TWENTY-FOUR
Gigi
You could say I’ve been on a high since Harry stumbled back into my life. The sex was remarkable, but his presence alone has made me see the world through rose-tinted lenses.
I’m practically dancing around my bedroom when reality impales me like a blunt sword.
Jamie.
Never would I have thought it was in me to be a cheater, but Harry raises the darkest parts of me to the surface. I ache to chase the thrill alongside him despite the danger that lies ahead. No matter how dark his world is, if he’s living in it, I will only ever see the light.
Things between me and Jamie have been difficult since the beginning. I haven’t even told him I love him, for goodness’ sake. And it’s been months. There’s no denying this breakup needs to happen pronto – even if mine and Harry’s sexy scandal is only limited to one night.
When I call, Jamie insists I meet him on his lunch break. It’s only after I’ve arrived at the coffee shop near his office that I realise how fitting my outfit is. Dark jeans, a black tank top, my leather jacket – I look like Death arriving at my own funeral as I approach Jamie looking suave in his business suit. It’s designer and probably costs more than my car. Because of course it does .
He arrives before I do and stands up when I approach, ushering me into a chair, asking if I want anything to drink. I shake my head and say, “Thank you, but this will only be brief.”
“Okay …” he says, nodding his head.
“I think it’s time we break up.”
He pauses for a beat and then replies, “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, confused. “That’s it?”
He shrugs. “You were never one hundred percent into this relationship.”
“That’s not true.” I shake my head, trying to defend myself.
He scoffs. “We haven’t had sex. The only few times we’ve ever done anything you’ve moaned another guy’s name.”
My cheeks redden with embarrassment, and I feel like someone just took sandpaper to my stomach. Strangely, though, while I thought I’d be riddled with guilt, all I feel is relief. This turned out a lot easier than expected.
“Friends?” I ask with a smile.
“Probably not.”
Okay then …
Jamie’s childishness isn’t enough to dampen my happy mood. While he would tell you otherwise, we decide to remain civil for each other’s sake, but the likelihood of us ever bumping into each other is minuscule since we both work in the city surrounded by thousands of people. As we say our goodbyes, I go in for a hug and he offers a handshake, which ends up in one of those weird embarrassing embraces where there’s a hand wedged between the two of us.
For some unknown reason, the immediate next step after breaking up with my boyfriend is to turn up on the doorstep of the man I cheated on him with. The stupidity of my actions is quickly replaced with lust as Harry opens his front door with a towel hanging low on his waist.
“Gigi?” he says, surprised to see me. “I didn’t know you were coming over. ”
I gulp down the sensation immediately as I race to find his eyes. When he catches my wandering stare, his flirtation comes back with surprising speed.
“Would you prefer if I took the towel off? Honestly, I don’t mind.”
I fight my blush. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”
He pulls me inside by my hip, shutting the door behind me. “You’re most certainly not a bother.”
I try desperately to ignore the feeling of him pressed against me, but the attempt is futile. “Are you sure you don’t mind me being here?”
“I have to head out later, but I’m free for a few hours. Let me get changed, and then we’ll talk.” His eyes run over me. “Unless you want to talk in the shower.”
I swat his chest. “Get ready.”
As he walks back to the bathroom bare-chested, with that crisp white towel hanging low on his hips, I try to remind myself I’m a strong, independent woman who is most certainly not on the rebound. But whatever sexual fantasy keeps my mind afloat quickly evaporates as I catch the scar at the nape of his neck.
I noticed it last night while he was putting his clothes back on. I saw it once before, close to a year ago, when I was cleaning up the wound on his chest. But seeing it in the daylight evokes a completely new reaction. And whatever it is, it burns unforgivingly at my core.
I take a seat on the bar-stool and wait around for him. I twist my thumbs, taking in the surroundings. His home hasn’t changed since I was last here. No new furniture has been added to the greyscale landscape.
The desire to snoop around quickly creeps in, but I shove it down at lightning speed. If there’s any chance of the two of us working out, there has to be no more secrecy.
Something that sounds oddly like a ringtone lowers my guard, and I spot Harry’s phone buzzing on the kitchen counter. The screen lights up, but the phone is too far away to spot who’s calling.
The screen finally goes blank.
As I bring my attention to my chipped nails, a shiver courses down my spine at the memory of how they were damaged. When Harry demanded I grab the headboard—
The phone starts ringing again.
“Harry!” I call out.
He doesn’t respond.
Like an endless cycle I watch the phone ring again. And again. It isn’t until the fourth ring that I finally decide to investigate, approaching the device cautiously, as if it’s a ticking time bomb. I’m only able to catch the end of the call, but there’s no caller ID to tell me who’s desperate to get hold of him.
On demand it starts up again. In a split-second decision, I quickly answer the phone, placing it to my ear.
“You pick up the phone when I call or you'll fucking regret it. The whole thing’s a bust. We need you here. NOW!” The speaker crackles with the man’s raised voice.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
This was a mistake.
I’m seconds away from hanging up completely, but I suspect that’ll only anger this man more.
“H-hello?” I stutter. “I’m really, really sorry, but Harry is in the shower. I’ll get him right away.”
The line cuts to silence, and for a second I’m convinced they’ve hung up.
“I’m Gigi,” I tell him as if that’ll help to rectify my wrongdoing.
“Thomas,” he finishes for me. When a sharp breath whooshes out of me, he chuckles to himself, the sound menacing. “Don’t be so surprised, sweetheart. Don’t you remember me? We met about a year ago.”
I nod slowly, the memories that kept me up at night for months assaulting me suddenly.
“You’re the interest.”
I clutch the phone warily. “I didn’t mean to answer.”
“Put Harry on,” he insists, ignoring my plea for forgiveness.
His calm voice makes my skin crawl, but I nod, clutching the device as I approach the bathroom door. I knock on the wood, and Harry comes out a few seconds later. He’s pulling a T-shirt on, smiling as he says, “I was just coming out—”
With sealed lips I pass the phone over to him. He looks down at the object like it’s completely alien. Cautiously taking it from my hand, he forces a swallow and his spine stiffens as he places it to his ear. As he walks into the kitchen, I watch him run a hand through his damp, tousled hair, keeping his voice hushed.
“I was in the shower … No, she doesn’t … I’m not sure …”
I can’t see Harry’s face, but I imagine he’s furious.
“No,” he finally grits. He turns to me slowly, his expression taking my breath away. He’s not furious – he’s petrified. “Yes, Boss. I’ll let her know.”
He hangs up.
His calmness terrifies me to the core, his movements so slow and precise it’s as if I’m watching the scene play out in slow motion. When he places the phone on the counter with the agileness of antique china, I bravely speak up.
“Harry?”
He keeps his head down.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I—”
Before I know it, he storms over and grips my shoulders with his tight palms. He shakes me firmly, and my whole body wobbles with the movement.
“Why did you do it?” he demands, raising his voice.
I look over at the device as if it’s my eyewitness. “I thought I was helping. I … I’m so sorry. I thought it was an emergency.”
Tears sting my vision, and his face crumples the moment he notices. He pulls me forwards by my shoulders and engulfs me in his arms, stroking my hair as I mumble apology after apology.
When the anger is finally overcome by remorse, he presses a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering on the skin. Then, letting our connection break, he pushes me at arm’s length and rubs gently at the parts he grabbed. Harry watches me longingly, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see me, and fear spreads through my insides.
“Harry?” I ask slowly.
“You need to find a dress.”
“A dress?” I ask, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”
“He wants to meet with you. There’s a ball that he’s expecting our attendance at.”
“What?” I chuckle in shock. “Like a masquerade ball?”
“No, not a masquerade ball. But you will be expected to wear a gown.”
I blink, scanning his face, convinced he’s having me on. Never would I have thought his work required formal events like this. Men in suits, women in gowns – it seems far too ostentatious for those in the same field as Harry. Rather than hosting lush get-togethers, you’d think they’d want to stay in the shadows, not drawing any attention to themselves.
“When is it anyway?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask, catching my breath. “You must be joking.”
“I wouldn’t joke about this.”
“I can’t go.” I shake my head. “I’m on call for the late shift at work.”
He finds my eyes immediately as if he was called directly to them. He’s careful this time as he steps forwards and grips my shoulders, but the firmness of his hold is enough to get his point across. “Please don’t think I’d ask this of you if it wasn’t one hundred percent important. But you have to attend. ”
The look in his eyes leaves no room for negotiation.
I can call in sick to work. Just this once. What’s the worst that could happen?
I finally nod. “Okay.”
He brings me back into his arms again, lowering his voice to a whisper – so quiet I don’t think he intends for me to hear.
“You have no idea what you’ve wrapped yourself into.”