Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Katie
My relationship with Brad moved quickly.
It went from fucking on the first date to an intense love affair within the few weeks we’ve been together.
As much as I’ve relished being wined and dined, his personality is overwhelming.
Brad is very much an alpha male, someone used to being in control of every situation.
He takes my breath away in all the right and wrong ways.
All the men I’ve been attracted to were alpha males. Knobscratcher took the approach of extreme dominance. He ruled with an iron fist, beating me into submission with his words or rules until I accepted his wishes.
Lance was a gentle alpha, all man but thoughtful. Dominant in bed, but courteous to my wishes and needs.
Brad is somewhere in between, but when I see him displaying traits like my ex-husband, I get nervous. At this time in my life however, can I afford to be fussy? Is every trait I’m not comfortable with a red flag?
As my career has progressed, he’s casually mentioned the links he’s created for me.
A phone call here. An email there. A ‘you owe me’ without saying the words.
PR and media is his playing field. He speaks to people who could send me atmospheric or cancel my career each day.
And even though he’s never told me straight, he could end the amazing things happening to me. Deep down, I know he can.
Last week, there was a disagreement in regards to scheduling on a podcast. An interview with a friend of his who specializes in books for women over forty. Women like me. My target audience as he says.
When Celia highlighted the conflict. I asked Brad to rearrange. His simple, “are you sure you want to take that risk?” was enough to send me back peddling. Enough insinuation to know not to push it. That if he was aiding my career, his lead was the one I should follow.
“I’ll sort it,” Celia said, when I called.
“Thank you, it’s just Brad…”
“Pulled strings,” she interrupted. “Yes, Katie, he’s been pulling a lot of strings lately. You certainly are his favorite…”
Her words trailed off. I couldn’t decide if they were laced with gratitude, annoyance, or uncertainty.
All I know is, they made me uncomfortable.
And now, I feel caught between stepping out of line to offend her or him.
Two powerful people in my life. Ones that could help or finish my career, and I’m not convinced they want me on the same path.
This month away from Brad, back in the UK, will do me good. I need to put the brakes on being swept away too quickly. Brad had asked to come with me, but I said no. He has his business to run; I have a full diary of book signings and promotions to attend.
Plus, I’m looking forward to catching up with Amy, who is going to accompany me for part of the trip before I head back to the U.S. Time with a solid person in my life, who, through thick or thin, is there for me. Hell, I miss her.
Sitting in yet another hotel room, my mood is low, sad because I’m never home.
My mind replays the whirlwind that’s happened since releasing my first novel ten months ago.
So much has changed. Amy has taken ownership of the two dogs, my little companions, because I’m never there.
They were such good company when at Eden House.
I dread to think what would have happened to them if I hadn’t pinched them before leaving.
Next week in London, I’ll be staying in my own bed. I can’t wait.
My phone buzzes.
“Hello, darling,” Celia sings down the line when I answer. “Are you ready? I’ll be collecting you in ten minutes. We’ll be heading straight to the store.”
“Is it far to walk? Just considering my footwear,” I say.
“Walk?” Celia laughs. “Who’s walking anywhere? We’re traveling in style, darling, whether it is for one hundred meters or one hundred miles.” I roll my eyes at the phone.
“Don’t roll your eyes,” she scolds. How the hell did she know that?
“Okay, I’ll see you in ten,” I mumble, sticking the tip of my tongue between my lips, then cutting the call before she can continue the conversation.
Looking at the three pairs of shoes I’ve brought with me, I opt for the middle pair, comfy but with a heel. The cobbled streets of Edinburgh can be a nightmare on the ankles, and I need to limit the chances of falling on my arse. I don’t want to rerun the night I had here with Lance.
Celia rattles my door, and I grab my bag, throwing the door open in greeting.
We air kiss while embracing as if we are long lost friends rather than colleagues who saw each other yesterday.
Today is a big deal—this book retailer is the biggest in the city, and people have been queuing since 7 a.m. to get a signed copy of my third novel, Army Boy.
Sitting out in front of the hotel is a long, black limo with darkened windows waiting for us. As we descend the steps, the driver spots us and waves in our direction. I look at Celia in confusion; she beams.
“A present from your friend.” She winks cheekily. “Brad said he wanted you to make a statement when you arrived. And this,” she gestures to the limo, “will ensure everyone knows who they’ve come to see today.”
“Brad strikes again,” I mutter. I should be grateful, but it feels like another attempt at controlling my movements.
Another flex of the power he has over my life and my career.
One call from him has changed the entrance I make to the signing.
It sets the brand, one I would be unable to achieve on my own.
We climb into the back seat and set off through the city.
The streets are buzzing with people enjoying the sun beating down onto the normally wet pavement.
Sunshine in Scotland is a thing to be cherished, as even in the middle of summer, it can rain torrentially.
Celia chats away as we drive, about the signing, how many fans we are expecting, and how long it will take.
“You’re booked to sign for two hours. Then we’ll have a short break, and the Q she says I’m improving in public.
In the beginning, she had to hold my hand through every stage and practically answer the questions for me.
As I stand to leave, a familiar set of dark eyes land on mine.
My stomach free falls; my heart explodes in one swift beat.
Then my mouth goes dry, the way it has for one person in the past. As soon as I look at him, I’m flooded with emotion.
I will my soles to the floor, not trusting myself not to run into his arms.
“Hello, Katie,” Lance murmurs.
Oh, I’ve missed that voice.
“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by to say hello.” He flashes me a soft, sexy smile, then leans forward, warm lips pressing my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
Before I can speak, Celia appears at my side.
Her eyes like saucers, taking in the man next to me.
He’s still as gorgeous as I remember: strong, broad, and all man.
It’s hard to believe that he used to choose to wrap his hot, young body around mine.
The sex I had with Lance was the best of my life.
An orgasm with him didn’t just happen in my body; it fried my brain.
“Who are you?” Celia squawks. “Do you have a ticket?”
It’s then I notice the pram by his side, cradling a baby boy wrapped in blankets, sleeping soundly. I look from the pram to Lance and back again. He gives me a sad smile.
“We have a lot to catch up on, Katie,” he says, simple but laden.
“Celia, this is my old friend, Lance. Are we finished for this afternoon?”
“Yes.” Her eyes search my face, her tone clipped. “No plans until the morning. Another bookstore in Glasgow, then we head to London.”
“That’s fine. I’m going to catch up with Lance. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“But,” Celia mumbles, “the limo.” She raises her eyebrows, warning me it would be reported back to Brad if I don’t use it. A reminder of the situation I’ve landed myself in. One out of my control, even if I pretend it isn’t.
I sigh, defeated.
“Lance, I’m staying at the Hotel Carlo, Room 1061. I need to take this car back there. Will you meet me there? It’s a long story, and I’ll explain later.”
He nods, confused, but doesn’t question my request.
The beautiful man I used to call mine pushes the pram out of the bookstore and onto the street. My heart sinks.
“Are you quite done staring at the closed door?” Celia barks. “Who the fuck was that?”
“He’s just a friend,” I say, the words trailing away with my heartache.
“Friend…” She snorts. “You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Tell me you’ve been there. I bet he’s hung like a horse.”
I smile wickedly; she gawps.
“He’s a beautiful man,” I whisper, a soft smile touching my lips.
Stories of our time making love together filter through my brain, and my body responds as if he’s there touching me. A strong, stunning man who can bend a woman to his will but be so gentle in the process, that’s my experience with Major Lance McDonald.
I wonder who the baby belongs to. My brain tells me not to be so na?ve; the baby is his, of course.
But part of me doesn’t want to believe he moved on so drastically without me.
My heart shatters again as I imagine all the scenarios he could be living with a happy family.
Jealousy is a curse, a hatred from within for what you can’t have.
When I arrive back at my hotel, there’s no sign of him, so I head up to my room. We didn’t even swap numbers. If he changes his mind, I have no way of contacting him.
Right now, talking to Lance feels like the most important thing in the world.
Maybe I need closure, never having fully gotten over him.
Perhaps he’s the reason I’m holding myself back from Brad or finding fault where there is none.
Lance is my Achilles heel to happiness; now is my time to finally put the obsession to bed.
I apply another coat of lip gloss, brush my hair, and spray more perfume on my throat. He’s not interested in you, Katie. Stop being a silly old woman. This is merely a catch up with a friend.
The strange coincidence of being in the same place at the same time plays on my mind.
The logical part of my brain is telling me that there’s no way this is a coincidence, and he must have deliberately come to see me.
But why would he? Just when I think he’s not going to come at all, my room phone rings.
“Ms. Clark?” the woman says in an aristocratic English accent.
“Yes.”
“I’ve a gentleman here to see you, Major McDonald. He asked me to phone ahead to ensure it was suitable for him to come up.”
“Yes, please send him up. And can we get a bottle of white wine delivered too?”
“Of course, Ms. Clark. I’ll organize that now for you.”
My lips part wide. I laugh. And the fear he wouldn’t come evaporates.
He came to see me, and he’s still the sweet, conscientious Lance I knew. He gave me a chance to pull out of the meeting, not forcing his presence on me. I giggle like a schoolgirl as I wait for his knock at the door. Pathetic.
My eyes glance guiltily to my phone, still switched off, lying on the bedside table. Brad will be expecting my call, but I can’t think about him now. My mind is full of Lance and what I’m going to find out about our time apart.