Chapter Twenty-Three Netta
Chapter Twenty-Three
NETTA
Netta climbed the stairs to her suite, silently justifying her snap decision to tell Mo the truth about why she couldn’t go to the gala with him.
He was different to how she’d had him pegged; there was a vulnerability about him she hadn’t been expecting, an endearing awkwardness she definitely hadn’t seen coming.
He was funny. And seeing him with Rhona and her family had shown him as a real person, not just a handsome fame-bot with a silver spoon shoved in every orifice.
She felt she could be real with him. And anyway, all that aside, once he heard about Mitch, he’d retract his request and she wouldn’t have to have that awkward ‘no thanks’ conversation at all.
It would be Mo’s decision instead. She wouldn’t have to ruminate on how she’d passed on enough money to fund assisted conception—she could just pin it on Mo’s retraction and move forward with her life, regret-free.
Theoretically, anyway. And if he told Rhona about Mitch, well—so what?
She’d be back in Australia before she knew it and this whole thing would be just another life experience to file in the archives.
While pondering this, Netta was also acutely aware that Mo, who was two steps behind her on the stairs, had a very close-range view of her rear end.
She didn’t know whether to sway her hips a little or keep her climb militantly unsexy.
She settled for swinging her bag to the back of her body to conceal her bum as much as possible, just on the off chance he might be looking.
Not that he would be. From all reports his taste leaned far more towards the Victoria’s Secret variety.
Reaching the top of the narrow staircase was a relief, her butt cheeks instantly released from their involuntary clench. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, inhaling the lingering scent of cinnamon and vanilla. She was going to miss this place and its lovely smells when she went home.
She turned to see Mo hesitating by the door. ‘Come in,’ she said, sliding her boots off. ‘Let’s go up and sit. I’ll make us some tea.’
Mo closed the door behind him and went upstairs to the lounge, closely followed by Netta. The view was beautiful at night. Lit windows and streetlights sparkled through the frosted air, the rooftops backlit by the soft glow of the winter moon.
‘It must be so nice sitting out there in summer,’ Mo remarked, staring out through the glass. ‘It’s a shame you can’t enjoy it at this time of year.’
‘Yeah, especially when the inside of the suite is so disgusting.’
He smiled. ‘Glad you like it.’ He settled himself on the couch while Netta put the kettle on and arranged two mugs with tea bags, ready to be filled.
She leaned awkwardly against the bench. ‘So …’
‘This is weird, huh?’ he said, over the rumble of the kettle.
‘A bit.’ Netta fidgeted with the tea bags and turned the mugs so the handles were facing the same way.
‘You know,’ she said, breaking into a grin, ‘my best friend Freya would die if she knew you were in my hotel room right now. I can almost hear her screaming at me to jump your bones while I have the chance.’
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
Netta froze, one hand halfway to the kettle and the other pressed to her belly. ‘Um, oh, you see, I’m kind of on a man ban at the moment—’
His not-unkind laughter cut her off. ‘I’m just joking, Netta! I’m not that much of a creep. I’m just here so we can talk, like you said.’ He smiled and arranged his legs into a figure four, his right ankle on his left knee. ‘What’s a man ban, anyway?’
‘I think it’s fairly self-explanatory,’ Netta said curtly, feeling the edges of her soul fray with embarrassment. ‘And anyway, even if I wasn’t on one, you’re not my type.’ She’d never told a fatter, hairier lie in her life.
He nodded magnanimously. ‘Fair enough.’ To his credit, he didn’t seem shocked or offended in the slightest. His quiet confidence was so annoyingly and inconveniently attractive.
‘Okay,’ he said as she set the cups of tea on the table and joined him on the couch. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘Okay.’ Netta took a moment to collate her thoughts. ‘Firstly, I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me to talk about.’
He stayed silent, encouraging her to continue.
‘It’s not something I’m proud of, but if you’re going to be seen publicly with me, then it’s something you need to know about.’
‘Whatever you tell me will stay in the vault,’ he assured her, his hand on his heart. ‘Privacy is kind of a thing for me. I get it.’
Netta nodded and briefly closed her eyes to prepare herself. ‘When I’d just turned twenty,’ she started, ‘I moved to London. I didn’t really have any idea what I wanted to do with my life, and my mum had recently passed away …’
Mo leaned back slightly, his gaze softer. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Netta nodded her thanks. ‘I’d been looking after her, and I didn’t have a plan for what to do after … well, you know. I guess I just picked a spot to run away to and bought a ticket.’
Mo stayed silent. Already bored, probably.
‘Sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,’ said Netta, regretting her decision to open up to him. She could just say no, for goodness’ sake! She was a grown woman! ‘You don’t want to hear my sob story. Don’t worry about it.’
‘No,’ he said softly, those laser blue eyes once again peeling back her layers until she felt he could see inside her head. His Adam’s apple contracted with a hard swallow. ‘I want to hear it. Tell me.’