immediately he rolled away from her, falling off the sofa onto the floor, to give her space.
Sitting on the floor, he waited and watched as she calmed, conscious of his heartbeat pounding hell for leather in his chest. He concentrated on that, as it gradually slowed to normal, listening to the fire crackle in the silence of the room and keeping absolutely still as if he were waiting for a deer to break cover in the woods.
Eventually, her eyes tightly shut, she pulled herself upright, knees to her chest, her arms clamped around her shins.
They stayed like that, he didn’t know how long for.
‘It was Yves that punched me.’
Her soft voice startled him. The flames had almost lulled him to sleep and Siena had been silent for so long, he’d given up on her talking to him tonight.
‘The bruise on your stomach?’
‘Yes. I made him cross.’
‘He hit you?’ Jason needed to say the words out loud to process them.
She nodded, her gaze tracking across the room.
‘Quite a bruise.’ He kept his words level.
‘He gets cross with me. I … I don’t like.’ She swallowed. ‘Sex.’
Jason didn’t know what to say.
The flames in the fire danced in sinuous rhythm. If she looked at them rather than at Jason, it made talking about it easier.
‘We’d been to the races. When we got back. I was a bit upset. I said I didn’t want to go out with his clients again.’ She swallowed, watching the curl of an orange flame rise and roll back on itself, focusing on it instead of the images forcing their way back into her head. ‘They touched me a lot. He wanted to go to bed. I didn’t.’ Her hand drifted to her stomach as she tried to hold back that awful sensation of being completely powerless. ‘Then he …’
‘Siena look at me.’
His gentle tone, damn him, made the tears well up.
‘What happened?
She closed her eyes, feeling of the usual sense of shame at her inability to do anything about it. Lifting her head to look up at the ceiling, she swallowed hard, forcing the tears to stay put. She wasn’t going to cry. ‘He … insisted … when I didn’t want to.’ She’d avoided putting it into words for so long, that now she said them out loud she realised how pathetic and spineless she sounded.
‘Insisted?’ Jason raised an eyebrow. Like a terrier, he wasn’t going to let go.
‘He knows I don’t really like,’ she blushed, ‘sex. I’m not very good at it.’
‘It takes two.’ Jason spoke softly.
‘Yves says I need to relax a bit more but it’s hard. I know he’s going to want to and it makes me tense and then it …’ Her mouth crumpled as she tried to hold back that awful sensation of being powerless and useless. Lying there. Him pumping into her.
‘He says I’m frigid and need more practice.’
‘You mean he forced you.’ Jason’s eyes were glacial. ‘Didn’t you tell anyone?’
‘Tell them what?’ Anger sparked. ‘I’m lousy in bed? Yves is rich, handsome. One of the most eligible bachelors in France. He’s always on those lists. When I tried to say no … that’s when he hit me. I avoided him for a couple of weeks after that, but then on Thursday, Maman said she’d invited him to the Chateau for dinner and that we were going out with a few of Harry’s business colleagues. She told me that she was expecting us to get engaged. Yves father is one of my stepfather’s friends. He owns the neighbouring estate and has part shares in lots of Harry’s business interests.’
‘Establishing a family dynasty?’ Jason’s face hardened.
‘Harry doesn’t have any children of his own.’
‘Very neat and tidy.’
‘At first it was OK. I’ve known Yves forever.’
‘Same social set.’
Siena sighed. It had been virtually impossible to avoid him. The races. Skiing. Antibes. St Moritz and St Tropez. She’d been blind to it originally. ‘I didn’t think he was that interested. Then we started going to things together. Before I knew it we were a couple. And Maman seemed so happy and kept promoting it.
‘That afternoon, when she went out, that’s when I decided to run away.’ She laughed hollowly. ‘I didn’t think it through. Just packed a bag. Flew to England, assuming I could stay with Laurie and then make plans here.’
‘So the fashion designer thing?’
‘I am serious about that bit,’ she shrugged, ‘Lisa’s going to help me see someone.’
‘Are you sure your mother wouldn’t be supportive if you talked to her? Actually, you do know you could report Yves for non-consensual sex? It’s still a crime, even if you know him or have been sleeping with him.’
Siena smiled at him; for once he was being the naïve one.
‘Yves’ uncle works in the Ministre de Justice. Yves is a pin-up. No one is going to take that case on, believe me.’
And then the dam burst, the shame, the hate, the self-loathing. The tears forced their way through so fast and furious, her breaths turned into incoherent sobs and suddenly Jason was beside her, taking her into his arms, holding her as she sobbed into his chest, his strong hands anchoring her there.
It took a while for the outpouring to calm. She felt exhausted and could barely open her eyes. She’d look a sight; they felt puffy and swollen. So she kept them closed and took comfort in Jason’s arms, feeling safe for the first time.
A numb arm woke him. They lay wrapped together, her breaths fast and even, with a slight wheezy squeak to them.
The room had chilled, the fire a pile of embers, a flame guttering every now and then. In the shadows, Siena’s features had softened. She looked so damned innocent, it pricked at him.
She stirred next to him and her eyes fluttered opened with a sleepy frown of confusion that sent his heart into a Catherine wheel fizz.
He pulled her round with him, rising to his feet and taking her with him.
‘Come on. You need to go to bed.’
Pausing to blow the candle out, he led her to the stairs. Willing and biddable, still half asleep, she did as he urged. Outside her bedroom door he stopped.
‘Goodnight Siena.’ Unable to stop himself, he traced her face with his hand. Not all men were shits. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, turned her round by placing his hands on her shoulders and pushed her through her door.
He was too tired to make any sense of any of it. Peeling off his clothes, he fell face forward into bed, slightly regretting there was no warm body in there with him, but knowing he’d done the right thing. In her vulnerable state tonight, anything more would have been taking advantage.
Chapter 13
Siena stretched and as she awoke, last night came flooding back making her heart bump. What a disaster, when it had started so well. She shivered. Those initial sweet kisses of comfort which had turned into something else. Her whole body alert and alive with excitement. She’d felt pleasure. She wanted to hold on to that feeling even though she knew it probably didn’t mean anything to him. Gruff, grumpy Jason had a soft heart and he’d been offering her sympathy and comfort. She wanted to hug herself, and keep the memories inside so that they wouldn’t fade in the bright light of a new day.
He’d been so kind and lovely and then she’d gone and spoiled it all.
What on earth would he be thinking this morning? That she was some neurotic nut-job? A spineless, useless idiot? But talking about it had changed things. She wasn’t going to be that person any more.
She rolled over to check her phone. Seven thirty. Almost groaning she slumped back in her pillows, too wide awake to get back to sleep.
Ir
ritated she scrolled through her phone, relieved that the red dot telling her she had umpteen million messages had gone, thanks to Jason. Those voicemails had been as bad as she’d feared except instead of depressing her and being cowed by them, she had something to celebrate. Surviving. Managing. Feeling more confident, she opened her Facebook app and bit back a smile. The world went on without her.
A party in Cannes. Dinner at a newly opened restaurant. A private showing of an up and coming abstract artist on the Left Bank. Contemporaries pictured in their favourite designer gowns holding flutes of champagne.
All things that Siena had done a thousand times. She peered at the pictures. Funny, she didn’t miss it at all. Funnier still, people had stopped asking where she was. No one even mentioned not seeing her. Short memories indeed.
The phone buzzed in her hand. A text. Lisa inviting her out for the day.
Quickly she tapped the keys back in response and bounded out of bed. Before she left the bedroom, she listened warily. Was Jason up? If she went in the bathroom now would she disturb him? Had he already used the bathroom?
Dithering by the door, she listened hard. No sign of life in the house. She’d be quick. In and out of the shower in record time.
What was she going to say to him this morning? If she was really quick and quiet, she might make it out of the house without seeing him.
It wasn’t cowardly, well maybe it was a bit. Last night had been … last night. A one off. A beautiful memory. Jason had felt sorry for her. She wasn’t his type, she knew that. And he probably wasn’t her type. She didn’t know what her type was. What she did know was that Jason could be kind. His gentle sympathy and protective enveloping strength had touched her. And she was in danger of a severe case of hero worship.
Luck ran out before she could leave, or maybe she only had herself to blame. Making the strong Italian coffee was asking for temptation. Maybe she’d done it on purpose, knowing the siren effect the rich aroma had on Jason. He seemed to be able to scent coffee with an almost superhuman ability. As he wandered into the kitchen, looking rumpled and sleepy, Siena’s heart skipped and she fought the urge to go to him, slide into his arms and press against his body.