3. Scarlett
Chapter 3
Scarlett
“Hello,” I grumble the next morning, as I answer my mobile phone. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and I curse my friend as I see her name on the screen.
“Hey Scarlett, how are you getting on with your secret crush?”
I glance at the time and drop my head on the pillow. “It’s six thirty, Hetty. What are you doing?”
“I want the tea.”
“There is none.”
She laughs. “Of course there is. Now start by telling me how he looked at you? Did his hand linger anywhere on your body for longer than necessary? Did he look at you weirdly?”
“Ugh! He showed me my room, made me dinner, and it was more awkward than I expected. So, I’m going to pretend I’m not living in his house for a week. He looks at me like he’s still embarrassed that I tried to kiss him at the wedding.”
“He would never kiss you in front of all those guests. Just turn on the charm while you’re living with him, and he’ll be eating out of your hand in no time at all.”
“Do you think?” I ask, hopeful.
“Yeah, of course. Just don’t be making it too obvious. Make him see you. Drive him so insane he can’t stop thinking about you.”
I yawn. “It’s not worked up to now.”
“Are you sure nothing happened last night? You sound like you were up all night.”
That was only because I struggled to get to sleep in the strange bed, tossing and turning all night at knowing Anton was in the bedroom next door—his big warm bed.
I listened to his every movement as he moved around his room in the night. It is as though the man is an insomniac.
Which now means I’m going to struggle with sleep this week, but since I found out I was going to stay with him, my stomach has been doing flips. So nothing is new there.
“Nothing happened,” I whisper into the phone, pulling the covers up to my chin. The silk of my pajamas slides against my skin, reminding me of Anton’s sharp intake of breath when I emerged from the bathroom last night.
“You’re lying. I can hear it in your voice.”
I bite my lower lip, suppressing a smile. Maybe I'm wrong. His eyes darkened when they landed on my bare legs, and for a brief moment, something electric passed between us. And the way his fingers had gripped his glass during dinner, his knuckles white.
Maybe I didn’t imagine any of it but I daren't say it out loud. “Seriously, Hetty. We had dinner and went to bed. That’s all.”
“In separate rooms?”
“Of course, in separate rooms.” I roll my eyes, even though she can’t see me. “He’s Dad’s best friend.”
“Which makes him even hotter.”
“You’re impossible.” I shift in bed, the silk rustling against the sheets. The memory of Anton’s stare follows me. How his gaze had lingered a second too long, how he’d cleared his throat and turned away.
“Come on, give me something,” Hetty pleads.
“There’s nothing to give.” But my free hand traces the hem of my pajama top, remembering how his eyes had followed the same path. The heat in his stare had been unmistakable, despite his attempt to hide it.
“Fine, keep your secrets.” Hetty yawns. “But you owe me details later.”
“Later?”
“Remember, we’re going out for drinks. You’re staying at mine.”
“I can’t tonight.” I pull at a loose thread on the hem of my shorts. “I promised Anton I’d help him with some case files.” The lie comes too easy.
“Liar. He doesn’t need your help.” Hetty’s laugh crackles through the phone. “You’re definitely hiding something.”
“I’m not,” I insist.
“Then you can come out. You need a night out. I need a night out. When’s the last time you had fun?”
I glance at Anton’s to the closed door. Last night’s dinner flashes through my mind. The way he’d leaned forward when I spoke, his fingers brushing mine as he passed the salt.
“I have lots of fun,” I argue.
“Studying law books isn’t fun. Garrett and Kyle will be there. You remember Garrett from Sarah’s party?”
“Not really.” I sink deeper into the pillows. They smell like Anton’s laundry detergent.
“Tall, dark hair, killer smile? He asked about you.”
“I don’t—”
“If you say no, I’m going to drag you out myself.” Her voice turns serious. “One night. That’s all I’m asking. It might send Anton crazy.”
“I doubt it.” I sigh, knowing she won’t drop this night out, but also because I know Anton doesn’t want me. “Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Maybe Anton will be relieved to have the house to himself. To not worry about running into me in the hallway or catching glimpses of me in silk pajamas. “What time?”
“Straight after college. Bring some clothes with you to the gym. We’ll start at The Lock & Key.”
“Okay.” My stomach twists at the thought of leaving, but I push the feeling aside. “But I’m not staying late.”
“You’re sleeping at mine. No arguing.”
I roll my eyes.
Her laugh echoes through the phone, and it’s as though she can see me. “Bring that black dress. The one with the—”
“Okay. I need to go.” I cut her off, hearing movement in the hallway. Anton must be up. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You know, Anton just needs a little encouragement. Maybe get him a little jealous.” She smiles. “Knowing you’re dating someone will drive him wild and he’ll see you differently.”
“He’s too old for me, anyway,” I say, suddenly conscious of the age gap.
“It never bothered you before.” Her voice turns to a whisper. “Mom is calling me. Now that you’re up, get your ass out of bed and meet me at the college gym, and we can discuss tonight and a strategy.”
“A strategy?”
“How to get Anton Hawthorn to fall in love with you.”
I giggle. “That won’t happen.”
“Scarlett, stop doubting my ability with the opposite sex. Now get your gym bag and meet me in the gym at seven. Georgie will be there too.”
“Goodbye, Hetty.” I end the call and stretch across the bed, allowing myself a private smile.
Can I make him jealous?
Should I?
He is good at hiding his attraction, if there is one, but I maybe there is something in the slight tremor in his hands, or the way his breath hitched, and how he practically fled to his room.
My pajama choice wasn’t an accident. Neither was the way I’d hesitated at my door, giving him one last look before disappearing into my room. I might be nineteen, but I’m not na?ve. And Anton Hawthorn isn’t as immune to me as he pretends to be.
I push my legs from the bed.
“The gym, hopefully it’ll wake me up,” I mutter, trying to convince myself.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I drag my bike pants up my legs and pull a crop top over my bra. Then throw a pair of jeans and tee shirt into my backpack with the black dress for my night out, my laptop and a towel.
I don’t have the time for breakfast, or a shower, luckily my parents left me with an allowance for the week. They didn’t want me to burden Anton with anything other than my presence.
So, until I get to speak to Hetty about her strategy, I’ll sneak around in his house, like right now, while trying not to make any noise while I fill my drink bottle up with water and throw it in my bag.
“You’re up early.” His gruff voice makes me jump.
I turn to him. My eyes bulge as I try to withhold a squeak as Anton walks in. He is only wearing fitted boxer shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, and a thin dressing gown which is not, but really should be, tied at the waist.
When he's in a suit, everything about him radiates power and dominance. But now he is almost naked, and I feel dominated in a different way.
Suit or not, the power rolls off him.
He’s a big man. He towers over my father, who stands at six feet on the dot. But unlike my father, Anton is big all over— all over .
I swallow.
I need to stop looking right away.
His thighs are large and firm. Taut, defined muscles cover his stomach, and he has a delicious V that ends underneath the boxer shorts I’m staring at—and can’t stop.
Stop staring at him.
My gaze quickly rises, as does the heat on my face.
“Where are you going?” he asks, like my staring is normal in his world.
“I’m meeting Hetty.”
“You haven’t had breakfast.” His voice hits me in places it shouldn’t and sometimes, days like today, for instance, I find it easier when he is his usual brooding dark self.
Everything about Anton is dark. From his dark hair to his mood, even today his deep blue eyes are darker than normal.
And I can only wonder who hurt him.
Was it his ex-wife?
I swallow back saliva to wet my overly dry throat. “I’ll have some at college.”
“This early?” His eyes travel down my body. The gaze is slow and deliberate.
I blurt, “I’m going to the gym.”
He is making me feel off balance. It’s probably not him, because I have the worst time with any men that aren’t friends. As soon as one decides they want to move into the boyfriend zone, I’m stuffed and silent like a teddy bear. Anton is not boyfriend material, so why does he make me feel like this?
He steps closer, and I look up into his heavy-lidded eyes. He tucks a loose piece of my hair behind my ear. The touch is strangely intimate. “You’re already perfect.”
“I wish,” I say, glancing at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes and I’m supposed to meet Hetty.
I need to get moving and grab my backpack and my phone from the stool.
His nostrils flare, his chest rises too quickly.
“What would you like for dinner?” he asks and my mouth is open wide as I stare at him.
“You don’t have to cook for me. I was given a food allowance, so I don’t bother you.”
“And I’ve already told you that you won’t be bothering me.” His voice is gruff and his eyes now seem fiery, as though my words have annoyed him.
“Honestly, it’s fine, I’m meeting some friends tonight and…” I think about Hetty and her telling me to make him jealous and add, “And as it’s Friday, we are going drinking afterwards.”
“You’re not going drinking while you stay with me,” he growls.
“I had a glass of wine last night.”
“In my home. Under my conditions.”
“And I’m sleeping out tonight. I already agreed with my mother,” I lie, with a shrug of my shoulder, while brushing the growing deepening of his voice away. “I need to go.”
But before I have the chance to move, Anton pushes me against the wall. His hand covers my throat, his thumb strokes my jaw as he lowers his mouth to my ear. “While you’re staying with me. You obey my rules, Angel. Do you understand?”
Angel?
I bite my lip. His gaze moves from my eyes to my mouth.
Heat creeps up my neck, and I curse my shyness with men. Friends think I am outgoing and brave, but I put on a very good act. Even holding the mistletoe over Anton’s head at the wedding was alcohol fueled, and a stupid mistake.
I can’t do anything about my feelings, apart from keeping them hidden away forever, and hope one day a boy of my own age will make me feel the same way.
Anton leans down until his mouth is near my cheek.
He is going to kiss me.
My breath catches, and I wait.
I’m back under the mistletoe, waiting for him to want me.
He turned me down then...
My mobile rings and I jolt back to reality as Anton steps back.
I don’t know if I should run as fast as I can or melt into a puddle at his feet. Considering the wetness between my thighs, I suspect both.
“Dinner at six,” he says, turning away from me.
“See you later,” I reply.
I turn to the door, a smile on my face. Was he going to kiss me?