The Passion

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

FLYNN

“ W hat do you mean she isn’t there?” I yell at my driver Gregory as I finish plating the creamy chicken with charred lemon and crispy prosciutto. The steak’s all seasoned and sitting ready to sear as she walks through the door.

“I’m sorry, sir, but they told me that Miss Kentwall left the office earlier and did not advise them she had a car arriving for her.”

Dropping the frying pan in the sink, I feel my blood start to boil.

“Damn it.” I grip the edge of the silver sink tight enough that my knuckles are turning white.

“What would you like me to do, sir?” Gregory’s voice echoes through the kitchen from the hands-free speaker on my phone.

“Clock out for the night. Thanks, and usual time in the morning,” I mutter through my gritted teeth, trying not to take it out on him how pissed I am.

“Will do. Good night.” With that his call is disconnected, and I’m left looking at two beautiful-looking plates of food and a plate of raw steak just waiting for me to make it taste sensational.

“Bitch. She stood us up, Sassy,” I mumble to my cat who again just turns her back to me and slinks down the hallway toward my bed where she thinks she can curl up and sleep for the night. Well, I’ve got news for her.

“Okay, you want to play, sunshine, let’s play.”

Setting everything up just the way I want it, I watch my phone until the time ticks over to one minute past eight.

I take the first mouthful of chicken with just the perfect amount of sauce running down from my lips. I use my finger to wipe it up slowly, and then I suck it off my finger.

“Told you I don’t wait. Your loss.” Pressing the stop record button on my phone, I straight away send it to Felisha.

She’s probably hoping I’m over here losing my shit, but I won’t give her the satisfaction.

Tonight wasn’t about inviting her over to get her into my bed. I just wanted to talk about our situation and make sure she was alright. Not to see the hard-ass face she would have had on all day and in the meeting with Rem. But instead, I need to see under that armor she wears, if that tender woman I met that night is spiraling like I imagine she would be.

Maybe I’m wrong and she’s as strong as she appears, and nothing will break her.

But we all have a weak spot somewhere.

It’s not something you ever share or admit to anyone, but there is this gap that is so small, sitting between every boundary you create.

That is your vulnerability.

And in the moment you never see coming, it is pierced, and no matter how tiny an opening it is, the heart bleeds, even if no one is there to see it.

Even if she doesn’t really know me, only in the physical form, I had this ache all day to be the person there to see the blood and hold her hand while we closed the wound.

I’m so confused why I feel like this, but it was a waste of energy because she’s not interested in leaning on me.

Instead of the expensive bottle of wine I had waiting for our dinner, I crack open a beer, cover the steak, and place it back in the fridge. Then sitting on my own, I continue to enjoy my dinner because if there is one thing I hate, it’s food being wasted. Especially a meal that is like an orgasm on your tongue and cooked to perfection by the chef of the house. Me!

I turn my phone to do-not-disturb because I don’t want to be tempted to wait for her message and then looking like I was desperate to reply. It’s the great thing about phones in that I can block the rest of the world out but know that any of the guys and my family can still get a hold of me if they need me.

I have enough money to have a full-time housekeeper and chef, but I don’t let anyone cook in my kitchen, well, except Nic, and we are usually cooking together. You can take the boy out of the life of struggles, but you can’t take the memory of the struggles out of the boy.

And that I’m proud of.

Remember where you came from, and it will always steer you in the right direction.

But if you think I’m doing my own cleaning or laundry, you are dreaming. Mrs. Adams looks after me and cleans up the fur left all over the place by the damn cat. I don’t know how many lint brushes I go through a year trying to keep my black and navy suits hair-free.

I walk into my bedroom after a shower, shirtless and still rubbing my hair with the towel. A pair of gym shorts are low-slung on my hips, and I can’t decide if I’m ready to crawl into bed and binge a bit more of the new Australian series of Survivor that I need to catch up on, or if the couch is more inviting. I love that show. The ultimate game of strategy and a strong game plan, while watching yourself for all the backstabbing that’s happening around you.

I’d be a champion player on the show, but I don’t need the prize money, nor do I have the time, and in a way, that’s my life every day in the business world.

In the distance, I hear the buzz of the intercom system from the doorman downstairs. What I love about living here is I don’t ever get unexpected guests. I could be walking around the apartment naked and never have to worry.

Sassy jumps off the bed as I make my way past her toward the foyer to see what the front desk wants. It’s probably just to let me know that there is another package at the desk they need to bring up. I came straight up from the garage when Gregory dropped me off earlier tonight and didn’t walk past the desk.

Online shopping is my hidden pleasure, but it’s not for stupid frivolous purchases. I search the internet for old-school vinyl records. Not the new ones they are reproducing now that it is back in fashion, but the original ones that were produced back when that was the only way you could listen to music.

To me, it’s still the best way to listen to a memorable song, scratches and all.

I push the button to accept the call. “Yes?” I wait for the familiar voice of Reggie, the late-night doorman.

“Mr. Taylor, Miss Kentwall, the guest you had on the list for eight pm, has arrived. Am I okay to still send her up this late?”

A smirk of satisfaction spreads on my face as I reply. “Thank you, Reggie. That’s fine.”

Walking away from the elevator, I know I should go and put a shirt on and possibly even some underwear under these shorts, but she’s in my domain now, and if she turns up late, then she takes me as I am.

Relaxed, wet, and free-balling.

Resting my ass on the back of the couch, waiting for the elevator doors to open, I can’t help but feel the anticipation that is building at seeing her.

The gentle ding announcing its arrival sounds louder than normal, but maybe because the apartment sounds deathly quiet.

Putting my game face on as the doors slide open, I’m ready to score the next point in this game we have started, but the woman standing in front of me is not who I was expecting. The straitlaced put-together woman from that night in the bar is gone, and in front of me is someone who has just been through a day from hell.

She is dressed in black jeans, white sneakers, and a dark gray zip-up hoodie. The top of her hair is all messed up, telling me she had the hood over her head before she made it to me.

With her hand out in front of her, she’s holding the handles of a brown paper bag with the name Turnips on the side of it which straight away tells me what’s inside.

“Am I too late for dessert? I find sugar helps the… t-tears.” As the first sob escapes her, her lips are trembling as she tries to screw her face up to hold all the emotion in.

Shit.

“Felisha.” Standing straight up, I move toward her as quickly as I can, wrapping her in my arms as tight as possible. The bag drops to the floor, and she clings to me like her life depends on it.

“I’ve got you.” I rub her back and feel the tears on my bare chest as she starts to sob uncontrollably, and I don’t think she is about to stop anytime soon.

I dip my knees slightly and squeeze my arms just that little bit tighter around her, and clasping her waist, I lift her off her feet and walk around my couch. She is so in her own head that she doesn’t even react to the movement. Stopping in front of the long couch and without letting her go, I lie down on my back with her on top of me. It brings a small gasp from her face buried in my chest as she tries to squirm her way free, but I’m not letting that happen. Rolling to my side, I place her with her back to the couch and her body still cocooned in mine, even with her slight struggle to break free.

It doesn’t last long as she discovers it’s useless trying to move.

“Don’t hold it in.” But as much as I’m trying to reassure her, I can hear the change in her breathing. It’s slowing down and the movement of her body heaving with each sob is subsiding.

“I’m okay.” Her voice is still raw and no more than a mumble from where her lips are against my chest. But as she starts to lift her head to look up at me, the words are stronger. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

“Not a chance. We’re not moving.” I release her a little so she can sag into the couch, but there is no way I’m taking my hands off her completely. With a softness I didn’t know I had, I push the loose strands of her deep brown hair back off her wet face, and it’s then that I realize she has no makeup on. And it’s the last nail in the coffin, confirming to me how unhinged she must be feeling tonight. Such a pillar of high-society fashion would never be seen so bare. The dressing down was one thing, but arriving to a man’s home with no makeup on and her emotions on display is pure vulnerability, but more importantly, she is giving me her greatest gift—her trust.

Something I didn’t know how badly I wanted until now.

“But I shouldn’t be here, not like this.” Her voice is a mere whisper.

I sweep the stray tears off her cheeks with my thumb while not letting her look away from me.

“Why? You are safe here. Deep down you knew that, or you never would have come.” The acknowledgment in her eyes shows me she knows it’s true.

“I just couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t know what else to do.” Her face drops slightly as she tries to look down from me, feeling ashamed that she isn’t as strong tonight as she would want anyone else to see.

“Which is why, you stubborn woman, I wanted you here for dinner so we could talk this out. Because your tears are your release, and I’ve now got sore knuckles from that damn punching bag that had your father’s face all over it every time I connected a punch.” Groaning, I kiss her forehead.

“Today was fucked up.” I know I’m fighting a losing battle of letting her move, and as much as it kills me, I move my arm to lie on my side, and as soon as I do, she pushes herself to sit up.

Laughter bubbles out of me as she struggles to maneuver out of the small gap when I’m not moving an inch to help her.

“Jerk. Move.” With her hand on my chest, she gives me a shove, trying to push me off the couch. But she will need to try harder than that.

“Oh, what, no please with that request?” It’s amazing how quickly she can turn the tears off and put her tough-girl face back on.

Too busy trying to antagonize her and watching her face full of frustration, I wasn’t ready for her secret weapon.

The moment her knee connects with my cock, that is already hard as a rock, has me keening as I fall backward, and my ass hits the floor hard, my hands covering the most important asset I own.

“What the fuck!” I yell, rolling onto my side almost in the fetal position.

“Oh, shit, I forgot, please move, Flynn.” I hear her standing behind me and then see her step over me and watch her walking toward the bag she dropped on the floor when she walked in.

“How old are you, woman? Seriously, I don’t think I’ve been dick punched since high school.” Slowly I push myself up off the floor, even though I’m still throbbing and want to pull it out to check there is no damage.

“Element of surprise. Works every time on men who don’t listen.” The smirk of satisfaction on her face is contrary to the moisture that can still be seen on her cheeks from the tears. She has shut down the heartache and is back full of snark.

“Should I be worried that you have had to use this before on some dickface who wouldn’t take no for an answer?” Straightening up, I suck up the pain that is still lingering in my groin.

“Don’t worry, tough guy, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I learnt very early on that you can’t rely on others. You need to be able to protect yourself in life.” Plonking herself back down on the couch next to where I’m standing, she crosses her legs in front of her, the paper bag from Turnips in her lap. I can’t picture Felisha in her high heels down in Borough Markets with all the people. Whereas for someone like me, who is a foodie, I love food markets like that. The smells that waft around me as I walk along make me want to try it all.

I want to ask more, but I can see she is moving on from this conversation and is expecting me to do the same.

“It makes me laugh every time I see the name on the bag. I mean, who likes to eat turnips, they are disgusting. The restaurant’s marketing gives nothing away for the absolute mouthwatering dessert that is inside.” I decide that I just need to run with where she is going with this conversation and that we can circle back for the serious topic later.

Felisha pulls out a large plastic cup full of bright red strawberries covered in chocolate sauce.

“Forks?” She looks at me like I’m one of her staff. She could almost snap her fingers in the air right now, but I really wouldn’t advise she does. I’m nobody’s servant.

Returning from my kitchen with two dessert forks, I see she is already licking chocolate off her fingers from where she has placed the first cup on the coffee table. It didn’t exactly survive the drop onto the floor that well, and the sauce is all over the sides of the cup, thick and slowly moving down the sides at the speed of volcanic lava.

“You know, these world-famous strawberries and chocolate are just that, a fruit and runny chocolate. Not sure you can really claim it’s a dessert.” I pass her a fork and the napkin that I also grabbed off the kitchen counter, knowing this was going to be messy.

She gasps, holding the fork and napkin in her free hand to her chest. “How dare you! People travel the world for this dessert. You obviously have no idea about food.”

I grab my cup off the table where she left it and take the first bite of a strawberry that isn’t bad but would have been better when it was fresh earlier today.

“You can’t tell me that this is the best culinary delight you’ve tasted in all the very pricy five-star restaurants you have dined in.” I try not to laugh at the fact that she obviously has no idea who I was before my life in the hotel industry in London. And to be honest, why would she? We slept together one night, and that was supposed to be all it was. Other than that, I’m just someone who works for her biggest competitor.

“Ughhh. Sure, there is good food in the restaurants, but it’s usually prepared by some pretentious chef who gives you a bare mouthful and you’re supposed to bow down at his or her feet, telling them how amazing it is. When instead, you are sitting there still starving.”

I try not to choke on my mouthful of chocolate strawberries. “Wow, tell me how you really feel, Felisha.” I know that in keeping this conversation going, I’m distracting her from how upset she was when she arrived.

“What, surely a big guy like you gets annoyed sometimes at how little food is on the plate?” She takes another mouthful, and just watching her slide the fork out of her mouth has me adjusting how I’m sitting on the couch, because these shorts won’t hide anything.

“When I’m the chef, there is always a plentiful amount served.” I feel like I’m needing to defend chefs all around the globe. “Plus, sometimes the portion size is so you can savor the taste of something pretty spectacular that they have worked extremely hard to prepare from scratch. A meal that you can’t get anywhere else in the world because it’s their original recipe.”

“Yes, I get all that. That’s why we source the best chefs in the world for our restaurants…”

“Second-best. We have the best,” I jump in before she can continue her spiel.

“Pfft, doubt it. But anyway, back to desserts. It’s nice to have a lovely dinner out, but when a girl needs to cry into her dessert, she needs strawberries and more chocolate sauce than she knows what to do with. So, suck it up and just agree with me… and half the tourists that visit London just for these.”

“Noted.” I’m too busy watching her eat to continue debating her logic.

Must be one of those women and hormones things. Since Tori has become part of the boys’ club in the office, we have learned at certain times of the month when Nic gives you the look, you just shut your mouth and agree.

They can call it sexist all they like, but it’s a fact. Some women are just fucking crazy when their hormones are on a war path.

I’m glad I’m a man!

The room has a peaceful quiet falling over it as we continue to sit close. My knee touches her thigh in the tiniest way, but it’s enough to keep that buzz of adrenaline pulsing through me. Just having her in my home is confronting to my senses.

I wasn’t expecting to feel a sense of calm, not on a day like today.

But having her here, I can soothe her worries, and that makes me feel a sense of protectiveness I can’t say I have felt before.

And not that I will ever admit to her, but these strawberries are going down nicely.

Sometimes simple is all that’s needed.

We can’t sit here in silence forever, though, and as much as she doesn’t think we need to talk about the video, it’s why she turned up here.

Whether she likes it or not, this isn’t going away anytime soon.

“So, who is starting the conversation about the elephant in the room?” Placing my empty plastic cup on the coffee table, I turn fully to the side so I can pin her with my stare, and she can’t get away from the inevitable.

“You are, obviously.” She frowns at me like I just upset the stillness in the space.

“Well, it’s either we talk about this or I’m taking you to my bedroom to make you forget about the day. Your choice.” My dick is screaming for her to choose option two, even though I know she won’t.

“Flynn!” Putting her cup on the table, she wipes her mouth to make sure she is perfect again. I want to say let me lick off the last taste of sweetness from your lips, but I’m not sure it’s the right time considering her reaction to my proposal.

“That’s what got us in this mess. I doubt we will solve anything by sleeping together again.” Curling her legs up in front of her on the couch, she wraps her arms around them and is now facing me but with her barriers firmly in place.

“I don’t know, it’d help me to feel better, how about you?” I lean back into the corner of the couch and spread my arm along the back of the cushions toward her.

I just want to touch her, but I know she doesn’t feel the same, so this is as close as I can get.

“I don’t doubt that, but you do realize we can never go there again. Right?” There is a tinge of disappointment on her face which I find very interesting from the woman who told me in no uncertain terms that we would only ever have that one night and never talk about it again.

“So you say.”

“Flynn, please don’t make this harder than it already is. You want to talk, let’s talk. How are we going to find this bitch and bury her, along with that video?” Watching Felisha tonight is so interesting. The different parts of her personality are at war right now. She wants to be strong and in full control, but her body language is full of protection of the vulnerability she is feeling but never wants to expose to anyone.

“Okay, but let’s stop it right there. You won’t be doing anything like that. I’m worried there is a leak on your side because this happened in your room.” My tone is more serious now, letting her know where I stand.

And here comes the fighter!

This is what I want.

Felisha needs the space to stand up and fight for her right for privacy that was taken away from her. Well, us both really, but I don’t matter here.

“Like hell you are cutting me out of this. Don’t you dare treat me like my father does!” Her voice gets louder and more forceful as she sits up. Legs drop to the floor and her hands are free, and she uses them, becoming more animated as she starts tearing me to strips.

“We don’t know how this happened, and I trust every person on my team, just like you do on yours, I assume. But just because it was my hotel doesn’t give you the right to try to be the big hero while I just sit back like the little scared, frail woman. Because that’s not me, and if you haven’t worked that out yet, then what am I even doing here?” She’s about to stand when I reach for her hand and hold her in her seat.

“Welcome back, Felisha. That’s what we need. The viper who is ready to attack. Because if you think I was going to let the world see the tortured soul that just sat here, full of self-pity while she stuffed her face full of chocolate sauce, then you don’t know me either. I think every side of you is beautiful, and I’m honored you let me see them, but I can’t help my protective tendencies right now. Someone is hurting you, and I’ll be fucked if I will sit back and let that happen, to either of us.” I can feel my heart beating in my chest like I want to go out and fight a war for her.

What the hell is going on here? I’m confused, and I’m never confused. But these emotions swirling inside me are new and foreign, and I’m not keen on them. Because I have a feeling they will lead me to trouble, and I get myself in enough trouble on a daily basis that I don’t need to drag someone else along with me.

“Right, so brief me on your thoughts on how we are going to handle it. Yes, I said we.”

Now I think she’s ready to listen.

Today has been a long day, and as much as we think we have a handle on this, we don’t. I hate to admit that to her, but I need to be honest.

Spending the next thirty minutes, we talk about what both our security teams have been telling us to do, and to be honest, even if we don’t agree with them, we probably need to follow their directives.

And then the conversation comes around the circle to her father and what happened today.

“Does he speak to you like that often?” I hope like hell the answer is no, but I have a feeling I’m about to be disappointed.

“Not often.” Her head drops slightly, and I can tell she is embarrassed.

“Why do I get a feeling that’s not true?” Placing my hand on her thigh, I try to reassure her that I’m not judging her in any way, but I’m sure as hell judging her father.

“He was just stressed over how this will affect the reputation of the hotels and our family name. I understand.” Why is she trying to defend a man who doesn’t deserve one ounce of respect from her? But I have to bite my tongue and show Felisha that I respect her stance on this, even if I can’t agree with her.

“It’s no excuse. You are his daughter. Not acceptable in my eyes.” With that, I know I need to move before I say more than I should.

“It’s late, I’ll show you to the spare room so you can crash here until morning.” I look at the time on the microwave in the kitchen, showing it’s after one am.

“No, thank you. I’m going home. I’ll message Imala, my driver. She’s the only one who knows I’m here.” Standing from the couch she is a little unsteady, probably from the emotional drain of the day. Worried she’s about to fall, I step to her quickly and put my arms around her waist, pulling her to me.

“I’ve got you.” God, I want to say that I mean more than just holding her up right now.

Her head falls into my chest in that spot she did before. It’s like it’s molded perfectly for her forehead.

Having her hands and forehead on my bare chest is making it hard to stop this from moving to more than it is.

Hearing her take a deep breath, she then slowly pushes off my body, and it breaks the connection between us.

Her sorrowful eyes look up at me, and I know we are done.

“Can we be friends?” The unease in her voice has me wondering if that’s really all she wants from me.

“Friends,” my gravelly voice slips out.

“That’s all we can be.” Her eyes are almost pleading with me because she can’t voice what she really wants.

I want to say fuck no, but instead, I give in.

“Friends it is then.” Kissing the top of her head, I wrap her in the tightest hug that I can manage because I know it will be the last one for me.

Then I step back from her just like we both need.

“But to the rest of the world, I hate you.” Brushing her shoulder against me, she heads to the elevator.

“What the fuck?” I follow behind her.

“It’s the only way I can defend my actions if it comes out. I used you for sex, like the cold-hearted bitch I am.”

Her shoulders are pinned back as she steps into the elevator, and as the doors are closing, all I can see is the look of the woman she just described.

Lady Kentwall, heiress to the Kentwall fortune.

My Felisha is gone.

Now I just need to accept that and move on.

But one thing I know is that I’ll be fucked if I let her be portrayed like that.

The world is about to see a new side to Flynn Taylor.

If this ever sees the light of day, then I’ll be the arrogant asshole that did it to her, and the hate can land on my chest.

“Like I said, I’ve got you, Felisha,” I whisper at the closed doors.

But better still, I need to make sure this ends up a distant memory for both of us.

Tomorrow night I’ll pick up one of those society leeches, make sure we are in all the gossip posts of the who’s who of the rich and famous, and then end the night with her sucking my cock. Cement the fuck-boy image that is already out there.

Felisha will get her wish.

By the time I’m finished, she will hate me for real.