by S. Valentine
“You don’t know me very well, Miss. Jain…but I’m extremely good at what I do.”
She looks at me and I’m aware my expression is serious, my eyes displaying rage at what I’ve had to do in the past. If she’d seen me fight, she would be carefree now, her fears long gone.
“I don’t doubt you can fight.” She fiddles with a ring on her finger. “But fighting doesn’t fix everything, and it can’t fix this.”
“Why the gun then?”
“The gun ends it.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. Was she actually intending to kill someone with that thing? How bad has she got it that murder is the only answer? Unless she meant using it on herself to end it all. Before I question her she points to a townhouse indicating we’re here. I don’t even get chance to remove my seatbelt and she’s out the car in a flash. She waits inside the doorway, out of sight from the street. I lock the car door and swagger toward her.
“Miss. Jain…”
“Don’t ask me any questions,” she warns.
“Mr. Dawson will tell me—”
She slams the door shut. We’re alone in a hallway. “He won’t tell you anything. It’s not in his best interests to.”
She isn’t quick enough to march off. I grab her by the arm and pull her back, not intending for her to be so close. Her chest is against mine and her heart is beating rapidly. I can’t have this woman trying to kill people, or kill herself. There must be another way out for her. My hero instincts kick in and I fucking hate it. I don’t even know if she’s the bad one, if she’s guilty of something terrible, but my gut is certain she’s done no wrong. Her steel gaze is silently ordering me to release her. I take in her full pursed lips, and then she mirrors me looking at mine for the briefest second, and swallows audibly. It’s been forever since a woman has had this effect on me. If only I could lift her up now, kiss her hard and fast, show her how I excel at more than just fighting. Mr. Dawson. Your job. Maverick Haynes. The past. The danger. I practically push her off me and straighten my suit jacket.
“Suit yourself.” I check the time on my mobile. “I can’t help you if I don’t know the details.”
She turns on her heels and strides down the hallway, stopping at the fourth door to knock. A pretty blonde greets her before lasciviously checking me out. My afternoon is spent in front of the TV while the two women bake cakes and chat like there’s no tomorrow. When we leave, I don’t miss the wad of notes Lori stuffs into Amara’s pocket. Maybe she owes her money. Unless Amara is she working off the books for some reason.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we’re back in my car.
“Home, I guess.” She doesn’t sound too happy about this.
I twist the key in the ignition and press my foot gently on the accelerator. Amara falls asleep on the journey back and when I’m stationary at the lights I study her pretty features. What is she running from?
After I’ve gotten her home safely, I check the time on the dashboard. I’ve a few hours to kill before work tonight. Instead of rushing back to my empty apartment, I drive to the gym. I have spare work-out clothes in the boot. DeShawn’s sense of humour and exaggerated stories are needed right now.
Chapter Seven
AMARA
I stare at the piles of money on the carpet before me, having counted it. The months of baking with Lori are starting to pay off. Hopefully one day I can have something that’s mine, anything, just so I can have some independence. If only I could rent a space and have my own bakery. I sigh in contentment. Wouldn’t that be a dream?
Putting the money back into a box, bar three hundred pounds, I hide it. Thomas tries to refuse my money toward food and bills, but I always insist he accept. I don’t want to have to rely on him, on any man for that matter, besides it wouldn’t be fair. After I’ve placed the notes on Thomas’s bedside table for him to see, I go shower. Tonight we’re going to a club. It’s crazy how different my life is now. Rewind a year and I’d never stepped foot in a club before. I didn’t even know how to dance, but now I’m not so bad. My mind has been opened to all different kinds of music, and being able to express myself and really feel the beats is amazing.
After I’ve washed, shaved, and dried myself, I sit on the bed in my nightie and paint my nails. The TV is on now, some reality show playing. The youngsters on there live a world of debauchery I know nothing about. I take in a blonde filling out her tiny bikini as she sashays up to a boy and starts kissing him ferociously. If my parents saw this they’d be absolutely disgusted. By everything. The way she’s dressed, how she carries herself, at her public display of affection. She’s bold, independent, free.
The heavy ache intensifies in my chest, clutching at my heart. I wonder what my dad, mom, and sister are doing right this second. Do they think about me?
“Amara, I’m home,” Thomas yells up the stairs. “I got you something.”
My sadness is replaced with excitement. One thing I do like about Thomas is his thoughtfulness. Sometimes he surprises me with little things and I’ve never been spoilt before. Satisfied my nails are dry, I saunter downstairs. My smile slips when I see he’s not alone. Elias is sitting perfectly straight on the sofa, his fingers intertwined. Thomas must be going back out if he’s waiting around.
“I…let me get dressed,” I say.
“Nonsense. You are dressed.” Thomas motions me over with his hand. He doesn’t see me being in the nightie as a big deal. I’m not naked, but still…we have company.
I creep toward him and take the large white box from his hand. Excitement is shimmering in his eyes and I know he wants me to open it now. I perch on the sofa and lift the lid, removing silver tissue paper. Inside is a garment of some sort. I notice the designer label and shake my head at Thomas. I’ve told him expensive stuff doesn’t impress me and not to waste money. I appreciate when he brings me small stuff, like a book which caught his eye, or a cake at the bakery, or pretty lipstick he thought I’d like. The material is soft and feels like silk. I can’t contain my grin when I hold it up. It’s a stunning grey dress, the neckline not too low. It could be considered quite short.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
He leans forward and I move toward him accepting a peck on the lips. He takes it further, prolonging the kiss, his tongue darting in my mouth. I don’t like doing this in front of Elias. It’s an extreme lack of manners. I don’t pull away though, not wanting to upset Thomas, or appear ungrateful. The tension in the air is excruciating and I can bet Elias is staring at anything but us. Finally, Thomas releases me.
“I’m going to check in on my parents. Be ready for eight.”
“Okay. Tell them I said hello.” I’ve only met them a handful of times and got the impression they weren’t too keen on me. Maybe they sense the lack of purity in my soul. Is me wanting a loving, comforting family too much to ask for?
I stand and before I pass Elias I tell myself not to look in his direction. Curiosity however gets the better of me. He’s rubbing the stubble on his jaw and instead of seeming embarrassed it’s as if he’s…agitated. Perhaps he found us rude. I practically march upstairs and shut the door, desperate to get away from both Thomas and Elias. I don’t want to be surrounded by Thomas’s stuck-up friends and girlfriends tonight so I call Lori and invite her too.
“So, who else will be there?” She tries to feign indifference, but I know she’s hoping Kyle will be present, one of Thomas’s good looking friends who she has met before.
“I’m not sure,” I respond truthfully.
“I better start getting ready now. I only have three hours.”
I shake my head, amused—so high maintenance. “Pick you up around quarter past eight.”
“Can’t wait!”
Later that night I’m on the dance floor, a mixture of coloured lights flashing around me in the darkness. Music pumps in my ears and the atmosphere is charged with energy. The place is warm, full of dancing bodies, and the smell of alcohol lin
gers in the air. I close my eyes, confidence and giddiness soaring through me. Dancing and music makes me deliriously happy. This is a time when I feel FREE. It’s just me and the beat, everything else having faded out. Swaying my hips and arms I remain in my perfect state of trance until my spine tingles with awareness. I’m being watched. Craning my neck toward the VIP section I expect to find Thomas keeping a watchful eye on me. Instead I find it’s Elias. Suited to perfection, he’s standing tall with his hands in his trouser pockets. He’s just looking out for me having been instructed by Thomas, I tell myself.
Lori squeezes my hip and yells in my ear she needs more champagne. We totter in our heels back to the booth Thomas secured. He’s in a deep debate with his friends over God knows what and the girlfriends are loitering a little too close to Elias. Yeah, like how they were with Thomas earlier, and how he sucked up their attention, relishing in it. Is Thomas purposely trying to push me away, make me jealous, or does he simply think he can do what he wants when he wants?
I drop onto the sofa beside Lori and sip my lemonade. I feign casualness as I check out Elias. The stunner with black hair has her hand on his shoulder. She’s leaning in close, whispering something to him. His serious face breaks into a little smile and unfamiliar and unwanted envy bubbles inside me again. What’s the deal with this man? He laughs displaying perfect white teeth and I’m desperate to know what she said. I tell Lori I’m going to the bathroom and I sashay off.
In the bathroom I stare at my reflection, stabs of insecurity attacking me. Do I look as good as those girls? My dress suits me, tight in all the right places, and showcasing some of my legs. The gold bronzer on my cheeks accentuates my natural light tan. I feel pretty and classy. Maybe these people don’t bring out the best side of me. I’m mostly always pushed into a corner, rarely included in their conversations as if I have nothing of importance to say. Then there’s Thomas’s parents. Maybe I just don’t fit in this particular circle.
Returning to the club I find Lori chatting and laughing with Kyle. I sit again and stare long and hard at the champagne before me. Would it kill to have one sip? I sigh heavily. I’ve already gave up so much of who I am, however I decide against it.
“Everything okay?”
I look up to see Elias standing close to the sofa. “I’m tired.” Half lie, half truth.
He surveys the VIP section, his attention landing on one of Thomas’s friend’s bodyguards. “Want me to take you home?”
“If you don’t mind.” I slip my handbag on my shoulder and tell both Lori and Thomas I’m heading home. Neither seem that bothered and so I allow Elias to lead me outside.
There’s a long queue, people eager to get in even this late. They’re buzzing with excitement, desperate to get drunk, be wild, and socialise. Did I make the wrong decision by coming to London? I’m sure as soon as I find my calling, my place, then I’ll be fine. I hope so. If not I’ll have given up everything and everyone dear to me for nothing. It’s too late to return anyway. I’ve made my bed and now I must lie in it.
Chapter Eight
ELIAS
Amara is silent in the car on the way home. Maybe she’s pissed off Thomas was flirting with anything with a pulse. They’re a bit of an odd couple. They seem…mismatched for some reason. They say opposites attract, but I’m not entirely sold on that. Thomas is from a wealthy background, well spoken, immaculately dressed, and into the finer things in life. Amara is clearly working class, doesn’t seem to care for materialistic things, and she sticks out like a sore thumb at these events. I can’t quite put my finger on why. She doesn’t party like they do, doesn’t even drink alcohol. Maybe she’s afraid to let loose, or is worried about Thomas being intoxicated so has to be the sensible one. Where the hell did they even meet? I press a button, my window lowering, fresh air seeping in.
I steal a glance at her. She’s texting away on that cheap mobile, the brand I don’t even recognise. It’s not touch screen and I’m pretty sure you can’t even access the Internet on it. She’s the only person I know who doesn’t have the latest mobile, and who isn’t endlessly scrolling away on social media sites. She’s different, I know that much.
When we reach her home, I get out the car and walk her to the door. She drops her keys and I scoop them up. Is she nervous? Upset about tonight? I don’t bother asking, knowing to keep out of other people’s business. If she wanted to confide in me she would have done.
“Thank you for the lift,” she says when the door is finally open.
I nod. “No problem.” Before she retreats inside I have a change of heart, needing to know if she’s okay. “You seem distressed.”
Her frown vanishes. “I’m perfectly fine.” She’s faking it.
“It’s Mr. Dawson, isn’t it?”
She’s silent for an age and then she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I just…” Her chest rises and falls with her sigh. “I don’t think I fit in with his friends sometimes. Or his family.”
I sink my hands into my trouser pockets, unsure what to respond with. When it comes to advice about life and relationships I’m the wrong person to ask. I rack my brains trying to think of something to put her mind at ease. “Forget about whether you fit in with anyone else. Do you fit with Mr. Dawson?”
She scratches her head and the fact she has to even think tells me everything I need to know. “More so in the past than now.”
“What changed?”
She averts her eyes obviously not wanting me to be able to read her expression. “Goodnight, Elias.”
Before she can close the door I offer comforting words, “I’m a believer that we end up exactly where we’re meant to be.” As I saunter back to the car, the words echo in my mind. What a load of bullshit.
***
The next day I find myself sitting in Elliot’s plush home office. Since when has he held one to one meetings? I nod profusely at him, taking in everything he’s saying, but with each word the more my anxiety increases. Then he drops a bombshell, the news I’d suspected for a while. He’s moving to Spain for a year, at least. He wants to enjoy glorious weather, relax on the beach, pick up women. Who can blame him? If I could afford it I’d migrate to Spain too. When he tells me how much he’s valued me as his bodyguard I realise I’ll quite miss him. He’s a good person.
“This is just to say thanks for everything.” He hands me an envelope and I know it’ll contain about a grand. Elliot has always been more than generous. “And who knows? If Spain isn’t as marvellous as I think it is, I’ll come back and you’ll be the first person I’ll call.” He beams.
I doubt that. I also doubt Spain will fail to live up to his expectations, especially Marbella where he’s headed. He’ll fit right in. After we’ve said our goodbyes and quickly embraced, me patting him on the back, I leave. Shit. Now I only have Thomas. Let’s hope I don’t lose him too. What am I to do with all this free extra time? Suddenly it dawns on me that one day when I retire I won’t have a family to enjoy, a homely place to call my own, kids to keep me busy. I rub my jaw and stroll toward my car. Getting another job isn’t an option. I’m not even sure I’m good at anything else and even then I lack experience.
When I’m in the driver seat I don’t rush to start the engine. I focus on the world happening around me and decide I need to make some changes. I can’t work and go home and this be it. Forever. What happened to doing stuff I enjoy, besides the gym? A few girls stroll past, throwing me seductive glances. Dating is out of the question. I used to frequent bars quite a lot, have a beer, and a game of pool. I don’t do that now in case one of my clients need me last minute. Sightseeing is fun, but I can’t deny it’s more fun when you have company.
My mobile vibrates in my pocket and I check the screen. Rhiann—some woman I caved in and gave my number to one time. Bad idea. Now she won’t stop harassing me. As I predict an image comes through of her posing in lingerie. I shake my head. It doesn’t persuade me to contact her. Although…I examine the picture closely, she’s got an amazing
body. Arousal stirs inside me. It’s been too long since I’ve hooked up with someone. Escorts are the way to go—quick to arrange, good at what they do, and easy to get rid of. My finger lingers over Lara’s number. Forget it. I’ll spend my money on an Indian takeaway instead. I’ll be equally as satisfied afterwards. Well, almost.
I call my local Indian restaurant and place an order for vegetable korma curry, rice, onion bhajis, and chips. Switching the stereo on, I rest against the seat, my muscles relaxing. I’m fine being alone, I tell myself, ignoring how pathetic I am for being excited about takeout food.
When I’m almost home I take in the passing streets of Notting Hill. On this particular road there are apartments an array of different colours, pink, yellow, blue, green etc. Many a tourist has stopped to admire them. I continue to drive, passing high-end restaurants, cool cafes, and trendy boutiques. She would have loved it here, especially the book shops. Guilt weighs on my chest. I haven’t visited Kaley in so long. I make up my mind to arrange a trip to Brighton soon. I’m undecided whether to visit her parents or not. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Later that night I devour my dinner and then watch an action film in bed, an old Arnold Schwarzenegger classic. I love the old films especially ones featuring Arnie, Van Damme, Stallone, and Eddie Murphy. Terminator 2 is my favourite of all time. I can just imagine her now, lying with her head on my chest, watching the gruesome action scenes even though it was never her thing. But she’d make me repay the favour. I half smile at the memory. She’d pick the sloppiest romance films ever.
I close my eyes for a brief second to rein in my emotions. I’m not strong enough and I grip the bed covers, fearful I’ll explode any minute. I wanted revenge. I still do. If only I can accept it’s over, done and dusted, but it’s hard. Deep breaths. I force myself to pay attention to the film. Give or take half an hour and I know I’ll have fallen asleep, the TV still on. Story of my life.