Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
I t felt peculiar to wake up with Alfie Tell asleep in my lumpy bed, in my attic bedroom that didn’t even have a door.
I turned to face him, the old frame creaking as I moved.
He was fast asleep and I took advantage of the opportunity to study him.
It was early. The day hadn’t started yet and the rising sun cast an orange hue across the room.
The gentle tweeting of small birds littered the air. Yet, I didn’t feel peaceful.
Ryan had been ecstatic when Alfie had surprised him. When we’d gotten home, he’d driven Ryan around the block in his ‘fancy car’ until Natalie called Ryan in for his bath.
Ryan had insisted on Alfie staying over and Alfie had accepted the offer whilst I watched on, nervous.
I’d wanted to spend the night with him, just not here.
There was something about him being in my home that just didn’t feel right.
He didn’t fit in here, that was plain for everyone to see.
I wondered if he felt that way when I was at his place? Probably.
When we were at The Carlton, we could kid ourselves into thinking there was nothing keeping us apart.
Alfie liked my family fine, but my home?
My world? I wasn’t sure he liked that so much.
He judged my poor thread count sheets, my mismatched, worn furniture.
‘ One bathroom between three of you, how do you live like that?’ He’d had to shower last night and it hadn’t gone well.
Shitty water pressure was a new concept for Alfie and he hadn’t taken to it.
I gazed at him as he slept. His brow was stern even in sleep, as if his dreams troubled him.
What was that secret he carried around with him?
He looked, sometimes, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
The more I got to know him, the more it seemed as if his outside didn’t match his inside.
Gently, I trailed my fingers through his hair. I let my fingertips continue their exploration, tracing over the planes of his forehead, his cheekbones, his strong jaw.
“What’re you doing?”
I smiled. I should’ve known he was awake. “Just memorising you.”
“What for? I’m not going anywhere.”
I traced my fingers over his lips and then leaned in to kiss him.
It was warm, gentle. He moaned softly, enjoying my mouth.
His morning erection strained for me and Alfie, seemingly forgetting where he was, hitched my leg over his hip.
He rolled onto me, planting himself firmly between my legs, and as he did my bed creaked loudly.
We froze, our ears straining for signs we’d woken up Natalie or Ryan.
I bit my lip, trying to stifle a laugh at the look on Alfie’s face.
It was dawning on him that morning sex was out of the question in my house, and he wasn’t happy.
He buried his face in the pillow and groaned.
“Guess we’re going to have to take a rain check on that.” I wrapped myself around him, pulling him close. I intended it to be comforting but he pulled away and rolled off me. He lay on his back, an arm flung over his face.
“Problem?”
“I should have taken you back to my hotel last night.”
Is he really going to sulk over not getting his morning lay?
He threw back the duvet and sat up, placing his feet on the floor.
I admired the muscles of his back as he leaned forward and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from the bag Elliot had brought for him.
I sighed. I guess the day had started now.
I sat up in bed, trying to wake myself up a little.
Alfie sat again to pull on his socks, the bed frame groaning as it took his weight.
I’d found it amusing before. Now it was embarrassing.
He stood. There was a dress bag, also courtesy of Elliot, hanging from my jacket hooks, and he unzipped it, pulling out a fresh white shirt.
He dressed in silence, leaving me to wonder about his cold mood.
I put it down to him being out of his element in my world but that didn’t make me any happier.
He fastened the shirt and I watched as he crossed to my wardrobe. After a moment he produced a peach coloured sundress that I’d always hated but had never gotten around to throwing out.
“Wear this today.” He tossed it to me. I caught it, threw it back at him, and got out of bed.
“No thanks,” I replied lightly, opening one of my drawers. “I’m wearing jeans today.” I pulled out a pair of jeans but Alfie merely let out a small chuckle, took the jeans from me, and replaced them with the dress.
“You’re wearing this today.” He returned to the dry cleaner bag, pulling out a pair of dark grey suit trousers. I just stood there, frozen and naked. Sometimes, Alfie Tell made me so mad it just stole the words right out of me.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked over his shoulder as he reached for a matching tie.
“Control me.” I tried to reign my temper in. My voice was starting to rise and I didn’t want to wake up Natalie and Ryan.
“Habit…and to remind you that I can.” He pulled on his matching waistcoat.
“Well, can you cut it out? I hate it.” This bullshit was the reason I’d broken things off in the first place.
I dropped the dress and folded my arms over my bare chest, hiding my vulnerability from him.
Of course he picked up on that in an instant.
He turned to me, towering over me in my small room.
“Move your arms.” I shook my head. He sighed lightly and placed his hands on my wrists.
He didn’t force me, merely applied enough pressure for me to feel his dominance.
As usual, my body betrayed me and my arms dropped to my sides.
His eyes roamed over my breasts but he didn’t touch them.
I felt so small in front of him, he in his business suit, me in my birthday suit.
It felt like a metaphor for so much more than just this moment.
“Do you really hate how I control you, Lola?” he asked smoothly, his steel grey eyes piercing my own.
“Or do you just hate that your body responds to me so much that you can’t help but do what I say?
” His voice was dark and potent, full of everything he wanted to do to me.
If we were at The Carlton, he’d have me bent over and screaming his name by now.
“But why control me now? What did I do?”
“Why not now? Seeing you in that dress would please me. It’s as simple as that.
” Was it as simple as that? I knew how good Alfie could be, and it was easy to forget what he was alongside that—spoiled and selfish.
But maybe it was more. Over the weeks I was beginning to see a pattern with Alfie.
His vulnerable moments were often followed up with cold ones.
I wasn’t sure whether he was punishing me for making him happy or himself for allowing it.
My brain hurt from trying to figure him out.
He stepped away, releasing me from our bubble. I watched him as he sat on the bed to fasten his shoes.
“I don’t like this, Alfie,” I mumbled, not knowing what else to say. Once again, the bastard just shrugged.
“I don’t care.” He stood and reached for his jacket before turning his gaze back on me, pinning me to the spot. I stood there, naked and slightly nervous under his intense scrutiny.
“This is what I am, Lola. Get used to it.” He shrugged his jacket on and turned to the stairs, leaving me alone in my room.
My chest cracked at his callousness. Why was he doing this?
I rested my head in my hands, hating his latest mind fuck.
I felt like Alfie pulled me in, kissed me, then slapped me and pushed me away, only to pull me back a moment later.
I hated being out of his arms, out of his light.
My skin felt cold. I sat on my bed, holding the stupid dress.
I will not cry. I will not cry…
The peach dress looked worse than I remembered. I spent the morning trying not to let the fact that I’d caved to Alfie’s demands bother me. It was just a dress. It didn’t matter.
I’d shown Mark my plans so far for the Harrington Garden and he’d looked them over with a critical eye.
I’d expected critiques and advice but he’d simply handed my plans back to me, seeming almost disinterested.
Did he approve of them? I couldn’t tell and I couldn’t deny that he’d hurt my feelings.
I’d told myself in the beginning that his mood was due to his mother being unwell, but now I was starting to wonder.
The bunker felt unusually stifling with Mark in it and I did my best to ignore his critical gaze. His bleak mood only soured further at the arrival of a bouquet of bleeding hearts amongst a selection of wildflowers from Alfie.
In an attempt to escape Mark, I took my plans into the boutique garden to work on the finer details. I had no colour scheme or plant layout yet and I was struggling. I contented myself with doodling, playing with different ideas and waiting for inspiration to hit.
I was startled out of my doodling when a pair of scuffed boots appeared in front of me. I looked up to find a ruddy-faced Bradley looking down at me, holding two sandwiches and two bottles of orange juice.
“Hungry?” he asked, and my stomach rumbled in response.
“Starving.” I broke into a grin, feeling like I’d just been handed a life jacket in a storm-stricken sea. He took a seat on the ground next to me and handed me a cheese sandwich.
Bradley had a very unselfconscious beauty.
His hands were rough and calloused and he wore the same scuffed boots every day.
There were large rips in his shirt and I could see glimpses of the smooth, tanned skin beneath.
I wondered if he took his shirt off when he worked.
If he did it would probably give Rosie a heart attack.
“Enjoying the view?” I looked up and found him grinning at me. He’d caught me staring.