Pervade London

by Fewings, Vanessa

  “Money means power. That can intimidate.”

  I smiled. “Everyone is equal as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Not equal in trauma, though.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The most powerful are the most traumatized, usually.” He studied me. “It’s that sense of drive that escalates them. Read any biography and you’ll see evidence of deep-seated issues. Think of the last few presidents. All of them deeply affected by painful childhoods.”

  From what I could remember about them, he was probably right. “Have you been traumatized, Xander?”

  “I’m well adjusted.” He raised his hand before I could speak. “Even though you found me sleeping in the Underground.”

  My head eased back when his finger traced my nose. “I took it out.”

  “I can see that.” He looked concerned. “Not because of me, I hope.”

  “I just fancied a change,” I lied.

  “For God’s sake, don’t change, Em.” He blinked at me in surprise. “I need you to stay exactly as you are.”

  “I will.”

  He looked around his home. “They let me move in right away. And then I walked into Heal’s and told them I needed same day delivery.”

  I loved that furniture store. I had strolled around it once hoping to have this kind of stuff in my home one day—a pipedream.

  Xander took my hand. “I keep wracking my brain trying to think of how to thank you for being so kind to me at Piccadilly. You let me sleep at your place and you paid for my meal. You were there for me and you didn’t even know me.”

  “You gave me a Stradivarius,” I replied flatly.

  “That was nothing.”

  “I’ve never been given a gift like this.” I glanced over at the violin on the table, still stunned it was mine.

  “You’re a good person, Em. But I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Guilt washed over his expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Once you see beyond the curtain there’s no going back.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Seeing how things really are in the world.”

  “I know a lot of bad things happen,” I replied, wishing I knew what he was really trying to tell me.

  He let go of my hand, staring down at me. “The world needs more people like you.”

  A frisson of excitement rushed over me. I was here, with him, and the thought he was back in my life made me giddy with happiness.

  “Want a drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I followed him into the spacious kitchen area. Xander removed what looked like an old bottle of red wine off a rack. The glass had scratchy white writing on the side. With a pop, he uncorked the Château Lafite.

  I stepped closer. “Is that date right?”

  He studied the scrawled numbers on the side…1757. “Must be a mistake.” He licked his bottom lip as he looked up at me. “I’m sure it tastes fine.”

  “You have this place looking amazing.”

  “You’re amazing, Em. I’m impossible to catch. Yet here you are drinking my wine.”

  “I’m sure it’s delicious, too.”

  “My work is everything.” He handed me a glass. “Just so you know.”

  I held the glass by the stem. “I’m just as passionate about music.”

  “I love that about you.” He strolled over to a door that led to a pantry. Inside was enough food to feed a family, with cheese, tubs of caviar, and heaps of cereal boxes. He brought out a packet of chocolate biscuits, opened it, and poured them onto a plate.

  “You’re well stocked up.”

  “I’m about to go balls deep into a project.” He widened his eyes. “Sorry.”

  “I get it.” I gave him a kind smile. “Everything is okay now?”

  “Yes.” He gestured around him. “As you can see, I’m settled. Good to go on work and play.” He bit his lower lip suggestively.

  I took a sip of red wine to hide my flushed cheeks. The vintage tasted of rich blackberries with a hint of flowers. I couldn’t taste the alcohol, though, and that meant it was a good wine.

  He smiled. “Let it breathe.”

  I set it down. “Are you from London?”

  “Buckinghamshire.”

  “Are your parents still alive?”

  “Mum is, yes.”

  “Do you get to see her a lot?”

  “Not as much as I should. How about you?”

  “I owe Mum a visit. Haven’t been home to Devon in a couple of months.”

  “She must be proud of you.”

  “She doesn’t know I busk, though.” I gave a shrug.

  “She has nothing to worry about with you.”

  I cringed. “She kind of does, obviously.”

  I mean, an hour ago he’d been banging me in one of the Underground’s tunnels.

  As though reading my mind, he said, “Best sex I ever had.” His comment lightened the moment.

  I cleared my throat. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why were you sleeping rough?”

  He considered his answer. “I was…avoiding someone.”

  “Who hurt you?”

  “My ex-employer didn’t want me to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m good at what I do. I worked for an organization that’s very influential.” He set his glass down. “Be right back.”

  My curiosity was piqued. I wanted to know what kinds of things a man could accumulate in two days. Walking down a short hall, I reached an office that had three sleek computer monitors positioned on a long central desk. A leather swivel chair sat before it. I imagined Xander moving from one screen to the other as he multitasked. Maybe he was into stocks and shares. It would certainly explain where all his money came from.

  The back wall had two shelves. The only picture displayed was of an attractive woman in her mid-forties. She looked so much like Xander.The lady was wearing wellies and a sleeveless green vest—posing in a quaint village and looking like the ultimate country lady with a black Labrador by her side. I peered closer, squinting, and read the sign on the post office’s wall. The town was Great Missenden.

  With a jolt I realized Xander was standing at the door.

  “I wasn’t snooping.”

  He smiled. “I put our drinks in the sitting room.”

  We made our way back and I picked up my wine glass from the coffee table. Then I strolled over to the window and stared out. The building opposite was just as dramatic as this one. Below was a row of the finest stores, people hurrying by.

  “It’s an amazing view.”

  “I like it.”

  “This place is enormous.”

  “You don’t make friends easily, do you?”

  Feeling ashamed, I kept my focus on the street.

  “That wasn’t a criticism, Em.” He walked over to me. “I’m the same way.”

  “You are?”

  “When I was growing up, I’d spend most of my time in this tree-house at the bottom of the garden. At night I’d hear all these weird noises. We lived in this Old Vicarage and I was convinced it was haunted. Overactive imagination.”

  “I believe in ghosts,” I said.

  “I grew out of all that. Now I believe in science.” He shook his head. “You can see why I’m crap at parties.”

  “Was that photo in your office of your mum?”

  He flashed a wary look my way.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “When my parents realized their son was different, they put me in boarding school.”

  “How were you different?”

  “I learned to read at the age of two.”

  “You were a toddler?”

  “Yes, I was solving complex math equations at that age, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded, beaming. “I was a hoot at Tesco’s, apparently. Telling everyone in the checkout line how much they could expec
t to be paying for their groceries.”

  “That’s kind of funny.”

  “Yeah, well, Mum didn’t share your sense of humor.”

  “What was your childhood like?”

  “I’d outgrown kindergarten before I even made it there.”

  “So being with the other children was…”

  His expression turned vulnerable, as though he was remembering what it felt like to be that little boy again.

  “I suppose you’re a genius,” I said.

  He offered no response, seemingly waiting for me to continue. “Well? Is this where you ask me to prove it?”

  “No need.” Balancing my wine in my right hand, I pulled him into me with my left. “Give me a hug.”

  “Gladly.”

  I rested my face against his chest. “That’s for all those times you felt out of step with the world.”

  “Oh, Em.”

  “Thank you for letting me in,” I whispered.

  “How the hell did I find you?”

  “I found you, remember?”

  “Stay tonight,” he said. “I like you being here.”

  Three Months Ago

  Fingers trailed along my bare shoulder, drawing me out of sleep. He played with my hair as I awakened to the dreamy comfort of our warm king-sized bed. It had been three blissful months of this…me waking up beside Xander.

  “Hey.” I stifled a yawn.

  He gave me a heart-stopping smile. “Hey.”

  “It’s Saturday,” I realized, feeling relieved and happy.

  It meant we could stay in bed longer. The day was ours.

  “How long have you been awake?” I asked, stretching luxuriously.

  “An hour.”

  And he’d just been lying here with me, content.

  “What’s it like?” he said softly. “Being able to play the violin the way you do?”

  That made me smile. “I started so young, I don’t know any different.”

  “No.” That answer didn’t satisfy him. “What’s it like knowing you’re the one that’s creating that incredible music?”

  “Oh.” I tried to shake off my sleepiness. “It feels like the music is coming through my body. Like something sacred is becoming a part of me from the second my bow touches the strings, as though I’m merely a vessel.”

  “A vessel,” he repeated wistfully.

  “How about you?” I reached over and touched his beautiful face.

  “I lose time when I’m in the zone.”

  “Me too.”

  His eyes lit up. “They say that’s true bliss…and I believe it.”

  I’d been telling myself I should know more about what he did. It always sounded so vague and complex when he talked about it. One day I would sit on his lap and watch him work in his office.

  “I get this sense that I was born for this exact purpose,” I said softly.

  “I never told you that I play an instrument.”

  “You do?”

  He bit his lip seductively. “Yes, I play the Emily.”

  I giggled.

  His fingertips trailed the length of my spine and rested on my ass cheek, then moved downward to caress and tease my sensitive flesh, causing sparks of pleasure. My lower body moved languidly with his strokes as he pressed two fingers through my folds and eased them into me.

  “There will be more practice,” he said huskily.

  “Happy to hear it.”

  “You’re so wet.”

  “Oh, God.” My ass lifted in response to his intoxicating touch.

  “How’s that?” His fingers teased me.

  “I have this theory,” I whispered, “that before a soul leaves heaven for its time on earth it makes a pledge with God. No matter how much we beg or plead to be freed of our pain, he won’t rescue us from it.”

  “You’re very chatty this morning.”

  “No, listen—” It was a thought I had to get out.

  Firm fingers found my G-spot as though trying to distract me from my musing.

  Breathless, I continued, “Because our suffering brings us closer to the divine. And it’s through the divine we create art. And through art we touch God.”

  “You’re my idea of divine.” His rhythm became faster now, more insistent, bringing exquisite pleasure. “I want to barricade the door and not let anyone in.”

  That was kind of romantic, but I didn’t say it out loud. I was so enraptured with bliss I was close to forgetting my own name. His thumb was now inside me and his fingers were languidly circling my clit.

  “I love you.” He pressed his lips to my shoulder. “Never forget that.”

  I ascended once more to a dizzying height.

  “Em, your music makes me transcend time.”

  Rising into my orgasm, I breathed, “That’s how I feel about you.”

  Three Days Before

  The Savoy

  “I’m engaged.” I took a sip of my tea and waited for Kitty to react.

  My drink tasted of sweet vanilla and I mulled over buying a box for Xander before we left the café. He’d love this.

  “Em, that’s incredible!” Kitty smiled brightly. “Let’s grab that booth over there and you can tell me how he proposed.”

  Kitty Adair had drawn the attention of every warm-blooded male in the café. She’d gotten her exotic looks—super high cheekbones and her tall, lean frame—from her Tibetan mum and American father. Kitty looked like a fashion model, but she wasn’t. She worked as a manager at Selfridges and it was her sense of fashion that landed her the job, she’d told me.

  Even when she dressed down, Kitty was well put together. My student budget wasn’t as generous as her salary. Still, I was spoiled by Xander who loved to take me shopping. The ripped jeans and halter-neck blouse I was wearing at least made me less self-conscious around this glamorous fashionista.

  “Okay, tell me how he did it?” She sipped her tea.

  “In the Underground…where we met.” No way was I going to share with her that it was in the same spot I’d found him homeless at Piccadilly.

  Xander had chosen that exact place because it meant so much to him. He’d told me, while on bended knee to propose, how quickly he had fallen in love.

  “Afterwards, he took me to see Hamilton and then we’d had dinner in Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester.”

  Impressed, she raised her hand. “No one can get a table in that place.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I confessed.

  “How long have you been seeing him now?”

  “Six months.”

  And I’d only met Kitty a month ago, so we were still getting to know each other. She was studying me as though trying to fish for gossip. We’d become fast friends when I’d been busking in Covent Garden. Xander didn’t like me doing it so I’d finally relented and stopped, but those public performances had helped get me used to playing before crowds.

  During my last public performance in Covent Garden, Kitty had stood close by and watched me play. Each time I ended a piece of music she’d thrown in five pounds.

  Her enthusiastic clapping had won me over and afterward she’d invited me to have coffee with her in The Black Penny—the same café where we’d chosen to meet today.

  I found it hard to make friends at the Academy and there was something about her that was so insta-friendly, I’d hardly had to try.

  She wriggled in her seat with excitement for me. “No ring yet?”

  “I don’t wear it to music school.”

  “Bet you look cute together.” She wrapped her hands around the cup. “What does he do again? You never talk about him.”

  “Tech.”

  “Does he work from home?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good. What kind of tech?”

  I didn’t exactly know but wasn’t going to admit it. “Communications.”

  “Does he have a nice office?”

  “Very.” I sat back and looked out at the passersby. “I feel like he once had this whole differ
ent life before me.”

  “People do, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Does he seem happy?”

  “Yes, I guess.” That was a strange question and I called her on it. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just want someone who is upbeat and supportive of you, that’s all.”

  “He supports my career.”

  “Good.” Kitty peeled off a curl from her paper cup. “You’re living with him now?”

  “Yes, we’re on Baker Street.”

  “Oh, I love Baker Street.”

  “Me too, so very Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Nice flat?”

  “More than nice. There’s a great view of the shops from our sitting room window. I want you to visit. Let me talk to him about a good day to have you over.”

  “I’d love that. Are you in that modern building that just sprang up in Regent’s Park?”

  “No, it’s that old-fashioned building with gorgeous architecture. He has lovely taste.”

  “Oh, I think I know it.” She flicked her fingers to show it was on the tip of her tongue.

  I answered for her. “Gordon House.”

  “Oh, he’s rich then!” She laughed.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Kitty gave a thin smile. “How’s your studies?”

  “Great.” I leaned forward. “Mr. Penn-Rhodes set me up with my audition for the London Symphony Orchestra. This Friday.” Even as I spoke those words, I could hardly believe them.

  “Wow. Exciting. How do you feel about it?”

  “Really good, actually.”

  “You’ll blow the competition out of the water.”

  “I hope so.”

  “And then you’ll go on to the next audition?”

  “Yes.” I sat back. “You know about the process?’

  “Let’s meet for drinks on Wednesday. We’re going to Dandelyan.”

  “We?”

  “Some friends. It’ll be a girls’ night out.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “It’s my birthday, actually.”

  “Then I can definitely go.” It was her birthday, after all.

  “It’s two nights before your audition so it won’t interfere with it.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re talented, Em. No matter what happens, you’ll always have your music.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Kindness softened her eyes.“You’ll always be okay.” She looked down at her phone.