Chapter 9
Nine
Why is it so cold? As soon as the thought hits my brain, my limbs spasm with shivers. My flesh is bumpy, and while my eyes are half-closed with sleep, I vigorously run my hands over my arms and legs.
Ugh. Why do I feel coarse, sandy dirt?
“Ahh!” it screams out of me as I jolt to sit up.
My heart jumps out of my chest as the warm glow from the emerging sunrise highlights the surrounding view.
A groggy moan sounds beside me, and Dax rises with a yawn and a stretch.
“Not a morning person, princess?” he asks with a smirk.
I plant a hand on my chest and exhale hard. “I forgot where I was. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.”
Dax yawns again, running a hand over his mess of coffee-colored hair. “Yeah, me neither. All that talking last night took a toll.”
“Bored you?”
Dax chuckles. “No. It was intense.”
“Oh.” I smooth my hand over my hair and instantly blush. What must I look like?
As I feverishly comb my fingers through my hair, Dax gently touches my hand.
“Don’t panic,” he whispers. “You still look beautiful.”
“Oh.” I smile nervously as my blush intensifies. I run my hands down the skirt of my dress, noticing the dirt marks on the white material.
“I’m guessing this is the first time you’ve slept on the ground.”
“A lunch date on a picnic rug is as close as I’ve come to lying on the ground,” I reply. “And that’s usually on the grounds of the Ashworth Estate. Speaking of which, I should probably get back home.”
“Ready for the wrath of Daddy Dearest?” Dax jokes.
I suck in a breath and can’t help grinning. “He’ll think I was being reckless. I have no idea what he’ll do about it.”
Dax’s eyes narrow. “And you’re happy about this?”
I bite into my lip, knowing I shouldn’t be. “I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.”
Dax pats my knee and gets up. He holds out a hand, saying, “Okay, let’s get you home for the showdown of a lifetime.”
I stand with him, smooth down my dress, and wipe off excess dirt. Oh my gosh, if my parents saw me like this they’d be appalled.
Dax bundles up the gray blanket, and I remember it was mostly on me last night. “Did you wake up cold?”
Dax wipes his brow. “Actually, I was sweating.”
It takes me by surprise. “Oh.”
Dax places the blanket in the bike’s locker trunk and leaves it open for my purse. He then picks up the helmet and hands it to me with a devilishly gorgeous smile.
“So, when can I see you again?”
Before I take the helmet, I dig out my phone. “What’s your number?”
With a smile, he places the helmet on the motorcycle seat and pulls out his phone from his leather jacket’s pocket.
We swap phones to input our numbers, and I grimace. His phone screen is cracked, and the edges are smashed like it’s been dropped from a considerable height.
“Does this thing even work?” I ask.
Dax laughs. “Yeah, it does the job.”
“You know, I can replace this for you.”
Dax shakes his head. “Don’t bother. It’ll only get smashed like the others.”
I suck in a hesitant breath, and type my number into his phone. “Okay, here,” I say, returning the phone. I take mine from him and drop it back into my bag.
With my purse dumped back inside the bike’s locker, I climb on behind Dax with the helmet strapped on. Dax asks for directions to Ashworth Estate, and it’s hard work calling out turns over the motorcycle’s engine. My throat already feels rough and inflamed due to a night out in the cool air.
On the approach to my home, my stomach flips. My back stiffens, and an ache burrows between my eyebrows.
This is really happening. I spent all night out with a stranger, didn’t call home, and now I’m facing the consequences. Oh my gosh, how did I think this was a good idea?
The motorcycle slows down at the wrought-iron gates, and I lean across to the speaker monitor and press a button.
After a few moments, Murphy’s voice answers. “Ashworth Residence.”
“Hi, Murphy. It’s me, Vanessa. Can you let me in?”
“Certainly, miss,” he responds, and the gates open.
Dax whistles. “Sheesh. That was easy.”
“No, he works for me,” I reply, trying to hide my dread. “I’m sure he’s now alerting my father.”
“Do you want me to stay while your dad confronts you?”
I chew my lip, thinking about it. “No, that’ll only make things explosive. Could you drop me off at the manor and then drive back out?”
“Sure. Only if you promise to meet up again with me.”
I hug my arms around him. “Deal.”
Dax takes us into the estate and toward the manor. The motorcycle glides past the topiary garden and slows by the front steps. When we come to a stop, I reef off the helmet and slide off the motorcycle.
I hand the helmet to Dax and impulsively press my lips onto his. He kisses me back with urgency, and I wish my father’s footsteps weren’t already sounding in my head.
I pull out of the kiss and rush to the locker for my purse. I pull it over my shoulder and return to Dax for one final kiss.
Breathlessly, I whisper, “Okay, you’d better go.”
Dax grins, pecking my lips one last time. “Good luck.”
The motorcycle takes off, and I shiver, watching him disappear.
Okay. This is it.
I turn toward the steps and spy the front doors peeling open.
Move it, Vanessa.
I walk up the steps with purpose, and Murphy emerges into view. I keep myself poised, waiting for my father to follow suit. Two more steps, and he still hasn’t appeared.
I meet Murphy at the entrance and can’t see my father anywhere.
Is he so angry he can’t even look at me?
“Good morning, Miss Ashworth,” Murphy says, stepping to the side. “Another late evening at Miss Sylvie’s?”
“Huh?” I double-take at Murphy, and mumble, “Oh, umm, yeah.”
“Can I get you anything?” Murphy asks, noting my attire. “Hot cup of tea? A dressing gown? Claudia to run a bath?”
I step inside the foyer and slip off my heels. “Where’s my father?”
“He’s on his way to the helipad, miss.”
I double-take at Murphy. “He’s leaving?”
“Yes, miss. He wanted to get to the office to start on the contracts after his dinner last night.” Murphy closes the doors behind us. “Seems the meeting went quite well.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears and stretch my neck to rid the cramping pain. “Did he ask about me last night?”
“In regard to what, miss?”
I throw my hands up, exhausted. “When he got home, did he ask where I was?”
“No, miss,” Murphy says matter-of-factly. “He had me bring coffee into his study and got to work until the early morning hours. I presume he got, at most, two hours of sleep before leaving for the office.”
He was awake all that time and never wondered where I was?
I narrow my focus to the nearest staircase. “And he’s already left the manor?”
“Yes, miss,” Murphy replies. He follows me into the hallway. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and freshen up.”
My dad left and hasn’t thought about me.
Even if I told my driver I’d be at a friend’s house, checking if I’m okay shouldn’t be the very last thing on my father’s mind.
“Don’t follow me, Murphy,” I say, storming toward the staircase.
Is this really all the attention I get? I was out all night, for goodness’ sake!
I make my way into my wing and huff my frustration all the way to my bedroom.
Claudia moves from the opposite direction, holding a bundle of towels. “Good morning, Miss Ashworth.”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, keeping my head down.
Claudia places the towels on the side table, taking a keener interest in me. “Is everything okay, miss?”
Unable to control myself, I let out a shrill squeal. Angry knots cramp inside me, and I have trouble turning my bedroom door knob.
Claudia closes in on me. “Miss, what’s the matter?”
I turn and slump against the door. When I see the concern etched on her face, my shoulders sag. Is it so bad I expected a tenth of this concern from my father this morning?
“I’m okay,” I tell her softly. “Just disappointed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Ashworth,” Claudia says with a pout. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
My heart sinks. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”
“You look haggard,” Claudia says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t I ask Murphy to call your masseuse? You look like you need it.”
I pull myself up. “Okay, thank you. That would be lovely.”
After a piping hot shower, scrubbing away the hurt from my father’s obliviousness, my masseuse sets up in my bedroom. New-age music is playing, and the scent of the essential oils is pleasantly calming.
Tonya, my masseuse, welcomes me in, asking me to lie down on the massage bed.
“How’s the pressure, Miss Ashworth?” Tonya asks as she melts her palms into my back.
“It’s perfect,” I murmur, closing my eyes.
I let the hardening of my muscles tell her how hard she’ll need to work. I can’t stop thinking about my father. I took such a risk last night, and none of it paid off.
For a brief moment, my muscles loosen.
It wasn’t a total waste. Kisses with Dax flood my mind. What a wonderfully unexpected experience.
Miserably, my mother forces her way into my mind. I don’t want to imagine what she’d do if she found out about my time with Dax.
“You feel tense,” Tonya says softly. “Do any muscles hurt?”
Does my heart count?
“No, I’m okay,” I whisper.
A headache builds from the collision of warring thoughts. I’ve angered my brother by pointing out our parents are doomed to stay separated. But I can’t live in make-believe with him.
Dad is mad at me for disappearing on that plane with Mom. We gave him zero notice, and Mom made it worse by limiting the time I could speak with him on the phone.
But what good will come from acting like I’m still away from home?
Tonya digs her hands into my back, and every muscle resists. My teeth grit hard as my body seizes.
“Honey, you need to relax,” Tonya whispers.
My hands curl into fists, and I scrunch my eyelids closed. Nothing in this house will change. I’ve felt nothing but pain since I arrived back. When Dax fills my mind, a sliver of peace runs through me. Nothing has felt more invigorating than being with him.
I lift myself up and gather the sheet around me.
Tonya steps back with her palms lifted. “Everything okay?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I don’t need this. You can pack up your things.”
Tonya’s face drops. “Oh, Miss Ashworth, I’m sorry if I…”
“It’s not you,” I cut her off. “I just know I need something else right now. Will you excuse me?”
Tonya backs away and leaves my bedroom. I slide off the massage bed and move toward my phone. I open up a text message and add Dax.
“I need to see you again.”
I’ve never texted anyone in such a hurry. Adrenaline has my heart pounding furiously.
“I knew you couldn’t get enough.”
When I get his reply, my body finally relaxes. Who knew a nicotine-scented boy would win against an essential oils massage?