Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Amelia stood at the window in her living room, a beautiful spring day beginning outside. Children rushed past on their way to school, excitement buzzing in the fresh air as they skipped hand in hand with their friends, but Amelia barely registered it. Her thoughts were too loud.
Three days.
That’s how long it had been since she’d felt Jo’s warmth pressed against her, and ultimately the evening they’d spent together once the antics of the dark room had concluded. And in those three days, Amelia hadn’t slept properly. God, she’d been lucky to get more than three hours unbroken.
Whenever she closed her eyes, every sound Jo had made that night echoed in her mind with a startling clarity. The laughter and the breathy moans. It was all etched into her mind.
But it wasn’t just the club that haunted her.
It was everything. Everything Jo didn’t know.
Amelia closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the cold pane of glass.
She could still feel Jo’s hand on her thigh; she could still recall the exact moment their skin had touched, and something between them had shifted post-dark room.
The Jo she had sat with three nights ago wasn’t the guarded, anxious woman she’d spent months consoling.
This Jo—her Jo—was slowly emerging from the wreckage of who she’d been with Callum, who she’d become because of Callum’s mistakes and abhorrent attitude towards her, and Amelia had been there to witness it.
No, not just witness it.
She had helped pull her from the darkness.
God, if she ever finds out…
Amelia’s stomach flipped as the weight of that truth pressed hard against her chest. But it was a familiar ache now. It was something that was slowly eating away at Amelia. Because Jo still didn’t know.
Every whispered command. Every brush of fingertips. Every held breath. It was all Amelia.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. Not from anger, but from need. From guilt. From the gut-twisting ache of wanting to tell Jo everything but knowing she couldn’t. Not yet.
I’ll never see her again.
Amelia knew that was the truth. She knew that the moment she came clean, Jo would flee, and that would be the end of not only the dark room, but of any kind of relationship with Jo.
Platonic or something else, it didn’t matter.
It would be gone. That much was clear from the question Jo had asked on Saturday evening.
“Do you ever wonder if things would have been different…were you not Callum’s mum?”
She pulled herself away from the window, moved into the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee.
The house was too quiet. She’d turned the television on and off three times already this morning, unable to concentrate on anything longer than a minute.
It wasn’t just a distraction—it was emotional overload.
She had spent so long believing she could compartmentalise this…
her, but Jo made everything bleed together.
Those two nights in the club had completely wrecked her resolve.
Because it hadn’t just felt easy. It had felt natural.
Jo had looked at her—not as Callum’s mum and not as someone tied to her past—but as herself. And when Jo had smiled at her…God, when she’d reached for Amelia’s hand and asked her to stay, Amelia had nearly lost her grip on reality entirely.
She hadn’t intended to speak to her that night.
She really had meant to slip in, explore the space beyond the dark room, and then leave.
But then she’d seen Jo, sinking into the velvet couch with that dreamy, dazed look that only she had put on her face, and Amelia had been drawn in like a moth to a flame.
It should have made Amelia feel guilty.
Instead, it made her ache.
She took a sip of bitter coffee, then set it down and paced the kitchen. She had to figure out what happened next. She would only drive herself insane if she didn’t.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She turned it over and caught Jo’s name lighting up the screen.
Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since Saturday.
Amelia stared down at the screen, unable to think up a response. She could lead with something entirely random, but she was worried that Jo would see through it.
So, she would try to get out of her head and respond in a way she usually would.
Hey. Sorry. I didn’t realise we were approaching mid-week. I’ve been busy. How are you?
She hit send, and three dots appeared almost immediately. Jo was texting her back.
I’m good. I was just thinking about the other night…
Amelia placed a hand to her chest and smiled.
I’ve been thinking about the other night, too. It was nice.
She lowered herself into a seat at the dining table, her mind racing with the potential response she could receive.
But then Jo’s message came through, and Amelia’s pulse started to race.
It was more than nice. I felt really close to you. Like…weirdly close. If that makes sense?
Amelia swallowed. More than nice? What was she supposed to do with that? Was this Jo’s way of hinting at something? God, she hated not being in control of situations like this.
It makes perfect sense. I felt the same.
She threw her phone onto the table the second she sent the message. What the hell was she doing?
For months, Amelia had been Jo’s safe place. She had been the one who offered support and silence, depending on what Jo needed and when she needed it. But now she had become the one who offered control, pleasure, and escape in a dark room without expectations.
If she had learned anything during the course of the weekend, Amelia had realised she wanted more.
She didn’t want to only exist in Jo’s life in fragments, either as the person from her past or the woman she didn’t recognise in the dark.
She wanted all of it. The conversations, the laughter, the quiet moments between touches. She wanted Jo in the light.
But telling her now…what if she felt betrayed?
What if everything they’d shared became tainted by deceit?
When she finds out why you use that dark room, she’ll run anyway.
Amelia rubbed at her temples. She hadn’t meant for this to happen.
When Callum had left Jo, when everything had crumbled, Jo had looked lost. As though she hadn’t anticipated a life without Callum in it.
Amelia had hurt for her, wanting to help her through in any way she could, while pushing her own feelings for Jo aside.
She had loved her from afar, knowing the consequences of speaking out.
But then the dark room had come into play.
Amelia knew what she should have done the moment she realised it was Jo Bleasdale booked into that room. She knew what she should have done the second she felt Jo’s warm skin beneath her fingertips.
She should have left.
But she hadn’t.
So now, here she was. In love with a woman who would never forgive her if she knew the truth. A woman who deserved so much more than what ‘Lia’ could offer her within the confines of the darkness.
As Amelia lowered her head to her hands, her phone buzzed again.
I keep thinking about Lia. Who knew a faceless woman could be so addictive!
Amelia’s breath caught as she looked down at the screen.
She wanted to respond to Jo with ‘she’s sitting at home right now drinking coffee and thinking about you, too’, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she just stared. Revealing who she was would cost Amelia everything, and she couldn’t afford to lose everything right now.
Jo was the one slice of happiness Amelia had allowed herself in a long time.
Casual. Go for casual.
Amelia squared her shoulders, determined to deal with this and then move on with her day.
I guess you’ll be seeing her again then…
One day soon, Jo would want more than the mystery. She would ask to meet Lia, to…see her face. And rightfully so. Amelia just didn’t know whether that day would be the beginning of something or the end of everything.
So, she would prepare for the worst.
That was generally the direction her life took anyway.
Jo sat cross-legged on the rug in her living room, a half-empty glass of red wine cradled between her palms as Ada sprawled across the couch in front of her.
They hadn’t had the chance to catch up since the first night at Satin, but Jo knew that was the reason for Ada’s visit.
She’d known her best friend long enough to note that twinkle in her eye when she was on the prowl for information.
But this was nice. It was safe. Jo had lit candles just before Ada had arrived, wanting the evening to feel chilled.
They hadn’t had a night like this in a while. Just her and Ada with no distractions.
Ada popped an olive into her mouth and chewed slowly. “So, I’ve been patient, but I need details. Did you enjoy Satin? Are you addicted yet?”
Jo laughed as she sipped her wine. “I don’t know about addicted.”
“That’s not a no.” Ada arched a brow.
Jo sighed, then smiled as she brought her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. “It’s a lot. But good. I mean, I was a little nervous the night you took me, but then somehow, I ended up back there the following night.”
Ada sat up straight. “Wait, seriously? You went back alone? On night two?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what came over me. I think I just…needed to feel that again. The safety. The anonymity. And her.”
Ada tilted her head. “Her?”
Jo hesitated and lowered her wine glass. “Lia. That’s what she told me her name is. She’s the woman I’ve been…well, seeing isn’t quite the word, but you know what I mean.”
Ada leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “You found someone in the dark room worth going back for?”
Jo nodded slowly. “Yeah. That first night, it was like she knew exactly how to touch me. How to make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of anymore.”
Ada grinned. “And you’ve seen her again since then?”