Chapter 33 NANCY
WE WERE QUIET AS WE DROVE back over the bridge. I rested my head against the window, watching the thousands of bulbs pass by as they twinkling in sweeping arcs from south to north. On the way, I called Mum to let her know I was okay.
“I’ll come over on Sunday. We can talk about everything then.”
“Alright, love. I’m just glad Alex found you. We were worried sick.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t even remember running.”
Mum sighed. “You’ve always been like that since…”
“I know,” I murmured.
“I get it, but when you run, we can’t help you. There are so many people who care about you, Nancy. Just remember that.”
“I will. And I hope the date with Winston went okay despite what happened,” I said, feeling guilty for the impact of the past week’s drama.
“We’ll chat about it on Sunday, yeah?”
“Yeah, night, Mum.”
“Night, love.”
Alex glanced over. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, Winston and Evan stayed with her to make sure there wasn’t any more trouble, and the paint is almost cleared away. Thanks for getting it sorted so quickly. I just can’t understand why someone would do that.”
“Because they’re a depraved monster, and if I ever find out who did it, I’ll fucking end them.” He gripped the wheel, white-knuckled.
“It was probably a group of kids thinking it was a hilarious prank that would get them more followers.” I threaded my fingers into his hair, stroking down to his unbuttoned collar, and he visibly relaxed.
We drove through Chelsea, past row after row of affluent streets lined with houses fronted in ornamental stucco and trailing wisteria, until Alex slowed to a stop in front of a mansion house. Its grand pillars were engraved with the Toverton stag and rose, and the words Fortia Corda Manent Vera.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s the motto from my family’s coat of arms. It translates as ‘valiant hearts remain true,’” he said with a sardonic edge.
The wrought-iron gate moved silently to one side.
I spotted CCTV cameras covering the driveway and front of the property.
Security lights lit up the stark white render, classical columns, and topiary hedges, expanding the building’s impressive stature with elongated shadows.
“How many bedrooms does this place have?”
“Ten. I’ll give you the tour.”
“And how many people live here?”
“Just me…sort of.”
“The plot thickens.” I gave him a lopsided grin.
The garage door rose as we approached, and Alex parked in the first empty space.
I admired the beautiful silver classic sports car in the far corner. “That is one sexy ride.”
“It’s an Aston Martin DB5. The original James Bond car.”
“Very you.”
He quit the engine and turned to me. “You think so?”
“Well, you must admit, you’re pretty clandestine.”
He squeezed my hand. “Not anymore.” The garage door closed. “We’re secure now. No one can get to us here.” He walked around to open my door and guided me into the house.
I was greeted by an enormous kitchen that was easily the size of the flat.
It straddled a fine line between hypermodern and homely.
The appliances were top-of-the-range, with one half housing a stainless-steel professional kitchen I suspected saw little use from Alex.
The functional feel was offset by an oversized stone-topped island adorned with freshly cut flowers and fancy ornaments.
Colourful, abstract paintings hung on off-white walls while a large, oak dining table took up the rest of the kitchen.
“Would you like a drink?”
I gaped at the massive room. “Please.”
“Something strong?”
“Yeah, I could do with taking the edge off.”
“Me too. I think I’ve got some Hennessy X.O. behind the bar.”
“The bar?”
Alex smiled slyly and took my hand. “Come with me.”
He led me into a cigar lounge that was in such contrast to the kitchen, I laughed.
Vintage leather Chesterfields were neatly arranged around low tables, softly lit by warm candelabra.
A polished L-shaped bar housed a staggering selection of spirit bottles and a humidor filled with long Cuban cigars.
“Okay, this room is wild.”
“We’ve only just started the tour. Save a little surprise for later.” He kissed the back of my hand and gave me a cheeky wink before stepping behind the bar to find the cognac.
I looked down at the luxurious burgundy carpet lining the room and removed my boots and socks so my toes could sink into the soft shag pile. It pulled an exhale of delight from me.
“Here we are.” Alex placed two short-stem brandy glasses on the bar and poured two generous measures from a curvy bottle.
“I usually mix it with Coke. Do you have any?”
“I’ve got some, but would you see what you think of it neat?”
“Do you like your women with a short drink or just drunk?” I laughed.
Alex came around to the front and saw I was barefoot. “I’m happy to see you making yourself comfortable.” He moved in and slid away my jacket, finding his rowing hoodie underneath with the sleeves rolled up to fit me. His eyes narrowed.
“Sorry I stole your hoodie.” I fiddled with the hem, wondering if it bothered him.
“A woman’s never worn my clothes before.
” He examined me. “It’s a massive turn-on.
” He drew back the hood, stroking his fingers over my curls.
“And I’d like you to try the cognac neat because it reminds me of your eyes.
” I couldn’t hold back a giggle at the cheesy line, but his assured expression held firm alongside his gaze.
Alex reached over and dipped his finger into the amber liquid, lifting a single droplet on the tip.
He held the tear between us. “It’s perfect.
The precise shade of brown, the flickers of gold when the light hits, the sharp, spicy edge.
” He placed it on my bottom lip. I tasted it, feeling weak, and closed my eyes as the rich burn of spiced fruit and rolling tobacco travelled across my tongue.
“Do you like it?”
I nodded.
“More?”
I smiled expectantly.
He placed another drop on my lip, but as I went to lick it, he kissed me. The heat of liquor and desire mixed, warming me inside and out.
“You’re delicious.” He moved back, his hand still cupping my jaw.
“Likewise,” I whispered, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. “I think this is the most masculine room I’ve ever been in…except maybe the boys’ locker room.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, were you doing in the boys’ locker room, Ms Cooper?”
My expression turned coy, and he tilted his head.
A meow broke the moment. I spun around to see a black and white cat sitting at the end of the bar.
It was a scruffy moggy with a pink nose, quizzical ears, and tufty fur.
“Who’s this?” I cooed, offering my hand for the cat to sniff.
It accepted my greeting, rubbing its face over my fingers.
“This is my housemate, Dennis,” Alex said proudly.
“Dennis?” I glanced back. “That’s no name for a cat.”
“It’s a very fine name, I’ll have you know. And it’s the one he came with, so I kept it.”
“Is he a rescue then?”
“From Battersea.” Alex walked over. “I adopted him a few years ago.”
“Funny. I had you pipped for a pedigree, maybe a Persian.”
“Dennis would see off a prissy Persian in one swipe. He’s canny.”
“Ah, like his owner then.”
“Exactly.” Alex grinned. “And he likes you. He can be aloof with strangers.”
I scratched Dennis’ head, and he purred, rolling on his back.
“I know, mate. I feel the same way,” Alex said and held out his hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to give you the grand tour.” He led me into the hall, and Dennis jumped down, sashaying lazily behind.
The tour of Alex’s absurdly large home made my head hurt.
Ancient tapestries and austere family portraits followed me around the regal-looking reception rooms, of which there were many, each filled with finery and devoid of people.
Thankfully, the library was more inviting, with warm woods, oversized armchairs, and a cosy fireplace, perfect for snuggling up in during the long winter evenings.
At the back of the property, everything turned state-of-the-art: a stone terrace led us to a pristinely lawned garden and a subterranean level dedicated to pampering.
It included a fully equipped gym, pool, Jacuzzi, and solarium; a billiard room with a minibar; and a cinema with recliners and a voice-controlled entertainment system.
As if this weren’t enough, a grand staircase led to the east and west wings, where we finished our tour in Alex’s minimalist master suite with adjacent his and hers dressing rooms.
It was nothing less than obscene, in my humble opinion.
I knelt on a soft, woven rug on the gold-veined marble floor, scratching Dennis’ exposed tummy. “Why do you live in such a large house?”
He shrugged. “Family tradition, I suppose.”
“And this is where you sleep?” I rose and climbed the dais to test the mattress of the enormous ottoman, which was indecently comfortable.
“When I stay here.”
“It must get lonely.” I sipped my cognac, waiting for the amber liquid to burn a little before swallowing and caught our reflection in the skylight above the bed, blackened by the night.
He sat next to me. “Yes, it can.”
“You’re a strange guy, Alex. You could live anywhere, however you want, but you’ve chosen a lonely mansion.”
“You’re right,” he said quietly as he stared at me, then he framed my face and kissed me deeply. But, just as quickly, he pulled away. “Music?”
“Sure,” I replied breathlessly, watching him pace.
“SHAUN, play Nancy’s playlist.” ‘A Natural Woman’ by Aretha Franklin filled the room from concealed speakers.
I smiled, feeling touched. “Why Shaun?”
“It stands for Smart Home Automated Unified Network.”
“SHAUN it is,” I said drolly.
He came over and took my glass, putting both on a side table, then returned, remaining standing. “Would you care to dance?”
“You want to dance with me? …Right now?”
“Yes.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Have you ever waltzed before?”
I took it, and he pulled me to his chest. “Only around the living room with Mum when Strictly’s on.”
“Let me show you. We can dance the steps tomorrow evening.”
“You still want to go to the gala?” I baulked. “But isn’t Mimi going?”
“I believe so, but we don’t have to socialise with her.” He pressed his hand to the small of my back. “Let’s enjoy a night out in public together.”
“I don’t know if I can, boo.”
“I’ll be right there with you. I don’t want us to hide away any longer. There’s nothing we have to be ashamed about.” He began to sway me ever so gently. “Dance with me.”
I felt self-conscious though I had no idea why. It was just the two of us. “What do I do?”
“Just follow my lead.” He took me through the steps over the following tracks until we were sweeping gracefully around the bedroom. “See, you’re a natural.”
“I’m not used to being led on the dancefloor,” I said, a little short of breath.
“Perhaps it’s instinct then.”
“Perhaps.” I smiled and broke away for a sip of cognac. I’d never thought of trying it neat before. There was something brazen about how it felt on my tongue. But I couldn’t get enough of it. “You know, I think I may need a mixer for this after all.”
“Really?” Alex raised an eyebrow, his hands tucked in his pockets, his hair tousled from my fingers, looking strong, confident, and sexy as sin.
I gazed at him, standing in the middle of the grandest bedroom I’d ever stepped foot in, and wondered if this could become my normal. “Really…and I’d like to start with your chest.”
“Would you?”
I nodded.
“Very well.” He stepped closer, his gaze not veering as he popped each button of his waistcoat from top to bottom and let it drop to the floor without a glance. Then, he unbuttoned his shirt. “SHAUN, music off.”
His low, commanding tone made my palms sweaty. I watched transfixed as he pulled his shirt away to reveal his torso, crossed with lines of lean muscle. I wet my lips.
“Now, lie on the bed.”