by Dixon
Twenty-Seven
“There are no excuses,” he sighed, reluctantly letting her go. “What I did was fucked up. I know that, you know that, and there is nothing I can say or do to actually fix it. I should have told you at the start, but I don’t regret what we did.”
“How many others have you fucked behind your wife’s back?” she challenged, turning around to face him with a scornful expression frosting her face.
“No, it’s not like that! I have never done anything like this before! Do you honestly think I was planning on coming to Europe and meeting someone like you who could destroy my entire career and flush my marriage down the drain?”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me!”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not blaming you…” Nate groaned, taking a step back as his hands dragged down his face. “Look, my marriage isn’t what you think it is. Natalia and I are just business partners. Our marriage is nothing more than a political fucking statement, a business deal that was practically arranged for me.”
“An arranged marriage?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged his shoulders and leaned his back against one of the shelves. “Our parents hooked us up, said it would be a great way to increase our social status, that it was a great move financially for us combining our assets—and don’t get me wrong, it is… but it’s a loveless partnership. We are two completely different people living in this ridiculously large house, we barely speak to each other, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Nat is fucking some guy behind my back…and honestly? I wouldn’t care if she was.”
“So…what? You don’t fuck your wife, so your British mistress will do—is that it?” Ava snipped, not buying this story, and finding it twisted and messed up even if it were true.
“No, that’s not it. Nat and I did fuck a lot at first, thought why the hell not mix business with pleasure, but it was just this senseless fucking day in and day out that—”
“Okay, okay, I get the picture, move on!”
“I don’t want her, Ava. I haven’t fucked her, or anyone for that matter, in months. Even then, there isn’t any passion, no desire that consumes me, not like how it is when I am with…you.” Nate stared at her like she was a shining beacon of hope and stepped towards her, his hands carefully slipping onto her waist.
“Nate…please d-don’t…” Ava whimpered, music to Nate’s ears as he saw it clear as day in her eyes—she felt it too. They fought and fucked with the same desire and craving for more.
“I will do anything to make this work. I will be whatever you want me to be, I’ll give up everything for you, just don’t let whatever this is go,” he whispered, moving in closer to that aroma that made him high, his hand in her hair, cinching her body close as he ran his nose up the side of her neck. “I need you, Ava. I can’t get you out of my head, I can’t forget your touch. When I close my eyes all I see is you, beautiful, perfect you.” His lips tenderly kissed along her jaw between words. “I want you to be my forever girl. You’re everything—my desire, my weakness, my obsession…” He trailed off as his lips found hers and the pair melted into one another. All logic fell away from him as his lips chased after her soul, feeling more at home here than he did anywhere else. Within her touch all he found was peace. His body ran hot as he felt her warm palms sliding over his white shirt, reaching for his heart that he’d gladly rip out of his chest for her. But then, as he tasted the salt upon his tongue, a frown etched its way into his features before he was abruptly pushed away from his safe harbour. Pain sliced straight through his chest when he saw the tears sliding down her face like rain rolling down the sides of a perfect rose.
“I…I’m sorry, I just can’t… It’s too much—I—I don’t feel the same way,” she choked on the words before storming straight past him, but he couldn’t move to chase after her. His feet felt as though they were cemented to the floor, his body turning to stone as her words echoed in his mind. Despair drowned him like darkness blanketing around his body, smothering him, forcing itself down his throat until his heart felt as though it was pumping thick tar. It wasn’t until that moment that he realised he had given her the one thing he had no control over—his heart.
After Ava had rushed out of work that day, it was the last he saw of her all week as she never showed up to the office. He took the hint and left her alone, but he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t crippled him. Four days was all it took for him to reach insanity.
That week was hell, not only because her sunny face wasn’t there to brighten his day, but because he struggled with the workload without his assistant.
It turned out Nate needed her in more ways than just one.
His true mistress was his work, each day blurring into the other, lacking colour and life, the same monotonous repetition as the last day. He never knew how deep her claws were in him until he was losing sleep over her. Every dream, there she was, a blissful escape, until he woke up and felt the pain of knowing it could never happen—she didn’t feel the same way.
It was his own fault for plucking a rose from the earth oblivious to her hidden thorns. He was just flesh and bone to her, an expendable high.
Nate couldn’t bear the dreams anymore, preferring the heavy feeling on his chest as though trying to breathe in but never filling his lungs. At least staying awake felt like he had control over something.
Nate was on his way back from a meeting when he stopped dead before turning the corner. The wet and breathy noise of a passionate exchange came from around the bend making his heart jump into his throat as images of Ava’s and Peter’s mouths invaded his brain. Rage ripped through his veins and curled his hands as he stormed around the corner.
“Mr. Brooks!” Charlotte Forbes gasped, jolting away from her stepson, Jenson, and making Nate’s face screw up in confusion. “We were just discussing the trial next week.” She couldn’t have looked any more caught if her hands were dipped in red paint.
“Right…” Nate’s eyes squinted at this woman, seeing nothing more than a leech. It made sense; old man Forbes was dead so move on to his kid that’s ages with her and suck him dry too? Money-draining leech. “As you were.” He cleared his throat and plastered a polite smile onto his face as he walked up the hallway and finally sat down at his desk.
Nate was almost through with this week, Friday finishing time now on his doorstep, and yet, he took no solace from this. He rubbed his tired eyes and just as he looked up, Peter Taylor walked past his office door.
“Punkass…” Nate uttered, an annoyed snuff leaving his nostrils but suddenly the redhead swung into his office with a cheery grin on his face, the same smug expression that Nate had seen that day stood outside the elevator, the same one he now wanted to punch from his face to save his handkerchief getting spoiled.
“Hey, boss! You not finishing up for the ball tonight?” Peter asked, his hand cupping the door frame.
“Ball?” Nate asked, but then suddenly remembered the charity event he ought to attend to keep appearances and maintain professionalism. “Ah, shit… I forgot about it. I can’t tonight.” Truthfully, he had no plans, intending on drinking himself into a dreamless sleep, but even if he did want to go, he had nothing to wear to the black-tie event.
“Ah, that’s a shame,” Peter replied with a shrug before casually stepping into Nate’s office uninvited. “Here, I meant to ask… Ava’s been on annual leave all week but she’s not answering her phone…do you know if she’s alright?”
This was like music to Nate’s ears knowing that the fiery golden goddess was ignoring not just him but this dick-for-brains as well. However, then it dawned on him that something could have happened to her and he felt sick for not being able to find out.
“I haven’t heard from her, but I presume she is fine…why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing…she’s my arm candy for this evening was all,” Peter chuckled, but Nate couldn’t have been further from amused even if a clown was parading itself around his office as his jaw clenched and his hands fisted beneath
his desk.
“I’ll be sure to let Ms. Archer know that you’re looking for her if I do hear anything,” Nate lied, a practiced smile on his face as Red began to retreat out of his office. When he was finally gone, Nate let go of the breath he was holding. He would rather stick hot needles in his eyes than watch that redheaded idiot dance around with a lady who was far too much woman for that worthless boy to handle. But then again, this was the pathetic man-child who allowed his girl to dangle by a noose at that auction.
His fingers drilled away at his keyboard before he whipped out his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hi there, yes, I require a suit for this evening.”
Twenty-Eight
Ava couldn’t believe she was going through with this as her heels clicked against the tarmac, her arm hooked in Peter’s, peering up at the illuminated grand building of the Beaufort.
All week she had been throwing her very own pity party, her mind awash with the turbulence of her thoughts. Nate’s confession had been too much. From the things he promised to the feelings he admitted—they hadn’t known each other that long! She was wise to his cruel deception, having had many men before him go as far to claim they were in love with her, all just to bed her. Ava wasn’t falling for his lies. She only had to wait for a couple more weeks before he would be shipped back to America and her life would return to normality again.
“Sam said there are no tables left,” Peter advised, glancing down at his phone as he escorted Ava up the red carpet and inside the hotel. “Let me take your coat.”
Ava peered around the opulent foyer in the hotel as she shrugged out of her black peacoat but glanced back at Peter when he suddenly gasped with his wide eyes dragging down her.
Crimson satin clung to Ava’s petite frame, held up by two flimsy straps with a sweetheart neckline. The dress was longer on one side, cascading down one of her snowy thighs and stopping just below the knee. She added elegance to the ensemble by draping her voluptuous curls over one shoulder, a single glittering earring dangling from her lobe.
“Oh…shit…” Peter said, but his tone was not that of a compliment but of grave realisation.
“What’s wrong?” Ava asked, turning around to see his grimacing face, her jaw dropping and stomach sinking as the reality of her surroundings sucker-punched her in the face.
Everyone at this event was wearing black.
“It’s alright… It’s not a big deal, they’ll still let you in…” Peter didn’t exactly sound confident, especially as his Adam’s apple rose and dipped in his throat.
“Not a big deal?!” Ava yelled, her eyes glaring at his black tuxedo before hissing at him, “Why didn’t you explicitly tell me it was a black dress codeevent?”
“I…I thought you knew?”
“I’m leaving!”
“No, wait!” He gripped her elbow and yanked her back with pleading eyes. “You promised you’d be my arm candy!”
“Yeah…no—fuck that.” Ava shrugged, tugging against his grip. “I am not walking into that bloody ballroom like a red pariah!”
“Drinks on me tonight and I’ll do all your archiving for a month!” He tried to negotiate like the good little lawyer he was.
“Bugger off!” Ava scowled, continuing to play tug of war with her elbow.
“I…I…I’ll buy you and Sam the most expensive magnum on the menu!” he blurted desperately and finally caught Ava’s attention, including two women stood next to them.
“Go on…”
“Oh, bloody heck, look here,” he huffed, going into his suit pocket, and pulling out a key card, “you and Sam can even have the executive suite I rented for the night.”
Ava wasn’t even jealous knowing he had likely bought a room to impress and hook up with some woman who wasn’t her. She just saw a fun sleepover for her and Sam.
“Deal,” Ava stated, his shoulders slumping in relief before she challenged, “Why do you desperately need me on your arm anyway?”
“Some of London’s biggest names in the industry are in that room and having a woman like you on my arm will work wonders for my reputation.”
He was blunt but at least he was honest.
They both followed the sound of lively music before entering the main event. The grand ballroom was fit for Cinderella with glimmering chandeliers hanging from high ceilings, a majestic glass dome in its centre, and white walls illuminated in a prosperous violet light. White cherry blossom trees decorated the tables surrounding the busy dance floor, and if not for the fact that everyone was wearing black, one could have mistaken the setting for a very expensive wedding or a casino event with the odd blackjack tables dotted around.
News of Ava’s arrival began spreading like wildfire as people turned around and sent odd looks to the woman who didn’t get the dress code memo. She felt her stomach twist as her nails dug into Peter’s arm enough to make him wince. When her face finally found a familiar pair of warm eyes, she felt a shred of relief…until that person decided to burst out laughing at her.
“Omigod!” Sam squealed as she burst into hysterics.
“Yes, hilarious—please can we get me royally blitzed so I can pretend this never happened,” Ava said as she reached the tall standing table without any seats—her feet would not thank her later.
“Certainly. Samantha, will you help me carry the drinks?” Peter smirked, holding out his arm like the complete gentleman as Sam went along with it.
“Yep, great, just leave the pariah to stand here alone and fend for herself!” Ava chided.
“Just keep the table and I’ll get you a bottle of wine.” Sam patted Ava’s shoulder as she passed her but not before winking as she teased, “A bottle of red, yeah?”
Ava glowered at her friend before huffing as she looked out to the dance floor, grimacing at the many people continuing to look her way before gossiping to one another. Still, even though this was social suicide, it was better than spending the best part of her week wallowing in self-pity over the death of her sex life. And then, just as though the gods were mocking her, her eyes landed upon the devil himself, dressed in a black tux and looking like the ultimate million-dollar man.
Stood on the other side of the dance floor next to an impressive ice sculpture, Nate was currently talking to a young redhead dressed in a glittering black gown. The vixen couldn’t have been any older than twenty, with her pretty little hand resting on his shoulder as she laughed with him. They both looked like they were having a swell time, nice and familiar with one another, adding a tasteless new notch to his belt right next to his assistant’s name.
Ava’s hand curled around her temper beneath the table, her nails biting into her palm as her nostrils flared.
What a cunt.
“Who shat in your Coco Pops?” Sam cut through her thoughts as she dumped a large bottle of champagne on the table.
Ava let out a squeak, snapping her attention to her friend before asking, “Where’s Peter?”
“Fuck knows, probably chatting up some bird with the ‘I walked a million steps’ patter, but lookie hereeee…” She fanned herself with his credit card and giggled in mischief. “Bloody idiot should know to never give his card to a lass at an event like this.”
“I’ll raise you that card for these bad boys.” Ava winked, flashing a pair of key cards for the hotel room Peter had offered them both.
Two hours. That’s all it took for Ava to feel the buzz off of the bubbles as she and Sam spent most of the evening gambling at the pop-up roulette tables before finding themselves at the bar sipping Porn Star Martinis and doing shots.
“Naw, it’s no spiking a man when you’re just simply sneaking a Viagra into his complimentary muffin!” Sam slurred, dramatically waving her hands around before leaning her arm on the bar and pointing at Ava’s face. “I’m tellinggg you…it was the best hour of my life!”
“Only an hour?!” Ava blurted as her hand covered her mouth to save spraying alcohol everywhere.
“Well…I had been drinking Porn Star Mart
inis all night so…I passed out after the first round.” Sam said it so matter-of-a-fact that Ava lost it and began howling with laughter, buckled over until small snorts escaped her nostrils. “He was fifty shades though! Had handcuffs, those wee vibrator thingies, and even had lube in his top drawer!”
“Never trust a man with lube in his top drawer, Sam,” Ava said through tears of laughter.
“Aye, why’s that then?”
“Because a real man shouldn’t need lube. If he doesn’t intend on making his lady’s wax drip for him then he shouldn’t expect her to light his flame.” Ava hid her cheeky smirk behind her glass as she added, “Unless, of course, the front door is locked…”
“True, but lucky for him it was Porn Star Martini–flavoured lube so I didnae ken the difference!”
Ava’s laughter fluttered above the noise of the lively disco behind them, carrying across the dance floor like birdsong. When she opened her eyes to wipe the tears, something possessed her to peer over her exposed shoulder, a type of magnetism. There she saw him, the dark figure cutting through the dancing bodies and headed straight for her at the bar.
Nate.
Twenty-Nine
“Let’s go dance, yeah?” Ava said, grabbing hold of Sam’s arm and yanking her.
“But this isn’t ‘Proud Mary’!” Sam protested, already dragged onto the dance floor as Ava steered them far away from the asteroid heading towards them.
The energy of the music flooded the crowded dance floor as the bass kicked Ava in her chest and fuelled her feet to the tempo of the song. If it wasn’t for the grand evening gowns and tuxedos, with her eyes closed she could imagine being in a club, the colourful lasers dancing behind her eyelids as the music and atmosphere made her synapses jump and sparkle with life.
Sam hooked an arm around Ava’s petite waist, yelling the lyrics of the song into her face as the pair laughed and moshed their heads to the song. For just a few blissful moments, Ava wasn’t at a work function, her hormones and heart weren’t at war, and everything in life made perfect sense. She would have complete control over everything again—well, other than her inebriated brain as she danced with her best friend.