Chapter 28 ALEX
GUILT PRICKLED ME AS I STROKED NANCY’S gossamer hair, the two of us lying out in fluffy spa robes as we cuddled on the bed.
I’d been a fool not to follow my intuition and, as usual, I’d given in to distrust. No good decision was ever made in the early hours, and hacking her phone was case in point.
Nancy had said more with a shake of her head and a yes and no than her phone could have ever revealed. All I’d needed to do was ask.
I had worried something more was going on since her fear after our first date.
I’d tried my best to restrain myself from doing anything more than kissing and cuddling throughout the last week to put her at ease.
It had left me so horny that I’d had to take a long, hot shower every evening when I got home.
I only hoped Nancy would learn to trust me in time.
If she’d never been with a man, there had to be a reason.
Given the amorous looks she evoked from the guys at the club—something she seemed oblivious of, but I’d found myself territorial about—she would’ve had the opportunity to have sex at some point.
I had wondered if she feared intimacy, but when she’d been so forward dancing, I knew that wasn’t the case.
It was when Nancy lingered on my first question as if she were contemplating a riddle about her virginal state that I knew there was more to it. She wasn’t a virgin, but perhaps she felt like one. Why would that be?
Her first lover could have been terrible in bed—inexperienced or too eager, finishing the encounter before it started and too selfish to pleasure her in return. That would account for her certainty that another man had never given her an orgasm. But it didn’t account for everything.
The more significant question was why her first experience had put her off seeking anything else. This suggested the encounter had frightened her. Assault or even rape are possibilities, I considered grimly as a flash of figures invaded my mind.
Periodically, I’d help develop charity apps pro bono as part of Toverton PLC’s outreach work, and one of the more recent projects was for a sexual abuse charity.
When I’d come face to face with the UK statistics for sexual assault and rape, I couldn’t forget them: one in four women, one in eighteen men, one in six children.
For weeks after, I’d stand in a crowded lift, sit in a company meeting, train with my teammates, and know what was hidden in plain sight.
As much as I didn’t want to believe Nancy could’ve faced such violence, the signs pointed to it.
I knew because I saw the same traits in myself: avoidance of intimacy, wariness of others, and a desperate need for self-sufficiency and control.
Where another’s hands had stolen her confidence, they had scarred me with distrust and anger.
She had chosen to ride a motorcycle to regain the power she’d lost, and I had turned to rowing.
When I’d attended Eton as a weedy and scared little boy, I saw the lads from the rowing club training on the Thames and knew no one could bully them.
They were confident, disciplined, determined.
And they were strong. I joined that day, trained six times a week, made friends, gained confidence, and lost myself in the sport.
When William began boarding, I introduced him to rowing with the same intention.
Together, we’d taken it far, making the college squad and representing Cambridge in The Boat Race.
Best of all, we spent term time boarding and holidays competing in double sculls on the international regatta circuit, meaning we rarely returned home.
As for intimacy, it was something I’d actively avoided.
While my looks, charm, and status made seduction easy, I never got too attached.
I’d learnt the hard way that sex should be kept transactional and impersonal.
Remaining distant allowed me to protect myself while meeting expectations and my carnal needs.
Until it wasn’t enough anymore. Then, kismet had introduced me to Nancy.
The biker girl, so full of life, framed by the vertical garden in my lobby.
Strong, beautiful, and vulnerable. I felt like a child who’d seen their reflection for the first time—shock and awe.
As I lay there, watching her doze, the same question kept playing on repeat. Who was the creature who had harmed her…and how would I find him?
Nancy stirred in my arms and looked up with her deep brown eyes. They soothed my unsettled mind. “What are we doing today?”
“Whatever you like, bella.”
“I’m feeling hungry, but there’s not much food here.”
“How about we go out for brunch?”
She yawned, raising herself onto her elbow. “Seriously? Just you and me out in public together. Is that a good idea?”
I stroked her face. “I’d like to take my girlfriend out for brunch, and then I’d like to buy her an evening gown.”
“An evening gown?”
“I hope you’re not going to stand me up,” I said patiently.
“When?”
“Next Saturday at the gala.”
“Oh, right, at the Park Palace for the children’s charity.”
“That’s the one.”
She gave me a consoling look. “I might have plans.”
“Don’t even kid with me.” I pinched her leg, and she squealed, swatting me away.
“And how outlandish does this gown have to be?”
“Elegant, not outlandish.”
“Spoilsport.” She rolled her eyes and then rolled out of bed.
“I see the idea has re-energised you.”
“I’m hungry, boo,” she whined, rubbing her belly.
“Of course, I’m being a beast,” I chuckled.
Once dressed, we walked around the corner to a Lebanese restaurant I’d been patronising since owning the apartment. It was a small, family-run establishment, serving the best mezze and shakshouka. Ideal weekend brunch fare.
I held the door open, the little entry bell ringing for service. The owner, Hassan, took a couple of menus from the counter and came over.
“Alex, it’s been a while.” He leaned in for a handshake and smiled at Nancy. “A table for two, yes?”
“If you can fit us in, the place is busy.”
“There’s a concert in Hyde Park, but don’t worry, I can always seat you.” He gave a jolly laugh and filtered us through the throng of customers to a two-seater by the window that a waitress had just cleared. “It’s the usual selection, but we’re out of the lamb koftas. I’m waiting on a delivery.”
“That’s okay; I’m all about the mezze. We’ll have a sharer’s board and some sparkling water for the tabl—”
“Tap water and ice for me, please,” Nancy interjected with a frown.
“Would you like anything else?” Hassan asked her.
“No, thank you.” Nancy smiled at him, and Hassan shot me an approving nod before leaving for the kitchen. She turned back to me, looking deadpan. “Do you always order for the women you take out?”
“I’m sorry?”
“This is the second time you’ve taken me out and ordered on my behalf. I wondered if that was normal for you.”
“Well, yes, it is. Most women want that, don’t they?” I said, bemused.
She matched my expression. “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps it’s a class thing, but I, as a woman, would expect to have a choice.”
“It’s just a recommendation. The mezze is great here.”
“I’m sure it is, and I’m looking forward to it. I just like to—you know—make up my own mind.” She flashed her eyebrows, and I smirked.
“My apologies, a force of habit. I’ll make sure not to do it again…unless you choose something unpalatable off the menu at the restaurants I know.” I flashed my brows back at her. “Then, I assume you’ll want me to be a gentleman about it.”
She leaned her chin on her knuckles and looked at me wryly. “Your input is always welcome.”
A waitress came over with a carafe of ice water and a bottle of sparkling. I poured our drinks. “So, why wasn’t Tracy at the apartment last night?”
“She was hanging out with Jemima’s mum and stayed over so she could move back into the flat this morning. Monsieur DuPont let her know it’d be ready.”
“Ah, I thought she might have waited till the end of the weekend. The paint can barely be dry.”
“I think she’s been missing home, in all honesty.”
“And what about you?”
“The apartment’s lovely, but mainly ’cause you and Mum are there. Now she’s left, I’ll probably move out this afternoon.”
I idly turned my glass. “Nancy, I was rather hoping you would want to stay in the apartment in the longer term.”
“What?” She looked taken aback.
“It would give you the chance to have your own space. And, I can come over and stay. Plus, you’re closer to work this side of Chelsea.”
“But I’ve always lived with my mum. I think she’d be lonely without me.”
“You’d still see each other all the time. It’s only up the road, after all.”
“But I’d miss my friends on World’s End.” She shrugged. “And you’ve just done the flat up for us, so hanging out there will be comfortable.”
“But the apartment is safer,” I persisted. “It has door service and better security. And I wouldn’t expect you to pay rent or anything.”
Her expression turned dismayed. “Alex, I don’t want to be kept by you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s odd. I’d feel weird about it. Like I owe you.”
“But you won’t owe me.”
“If we broke up, I’d lose my home. That’s a pretty big power imbalance between us.”
My heart skewered. “We’re not breaking up.”
“I’m not saying we are,” she said in confusion.
“It sounds like you’ve thought about it.”
“I’m being prudent. We’re only just getting to know each other.”
I tried to school my expression. This conversation was not going as I’d hoped. “Why can’t you see it as a gift, like the dress?”
“Because it’s not a dress; it’s a home and an extremely expensive one.”
“No one’s living there. You’re not taking it from anyone.”
“That’s not the point.”
I drew back into my chair, sighing. “I don’t get it.”
She crossed her arms and sat back. “Look, I don’t want to argue about it. It’s a very generous offer, but I’d feel uncomfortable.”
“Is it because you’d be living on your own? Because I can stay when you want, and there’s the guest room for your friends and family.”