Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Iwish I wasn’t hooded in the back seat. I’d have been over the moon to see the Belgravia Towers in the distance, getting closer with every mile. My spirit is soaring when the car pulls to a stop. My lip trembles at the thought I’m finally home. I can hardly comprehend it.
“You can remove your hood now, Holly,” the driver says.
“Thank you. Thanks so much!”
I pull the ties of the hood loose and I’m out of it in seconds, my fingers fumbling straight for the seatbelt clip.
It’s Josh who opens the door for me, helping me out of the car, with a careful, baby. But I have no time for careful right now. No matter how much I’m hurting from the hours of punishment I’ve just taken, all I want is him.
I wrap my arms around my boyfriend’s neck, sobbing as the Bentley drives away.
My tears blur my vision as I stare up at the mirrored glass of the East Tower.
I have to wipe them away before the full beauty of the place truly hits me.
I look up at the eighth floor. There are our windows! Oh my God, I can see them, all lit up!
Josh takes my hand, squeezing it tight as we stand together, grinning up at our home. The place we built a life together.
It’s my beacon of light in the darkness, just as it always has been. Yet another blessing that my career with The Agency granted me from the shell of poverty and worthlessness.
Once again, Connor lost the fight. I know that now. I feel it in my bones.
And his fall from grace is only going to get worse. The founders’ tone said it all.
“Fuck, Ells, I’ve never packed so fast in my life,” Josh says, with a laugh. “Apologies in advance for the state of your suitcase. I just lobbed everything in and booked a cab.”
I laugh back. “You could have left it there and I wouldn’t have given a stuff. Everything I need is right here.”
Josh sighs. It’s amazing to see the pure relief in his smile.
“It felt so good to open the front door. Fuck me, I’m so happy we’ve got some time to enjoy it.”
I close my eyes, tears pricking at the thought.
“I can’t wait to open the front door myself.”
“I can’t wait either, so let’s get you inside. Let’s get you home.”
He tries his best to calm me down and support me on the walk, but my adrenaline is back and my endorphins are flying higher than the tower itself as we walk through the courtyard gardens and into the lobby of the East Wing.
I brush my fingers against the marble wall on our way to the elevator, still in disbelief.
Even the button of the elevator feels like a long-lost friend.
I press it ten times over, my face streaming with happy tears by the time it arrives and the doors ping open.
Floor eight.
Jesus Christ, how amazing it feels to lean back against the handrail on the ascent.
“You ok, baby?” Josh asks.
“Ok could never, ever cut it in a million years.” I meet his gorgeous green eyes. “I feel absolutely fucking amazing.”
He grins, showing off his perfect smile.
“So do I.”
We’re hand in hand as we approach our front door. Josh gives me the key, but my hand is so shaky that he has to help me turn it in the lock.
“Home, Ells,” he says, and pushes the door open, and there it is. Home. Right in front of me.
I cover my mouth with my hands as I step inside, spinning around at the brilliance. I never thought it would be possible to miss a weird ass rug so bad, with its fluffy purples and streaks of neon green.
I perch on one of our white leather sofas, careful not to bounce my battered tits, and stare in wonder at the place I’ve been yearning for. I’d never thought in a million years we’d have to abandon it. We left for Cannes with no idea in the slightest.
Josh walks over to one of his bookshelves, and runs his hand across the book spines. His sci-fi collection. He looks like he wants to hug every single paperback.
My eyes flit to the walled shelves of trinkets next to him, now filled with my eccentric goodies as well as his. My zombie cat teddy bears amongst his sugar skulls. My quartz points positioned around his amethyst geode. And then my eyes keep moving.
“Oh my God!” I point to our collection of plants next to the window. “They made it! They’re still alive!”
“Tiff has a key, remember,” Josh says. “They owe their lives to her. They will forever be in her debt.”
I reach over to the side of the sofa and spin his antique globe, then lean back against one of our purple brocade cushions as the overwhelm begins to hit me. A wave of tiredness rises up from nowhere, and I yawn, eyes struggling to stay open.
I’m safe here.
Safe at home.
“You’re exhausted, baby,” Josh says and takes a seat beside me. He strokes some of my hair behind my ear. “Fancy a hot chocolate?” He pauses. “Scrap that. The milk has probably turned to cheese.”
“I don’t need hot chocolate,” I tell my gorgeous partner. “I need you. I need our bed. I need my big spoon behind me.”
“You’re in luck, because I’m not going anywhere. Belgravia or not, I’ll be wherever you are, big spoon for ever.”
“You could have come back, you know. Snuck in late one night. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d have come back for some of your sugar skulls. I almost forgot how cool they are.”
He leans in to kiss my forehead. “I knew they’d be right here waiting for us. No matter what, I knew we’d make it home.”
“I only wish I’d shared your faith.” I tangle my fingers in his.
“It would have been hard for anyone to have any faith in your position, baby. You did great.”
“Only because you were there with me.”
“Nah, you give me too much credit. You’re a far tougher cookie than you think you are.”
“Thanks. I’ll feel like a far tougher cookier now life can go back to normal. Well, our kind of normal.” I look over at the mini gym in the corner, and have to smile. “I don’t think I’ll be taking advantage of the treadmill anytime soon. You’ll have to go gym bunny solo for a while.”
“Hardly a shocker, given where you’ve just come back from. How was the proposal? Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m cool. Nothing too major.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Whatever, Ells. They must have fucked you up pretty bad to reschedule both of our calendars.”
I put a finger over my lips.
“Confidential, remember?”
“They kinda broke the confidentiality agreement themselves. Orla said she had permission to talk to me about you tonight. That kinda gives you permission to talk about them, don’t you think?”
“Let me check something out a second.”
I smile at him and grab my phone, calling up my banking app. It still gives me tingles whenever I check the balance, but tonight is something else.
The founders have deposited over ￡125k in there. My fucking God, it’s madness.
I show Josh my screen.
“They fucked me up enough to deserve this much, in their opinion.”
He does the same with his phone, his eyebrows raised as he shows me the balance.
“They fucked you up enough that I deserve this much, in their opinion.”
There is a fresh deposit of ￡55k showing. Fuck.
“Come on,” Josh says. “Tell me. What did they do to you?”
“Hmm, some things are better seen than told,” I say, then I inch forward on the sofa, wincing as my tits move. “Let’s get ready for bed and I’ll show you.”
Josh is such a superstar as he helps me up from the sofa. I need more assistance now the adrenaline has worn off, and he steps up like a pro. I raise my arms over my head when we reach the bathroom, and he takes my dress off. He lets out a holy shit when he sees the state of me.
It’s not my tits he’s staring at, though. He’s seen bound and bruised tits plenty of times before, since it’s kind of a staple. It’s the ladders of needle marks that he examines, then drops to his knees and eases my thighs open. My pussy must be an absolute fucking mess down there.
“You’re torn to shit,” he says. “What did they do? Pierce and corset string you?”
I love how familiar with the terminology he is. A testament to both his hardcorer status and his relationship with the reigning queen hardcorer, Tiffany.
“Yeah, and then they ass fisted me.”
“Ouch. Jesus Christ.”
I shrug. “I got eaten out through the ribbons as a reward, so I can’t really grumble.
” My body thrums as the memory hits me, and another grin lights up my face as I think of the huge sum of cash in my bank account, too.
The founders are welcome to corset string and fist me all they want to, so long as my body can take it.
My body wouldn’t be able to take it right now, though. It’s taken enough. Good job I’m officially out of action for a few weeks, because I’m going to need it.
“They cleaned you up well,” Josh says, being as tender as possible as he examines my pussy lips.
“Yeah, they did. Very thorough.”
“Let me get some cream on you, then we’ll get you to bed. Big spoon time.”
“Oh my God, our own bed. I can’t wait.”
It stings like an absolute motherfucker when I take a pre-bedtime piss.
Josh is so skilled at aftercare, it’s insane, but it still hurts like a bitch as he tends to my pussy in the aftermath.
I grit my teeth when he finishes another round of cleanup and covers me with soothing cream. He slathers it on thick.
“Ready for bed,” he says, once we’ve brushed our teeth.
Our suitcases are on the floor of the bedroom when I walk through the door, still packed.
I have no interest whatsoever in rooting through mine.
It’s a joy to be able to take one of my satin nightdresses straight from a drawer and slip it on over my head.
Our bed looks like it was made in Heaven after living in Airbnbs for months, and it feels like Heaven as Josh slides in behind me, curling his legs under mine as my big spoon.
It's obvious I went out like a light when my eyes open next morning. The bed is empty next to me, and the day is peeping bright around the sides of the floor length blinds.
My tits feel like battered punchbags as I get to my feet, and my wounds are prickly little bastards all over me, but I’m ok. Josh is in the kitchen when I pad my way through, and he holds up a bottle of milk with a tada!
“I got some of your favourite biscuits in, baby, and some peaches and raspberries. A big pack of cheese puffs, and some Belgian buns. And all the ingredients for a fry-up.”
“You spoil me,” I say, wincing as I take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“I’m spoiling myself, too. I’ve been missing the hob. Can’t wait to get my own pans in action again.”
He’s in a vest top and loose joggers this morning, and when he turns to the coffee machine, I see the shimmer of sweat still glimmering on his forehead. I bet he’s been loving hitting his pull up bar. His kettlebells, too.
Josh’s fry-up breakfast is always worth a chef’s kiss, but this one tastes especially good. I can’t begin to put into words how happy I am to be back home, so I don’t even try, just grin at him as we munch our bacon and eggs.
Then it’s sofa time for me. I get comfy amongst the cushions, and sink into the leather, happy to begin my first rest day of many. Calm, peaceful. Happy. Until I switch on the TV to find the coming soon announcement loud and bold on the homepage.
Nighttime Whispers, season 7, coming October 31st!
The sight of Heath onscreen, dressed up as the count, jabs my ribs like a fucking spear.
I watched these new episodes in Cannes with him and Josh, in our exclusive preview in Heath’s villa cinema.
I miss him so bad, I could vomit, so I put my Belgian bun back on my plate and fumble through random TV options, scrolling like crazy.
Heath wouldn’t be able to submit a proposal to us now, even if he wanted to. We’re officially marked as unavailable on the app until our respite time is up. So there is no chance. No chance at all.
Josh flops onto the sofa next to me, watching the screen as I scroll like crazy. It only takes a few seconds before I feel his eyes on mine.
“What is it?” he asks.
I have to try to palm him off. I don’t want to kill the happiness.
“Nothing. Just wondering what to check out first, you know? So many choices.” I laugh a bit too loud. “I don’t really fancy more Cake Baker!”
He sighs, and reaches over to put a hand on my knee.
“Stop it, Ells. I do know. And it’s not about wondering what to check out first, or about Cake Baker.”
I put the remote down, giving up the fight.
“It’s just hard, isn’t it? There’s so much I’d like to say to him, if I could.”
“Hey, hey.” He squeezes my knee. “There is so much you will say, when we see him again. When. Not if. When.”
I love Josh’s optimism so much. I adore his faith, and his resolve and his kindness. His beauty, his strength, his loyalty.
Just a shame there’s someone else whose qualities I’m missing, too.
Badly.
And I know Josh misses Heath as much as I do, despite his resolute smile. I know the pain is eating into his heart, even though we’re on cloud nine.
“We will see him again,” Josh reiterates, his voice strong and firm. “It’s not just us who’ll be feeling it. Love flows both ways. Heath will be missing us, too.”
Oh, to hear it like that…
Love flows both ways.
Love.
Yes, it does.
I felt it in Cannes, and I feel it across the ether. Heath Mason, loving us the way we love him. That won’t change. It was too deep, too strong, too powerful.
Fuck it, why try to hide from the inevitable? The world will be screaming Heath Mason at the top of its lungs with the new season of NW looming so close. Time to suck it up and be a tough little cookie, like Josh believes I can be.
I click back to the TV home screen. Time to watch the trailer for Nighttime Whispers, season 7.
Even a glimpse of Heath is better than nothing.