Chapter 29 NANCY
I WAS COMING TO REALISE that lying with Alex and talking about nothing in particular was quickly becoming one of my favourite pastimes.
I thought spending a whole weekend together would grate on me, but I found the opposite was true.
Outside his regimented life at the office, he seemed content living moment to moment without any set plans.
He’d made a point of asking if I’d prefer to be alone, but I found each day I wanted him to stay longer. His relaxed temperament matched my own.
As he wasn’t keen to go out, we spent the weekend in a dreamy bubble—cuddled up napping, chilling out to music, and ordering in when we got hungry—all the while wearing little to nothing.
There wasn’t much point. For long periods, we explored each other, relaxed and slow, without any expectation to take it further.
If things became too intense, Alex would switch it up, or we’d take a break and spoon for a while.
Seriously, why hadn’t anyone mentioned how good spooning was to me before?
I couldn’t get over that cocooned feeling.
Being tucked into his body, my back to his chest, his chin nuzzled in my hair, my legs hooked under his.
All that safety, connection, and anticipation wrapped around me was addictive.
I didn’t think a man was capable of such gentleness.
When Alex needed new clothes, he unlocked a concealed wardrobe positioned behind a panel in the master suite.
I asked him why he kept his things in a secret room, but he’d just shrugged and said he hadn’t wanted to bother the previous resident.
That threw me because surely this place was some fancy rental his dad had given him when he was starting out after uni.
But then I figured he may have used it in between lets or when his friends stayed in town.
It wasn’t like he needed the money. He could have kept the place as his personal closet if he wanted to.
I hadn’t made it to World’s End since Mum moved back, so she sent me a video tour of the refurbished flat as if she were an estate agent, showing off the renovated lounge—sleek, modern, bright, and expensive, with an imposing sixty-inch TV, surround system, and comfy-looking wraparound sofa.
Both our bedrooms had been remodelled with new divans and built-in storage.
Yet the most incredible transformation was the bathroom, which was retiled in granite and featured a roll-top bath and wet room.
Everything was new except for our personal items, which had been put back exactly as they were.
I smiled, watching Mum’s excitement as she filmed, and thanked Alex for putting that look on her face.
“You look beautiful,” Alex said as I entered the lounge on Monday morning. I was wearing another of my secondhand finds I’d only dared to wear around the flat: a houndstooth skirt (Holland Cooper—thank you posh Chelsea charity shops) with a caramel short-sleeve ribbed top that accentuated my boobs.
I leaned in for a kiss and eyed the potent effect of his slate grey three-piece as he ground coffee for the filter. “I can’t get over how different you look in a suit.”
“Which do you prefer?” He wrapped his arms around my waist as I adjusted his tie, even though the Windsor knot was already perfect. His Adam’s apple bobbed to my touch.
“I like both, suave businessman and hot weekend boyfriend.”
“I’m your boyfriend all the time.” He leaned in for a single possessive kiss.
“I know, but you’re my secret office lover. It’s exciting.”
“You want to role-play?” His eyebrow raised, his hands shifting to cup my ass. “I’m game.”
“Perv!” I pushed him away with a sultry look to pick up my phone, ringing on the counter. “Hi, Mum. Everything okay?”
“Nancy. How are you?” Mum’s worried tone sent a swell of panic through me.
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
“I wondered if either of you had seen the papers?”
“I’ve not looked. Why, what’s happened?” I glanced at Alex, who’d returned to pouring coffee but was listening intently.
“I didn’t want to surprise you with it. I was hoping you’d seen it already. But people will’ve read the story, so you need to know.”
“Seriously now, what is it?”
“The Echo’s written about you both and some woman called Miriam Preston-Black.
They’re saying she’s Alex’s long-term partner.
There’re pictures of you three together at a place called Luverly Bubbly, looking friendly…
very friendly. They’ve stated that you’re in a ménage à trois relationship. Who the hell is this woman?”
Sick rose in my stomach. “What story? What do you mean a ménage à trois? There’s no three-way!”
Alex came over.
“I’m so sorry, love. It’s been picked up on social media. It’s everywhere.”
“No, no, they can’t have published that!
” I covered my mouth, and Alex took the handset.
I grabbed my laptop to load a browser. Typing in Alex Toverton brought up The Echo Online as the top result.
Underneath were pickups from The Blaze, The Image, and The Urban Voice.
There were also reams of social posts commenting on the story, but I clicked straight on the source.
The article was titled Playboy Heir in Ménage à Trois with It Girl and Exotic Young Woman.
The piece outlined Alex and Mimi’s past—a topic evidently covered many times before, then a couple of paragraphs speculated who I was in ‘the couple’s on-and-off relationship’.
They’d printed details of where I was working, likely pulled from my LinkedIn.
The description made me out to be the new ‘spicy’ element in their ‘modern romance’.
Across the page was a collage of images, some of Alex and Mimi together at events and the Instagram picture I’d seen of them cuddling on the beach.
Below was a step-by-step montage taken across the street from the café of me, Alex, and Mimi two days before—chatting, laughing, touching, kissing cheeks—put together to tell the story they wanted.
By the time I reached the end, Alex was reading over my shoulder.
“Why have they published this? It’s all lies.”
“They publish what they want.”
“But how did they know where we were on Saturday?”
“They could have been stalking us or Mimi, waiting for a prime shot,” he sighed, looking resigned.
“But they’ve published details about me. My image is everywhere.” Alex moved to comfort me, but I stepped back, wondering why the hell he was so calm. “We’ve got to go to work now, with everyone having seen this, with David having seen this. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Of course it does. But I’ve dealt with this sort of thing my whole life. It will blow over quickly.”
“Blow over? It’s online, there forever, that we’re a threesome, that I’m some exotic element in your relationship with Mimi.” I scowled at the screen.
He pulled me to him. “And it’s bullshit. Nasty entertainment for bored people. Pathetic lies and gossip that will last a day and be forgotten by the next.”
“Which Mum’s already read. I could hear her tone. Even she wondered if there was something to it.”
“No, she didn’t. She knows there’s no truth to it. She knows you. We’re the ones that matter, not what the public thinks.”
“I thought we’d been careful enough. Obviously not.”
He checked his watch. “We’re going to have to leave for work. Unless you don’t feel up to it.”
The comment ruffled me. “No, we’re not being forced to hide. I’d rather lose myself in work than wallow.”
“I’ll tell Evan to collect us from the back.”
“You think they’ll be waiting out front?”
“There’s a good chance, yes,” he murmured.
We took the stairs to the emergency exit and got into the back of the Range Rover.
No paparazzi were around, but when we pulled out onto the side street, a crowd of photographers spotted the car.
Men with long-lens cameras rushed the windows, their flashes lighting up the blackout glass, desperate to capture a shot.
We drove in silence while Alex held me close, massaging the knots in my neck as motorcycles carrying photographers stalked us.
I buried my head into his collar and tried to breathe through the overwhelming feeling of confinement.
“Are you okay?” he asked as we entered the private lift.
“Not really. I’ve never encountered anything like that before. It was frightening.”
“We’ll be spared from it in the building.”
“Just anywhere in public is off limits, then?”
He raised my chin to meet his assured gaze. “It will blow over, I promise. People lose their concentration with this stuff and move on to the next thing. We just need to keep our heads down right now.”
“So we have to hide?” I bristled.
“We should continue to keep things…subtle.”
“Like not going for brunch or shopping together.”
“It’s crap, I know, but they will get bored and move on. We’ll be able to do all those things again.”
“Sorry, it’s just a shock,” I sighed.
He held me tight, resting his chin on my crown as the car rose. “I will look after you, Nancy.”
“I’ll be okay. I’ve got a meeting first thing, so at least I can distract myself.”
“I’ll see you upstairs.” He pulled back to stroke my face, and I smiled as reassuringly as I could muster.
The lift stopped on forty-eight, and I walked towards the glass meeting room, where several of the team were already nestled around the long boardroom table.
When I entered, there was stony silence.
I looked around the suited crowd. Most of my colleagues busied themselves to avoid eye contact.
Only India and Sasha looked over, whispering.
“Morning,” I said, receiving a few muffled greetings in return. I went to the coffee machine in the corner and lingered for as long as possible. After a minute, a few conversations started up. Gary and Sarah were chatting about the FinTech audit, so I joined them.
“Morning, Nancy,” Gary asked tentatively. “How are you today?”
“So-so. Did you both have a good weekend?”
“It was okay. I didn’t get up to much.”