10. ARIES
10
ARIES
I ’m beyond exhausted by the time I get Lucie to sleep. She’s been over-excited all day, ever since she padded into my room in the morning, all fresh-faced and wide-eyed. I was a bit disappointed when she appeared at the side of my bed at 7 am. After my marathon session with my dildo in the shower, thinking about her dad , I fell asleep again.
And even though the incident outside the sauna left me insanely aroused and gave me plenty of mental imagery for my epic masturbation session, I’ve been anxious all day, worrying that Mr Hawktson is going to fire me when he gets back from golf. How long does it take to play golf anyway? I glance at the clock. It’s after 9 pm. My nerves are wrecked. No wonder I’m so tired.
I could go to bed, but I’m too worked up. I need to move and try to release some of this anxiety. I head down to the kitchen, where I find Alec preparing tomorrow’s breakfast.
“I thought you didn’t work Sundays?” I say.
He gives me a broad smile, making his youthful face look even more boyish. He’s cute, if you’re into that kind of thing. Personally, I prefer Mr Hawkston’s angular face and the dark stubble that lurks on his jaw and throat, although I wish comparisons between my boss and all other men didn’t keep springing to mind. “Hey there,” Alec says. “I don’t, but I’m only down in the staff block so sometimes I come and finish a few things up here to save me time in the morning.”
“Staff block?”
“Yeah, at the far end of the garden, there’s a house divided into flats for Mr Hawkston’s staff. You haven’t seen it yet?” I shake my head and he continues. “Technically, it’s a separate house accessed from the parallel street. But we can get there across the garden too. I have a first floor flat. It’s lush.”
“That’s a job perk.”
“Yup. Better than living here with the dragon.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling to indicate Mr Hawkston upstairs. Not that he’s home right now, but I get the point. “How’s your first week been? Did he forgive you for your misdemeanors?”
I feel the colour drain from my face. “Misdemeanors?”
“You know, calling him Superman and all that.”
My body sags. Thank God he doesn’t know the rest of it. “Yeah. I think so. Maybe. But the other night I took Lucie to his room because she wet the bed. I don’t think he was happy about it.”
“Hmm. He’s not exactly the cuddly daddy type.”
I slump down on a stool at the island and prop my chin in my hand. “I think he might fire me.”
“For taking his kid to him in the night? I doubt that.” He starts clearing things away and wiping down the surfaces. “You want something to eat before this is all packed up?”
I shake my head. “I had some fish fingers earlier with Lucie.”
He gives me a disbelieving look. Maybe fish fingers aren’t real food to a chef. “When? At five-thirty?”
I frown, then nod. “Yeah. Kids’ supper time.”
“That was ages ago. I’ll make you something better.”
“Oh, no. Really, you don’t have to do that.”
But he starts chopping and frying and pretty soon there’s a croque madame on a plate in front of me, complete with homemade bechamel sauce and a fried egg on top.
I cut into it and pop a chunk into my mouth. “Oh, my God, this is the best toasted sandwich I’ve ever eaten,” I say, my mouth full of food.
Alec grins and pushes a glass of water towards me before he leans his elbows on the island opposite me, and we spend the next few minutes chatting. So far most of our chats have been surface level, but today I learn a bit more about his personal life. He’s from Manchester, but trained as a chef in London. He had a girlfriend from back home, but she broke up with him when he refused to move back up north and chose to stay with Mr Hawkston.
“Said she didn’t want to do long distance.” Alec grimaces. “But I don’t think that was true.”
“No?” I query before taking another bite of the delicious sandwich.
“I think she had a crush on my mate. I hear they’re dating back in Manchester now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That sucks.”
He shrugs and begins clearing things away again. “It doesn’t matter. What’s not meant to be isn’t meant to be, right?”
“Guess so.”
He looks at me funny. “You’ve got a bit of sauce.” He indicates a spot on his face.
“Oh.” I swipe my cheek with my hand.
“Wrong side. Here.” He points, and I try again, but his grin tells me I’ve missed. He laughs. He really is quite cute. His expressions are so joyful, it’s contagious. “How can you manage kids if you can’t even keep your face clean?”
I’m laughing too now, wiping my face with my fingers again. “It’s your fault. It was so delicious I couldn’t eat with dignity. Did I get it?”
“Nope. I’ll get it.”
He comes round to my side of the island, sticks his thumb out, and swipes it over my cheek. His hand is still on my face when—
“Good evening.”
Alec jerks his hand off me like I’ve burnt him, and the two of us turn to see Mr Hawkston standing in the doorway.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks.
Alec’s eyes fill with something approaching fear. They widen and fix on me, before darting back to Mr Hawkston. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Apparently, I’m not the only one Mr Hawkston renders speechless.
“Oh, no,” I blurt. “Alec made the most delicious sandwich for me. I hadn’t eaten properly.”
Mr Hawkston says nothing, but keeps staring at the two of us. The silence is painful, and this time it’s Alec who speaks.
"Nothing happening here, Mr Hawkston. Just food. That’s what I do best. Just food.” He holds up his hands like Mr Hawkston is pointing a gun at him. “Absolutely no fraternizing among the staff. I don’t find Aries attractive that way.”
What the hell is he talking about?
A bemused look passes over Mr Hawkston’s face before he nods. “Make sure you clean up properly. And Aries?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Try and feed yourself at a reasonable hour so you’re not distracting Alec here from his work.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Join me in my office in ten minutes.”
Mr Hawkston’s expression is severe. My stomach falls twenty feet. This must be about the sauna. Fear breaks like a storm down the middle of my body, turning all my bones to mush. My fingers gripping the kitchen island, and the stool beneath me, are the only things preventing me from collapsing. I take a few deep breaths as we listen to Mr Hawkston’s fading footsteps.
Then I turn to Alec, forcing a smile on my face. “And I thought I was bad for rambling. Why’d you say all that?"
“Crap. I don’t know.” Alec is furiously wiping down the surfaces and scraping crumbs off into his open palm. “Sorry. You’re very attractive. Obviously. But he was looking at me like he was going to murder me for touching you. It freaked me out. I’ve never seen that look on his face before.”
Hope begins to swell inside me, like the sun rising over the horizon. Shit. "That’s ridiculous,” I say, as much for my benefit as for Alec’s.
He gives a mock shudder so big that the sleeves of his chef’s jacket quiver. “Seriously though, that was not pleasant. He was like one of those King Kong gorilla creatures, staring me down before he ripped my head off.”
My mind whirls. Was he really looking at us like that? Like he was angry at the suggestion of intimacy between me and another guy? “ Is there a rule about staff having relationships?”
Alec shrugs and begins rinsing out the cloth he’s been using at the sink. “Not really. But I don’t think Mr Hawkston would like it. Or maybe it’s you he wouldn't like having a relationship with other people. Did something happen?”
My heart hammers. “What? No. Like what?”
“It just felt weird, is all. And now he wants you to see him in his office?” He grabs a pen from a shelf over the sink and yanks my arm, scrawling what I assume is his number on the inside of my wrist. “I swear I’m not cracking onto you, but if anything happens… or you need someone, call me. And if you want to get out of the house at any point, you can come see me in the staff block. I wouldn’t want to share a house with that brooding monster.” He jerks his thumb in the direction Mr Hawkston went.
“You’re kind of freaking me out. He’s not a criminal, is he?”
Alec gives an odd laugh. “No. But he is huge, and he can be grumpy as shit. I wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable. Just save my number, or wash it off. Up to you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I don’t know anyone in London.”
“No one?”
“Not really. There might be a few of my uni mates who work down here now, but no one I was close to.”
“Where’d you go to uni?”
“St Andrews.”
“Ooh, like Wills and Kate?”
I laugh. That’s what everyone says. “That’s the one. But they were long gone by the time I went.”
“What did you study?”
“Social Anthropology.”
Alec screws his face up. “What do you do with a degree like that?”
“No need to look like that”—I wave at his face—“just because there’s no food involved.” Alec looks abashed for a moment, but I laugh, which seems to put him at ease. “For a while, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about teaching. Or social work. One day, I still might pursue either of those. But I love kids, so for now, I’m happy to be a nanny. I’m not sure I see myself settling down and having my own family, and this lets me experience caring for young kids. They’re so full of joy, don’t you think?” Alec’s staring at me with an odd look on his face. I’ve over-shared. I shrug and direct the conversation back to more practical matters. “Plus, I need to save some money and this role was so much better paid than anything else.”
“Aries.” Mr Hawkston’s voice barks down the staircase, and I jump out of my skin.
“Has that been ten minutes?” I mouth at Alec, who raises his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
I dash upstairs and run towards his study, my heart in my mouth. I have no idea what to expect.
When I get there, the door is closed. I knock and wait.
“Come in,” he says.
I step into the luxurious room. Curtains in red and gold hang either side of a huge sash window, and floor to ceiling wood panels line the walls. Mr Hawkston sits in a wingback chair on the other side of his desk, which is an enormous slab of dark mahogany. I’ve never seen one so large. It’s practically the size of a bed. He could lay me down on that thing and screw me senseless, and my feet wouldn’t even dangle off the edge. It’s that big. A power desk.
He beckons me with two fingers, a gesture which I immediately misconstrue. Does he want to put those inside me?
He must read the confusion on my face because his eyes flare and he says, “Come closer,” in case I haven’t understood what his twitching fingers really meant.
With each step towards him, his dark eyes focused on me, my cells begin to buzz. As if his attention is the thing that completes my inner circuits.
Fuck, this is awkward. My body reacts intensely to this man, and the fact I pleasured myself in the shower this morning while thinking of him feels like a terrible, shameful secret he could unearth at any moment.
I walk up to the desk until I’m about a foot away. He still feels pretty far away, given the width of the mahogany surface.
Tension crackles. No, it sparks . My skin feels like a sheet of aluminium foil that’s been put in the microwave at the highest setting. Is he feeling this?
“Are you settling in well?” His voice is calm, but his eye contact is so deliberate it’s as though he’s forcing himself not to look away from me. As if that might reveal some inherent weakness.
All I can see in my mind’s eye is him in the pool room, outside the sauna. Absolutely butt naked. It was a glorious sight. It wouldn’t matter now how many clothes the man wears… I’ve seen him in the best possible light, and it’s with nothing on. The suits are good. Great, even, but naked, this man tops all the rest.
A strange ache sets up in my chest as another thought occurs to me: I’ll never see him like that again. Instead, I’ll be stuck with this stilted, professional version of him.
“Are you?” he repeats, and to my extreme embarrassment, I realise I’ve completely forgotten to answer his question. What was it? Am I settling in well?
“Oh, yeah. It’s great. The house is really comfortable. My bed is so great. Nice and firm. I love a firm bed. It’s much better for…” I stop talking because he’s staring at me with that puzzled look on his face, as if he’s never met anyone who talks like I do. The silence seems to go on forever.
“For what?” he asks. Am I imagining it, or is there a suggestive look in this man’s eye? It’s hard to tell.
“For my back.”
“You’re young to have back problems.”
“Oh, no. I don’t have back problems. I just really like a firm mattress.”
He strums his fingertips on the desk for a few tense moments. “I’m not sure you living in the house is a good idea.”
My stomach drops, and I swallow with an audible click. Crap . He’s kicking me out. I knew I’d get fired. “Oh.” This is definitely because of the sauna . “Why not?”
He lets my question sit for a while, but he shifts in his chair ever so slightly, as though he’s drawing his shoulder blades together beneath his shirt. “There’s a free room in the staff block at the end of the garden.”
He totally avoided the question. “You’re not firing me?”
“No.”
“But you do want me to move out?”
“I think it would be advisable, yes. If you like the bed so much here, I can have it moved across.”
Advisable, why? “What about night-time? What if Lucie wakes and I’m not there?”
He frowns like this isn’t something he’s considered. He has a plan, but he hasn’t thought it through. He’s winging it.
He sits back in his chair, head turned slightly to the side so he’s not facing me dead on. His eyes narrow a fraction, but he keeps them trained on me, while he strokes his jaw with his thumb and index finger. He looks like a model, sitting there like that, as though the photographer told him to ‘look as sexy as possible’ and he instinctively knew how to do it. I feel a rush of heat expand from my chest and rise up my neck.
Seconds pass as I wait for him to speak. I don’t dare look away, even though I know my cheeks are probably flaming.
Finally, he says, “I’m assuming you want to keep this job?”
“Yes. Although not if you don’t want me. I don’t want to work in an environment where my employer doesn’t want me.”
“I want you.”
His voice is emotionless, his face immovable, but the air sparks between us again, a fission of invisible particles flowing from him to me and back again.
He hasn’t broken eye contact with me for minutes now; I’m surprised the weight of his gaze hasn’t made my muscles tremble. I can’t take it any longer. I plaster a plastic smile on my face that stretches it in ways it isn’t supposed to move. “Great.”
“Is that all?”
Is that all ? “You called me in here. There wasn’t anything I wanted to say.”
“You didn’t want to talk to me at all?”
“Not really.”
“You don’t want to say anything about what happened this morning outside the sauna? You, who normally can’t stop talking, have nothing to say about it?”
My mind races as I try to work out what he wants from me. I didn’t have Mr Hawkston down as the direct communication type of guy. I thought we’d brush that excruciating incident under the proverbial rug.
A few moments of my brain scrambling for an answer has me concluding I can’t work out what he wants, and he’s still staring at me. The pressure is too much, so I do the most ill-advised, dangerous thing in this scenario. I start talking.
“When you question me about this, all I’m seeing in my imagination is you, completely naked. I can’t talk about this with you and not see it, so if that’s something you don’t want me to do, then we should stop talking about it.”
His eyebrows pull together. “Is this making you uncomfortable?”
Understatement of the century. “A bit. Not in a bad way.”
“Good.” He strums his fingertips on the desk again. “I don’t want anything festering between us, especially if it’s likely to render our working relationship untenable, in which case you’d have to leave. And like I said, I don’t want that. Open communication generally works best in these scenarios.”
Wow. This man is something else. What does he mean by ‘ these scenarios ’? “Do you often drop your towel in front of people you employ?”
Not even a hint of a smile. Bloody hell.
“No. That’s never happened before. I’m navigating an unusual situation here. Is there anything else you want to say about it before we put this topic in a box we never discuss again?”
“Oh.” I need to wind this up. What else can I say? I’ll apologise. That’s a safe option . “I’m sorry I pulled your towel off and saw… all of you. But honestly, I don’t mind. I can forget about it, if that’s what you want. Okay, maybe not forget because that was kind of unforgettable. You’re unforgettable, especially without your clothes.”
I’ve totally lost control of my mouth-to-brain connection. The words are pouring out as if someone else is talking. Inside my mind, a small, horrified version of me is listening, begging me to stop.
Mr Hawkston’s lips are tight, but I’m sure it’s humour compressing them rather than anything else. In fact, I’m certain of it, because his gaze is dancing with it. If I didn’t know better, and he wasn’t so good at locking down any emotional response, I’d say he’s on the verge of bursting into raucous laughter.
I’m unbearably hot. My tongue runs riot when this man is near. I fan my face with my hand and try again. “I mean… fuck. It’s just… I really like saunas.”
“You aren’t in one now, so you can stop fanning yourself.”
My stomach takes a dive off a cliff as I force my hand to still and slowly lower it to my side. Mr Hawkston watches every movement I make, his focus so intent it’s as though he doesn't want to miss a thing. Too hot. I’m too hot.
“You can use it,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“The sauna. If you like them that much, you can use it when I’m not home.”
“Oh, right. Thanks. That would be great… amazing. So hot. Shit. No. So generous of you.” I’m barely concentrating when I answer him. I think I’ve died and my soul is floating up into the corner of the room, looking down at the poor human version of me trying to dig herself out of this sewer of verbal shit.
I hold both my hands up. “I’ve definitely said everything I need to say now.”
He stares at my arm… no, my wrist , and the tortured look on his face wipes away the hint of amusement. “What’s that? It wasn’t there earlier.”
I turn my palm over and stare at Alec’s number, scrawled in black marker pen on the inside of my wrist. I blink as if I’m not sure how it got there. “It’s Alec’s number.”
“I thought he wasn’t interested?”
My heart thuds. Why is he asking? “He’s not. At least, I don’t think so. He wanted me to have it in case anything happened.”
“In here? If it wasn’t on your skin before I came into the kitchen, and it is now, was he worried about what might happen to you in here, with me?”
This man is too sharp. I make a mental note that I can’t hide anything from him. “No. Nothing like that,” I lie. “He meant in general. Like I told you before, I don’t know anyone in London.”
“You know me.”
I say nothing, because I have no idea what response he’s expecting, and I’ve already made enough of a fool of myself. Also, he explicitly drew up the drawbridge on any potential friendship between us. He must know he’s talking shit. Knowing my boss is not the same as knowing another member of staff. There’s a hierarchy here I can’t climb. Me and Alec have a shot at being friends, whereas me and the man before me… I don’t know what we have. A screwed up employee-employer thing, where I’ve already seen his huge, hard cock.
I haven’t had that many jobs in my working life, but I’m fairly certain that’s not the basis for a healthy working relationship.
“I want you to call me if you need to.” He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a brand new iPhone, still in its box, with a matching set of wireless headphones. “I know you prefer your old phone, but I want you to use this. If you’re navigating an unfamiliar city, and you’re looking after my daughter, you’ll need it. And if you need anything, call me. Anytime.”
He appears totally in control, and he sounds so confident that he could handle any problem I might have that my chest heats. Could I rely on this man? My heart thrums at the thought, but I keep my gaze on the new phone, worrying that if I look at him right now, I’ll reveal how intensely his casual offer of assistance affects me.
Clearly, I fail at hiding how unsettled I’m feeling, because he adds, “It won’t explode. And if you don’t want to keep it after you leave this role, you can leave it here.” He taps his desk.
“Okay.” I grab the phone and headphones. “Thanks.”
“Set it up tonight.”
I wait for him to add something else. He doesn’t, so I say, “Okay…” trailing up at the end of the K. It sounds like a question, and part of me hopes he’ll answer it, so I can stay here with him for a few minutes longer.
He stares, tapping his index finger on the arm of his chair.
“That’s everything?” I ask.
“Everything. Hopefully no cause for alarm? No need to call Alec for backup?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
The stilted conversation feels like it’s hit a natural end, so I hold up the phone and wave the box in the most awkward farewell gesture known to man. Mr Hawkston half smiles and gives the tiniest nod, which I take as permission to leave the room.
When my hand strikes the door handle, I realise there’s one thing I do need to know. I turn back, but Mr Hawkston’s eyes aren’t there to meet mine at eye level. He’s most definitely staring at my arse.
He raises his gaze, one eyebrow tripping up, inviting me to speak. No sign of embarrassment whatsoever that I just caught him checking me out.
“Where am I sleeping?”
His brow creases. “What do you mean?”
My heart leaps at his confusion. Does he think I’m propositioning him? “Am I staying in this house, or are you moving me to the staff block?”
“Ah. Here. Stay here. As you rightly pointed out, it’s best if you’re in the house. For Lucie. And then you can keep the bed.” There’s definite heat in his gaze and a teasing uplift to his lips when he adds, “For your back,” and I know I need to get the hell out of this room before I take him up on the unspoken offer I can read in his eyes.
I excuse myself, and when the door closes behind me, I tune into the racing of my heart. Does Mr Hawkston have any idea what he’s doing to me?