Chapter Four #2
We’re not friends. We don’t even like one another.
We are yin and yang, chalk and cheese, oil and water.
Only there must be something intensely right between us for sex to feel like that.
But I know why it feels that way, why it feels so intense and transcendental.
It’s because, three years and two weeks after we kissed in Vegas, we finally did the deed.
For all that time, both of us have been fighting this inexplicable attraction between us, that sense of something simmering beneath a still surface.
Denial is a powerful aphrodisiac. Take it away, and what’s left?
Just two colleagues, business partners with a common goal.
Business partners…? Remembering the fluttering pleasure spilling over my skin, Renzo’s cheek hot against mine and our staggered breaths, I press my thighs together.
I can’t believe he gave me my first orgasm, or that this was our first and last time together.
It feels brutal, wrong, and I didn’t anticipate that.
But then I didn’t anticipate anything, because that would have required me to think, and yesterday I was unthinking. I just was.
But now I ask myself the question I should have asked at some point between when I lost myself in the hunger in his eyes and waking up in his bed: what happens next?
Because we are business partners, and we are going to be working together closely.
Or maybe we won’t. Maybe Renzo will chuck the whole thing.
He is bound to regret what we did. Either way, I can’t change what happened, and I don’t want to.
But I also don’t want to have it centre stage inside my head.
Rolling onto my side, I gaze out of the windows.
The light outside is growing brighter. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day and, in the words of that song, I’m feeling good.
Calmer; in control, for once. Trying to deal with Charlie’s mess will be a challenge.
But with Renzo in my head and that shimmering, gravitational energy pulling us ever closer, it felt as if I was trying to orbit two separate planets.
That’s not going to be a problem anymore.
We worked it out of our system. I worked him out of my system.
Sliding out of bed, I tiptoe across the carpet, pick up my clothes, let myself out of the room and make my way to the guest suites, collecting my bag en route.
I choose a bedroom at random, shower and get dressed.
Then I smooth my hair into a ponytail and apply my patented ‘five-minute no make-up make-up’.
It’s then, staring at my reflection that I remember the key card for the lift and, clutching my shoes, I tiptoe back down the hallway to Renzo’s room.
I really don’t want to do this, but the alternative is to wake him, so I take a deep breath and press down quietly on the door handle.
Averting my eyes from the sleeping figure in the bed, I walk softly across the room.
Fortunately, Renzo is lying on his back, still half-dressed, and I reach carefully into his trouser pocket.
My body stills as he shifts in his sleep, and I stare down at his face.
In the dim light, his features look starkly beautiful.
My earlier calm dissipates, and I almost feel a sudden panic that we are done.
Because it doesn’t feel done when I look at him.
It feels as if we have only just got started.
Then he shifts again, turning his face into the crook of his arm, and I force myself to move.
I let myself back out into the hall, take the key card I retrieved from his trouser pocket and press it against the panel by the lift.
Thank goodness… The doors open, I press the button to the foyer and then gently put the card on the console table. The doors close but it is only when they open again on the ground floor that I let out the breath I am holding, and I walk over to the concierge.
‘Good morning, Ms Wade. Can I help you with anything today?’
‘Actually, you can.’ I smile. ‘Could you get Mr Valetti’s driver—Kenny, I think he’s called—could you call him and ask him to bring the car round?’
Renzo
I wake up to the urgent pulsing alarm of my phone.
Before I even open my eyes, I know I am alone in bed.
The woman who undid my trousers and ripped up my rule book is gone, presumably to one of the guest rooms. I never thought anything was missing from my life before but now it feels as if something crucial has been stolen from me.
My body tenses instantly, and I roll over and switch off the alarm.
Frowning across the room, I feel weirdly disorientated, as if I’ve woken in a strange place—which makes no sense, given that I’ve lived here for over five years.
But then, nothing makes sense this morning, particularly what happened with Hennessy yesterday.
Covering my eyes with my arm, I swear under my breath.
I hadn’t planned on taking her to bed. Although, truthfully, I’m not surprised that we had sex.
It’s been there, circling us ever since she walked into David’s office in that stupid, barely there dress.
Scratch that—it’s been there since we kissed in Vegas, it’s just I hadn’t needed to face that fact until she sashayed back into my life yesterday.
My jaw tightens. I wanted to get into work early this morning, but it’s obvious I need to have a conversation with Hennessy before we go into the office.
Throwing back the sheet, I stalk to the bathroom and into the shower.
I switch on the TV as I shave, brush my teeth and dress.
The news of Charlie’s disappearance is already the top story on every channel, and I frown.
I should be at work. That I’m not is Hennessy’s fault.
And mine, but mostly hers. It must be. I’ve had sex with women before and never been late for work the following morning.
But Hennessy has taken my life and shaken it like a snow globe.
As I stride towards the guest bedrooms, I feel another ripple of fury, because I can’t hear any tell-tale signs of activity, so clearly she is still asleep.
I tap on each door in turn, checking the room when there is no reply.
When I reach the third bedroom and get the same response I open the door, expecting to see a figure curled beneath the bedding, but the bed is empty.
So is the bathroom. For a moment, my brain can’t compute what I’m seeing.
The floor sways as if I’m standing on the deck of a boat, but then I spot her bag and that steadies me.
I know how important that is to her, and that she wouldn’t leave it behind.
So where is she? I stalk back through the hall into the foyer.
And that’s when I see it—the security card sitting on the side of the console, which is where I usually leave it.
But I didn’t last night. It was in my trouser pocket.
Now all that’s there is those sobriety chips she thrust against my chest last night.
Pulling out my phone, I text Kenny to bring the car round, then walk back into the living area to pick up my laptop.
My phone buzzes: it’s Kenny. I stare at the message in disbelief, my eyes narrowing, and I know my mouth has dropped open.
Hennessy has hijacked my car. Swearing under my breath, I get another car sent to my apartment and spend the journey silently imagining all the ways I intend to make her pay for her behaviour.
Except, that won’t do. She distracts me enough when she’s here; I don’t need her distracting me when she isn’t.
I tap on the privacy glass behind the driver’s head. ‘You can drop me here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.’
It feels good, striding down the street, and I’m in the process of congratulating myself for successfully neutralising Hennessy’s pernicious effect on my composure when it suddenly starts raining on a biblical scale.
By the time I reach the office, I am not just damp but soaked to the skin.
My mood is not improved by the crowd of reporters and photographers swarming around the entrance to the Wade and Walters building and during the ride up to the eightieth floor, my thoughts return to my errant co-CEO.
Still fuming, I walk into her office but, like her bedroom, it is empty.
‘Where is Ms Wade?’ I snap at Gerry, my PA, as she scurries after me.
‘She went down to the archives.’ She hesitates. ‘Would you like me to find you a fresh shirt?’
I glance down to where my shirt is plastered to my torso. But I’m already late enough. That fact swirls inside my head like a swarm of angry bees. I can’t remember the last time I was late for anything. Now, not only am I late, but I also look as if I’ve been spat out of a storm drain.
‘No, it’s fine. But can you get me a coffee? And pass me those newspapers.’ I snatch them from her hand and stalk back out of my office. Today of all days, I needed my mind to be razor-sharp and focused. It is unconscionable to have got so distracted from my true purpose.
I still can’t believe what happened with Hennessy, that I let it happen. The irony is I pushed back so hard about the bag because I wanted to prove I was in control. Good job, Valetti. But I was so certain she was hiding something. And she was, only it wasn’t drugs.
I remember Hennessy’s face as I handed her that scruffy brown bear. There was softness, vulnerability, there. And that was my undoing. Only why? I can’t remember ever getting that worked up about any woman. But what happened in Vegas was like an amuse-bouche.