Brutal: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by S. Valentine

  She’s devouring Elias with her eyes, the attraction making her pupils dilate. Wow. How does he cope with this attention everywhere he goes? He doesn’t show a hint of arrogance. In fact, as he rubs the nape of his neck, it seems he’s uncomfortable. Why isn’t he lapping up the attention? Securing mobile numbers? Randomly hooking up? Girlfriend, fiancé, wife, I think, hating the flip of disappointment in my tummy.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asks again, not having listened to a word I’ve said.

  I close the menu. “No. We’re fine, thank you.”

  When she sashays off I burst into laughter, and Elias taps his foot on the floor, an awkward smile present.

  “I feel like I should ask you for an autograph, or a photo, or something,” I tease.

  He sticks his tongue out at me, his playful side making an appearance and I go all giddy. This side of him is endearing. Don’t you dare think about his tongue, Amara, I warn myself.

  “Let’s go for a long walk. I need to burn off all the calories I’ve just consumed.”

  “I can think of another way we can burn off calories,” he says, and my wicked mind assumes he’s referring to something rude, but then he continues. “I could do with a new suit. Mr. Dawson wants to do the Grand Prix next week.” He remo ves a stack of notes and positions them half under a cup. “I don’t have a lot of spare time at the moment.”

  Oh don’t I know it. Thomas has booked him solidly for the next few weeks. He can’t spend cash quick enough. I nod my agreement and take Elias’s money from the table and toss it back at him. I’m reaching for my purse when he grabs my arm.

  “Miss. Jain, let this be my treat. You paid at the museum.”

  “No,” I scold him. “I’m not having you wasting your money on outings you probably never would have done otherwise.”

  He opens his mouth to protest.

  “Shut up and do as you’re told.”

  His expression hardens and he’s not one bit pleased at my order, but then he shakes his head as if dismissing it. I bet this strong man has never had a woman tell him what to do before. Propping his elbows on the table, he leans forward, levelling his stare with mine. Anticipation makes me tingle at his next move.

  “I’ll let that one slip, Miss. Jain. But next time…you won’t be so lucky.” There’s a dangerous twinkle in that blue-eyed gaze of his. Is he flirting with me? No, he can’t be.

  I need clarification so I quickly ask, “What will happen next time?” I jut my chin out defiantly, challenging him.

  He’s quiet for a fraction too long and then he says, “You’ll see.”

  He doesn’t give me anything else, simply stands and puts on his suit jacket. Like a gentleman, he takes my hand and helps me to my feet. I almost forget my bank card near my plate until he swoops it up. He checks our surroundings ensuring I have everything. He’s such an observant perfectionist. Then he goes behind my back and hands money to the same waitress, settling the bill.

  I throw him a stern look.

  “You can pay next time,” he says without conviction.

  “There won’t be a next time if you disobey again.”

  He holds my stare and I know what he’s thinking, that there’s no truth in my statement. Elias Cortez has unintentionally captivated me. I feel confident around him, happy, and a bit safer than usual. I’m a much better version of myself with him than I am with Thomas. Perhaps we can develop a deep, meaningful friendship until I leave both Thomas and London, forever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ELIAS

  As I walk down the street beside Amara I keep my wits about me, curiously eyeing up every single pedestrian. I wish she wouldn’t walk so fast. I’m tempted to take hold of her arm, to keep her close, but I don’t. Giving her the wrong impression won’t work in my favour at all. She’s talking nonstop, harping on about how we should get bread to feed the swans and ducks in Hyde park.

  “Do you know the Queen owns most of the unmarked swans in England?” Energy is emanating from her and I think it’s because she’s enjoying her day. “I read it somewhere once.”

  I nod, already knowledgeable to this fact.

  “Do you like feeding the ducks?”

  “I guess so.”

  “There’s so many things I’d like to do in London. Have you explored it all?”

  I rub the stubble along my jawline. “Not all of it.”

  “What’s your most favourite memory?”

  Here come all the questions again. Now I’m put on the spot my mind is blank. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to enjoy London when I came here. Slowly and gradually I began doing little things, if not for myself, but for her. I know Kaley would have been a right explorer.

  “The Sky Gardens offer amazing views,” I tell her. “And the shows at the Royal Opera house are worth seeing.”

  “You like opera music?” she studies me, her brow high with surprise.

  People assume I’m just this fierce bodyguard with only a love of the gym, but they’re wrong. “I like almost all music.”

  “I’d like to go to the opera house one day.” She smiles.

  “I’m sure Thomas will take you sometime.”

  Her mouth straightens, her mood changing instantly, but she doesn’t speak.

  My mobile vibrates in my pocket and I remove it and check the screen. My mom. I cut her off and mentally remind myself to call her back later. When it rings again and then for a third time, panic sets in. She knows if I don’t answer that I’m working. I like my focus to be on my clients one hundred percent, no distractions. Amara must sense my distress as she urges me to answer.

  “Hey.” My mobile is against my ear.

  “Elias…I don’t want you to worry, but your dad…” Her words don’t register in my brain. All I hear is difficulty breathing and something about the hospital. I grab hold of Amara’s hand forcefully to stop her for a moment. I attempt to concentrate on my mother’s words and ask her to repeat herself.

  “Your dad’s been taken to hospital—”

  “What hospital?” I cut her off, bile rising in my throat. Worry kicks in like a knife has been plunged straight into my heart.

  Amara’s eyes widen, the concern visible. I end the call, my strides now quick, my hold on Amara tightening. She has to practically run to keep up with me.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I need to take you home. I’m sorry. My dad’s been taken to hospital.”

  “I can come with you?” she offers.

  It would be convenient if Amara doesn’t make me take her home first. The traffic is quite heavy now, the cars at a standstill. I need to get to my dad as soon as possible. God forbid anything happens to him. He’s the most important person in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I grind my teeth together, my anger always disguising my upset.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” I suck in air, my chest rising and falling.

  “It’s fine.”

  When I notice I’m still holding her hand, despite the warmness and comfort I’m receiving, I let go. It’s not professional. Five minutes later, we’re in the car, the ride painfully quiet. I can’t think straight and Amara must know there’s nothing she can say to soothe me. I hastily switch on the radio, needing words to keep my over analysing brain occupied.

  Half an hour later we’re in the hospital. My mom rushes into my arms when she sees me. I take in her appearance. Her hair is wild and grey rings are under her eyes revealing lack of sleep. Her words come out fast and barely audible.

  “Slow down.” I hold her at arms length, my stare boring into hers.

  “You know he has trouble with his breathing sometimes, but it’s worse this time. Laboured.” Tears well and she wipes them away.

  “Where is he? Let me see him?”

  “The nurse said to wait—”

  “Which room?”

  She points and I barge into the room. A nurse holding a clipboard looks up. I tell her we’re here to see my dad and she nods
.

  “Your dad’s right here.” Before she pulls the curtain back, she lowers her voice and leans closer, “We’ve given him an oxygen mask, done checks etc…. we’d like to keep him in for a few days...”

  When my dad comes into view I carefully take steps toward him. Lying in bed, he seems frail, older somehow, and I take hold of his hand, a heavy ache lingering in my chest. He slowly blinks his eyes open and attempts a weak smile.

  “Papi.” I shake my head. “You trying to kill me with worry?”

  I pray mentally my dad will pull through. I don’t have the strength for heartbreak, it will kill me. After a few beats of silence I remember Amara. She must be waiting in the corridor. I find her sitting on a plastic chair which doesn’t seem comfortable at all.

  “Are you okay here? I won’t be long.”

  She nods. “I don’t mind getting a taxi.”

  “Mr. Dawson wouldn’t forgive me if something happened,” I tell her matter-of-fact. Before I can return to the room, my mom appears. My breath holds tight inside me. I know what she’s doing, interfering, being nosey, wondering who Amara is. She jumps at any chance of being able to play matchmaker.

  “Hi. I’m Elias’s mom, Carol. You must be?”

  Amara stands and holds her hand out. “Amara. I’m a client of Elias’s.” Realising it doesn’t sound quite right, she continues. “He’s…my bodyguard…”

  My mom refuses her offer of a handshake and pulls her into a hug. She lingers a bit too long and I shift from one foot to the other. Amara’s presses her lips together and I’m sure emotion is glistening in her eyes, like she’s thankful for the hug, like she’s needed a hug for a long time. That or she’s worried for my mom at this present time.

  “Don’t sit out here, sweetie. Come and we’ll get a coffee from the machine.”

  I bite my tongue, stopping myself from ordering my mom to leave Amara be. The company might do them both the world of good. Returning to the room, I sit beside my dad and watch him sleep. Amara and my mom return a few minutes later with a coffee for me. I take it and down half of it quickly, my mouth parched.

  My mom chats away with Amara like they’re old friends. Instead of seeming uncomfortable, the conversation forced, Amara is smiling, her leg crossed casually over the other. She’s nodding along and seems genuinely interested in my mom’s tales. I divert my attention. My mom doesn’t have many friends. There was a time when she used to call Kaley often, sometimes for no particular reason. Like Amara she welcomed her. I don’t notice I’m digging my nails into my palms until the sharp pain comes. I stop and inhale air.

  “Go home,” my mom tells me. “I’ll ring you with any updates.”

  I don’t move for a moment, unsure what to do. I need to escort Amara home, and I doubt the nurse will allow both me and my mom to stay overnight. Finishing my coffee, I stand and rub the back of my neck. I wish this ache would go away. I must have been sleeping funny lately. After I’ve embraced my mom goodbye, I lead Amara to the car. Once inside she turns to me and places her hand on my bicep.

  “Your dad will be fine,” she says with with confidence. “I know he will.”

  I take in her soft, sympathetic eyes and kind face. She’s beautiful, her soul seeming pure. I’m not sure Mr. Thomas deserves her. He doesn’t value her like she should be valued. It’s not my business so therefore I’ll never voice my opinions. If she stays with him forever I believe she’ll be wasted. I’ve seen how he behaves with women when she’s not there.

  Waves of desire tingle through my whole body, a warmness spreading at her palm still on my bicep. She rubs up and down in an attempt to be comforting, but it stirs emotions I forgot I had. Fuck. This woman is seriously testing my willpower. I like her. There, I’ve confessed. But I’ll never ever admit it out loud. If only I could smash my lips against hers, have her right here in the car. I could do some seriously bad things with this woman. She’s not like me though. We’d never be compatible, especially sexually. She still has an innocent aura about her. I’d end up tainting her mind, introducing her to things she never would have experienced otherwise. Amara is perfect and I wouldn’t ever want her to change.

  She removes her hand and I’m reminded of where I am and my current situation. She made me forget for a moment. Made me feel almost normal. I instruct her to put her seatbelt on and sort my own. I don’t need distractions or complications rights now. The most important things are work, my goals, and now my dad recovering. If he recovers. Jamming my keys in the ignition I creep forward, hating how I have to leave him. Life is testing sometimes. How much pain does it think I can endure? And to think, the day started off so well.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AMARA

  I cut the cake into eight slices and add two to a plate. My morning has consisted of cooking and baking with the music on. Thomas has been out all day playing poker with his friends or something. There are times when I don’t understand his lifestyle. He’s never known struggle, everything having been handed to him. I hum along to a song and check my mobile. Thomas has sent me a message informing me he’ll be home in half an hour. I’ve prepared him a nice meal of mash, roast potatoes, vegetables, stuffing balls, and yorkshire puddings slathered in gravy, a traditional English dish, minus the meat. I quite like this sort of food, although I remember when Thomas once made me try Marmite on crumpets and I almost gagged.

  Checking the meals which are in the oven on a low heat, I dart upstairs to shower. I luxuriate in the warm water, and although I should be relaxed my muscles are tense. I should be looking forward to having a nice sit-down meal with Thomas, but I’m not overly fussed. Is Thomas happy? I need to ask him, get everything out in the open. He can’t possibly stay with me, plan our life without his parents approval, and I don’t want him to. I smile softly when I think of Elias’s mom. She was lovely, so sweet and welcoming. I have a feeling his dad is just as nice.

  By the time I’ve showered, dried my hair, and put on a long t-shirt, Thomas has returned. I carefully lay our dinners on the table along with dessert and drinks, and sit opposite him. We tuck in straight away and make polite chit-chat about one another’s day. Anxiety kicks in when I think about discussing our relationship. I don’t want to anger or hurt Thomas.

  “Are you happy?” I ask him, finally finding the courage to spit it out.

  He scoops up a potatoe and shovels it into his mouth. When he’s swallowed it, he replies, “Of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t mean life in general.” I put my fork down. “I mean, are you happy in this relationship?”

  A low laugh escapes. “I love you, Amara. You know that.” His words don’t match his eyes. Is he lying?

  “You can love someone and still not be happy.”

  He drops the cutlery on his plate which is almost empty. “What are you getting at?” The agitation is clear, his jaw twitching.

  “Nothing.” I try to keep my tone light. “I’m just curious.”

  “This relationship might not be perfect all the time, but yes, I’m happy.” He leans forward and takes his dessert and spoon. He’s that self absorbed he doesn’t even ask if I’m happy.

  Knowing I’m not going to get anywhere I drop the subject, and start on my cake. How much longer does he want to keep up this facade? When we’ve both finished eating, I take the plates and start washing up. The London decorated cup hanging on the rack reminds me of the one I got Elias. Lust assails me, my pulse accelerating, and I prevent from grinning like a silly teenager with a crush. Even if I was single he wouldn’t want me. No way. I can’t give him what he needs. Elias is suited to the glamorous, outgoing, seductive women that grace the VIP sections of clubs, the types Thomas is drawn to.

  By the time I’ve finished cleaning, Thomas is lying on the sofa, mobile in hand, texting away. I tell him I’m going to bed. I’m not even tired once I hit the mattress and so I listen to a French language audio book. I pick up languages well, my mind absorbing the words like a sponge. Perhaps I sho
uld learn Spanish. I shake my head on an eye roll. I need to stop thinking about Elias.

  Twenty minutes into my book, wireless headphones still in, I stroll out the bedroom and crash into something firm. I almost lose my balance until hands grab me. When my muscles are steady, my heartbeat normal, I look up. Elias. What the… His eyes are assessing me, checking I’m not hurt. Satisfied I’m okay, he reaches up and his fingers stroke my cheek, making me become a muddled mess. Again I’m being pathetic and presumptuous because he isn’t displaying signs of affection, rather removing my left headphone.

  “Miss. Jain. I’m looking for the bathroom.”

  My whole body is on fire, my gaze greedily taking in his full lips and then his hunky, well-built frame. I’m so desperate for this man to hold me, to feel his strong arms enveloping me into a tight hug. But it’s way too dangerous. A hug would more than likely lead to a kiss, a kiss I wouldn’t be able to refuse. His aftershave invades my nostrils, every sense of mine highly aware of him. I hate myself. I’m a disgusting human being. Thomas is downstairs and this is against everything I’ve ever known.

  “How’s your dad?” I ask, stepping backwards and putting some distance between us.

  “He’s still in hospital.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  He nods.

  “So, where is Thomas going tonight?”

  He blinks. “He’s your boyfriend, Miss. Jain. You should know.”

  I don’t respond.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he states as if I’m worried.

  It’s me Thomas needs to keep an eye on, I’m tempted to say. Elias’s throat dips as he swallows and before he turns from me, I don’t miss him taking in my T-shirt clad body. It’s as if the air is hot around us, sparks flying. I’m in complete hell, tortured by this stunning, rugged man I can’t have.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask, and wince at my motormouth. Am I testing the waters? Seeing what could happen should he be single, and if I ever am?

  He stops still. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. He’ll ignore me like he usually does, or give an unsatisfiable answer which will make me none the wiser. He straightens his posture, his shoulders firmly set. “Why do you want to know?”