Chapter 9
9
Xander spent the next couple of days trying to convince himself it was a good thing that Jess had gone. He needed to concentrate on getting the paintings finished and having her around would have been disruptive.
But he couldn’t convince himself.
The loneliness bit at him, sinking its teeth deep and leaving him on edge and distracted.
After a couple more days of failing to summon the energy to finish the final painting he decided that Italy and seclusion wasn’t working for him any more. He needed energy and life again and that meant going back to London.
As soon as he arrived back, he went straight out to a party that some friends were holding at a bar in Hoxton Square, expecting the buzz of the city to perk him back up, but it didn’t work.
He felt tired and drained and ended up going home early, telling his friends it was because he’d expended so much energy on his art recently, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew that wasn’t the real reason. Normally, when he was excited about a piece of art he was working on he was full of adrenaline – wanting to talk about it with everyone he met, but he felt protective about this exhibition for some reason.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
* * *
Jess had also returned to London in a state of bewildered confusion.
Walking back into the noise of the Spark office had been a shock to the system after the peace and tranquillity of Lake Garda and it took her a few days to get back up to speed with the big city pace of life.
To her annoyance she’d found Pamela was off sick with the flu when she first arrived back and so hadn’t even looked at the piece she’d written yet – perhaps it was karma catching up with her for playing hooky. The thought that she could have stayed for a couple more days with Xander flittered through her mind, but she knew that would have only prolonged the agony of having to say goodbye.
Despite her determination to get over Xander and move on with her life, she was having an awfully hard time getting him out of her head.
Spending time with him had been life changing – letting loose without the fear of being judged had excited her more than she’d ever felt possible, and she’d loved being touched and explored and worshipped, and then having his permission to do the same back to him. He’d woken something inside her that had been slumbering for years.
For the first time in her life she’d felt desired, sexy. Beautiful.
She found she was walking around now with her head held higher; making herself look at the world around her instead of staring down at the floor like she had before she’d met him. He’d opened up a whole world of possibility in her mind and now she’d experienced great sex, she could barely believe she’d gone without it for so long.
Life seemed full of new possibilities, alive with promise.
But on the flip side, no Xander making her heart race and her blood pump with excitement just by being close.
She realised, of course, that she’d run away from him again, only this time he hadn’t chased her. Perhaps he’d thought there was no point, that she didn’t want him to ask her to stay? He wasn’t a mind-reader after all so how could he have known what she wanted?
She should have told him how she felt.
If she’d learnt anything over the last couple of weeks it was that she needed to put herself out there, to open herself up to new experiences if she wanted the opportunity for something good to happen. She couldn’t just sit back any more, with her head in the sand and wait for things to happen to her.
Pamela finally came back after a couple more days off sick and Jess waited, nerves jumping, to be summoned into her office.
‘Well, Jess, I’ve read your piece on Xander Heaton,’ Pamela said as Jess perched carefully on the edge of the seat facing the editor’s desk. She somehow managed a smile despite her jaw being clenched with anxiety.
She just wanted it to be over with so she could move forward. If Pamela still thought she couldn’t cut it at Spark and she had to go back home and start again she wanted time to come to terms with the toe-curling horror of it.
‘Well, you did it, you impressed me,’ Pam said, and Jess felt a lightness in her chest battle with the heaviness that had been keeping her company since she left Italy. ‘This is exactly the kind of writing I’d been hoping to see. I don’t know what happened out there, but whatever it was it’s had a big effect on your style. I like it Jess, well done.’
It was a big deal to her to hear that kind of praise from someone as tough as Pamela, and her eyes welled with grateful tears.
‘So I get to keep my job here?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘Absolutely,’ Pam replied.
Jess breathed a huge sigh of relief. At least that part of her life was on the right track again.
‘The only thing it needs before it can go in the magazine is a mention of what he’s working on at the minute,’ Pamela said, as Jess began to stand up, thinking she was home and dry.
She went hot, then cold in the space of a second. ‘I-I don’t k-know what he was working on,’ she stammered, ‘He never let me see his work in progress. He was really insistent about that.’
The look of displeasure on Pamela’s face made her stomach sink.
‘Well, you’ll just have to tell him you have a couple of follow-up questions. See if you can get a gander at the pictures while you’re there,’ her boss said flippantly, as if that would be the easiest thing in the world. ‘Otherwise we can’t publish it. It’s an unfinished piece.’
Jess’s chest felt tight and her lungs seemed to be having trouble drawing in air.
‘From the tone of the article it sounded like you got to know him pretty well,’ Pamela continued, clearly completely oblivious to Jess’s concerns about revealing more about his work than Xander would want her to. She raised a discerning eyebrow. ‘Use your influence, Jess.’
‘You want me to go all the way back to Italy to find out what he’s working on?’ she said, desperately, hoping this would dissuade Pam from making her go back, cap in hand.
Pam gave her a withering look. ‘Don’t you follow his feed? He’s back in London. Although I’ve heard he’s been leaving parties early for once instead of indulging in his usual bad behaviour, which is rather intriguing.’
‘Xander’s b-back in London?’ Jess managed to stutter through frozen lips.
When she’d thought he was still in Italy it had been easier to keep her heartache under wraps, but it felt as if he was close enough to touch now – close, yet still so far away.
Pam sighed and looked at her as if she thought she was talking to a total idiot. ‘Yes, Jess. So get your backside over to his studio and find out what we need to know so I can put this issue to bed.’
Oh, God. He was never going to agree to tell her. But perhaps she could get a very general idea about the theme of the exhibition out of him, somehow. That wouldn’t be revealing too much.
Would it?
Sliding off her chair and standing up on jelly-like legs, Jess gave her editor a stiff nod. ‘Okay, Pam, I’ll see what I can do.’
* * *
Jess stood outside the door to Xander’s studio, her body quivering with nerves and her heart in her mouth.
She had no idea how she was going to play this. She also didn’t know how he was going to react when he saw her again. They hadn’t exactly parted on bad terms, but there hadn’t been a fond farewell either.
Perhaps this was fate, or serendipity, or whatever you wanted to call it, handing her an opportunity. Perhaps when he saw her, he’d realise they were meant to be together and ask her not to leave again.
Perhaps.
Only one way to find out.
Before she lost her nerve, she lifted her shaking hand and banged hard on his door, hoping he was in there.
After a couple of seconds, the door flew open to reveal Xander in all his splendour, regulation paintbrush in hand and a look of acute surprise on his face when he clocked that it was her on his doorstep.
‘Jess!’ His beautiful voice rumbled through her, waking up every nerve ending and sending a rush of pure longing south through her body. He was even more gorgeous, more virile, than she remembered. It had been less than a week since they’d last seen each other, but to Jess it felt like a lifetime since she’d been allowed to touch him.
She wanted him back. So badly it physically hurt.
She needed to be cool here though, collected and poised. No way was she going to go to pieces and make a fool of herself.
Opening her mouth to speak, she froze, totally at a loss for what to say now she was standing there in front of him again.
Say something, Jess. Anything.
‘I love you,’ she blurted, her brain too late to catch up with her mouth and circumnavigate the damage she’d just wreaked.
He just stared at her with those mesmerising eyes of his and didn’t say a word. There wasn’t even a flicker of emotion on his face.
Her heartbeat accelerated as she waited for something – anything – to give her a clue about how he felt about her laying herself on the line like that.
There was a sound of heavy footsteps behind her and, grateful for the distraction from her humiliation, she broke her awkward eye contact with Xander and turned around to see a thick-set, silver-haired man reach the top of the stairwell and raise a hand in greeting to them both.
‘Xander, glad I’ve caught you in. I’ve been speaking to the guys at the Brick Lane gallery and they have a couple more questions about how we want to set the exhibition up. I was in the area so I thought I’d drop in for a quick chat about it.’
Jess heard Xander clear his throat behind her. ‘Sure, Paul, yeah. Tell you what, come down to the kitchen with me while I make a drink for my friend and we’ll chat on the way.’
Jess’s skin prickled as she felt him move from behind her and she watched in stultified silence as he walked towards his agent.
He turned back to look at her, his face still devoid of any emotion.
‘Jess, why don’t you wait in my studio? I’ll be back in a minute and we can talk,’ he said levelly.
She gave him a nod and a tentative smile, then watched him disappear down the stairs.
Stumbling into his studio, she closed the door behind her and put her head in her hands. She stared at the floor in horror, utterly incredulous that she just told him that she loved him.
Well, at least no one could accuse her of beating around the bush.
What must he be thinking right now? And what was he going to say when he finally came back into the room?
Her heart thumped against her chest as she considered the possibilities. Rejection or acceptance. Whichever he chose, it was going to turn her world upside down. Again.
She paced the room for a minute trying to get her head together, managing to knock into one of the paintings propped against the wall and jumping back when it fell flat against the floor with a clatter.
Picking it up, she propped it back against the wall and knelt there for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply. Staring at the back of the painting it suddenly occurred to her that she was alone, in Xander’s studio, surrounded by his exhibition paintings. Well, she may as well get what she’d come here for while he was out of the room. Even if he gave her the brush-off she could still go back and give the article a hint about the theme he was using before heading off home to crumple into a sobbing heap.
She walked unsteadily over to where his largest paintings stood, their paint-stained tarpaulins hiding them from sight. Her hand shook as she pulled up the bottom of one of the tarps to reveal the painting underneath.
Her heart rattled in her chest as she stood there, staring at it, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. It was a picture of a woman, standing naked in front of an aquamarine lake, as if about to dive in, colourful whorls of paint, like fingerprints, covering her body from top to toe. Even though her back was to the viewer, Jess knew it was her. Her naked body.
She could barely breathe, the dismay at what she was seeing making her chest contract painfully.
Turning round, and with a sense of impending dread, she lifted up the tarp on the painting propped against the easel in the middle of the room. It was another one of her, asleep in bed, but fully clothed in her linen suit, looking prim and stiff. A ghost-like image of her naked body rose above it, like her wild spirit was escaping and looking down on her mortal shell. This time her face was in shadow, but again, she knew it was her. She recognised the arrangement of moles on her arm that he’d been so complimentary about.
It was a beautiful painting, but it filled her with horror.
He’d taken their most intimate, most intensely personal moments and was intending to use them for commercial gain.
The thought of these pictures being displayed in public view, made her want to vomit.
But even worse was the realisation that he didn’t care about her at all; he’d been using her.
* * *
Xander somehow managed to deal with his agent’s jovial banter and answer his questions about details for the exhibition while Jess’s declaration that she loved him whirled like a tornado around his head.
He’d been thrilled to find her standing there at his door, and seeing her again had rammed home to him just how much he’d missed her company. But her announcement had thrown him for six.
Even though she’d clearly let it slip by accident he could tell from the look in her eyes that she meant it.
And it scared the crap out of him.
For the first time in his life he had no idea how to deal with a situation. Usually, he’d just blow a woman off if she suddenly announced she was in love with him, but he didn’t want to do that with Jess. She meant more to him than that.
He just wasn’t sure how much more.
They needed to talk about this, that was for damn sure.
After finally getting rid of Paul, he walked back into the studio to find Jess standing in front of the final painting he’d been working on for the exhibition. His first instinct was to stride over there and pull the tarp back down and yell at her for peeking, until he saw the look of bewildered disbelief on her face.
‘You painted me naked?’ She sounded so shocked, so hurt, it stopped him in his tracks. He approached her with his hands held out in a placatory gesture, as a dark, disturbing burn wove through his chest and pooled in his belly. ‘I had this idea about your spirit breaking free from the confines of your body – like a sexual awakening – when I was with you, and I had to get it on canvas. I haven’t been this excited about a painting in a very long time.’
She stared at him, aghast. ‘You thought it would be okay when you knew how much I hated showing my body? I haven’t exactly been coy about that Xander, but you thought you’d go ahead a do it anyway without me knowing about it?’
A cold shiver tickled down his spine. ‘I thought maybe you’d got past the worry about how you look naked.’
‘You thought you’d fixed me?’ she interrupted. ‘That after you’d given me a few orgasms I’d suddenly love my body enough to have you expose it for all the world to see?’ Her voice was shaking now. ‘It was meant to be just for you, Xander. I never would have let you seduce me if I thought you were going to do something like this. You exploited my trust.’
‘Jess, you’re overreacting. You can’t see your face. No one will know it’s you.’
‘That’s not the point. I’ll know! And it’s not going to be that hard to figure out if people read my article about you.’
She threw her hands up in despair.
‘Do you have any idea how humiliated I feel right now? I trusted you. I thought you were a good person – a bit of an ego-maniac, but a good guy at heart. But this was only ever about the art wasn’t it Xander? For your own benefit. For your career.’
Frustration twisted his guts. ‘You want me to pull the picture from the exhibition? It’s the best thing I’ve done in years, Jess. You inspired it. You should be proud.’
‘Proud!’ She spat the word out. ‘Proud for everyone to know I was just another of your groupies that you slept with to get what you wanted, then tossed aside?’
She put her head in her hands. ‘How could I have thought you could love me back in the way I need you to?’ she muttered through her fingers. ‘I thought perhaps you understood me, that our time together meant something, but apparently I was wrong.’
Lifting her head, she looked at him straight in the eye, her expression filled with pain. ‘This was never about me, Xander, was it? It was always about you and your art.’
He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even get his response to that straight in his head. He hadn’t been looking for a relationship and this thing with Jess had just come out of the blue and now his creativity seemed to be peaking he was afraid to let anything get in the way of it. Thinking about someone else right now would take precious mental energy away from his work and he couldn’t afford to let anything damage his muse again. Not even Jess.
He needed to prove to the world he was back – bigger, badder and stronger than ever. He’d won against the disabling inertia that had held him hostage for so long. He could prove his earlier talent hadn’t been a fluke and stick two fingers up at all those naysayers.
To not let his father have been right about him.
Jess stared at him angrily for a beat longer, waiting in vain for him to pull himself together enough to answer her. When he failed to open his mouth, she turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door of the studio hard behind her.
He slumped into a chair, unable to process all the thoughts raging through his brain. He wanted her to be pleased and proud of his pictures, to tell him what good work he’d done, but instead she’d been more concerned about how she looked in them.
A disabling indolence kept him in his chair and he sat, staring into space as the silence echoed in his head.
* * *
Over the next few days he began to hate looking at his last painting of her, the initial joy of creating it marred by the pain and distress he’d caused.
After a couple more days of staring into space, he tried calling her, first on her mobile, only to be sent straight to voicemail, then at her magazine, only to be told she wasn’t available and could they take a message?
He sent numerous texts asking her to get in touch with him, becoming more and more irate when his phone remained steadfastly silent.
She’d cut him away like the bloodsucking leech he was.
It wasn’t the first time a woman had walked out on him, but he’d never liked any of the others enough to care that much before. He liked Jess though, an awful lot.
She’d twisted herself into his thoughts and he found himself on edge and preoccupied by the emptiness she’d left by her desertion. He barely knew her, but she’d done something to his psyche by forcing him to think about someone other than himself for once – as if she’d opened up a gaping hole in him which he was having trouble healing.
He should have been honest with her about how he really felt, instead of treating her like something fun to do. He cringed at the memory of telling her that.
But he’d been scared. It was his standard defence mechanism, to keep his lovers at an emotional distance so he’d never have to deal with more of the painful feelings of rejection he’d been living with since he could remember.
His whole life had revolved around needing people to buy into the image of the bad boy loner he wanted them to see, rather than the real him and he seemed unable to drag himself out of its death-like grip.
Without meaning to he’d let Jess glimpse the real him, but when she’d pushed for more he’d thrown up his barriers, keeping their relationship purely physical, keeping her out.
Using her for his own ends.
He’d unequivocally demonstrated that his career was the most important thing in the world to him and that she’d meant nothing. He’d used her to fix himself, drained their relationship of everything good, then spat her out. Because he was a selfish fucker. His father had been right after all; he didn’t deserve to be loved, not when he acted the way he did. He took everything he wanted and gave nothing back.
He was pure, unadulterated greed.
If he was ever going to be good enough for Jess, he needed to learn how to let go of his anger and jealousy and fear and give her back what she’d given to him.
Humility and kindness and altruism. To learn how to give for the sake of giving, instead of looking for what he could get out of it.
He’d drawn himself into such a hard shell nothing had been able to penetrate it. Until Jess came along and started tapping at the cracks.
She’d been absolutely right about how distanced he’d allowed himself to be from everyone else, how hyper-focused he was about how things affected him. He’d completely overlooked how he’d messed up everyone else who came into contact with him, just so he could get what he wanted.
He’d been alone for so long he had no idea how to let someone else into his life. How to care about them and let them care for him. Deep down he accepted now that he’d thought of himself as unlovable, after having it rammed home over the years through his dad’s total lack of interest in him. He’d never admitted to his father how that had made him feel, he’d just shrugged it off as how things were, but he should have been braver. He should have stood up for himself instead of shutting himself away.
And now Jess had given up on him too.
He wanted her back so much it made him ache, but how could he ever make her believe he meant it?
It was time to face up to what kept him so distanced from everyone else in his life.
He needed to let go of this feeling that he still had something to prove to a father who had never cared about him. The old man was dead and he needed to move on with his life now.
Then he needed to find Jess and convince her that he was sorry and that he was worth taking a risk on. That he could be trusted.
After days of not being able to face going in to his studio and hiding away from the world in his flat, he finally made the journey back there. Picking up a scalpel from in amongst the mess of paints and modelling equipment on his art table, he walked over to the painting of Jess. It was the piece of work that could prove he wasn’t the flash in the pan that he, and pretty much everyone else in the world it seemed, had feared he was.
Raising the scalpel, he brought it down hard across the canvas, cutting a large gash from corner to corner, then another, and another, until all that was left was a frame with colourful strips hanging from it like ragged paper garlands.
It was time to start again.