Chapter 9
artie
“So, the plastering is done in the lounge, but we’ll have to leave it to dry before the decorators come in,” the builder says. “I picked up the wallpaper you chose the other day, so we’re all ready.”
“Whatever you say,” I say distractedly. My powers of concentration are occupied by listening for Jed moving around upstairs.
He’d been fast asleep when I woke this morning, one arm shoved under his pillow, his long body stretched out under the covers. I’d spent a few embarrassing minutes watching him. With all his energy and intensity at rest, he looks so much younger.
He’d been cuddling me close when I first woke, and I’d been reluctant to move and let go of the feeling of warmth and safety.
I’d watched until he stirred, his nose wrinkling as though he’d become aware of my creepy scrutiny, and then I’d skedaddled out of the bed as quickly as possible. I’d crept around the bedroom like a thief and had the quickest shower possible, regretting I had to wash away the scent of him on my skin.
It had been thrilling to find small bruises on my hips—tiny, purple, smudged memories of his fingers holding me tight as he gave me the best blowjob of my life. He’d held me so tight, his mouth wet and the suction powerful, and I’d come so hard I’d seen spots.
The idea that it was Jed—my controlled and remote boss—doing all those things to me made it even more erotic. The way he’d made my body feel was so easy to define—pure heat and pleasure. But my emotions are all mixed up, swishing and churning like a washing machine.
I’ve been in love with him for so long, and last night, he looked at me the way I’ve always dreamed—his eyes black with want, the green swallowed by his pupils. And remembering his face when he’d come, face creased, mouth slack, his whole being focused on me… It makes me dizzy to think of it.
But how can I not feel guilty for putting him in this position? He would never have looked at me in a sexual way, if it weren’t for this silly, ever-complicated situation we’re in.
And last night, I took advantage of him. I should have pretended to be asleep while he touched himself, but I’d heard his soft grunts and fast breathing and the slick sound of his hand on his cock, and I could not have stopped myself touching him if my life had depended on it. He’d groaned, pushing into my grasp, and I’d felt so powerful?—
“You’re distracted today, Artie.”
I flash a panicked glance at Eric and find that he’s watching me with an amused expression.
“I haven’t had coffee yet,” I say hoarsely. I look helplessly around the shell of the kitchen as if a barista is going to pop up and pour me a latte.
It’s odd having to don a hard hat before entering my home, but this room is going to be lovely. I’ve picked a mixture of natural oak and avocado-green-painted cupboards with an oak work surface and breakfast bar. I’ve said to hell with my budget. My savings will be long gone, and I’ll be in debt until I’m eighty, but it’ll have been worth it.
I’ve spent years dreaming of living in this house again, imagining how I’d arrange the furniture and decorate the rooms. Those dreams kept me going through the rough times when I’d felt totally alone, when I’d had to live in places that felt borrowed, when I’d had to stay with people who didn’t quite want me. This is the house that always felt like it should be home, even if for the past decade, I’d been pushed away. And now I’ve been reunited with it, and with every wall that has come down, it’s become more mine.
I haven’t let Jed help with the money, but I’ve taken some of his recommendations. He has a keen eye and doesn’t force ideas on me. He offers suggestions with a diffident air and it’s been thrilling to have his input on something that means so much to me. Almost as if he’s helping to renovate me and not just my home.
“Jed sleeping in? That’s unusual,” Eric says.
“We were at his mum’s house last night. We may have had a little too much to drink.”
He chuckles. “I like that. He was always up and out with the morning chorus when I worked with him before. Made me feel like a slacker. Mick was the one who was usually around.”
“Of course,” I say, cautiously interested. “You knew them, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did their flat. Nice couple.” He looks suddenly awkward.
I shake my head wryly. “I do know he’s been married before. It’s fine.”
Smiling, he waves a hand at the bones of the kitchen. “You and this house are doing him the world of good, Artie. I don’t think I’ve seen him looking better.”
The words warm me, but before I can ask another question, there’s the sound of footsteps and Jed appears. He’s wearing his Zegna checked navy suit, and he’s knotting an amber-coloured silk tie at his throat. But my mind immediately sends me an image of him naked and arching into my hand.
My cheeks turn crimson, and I struggle to find words. Luckily, Eric greets him and asks him a question about the boiler that he’d never bothered to direct at me, probably because I’d be useless. Interior design is nice. The nitty gritty of a house, not so much.
Jed’s a little pale and his voice is hoarse. He looks up and I bite my lips as he catches me staring at him. He examines my face, and he seems to get a shade whiter. My stomach sinks.
“God, I feel fucking awful,” he says. “What was in those drinks, Artie?”
“I think the problem was quantity not quality. Also, the fact that we mixed them.” My voice sounds squeaky, but Eric and Jed don’t seem to notice.
“Never mix the grape and the grain,” Eric says knowledgeably.
“Never mind grape or grain. I’m pretty sure my mother used battery acid as a main ingredient.”
The two men laugh, and I relax a little. Then Jed looks at his watch and curses. “Shit, we’ve got the monthly meeting. Are you ready, Artie?”
I nod, and then hand him his coat and grab my own. “I’ll be in the car,” I say.
Eric brandishes something that looks like an instruction manual at Jed, and I escape outside. The air is cold with an icy bite that catches at my throat, and I lean against Jed’s dark blue Audi, huddling into my coat.
Carla, my neighbour, comes out of her house armed with a pair of secateurs. They appear rather sharp, and I hope she’s not harbouring ill feelings about the secret-room mishap, but she waves and smiles at me before starting towards the low fence separating our front drives. She’s an older woman with a sleek grey bob, and even when ferociously deadheading plants, she’s imposingly elegant. I don’t know her well, but she’s lived here as long as I can remember. Her husband was in the diplomatic service, so they were away a lot when I was growing up.
“Cold this morning,” she calls. “Summer’s definitely over.”
I nod. “How are you doing?”
“Oh fine. I must say we’re watching your renovation with interest.”
I wince. “Can I just say again how sorry we are about the room?”
To my surprise, she smiles. “It’s given us a good laugh. I think the young man believed he’d discovered a path to Narnia.”
“He’d only have been happy about that if Narnia had a lot of pubs.”
She chuckles but then sobers. “It’s very nice to see the house being loved again. Your mother would be pleased.”
“Did you know her well?” I brighten at the idea of talking to someone who can tell me about my mum.
Her face softens. “I did. I was very sad when she died. And even sadder when your father married that hard-faced boa constrictor.” I laugh, and she shakes her head, looking at my face intently. “You have the look of your mother,” she says. “A kind face and very pretty eyes.”
“Thank you,” I say, touched. “I’m afraid I don’t remember her well.”
“Of course you don’t. I have some photos if you’d like to pop by for coffee one day.”
“ Really ?”
She nods. “We were good friends. I even have some photos of you as a baby. If I’d been able, we would have had you live with us when you had to leave home, but unfortunately, we were overseas.”
“It’s okay. I was fine.”
“Ah well, maybe your mother wouldn’t have wanted just fine for you.” She looks up as the front door opens. “But she’d have liked him ,” she says softly, watching Jed come down the steps. He looks very tall and broad-shouldered in his long blue cashmere coat. “You’ve got yourself a lovely man there.”
“I know.” My chest pangs because, of course, I really haven’t got Jed.
He smiles at us, and my anxiety ratchets. He’s still pale and that smile lacks its usual star power. Carla doesn’t notice. Instead, she giggles almost girlishly as he addresses her. She looks on approvingly as he opens my door for me as usual and then gives a friendly wave as we head off.
The early morning traffic in London is akin to a thirty-mile tailback with lots of cursing and horns sounding. Jed handles it with his usual calm surety. I always feel safe with him behind the wheel. He was trained to drive to a high standard when he was on the force, and he once explained to me that he’d taken some intensive driving courses. So he’s fast, but not flashy, and always safe.
The car is warm and scented with leather and his cologne. The radio plays low, but when the silence between us edges into awkwardness, I clear my throat and say, “How are you feeling?” I grimace. He’s already said he feels terrible.
“Not the best,” he says grimly. “Artie, I?—”
“I’m sorry,” I break in loudly over his words.
He gives me a questioning look as he draws to a stop at some traffic lights. “What about?” he asks cautiously.
“Last night.”
“Ah.” A strange expression crosses his face.
“I feel like I took advantage of you.”
His hand fumbles the gear stick and he promptly stalls the engine. “Shit,” he says as the lights change and a volley of horns sound behind us. I stare at him as he manages to start the engine again and the car lurches forward. It’s so odd to see him discomposed.
He fixes his gaze on the road, but his attention on me is like the beam of a lighthouse. “Took advantage? What on earth does that mean?”
I swallow hard. “You were half asleep when I… Oh, you know. When I woke up and you were?—”
“Yes, I do know,” he interrupts, a flush appearing on his cheekbones.
“And I heard you doing that.”
He coughs. “Hmm, yes.”
“And I don’t know what possessed me.” I fall silent for a second and then burst out, “I know you don’t see me like that, and I feel like I took advantage when you were sleepy and still a bit drunk. We were very drunk,” I add, hoping he’ll dismiss my misguided attempt to talk about this.
I should have known better, because Jed never runs away from painful conversations. Raff’s frequent appearances in Jed’s office—as though it’s been fitted with a revolving door—is proof of this.
“We were drunk earlier, but not then.” We brake again. A car honks noisily next to us, the driver shouting obscenities at another driver. “It’s actually my fault. I knew better.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
My voice is sharper than usual, and he directs a startled glance at me before staring intently at the car in front of us. He says, “It means that you’re completely wrong and I do actually think of you like that.”
It takes a second before his meaning sinks in. “ What ?” I say far too loudly.
He winces. “I may not still be drunk, Artie, but have some pity. I’m hungover to fuck.”
“Sorry.” I turn to him. “You’re attracted to me?” The astonishment is clear in my voice, and he shifts a cautious glance at me.
“What did you think last night was about? And the kisses before?”
“I thought they were an act.”
“Then I obviously could have had a very successful career on the stage. Of course, I’m attracted to you.”
“There’s no of course about it,” I mutter. “Plenty aren’t.” I hadn’t meant to allow him to see this uncertainty, and I bite my tongue in immediate regret.
“Then there are more short-sighted idiots around London than evidence suggests,” he says firmly, and I feel a tingle of warmth in my belly. “You’re gorgeous, clever, and kind. It’s a lovely combination, Artie. In fact, the word lovely might have been invented for you.”
“I’m attracted to you too,” I breathe.
A smile hovers at the corner of his mouth. “I did have a small inkling last night.”
Excitement roars through me, obliterating the feelings I woke up with this morning. He likes me, and maybe he wants more. But before I can express my hope, he dashes it.
“But of course,” he says, “nothing can happen between us.”
Of course ?
He tugs at his shirt collar like it’s suddenly too tight. “It would be very foolish to get involved.”
“With me, you mean,” I say tightly.
His anxious glance fuels my kindling anger. Maybe it’s because I had hope for a wild moment, and now he’s shitting on it in the kindest way possible. Maybe it’s the kindness that’s making it worse.
“Well, yes,” he says, honest as ever. “It would be a mistake on an epic level for you and me to be together when we’re in the middle of this plan and emotions are naturally high. And it would be a disaster, also, because we work together.”
He continues to talk, but his words fade into white noise. I don’t usually get angry. Nobody paid attention to my moods when I was a child, and by the time I became an adult, I’d understood the value of suppressing emotions that might push people away. But where has that got me?
I inhale slowly, becoming aware Jed is finally finishing his point. He asks, “So would you agree we shouldn’t muddy the waters further? I can’t allow complications with you, of all people.”
I glare at him. “Of course ,” I snap. “You should definitely not allow complications with me.”
The car comes to a stop, and I realise we’re at work. Good. I shove the door open and climb out.
He calls after me, his voice hoarse with alarm. I slam the door behind me and begin my march towards the office across Sloane Square.
It’s starting to get busy with shoppers already about. The lights are on in the designer shops, doors opening and letting out gusts of expensively fragranced air.
“Artie!” Jed arrives beside me. He’s struggling with his bag and putting out a hand to stop me. “I can’t help feeling I’ve upset you.”
I whirl around, shrugging his hand away. “Really?” I say through gritted teeth. “I can’t imagine where you got that idea.”
He reels back, astonishment written on his face. Not surprising, since I’ve never spoken to him like this before. “Artie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t?—”
“Hello, people.”
Raff’s voice is a welcome interruption. I turn my head to see him approaching us, Joe at his side. They’re both bundled up in coats, and Raff’s strawberry-blond hair is a bright splash of colour on this cold morning.
Raff directs a curious look between us and then smiles. It’s the socially calming smile he employs with nervous brides and grooms. “Lovely morning,” he says congenially, threading his arm through mine and giving it a squeeze. “Just right for the monthly meeting where Jed will inevitably deliver a fulsome eulogy to me.”
“I’d be very happy to oblige you with one of those today,” Jed says, distracted. He fixes a stern gaze on me. “Artie, I need to speak to you.”
“Can it wait?” The words are practically a shout. I no longer seem capable of controlling my tone or volume.
Jed’s eyes widen, and he takes a small step back.
“Raff and I have to get the coffee.” I put on a big smile, but from the way they’re all staring at me, it’s not convincing.
“Come along, Raff,” I command, ignoring Jed’s urgent call.
Raff and I stride across the square and down a side street leading to an Italian deli where I often buy coffee.
I hear rushed footsteps and then Joe appears beside us.
“Sorry to butt in,” he says. “But I’m not staying behind with Jed. He looks like his head is going to explode, and I’m wearing Prada.”
“Can I just enquire if we’re going for coffee or marching to repel an alien force that’s landed on Buckingham Palace?” Raff sounds slightly out of breath.
I slow down a little. “Sorry. I’m just very cross.”
“Please don’t be sorry,” he says earnestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cross. It’s vastly entertaining to someone who it’s not directed at.” I glare at him, and he falters. “Or not.” He offers with a winning smile.
Joe groans. “Just ignore Raff from now until eternity.”
“Marriage is hard,” I say. We enter the deli, and I inhale the scent of fresh coffee from the huge machine near the door.
“You’re telling me, mate,” Raff says. “It’s especially hard trying to navigate the relationship waters between a couple when one of them wants a seventies theme at their wedding and the other desires restrained elegance.” I stare at him, and he winces. “Sorry. I’ve got a meeting with a client this afternoon, and I have to tell him his bride-to-be has vetoed shag carpeting, patterned wallpaper, and a hookah bar.”
My mouth twitches in amusement. He has this effect on me. “Sorry for earlier. Jed just pissed me off.”
His whole face comes alive with interest. “And you should of course only feel free to confide in me if you really want to,” he intones. “No pressure to spill the details at all.”
Joe groans. “You lie.”
“Of course I do. This is Jed . Mr Perfect. I’ll give you five hundred quid if you tell me what he’s done, Artie.”
I gape at him. “Five hundred pounds?”
“Oh, okay a fiver. Stan’s spent our household budget on vinyl again this month.”
I smile at the thought of Raff’s fiancé. “Stan is so lovely.”
“Far too lovely for Raff,” Joe mutters. “But then that’s Stan’s particular cross to bear in life.” He winces as Raff pokes him in the ribs.
Raff turns back to me. His humour has vanished, and he gives me a kind look. “Relationships aren’t easy, Artie.”
“Watching Raff give advice is like observing a slow-motion train wreck,” Joe says conversationally.
“The main problem with relationships,” Raff continues loudly, glaring at Joe before turning back to me, “is that a lot of people expect that after they’ve found their dream partner, the rest of their lives will be as smooth as good custard.”
“And those expectations are wrong?”
“Of course,” he says. “A good partner will stand next to you while you navigate the shit parts of life. They won’t eradicate it from your life altogether.”
“Wise words.”
“And the miracle is that they came from Raff’s lips,” Joe says.
Raff’s eyes narrow. “Don’t sound too astonished.”
“How could I not? This is the same man who tried to stick a record cupboard together with super glue.”
Raff gasps. “Did Stan tell you that?”
Joe starts to laugh, and I look back at the deli’s entrance, thinking about the confused state I’d left Jed in. He’s trying. We were both at fault for last night, and being cross with him won’t do either of us any good.
“I think I need to speak to Jed,” I say. “Can you get the coffee? Put it on the account.”
Joe pats my shoulder. “Of course. See you in a bit.”
“Just so you know, I’m totally going to put cake on there too,” Raff calls after me. “Giving advice makes me hungry.”
I speed walk across the square and let myself into the agency. It’s quiet and looks like no one’s here yet. Jed’s office door is open, and I can hear his voice, so I make my way into the room. He’s on the phone and when he sees me, relief fills his eyes. I conceal my pleasure by closing the door and taking off my coat.
“No,” he says into the phone. “I’ll talk to you later.” He pauses. “I don’t care how urgent. Artie’s here and I need to speak to him. I’ll ring you after the meeting.” He puts the phone down. “My brother,” he explains. “He’s arranging a surprise birthday party for Mei, and he wants us both to be there. I don’t know how he thinks he can keep a secret from her.”
He’s talking much more quickly than usual. Is he nervous? If so, it’s an interesting development.
“I’m sorry.” He stands and rounds the desk, coming towards me with worried eyes. “I think I hurt you, and I would never want to do that.”
The last bit of anger drains away. How can I hold on to it when this is a good man who’s doing his best to give me my dream? It’s not his fault that I dream of being with him much more than I dream about my house.
“I know,” I say quietly.
He sits on his desk. “ Talk to me.”
I draw in a deep breath. Being honest feels like it requires more air. “You said you wouldn’t want to start anything with me…” I let the breath go. “And you made it sound as though you wouldn’t choose me even if I were the last person on the earth.”
Dismay erupts on his face. “ No ,” he says loudly. “No, I didn’t mean it that way at all.”
“Then how did you mean it?”
His green eyes are so light they almost look silver. “I meant that you’re a very important person to me. Your happiness means something, and I don’t want to start anything that might eventually disappoint you. Or hurt you.”
“I’m not fragile, Jed. Other people have disappointed me before. You wouldn’t be the first.”
“Then that makes me very sad.”
I summon my courage, take another deep breath, and step closer to him. “The thing is I do want you,” I say. “I want you so m-much, Jed,” I stammer. This is the most nerve-racking thing I’ve ever done. “You and me being together is all I can think about.” I take another fortifying breath. “What about you?”
He closes his eyes, his hands clenching the desk, and with a shocking thrill, I realise he’s fighting the urge to reach for me. Confidence stirring, I step between his spread legs, resting my hands on his thighs and feeling the muscles tighten.
“ Artie ,” he breathes warningly.
“No. You wanted to know my thoughts, so here they are. I want you. I know you’re still in love with Mick, and that you had a real marriage with him. And ours is fake and won’t go anywhere.” A funny expression crosses his face, but I keep going. If I stop, I’ll lose my courage. “But that’s fine. And since we’ll have to be together—for appearance’s sake—for a while…” I slide my hands up his thighs. He rests his hands on mine but doesn’t stop me when I ease my palm up to his zipper. He exhales—a sound much like a groan—and I note red flags of colour on his cheekbones. “…then why can’t we be together and give each other a bit of happiness?”
He opens his eyes. The green has almost been eclipsed by his pupils. “And then what?” His hoarse voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Then it’s done, and we go back to being us. Jed the boss and Artie his assistant.”
I’m lying through my teeth, but I’ve never thought of us as simply being in those roles, so what’s one more lie in the web we’re weaving? This arrangement will never hurt him. I wouldn’t suggest it if it would.
“Artie,” he says slowly, the word full of reluctant temptation. “I’m not sure it’s advisable.”
“Well, what if I want it?”
He stares at me.
“Oh, I know you’ve probably done loads with half of London. Sexual things,” I add in clarification.
“Yes, I did grasp your subtext,” he says dryly. “And it wasn’t half. I did have a business to run.”
“But,” I say, ignoring him, “I never have.”
He swallows hard. “You mean you’ve never…” He trails off and it takes me a moment to understand.
“Oh no. I’ve done sex. I’ve had one boyfriend, but I was so important to him that he fucked off to America without a second glance.”
His face darkens, and I wave a hand to stop his inevitable remarks. His mouth twitches, but he subsides, sitting back on the desk and watching me.
“Ben was my first,” I explain. “We met at school.”
His fascinated interest goes to my head like strong wine. “When he left,” I continue, “I never really met anyone else. I’ve been to bars and gay clubs, but I’m too quiet to stand out to the men there. I’m not loud and colourful,” I add wistfully.
I know Jed’s type is bold, beautiful men like Mick, and I can never be that. If I had been, he’d have had me on my back as quick as he could manage.
But my type is rather easy to ignore or refuse.
“Artie.” His eyes are very fierce. “There are more ways to get attention than being loud and bold, and gay bars can be bloody hard on anyone’s self-confidence. You are beautiful .” I blink and his mouth twists in a half smile. “You are clever and kind, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with being quieter. Some man will love that in you.”