Chapter Five
When Felicity reached Samuel’s office, the doorman told her he hadn’t come in today. The disappointment weighed heavily on her shoulders, so she let them slump. She didn’t know where he lived. She thanked the security guard for his help and turned to head back to the car. She didn’t want to leave things stewing for another day, so she grabbed her mobile phone, checked her credit balance and dialed the number on the letter that Samuel had given her.
“Hello?”
He sounded cautious. Her number was probably unrecognized by his phone.
“Hi, it’s Felicity. I need to see you.”
“Oh, Felicity, yes, of course. I’m not in the office today. I’m working from home.”
“Can I meet you there?”
“Of course, of course. I can send William round with the car—”
“No, it’s okay,” she insisted. “I’m already out of the flat. Just give me your address.”
Samuel did and wished her goodbye. She responded in kind and got into her car. He’d given her an address in the center of the city, in an area known for its affluence. She took a deep breath and drove.
Her little beat-up motor looked out of place among the sleek sports cars and shining power machines spotted along the road beside the riverside apartment block. What Felicity lived in was a flat. These weren’t flats. The building was an old mill. The red bricks glowed with the heat of the summer sun. Between this building and the next, the blue of the river sparkled and caught her eye. She was certain Samuel’s apartment would have a beautiful view of the water—probably the best view.
She was right. The apartment block wasn’t protected by a buzzer system, but a team of security guards—one at the door, one in the foyer and no doubt countless others dotted around the place. Felicity’s heart hammered as she gave her name and told the man in the sharp black suit that she was here to see Samuel Hughes and that he was expecting her.
When the guy rang through and confirmed that she was expected, he gave her explicit directions to Samuel’s apartment. Number forty-two, the penthouse suite. She followed his instructions, standing in the lift as it barely made a sound and took her up the four floors to the top of the building. It smelled of polish and wealth. The inside gleamed. This was not the kind of lift that people were sick in, that tramps peed in or ever got broken and closed for weeks at a time. It wasn’t a lift at all. It was an elevator. Felicity felt well and truly like a fish out of water.
The corridor shone in the same way—real wood floor, sparkling white paint and bright but subtle lighting. Not a strip light in sight. She followed the corridor, counting the surprisingly few doors down to number forty-two. She stared at the metal-studded door and tried, unsuccessfully, to get her heart rate under control. She took a deep breath, swiped an escaped curl off her sweat-beaded brow and knocked.
A few moments later the door opened, and Samuel stood behind it smiling.
“Felicity, do come in.”
It was the first time she’d seen him wearing anything other than a suit. She admired his strong legs beneath the dark jeans that seemed to be sculpted to him. Felicity was convinced they were expensive, maybe even tailor made for him as they fitted so well. Samuel wasn’t wearing any shoes. His bare feet peeked out under the denim. On top, he wore a bright-white T-shirt and a smile. He pushed the door closed and turned to greet her.
“It is good to see you.” He grinned. “I’ve had so much horrific paperwork to go through today that you are a welcome break, sweetheart.” He took her into his arms and hugged her.
She hugged back gingerly, aware that she couldn’t let his charms work on her. She was here on serious business.
“Make yourself comfortable. I was in the middle of making myself a coffee. Would you like one?”
“A glass of water would be fine,” she responded. She needed something. Her throat felt like it was closing, and her whole body was on fire with nerves and seething anger—a strange and uncomfortable mix.
“Okay, I can stretch to that.” He winked. “Settle yourself down on the sofa. I’ll only be a minute.”
His place was huge, as expected. Felicity’s flat could fit in one small corner of it. The downstairs seemed to be a vast open-plan area—one side a curved vista of glass with a spiral staircase running up the corner to the rooms above. The kitchen stood to the left, full of sparkling gadgets and expensive marble. Before her was a sharp-edged leather suite with its back to the kitchen. The seats aimed at the biggest TV screen Felicity had ever seen. The view behind all that was stunning. The flat directly overlooked the city, with the most perfect view of the river. She strode past the chunky, dark-wood coffee table, her tiny heels clicking over the stark white marble. She sat facing the window. She was in another world. It didn’t feel real.
Samuel returned within a few moments and placed a glass of water on the table before her with his coffee cup next to it. He sat directly beside her and moved to slide his arm around her back. Felicity edged away and his brow wrinkled.
“Felicity?”
Her name was a question, with an edge of steel.
“I’m not here for that, Samuel.” She purposefully used his name to show that she wasn’t playing his control games.
“What are you here for, then?” He pulled his arm back to his body and hunched up, protectively shielding himself.
“To ask you what in the hell did you think you were doing when you left me this?” She dropped the check onto the pristine white leather between them.
“That’s to get you started—”
“I am not some poor, common whore who needs to be paid, Samuel.” The bile that had bubbled in her stomach was rising. The nerves, the feeling of being out of her depth dropped back, and the sea of anger and hurt pride took over.
“No, of course, this isn’t—”
“It bloody well is,” she snapped. “I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t expect it and I don’t want it. I can make my own way in this world, thank you very much.”
“Yes, I know.” He opened his arms, offered his hands palms up to her, trying to calm the situation with his body language. “I’m sure you can but—”
“No, Samuel. No. I can’t be bought. I won’t be bought. I might be as poor as poor can be right now, but I won’t always be. I’m making my way in the world, bit by gradual bit, and I don’t need some sugar daddy to come along and pay my way—”
“Sugar daddy?” He laughed. “I’m not yet thirty. I think I’m far too young to be that.”
“Oh, so now I’m not only a common whore, I’m a laughing stock too? Well, you can keep your fat, fucking check and stick it up your bloody arse. Samuel Hughes, you are a manipulative bastard!” She stood and purposefully stomped away from him.
“Felicity.” His tone was conciliatory. “Felicity, please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She didn’t turn around. Tears streamed down her face and a sob racked her body. She tried hard not to make a sound, but the anguished cry forced past her lips and echoed around the penthouse.
“Felicity.”
He grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and carried on walking.
“Felicity.” His tone hardened and his grip grew tighter the second time. “Look at me.”
She stopped in her tracks and sucked in a deep breath.
“Let go of me.” She said each word slowly and purposefully.
“I don’t want to.” He sighed.
“I don’t care,” Felicity snapped. “You have not only insulted me, but you’ve also hurt me. I thought…I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but you struck me as being better than that. Different. I can’t look at you, can’t bear for you to touch me. You’ve violated me.” The last words slipped through a fog of tears and blended into a sob.
Samuel lifted his hand and Felicity continued to walk away.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
She barely heard the apology. She pressed down the door handle.
“I�
��m sorry.”
He said it a little louder, and she shook her head, trying to stop the flow of tears.
“Felicity, I’m really sorry!”
She shut the door with a bang and ran down the corridor and into the elevator. She tried hard to pull herself together and rubbed the backs of her hands over her eyes and cheeks to remove the tears. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She held it together until she got into her car. Then she laid her head on the steering wheel and sobbed.
She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, certainly couldn’t drive. She let the emotions flood over her, questioning why it affected her so badly. She barely knew the guy. Yet, she argued with herself, maybe he was the only one who had ever really known her, reached past her hard exterior, formed from decades of hardship and pain, to the vulnerable, soft, scared Felicity locked away inside.
Felicity jumped when she heard the passenger car door click open. She’d been so overcome that she’d forgotten to lock the doors on entry. She looked up, scared she was about to be car-jacked, then when she saw who it was, she was even more scared.
“I’ve told you,” she sobbed. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because I like you too damn much to let your pride ruin a perfectly good relationship.”
Samuel’s tone was soothing but Felicity could hear the tension running through his words.
“My pride? What about your ego!” she exclaimed and slammed her hand down in the center of the wheel, sending out a blarting toot of her horn.
“My ego can be a problem.” He nodded. “This time it was my judgment that was off. I shouldn’t have just left that envelope there for you. I should have explained its contents.”
“I’m not thick. I know what it is.” Felicity crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. She might have lost sight of her anger the moment she was out of Samuel’s way, but now that he was back and being his irritatingly rational self, she was managing to recapture the spark of rage again.
“You are anything but thick, but you are proud, and instead of taking it as it is—a business loan— you have assumed something far more seedy.”
“A loan?” Felicity narrowed her eyes and looked hard at Samuel’s face.
“Yes, a loan. I probably should have explained it better, but believe it or not, that isn’t a strong suit of mine.”
“But it’s so much money. I could never repay—”
“I have every confidence that you can and you will. What you need is a physical base to sell your wares from, somewhere clients can come to meet you face to face in private and see all your stock. I have loads of potential customers in mind and a shop in a new, exclusive shopping court in the center of Manchester that would be perfect for your needs. Once you’re established, selling to the rich and the famous, shipping around the world, you’ll be able to employ staff, grow your business and definitely pay me back.”
“You’ve really thought it through, haven’t you?” Felicity gulped.
“Yes, I have. I never do anything without thinking it through first. Though, clearly, I could have executed my thinking a little better in this case.” He gave a wry smile. “Now, will you come back inside and let’s talk about all this with the added comfort of air conditioning.”
It was swelteringly hot in her car. Only one window opened and that was by the backseat.
“I still won’t take it.” Felicity was firmly in battle mode and not ready to give up her assumptions without a fight.
“We will discuss that, amongst other things. I don’t want you to go, Felicity. I never meant to upset you. Let me please set that straight, at least.”
Felicity met his gaze. The vibrant blue of his eyes mellowed with something—was it regret or concern? Whatever it was, it wasn’t arrogance. Maybe she had reacted too strongly. Maybe she owed Samuel a second chance.
“Okay, then.” She sighed. “But—”
“I know.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I know, let me make this right.”
Felicity gently nodded. Samuel pulled his hand away from her face and she felt bereft. How could his touch affect her so much? Samuel grabbed her hand, and they walked silently back into the apartment block. It was only when they stood in the elevator, hand in hand, arm to arm when Felicity looked down and noticed his feet were still bare.
He shrugged, noticing the direction of her gaze. “Didn’t have time for shoes.”
Felicity smiled and squeezed his hand tighter. He’d not stopped, not thought of propriety or footwear, just raced after her. Maybe he wasn’t as cold and uncaring as she had come to think. Maybe, in there somewhere, was a heart.
Back in the apartment, they sat down on the sofa in the same places. Felicity noted that his coffee was still there, untouched. They untangled hands to sit, but as soon as he was settled beside her, he placed a hand on her knee.
“Look, first things first. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget that money is an issue for people. I say, without boasting, that I have more money than I could ever spend. It doesn’t really factor in to my thinking. This has made me seem cold and uncaring and I’m sorry about that. I genuinely didn’t mean to upset you.”
Felicity met his gaze and tried to see any trace whatsoever of cockiness or deceit within the depths of his eyes and the lines of his face, but she couldn’t.
“I really do have more money than sense, Felicity. I’m sorry.”
His cute, self-depreciating smile matched with a genuine blush of his cheeks warmed her further and she smiled back.
“Apology accepted.” There was no advantage to holding on to her pride to a point where it would hurt them both. He had more money than sense, or so he said. She had more pride than sense. It was about time she accepted that and did something about it.
“Thank you.” His shoulders relaxed and he squeezed her knee. “I’m relieved to hear you say that. And before I chicken out, and while I’m on a run of being honest and open, I want to tell you how much you mean to me, Felicity. I have never found a woman so beautiful, so captivating, talented and funny—or so genuinely passionate and eager. Yesterday was…” He looked deeply into her eyes then, lifting his gaze, his cheeks still flushed with a blush of vulnerability. “Amazing. I can’t think of words to describe how you made me feel. How you make me feel. You give yourself to me so freely, so openly, so honestly, and it blows me away. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to come on too strong. God, we barely know each other, really. I mean— Oh, I don’t know what I mean.”
Felicity smiled. It was heart-warming to see him so flustered, so tongue-tied over her. She knew what he meant—what he was trying to say—because she felt it too, and she was certain it was beyond words, incapable of being captured by mere vocabulary. She leaned in and silenced his stuttering with a kiss. She was still angry. The bitterness of her ire danced in the pit of her stomach, but the incandescent rage had been tamed by the soothing waters of his care, his attempts to make it better.
The kiss hid the rage, disguised it. Passion and something deeper, something scarier bubbled over the anger, made it seem less important. Everything dropped into the background. All that mattered was his lips on hers. She threw herself into that kiss, drank in his sincerity, his eagerness to please, and let everything else fade away.
Felicity thought it was only a kiss, an interlude in the exchange—that it would end and the anger would come back and the issues would be discussed. But no, it wasn’t only a kiss. Samuel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She was finding it easier to think of him by his first name and in this moment of intimacy, it didn’t seem right to think of him as anything else. She rested her hands on his waist, and when he moved forward, the edge lifted and she couldn’t help sliding her hands up under his T-shirt to feel the heat of his skin against her fingers.
In response, Samuel hooked his fingers and found the zipper at the back of her summer dress, lowered it then ran his fingers up and across the exposed vee of flesh. At th
e boundary of her bra, he used both hands to unhook it. A few moments later, she was naked to the waist.
“Beautiful,” he mumbled against her throat.
He cupped her breasts, and she pulled up his T-shirt. She wanted to feel his naked flesh against hers. He dropped back and allowed her to ease the crisp cotton over his head. Felicity dragged her gaze from his belly button, tracing the soft hairs up to his chest. She gulped as she took in the hard, puckered pinkness of his nipples and higher to the stretch of his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed as she lifted the material to his strong chin. The hairs caught when the cotton passed over his beard with a rough scraping, then the top popped over his nose, revealing his eyes, their bright, ice blue a stark contrast to the deep velvet black of his widened pupils.
They stayed gaze-locked as the T-shirt mussed up his hair before she discarded it. He looked into her soul. Could he see the hurt and the pain, the low-lying anger beneath the lust—her want and need? Her emotions raged below the surface. She felt everything so intensely and all at once that she thought she might faint or worse, cry. A film of tears formed in her eyes and she didn’t want him to see that. If he saw everything, would he stop and make them talk again? Felicity didn’t want to think, didn’t want to talk. She wanted to feel, to fuck.
His eyes flashed with emotion too, darkening, softening, swirling with gray, with turquoise. She didn’t know what the changes meant, but she wished she did. She needed to learn all his secrets, how to read his moods, anticipate his desires. She wanted him—she couldn’t deny that. She wanted him forever.
His lips met hers with an explosion of passion. Their mouths dueled, their hands ripped and pulled at flesh as their breaths came in tortured rasps. Felicity couldn’t tell where she ended and he started. What were her feelings? What were his? They came together in a coalescence of tension and desire.
He tore away the skirt of her dress, and she fiddled with the button of his trousers. Staccato fumblings finally led them to nakedness, and he pulled her to him. She hissed when his fingers caught against the tender flesh of her arse. He smiled, appreciating his earlier work, then lay back along the sofa and encouraged her onto him, split her thighs around his waist.
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