Chapter 6
Iwake to the sound of knocking. I have no idea of the time, but judging by the morning light it’s still early. I groan as I hear knocking again and I jump out of bed, throwing on a robe. I open the door and see the plump little man with the friendly face again.
“Breakfast, ma’am.”
I open the door wider, allowing him entrance and rubbing my hands across my face to wake me up.
He wheels the trolley in, laying the table as he did yesterday and placing my breakfast down.
There isn’t as much food as yesterday—pancakes and bacon, a pastry and a delicious pot of steaming hot fresh coffee.
The smells invade my senses and my stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.
“Thank you…” I take a look at his name badge, “…Anthony. That’s very kind.”
“Will there be anything else, miss?”
“No, no. This is more than enough.”
“Very well.” He nods and leaves with a smile.
I pour myself a coffee and realize that he left a package on the table along with breakfast. It is wrapped in crisp, white tissue paper with gold embossed edging and a little card tucked in the ribbon. I pull out the card and open it.
Trouble,
A beautiful woman traveling alone should not be without a cell.
Denham x
Oh no. He did not just do that. I rip the paper off the box to find that yes, he did. He has bought me a cell phone. I turn the phone on and a message instantly pops up.
Denham: Now I have your number and you have mine …
I giggle out loud and shake my head at his persistence. He’s forward, I’ll give him that, but he does it in such a way that isn’t overbearing. His light-hearted banter has been just what I need these last couple of days, he hasn’t pushed or pried and for that I’m grateful.
Me: Do you always think of everything?
It takes me the length of time to pour my coffee before a reply comes back.
Denham: Yes
Me: Thank you, it’s a thoughtful gesture, but I can’t possibly accept it.
As much as I know he’ll be disappointed, I can’t accept this gift. He has been far too generous already.
Although I feel like I know him, which in itself is unfathomable, he really is a stranger.
Denham: You are an infuriating woman. Will you please just accept it as a gift? It would make me happy.
I think about my reply before I send it.
There is something about him that wants me to say yes because it will make him happy and that makes me smile.
And part of me wants to run miles away from the complications that are sure to come from accepting gifts from strange men, but he doesn’t feel strange to me.
He feels calming, familiar, and most of all he makes me feel safe which scares the hell out of me.
I start to type a reply but can’t figure out what I want to say, so I put the cell down on the table and sit to eat the delicious breakfast in front of me. I manage two mouthfuls before it dings again.
Denham: You know it’s impolite to return gifts?
Denham: Just call it your cut of the winnings from last night.
Denham: Pleeeeeease … I’m making puppy dog eyes over here.
How can I refuse?
Me: Fine, but please, no more!
Denham: No more? As I told you about the spa yesterday it doesn’t count, right? You have a massage booked at 10 xx
Me: Argh! Now you’re infuriating!
He is infuriating, but also thoughtful and very sweet, so I decide to go with it.
Denham: I know ;) Enjoy your day xx
Me: Thank you for your generous gifts, Mr. King. And for breakfast x
My finger hovers over the send button as I deliberate adding the 'X' at the end. It feels so intimate, but I also know that it put a smile on my face when I saw that he had added two. For goodness’ sake, it’s just an X. Now I’m just overthinking everything.
I hit send.
He makes me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush; the thought of him sends the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive and I’m not entirely sure why.
I’ve never had feelings like this before.
Maybe it’s a crush. I’ve never had a crush before, I worked hard at school, not really taking any notice of boys, so my first real boyfriend wasn’t until I was twenty-one and met Jonny.
I was unsure of the direction my life was going in, and he won me over with lies and false promises, but I don’t ever remember him making me feel like this.
I take my breakfast out onto the balcony and admire the view as I start to think about all the arrangements I need to make.
I need somewhere to live, a job and I also need to have the car taken back to Aaron because there’s no way I want to face him again.
That chapter of my life is gone, over and done with.
Technically the marriage isn’t valid, but I don’t want to have to explain all of that to him, so it will be much easier to get a divorce and be done with it. That way he’ll be blissfully unaware and can hopefully move on and have the family he’s always wanted.
***
I don’t know how many hours I’ve been here. I have no concept of the time of day as it has all gone by in an essential oil scented blur. I know it must be around late afternoon as I was brought a delicious lunch by the side of the pool and that was hours ago … I think.
I had spa days with the wives in LA, but they never felt like this.
Mainly because they were accompanied by a day of gossiping, backstabbing and bitchiness which I always hated.
I’m sure I’m the hot topic of their recent lunch dates.
But all of that is behind me, and today has been relaxing and indulgent as I’ve been buffed, massaged and moisturized to within an inch of my life.
My skin now glows and my muscles feel wonderfully relaxed.
My hair has also been cut, colored and styled.
A good six inches off the length and taken back to my natural warm brown with just a few subtle highlights to enhance the layers.
The makeup girls have done wonders with the bruising on my cheek, changing it from a nasty bluish-black to barely visible, and they have made my eyes look bigger and bluer.
I can hardly believe the transformation.
I thank all the girls that have worked their magic on me and make my way back to my room. When I pass the main desk, I look for Denham but he is nowhere to be seen. I haven’t heard from him all day and if I’m honest, I’m a little disappointed. When I get into the elevator, I type out a quick text.
Me: Your spa is wonderful, I have had the most amazing day, Thank you xx
I don’t even hesitate with the kisses, I mean them.
When the elevator stops at the penthouse, I exit and turn to my door.
I immediately turn back and look at the door opposite.
I haven’t seen anyone coming or going from that room, but the door has been left slightly ajar and I hear a soft sound that has me holding my breath and creeping closer.
Someone is playing an acoustic guitar, soulful, enchanting laments, their fingers picking at the individual strings with meaning and skill.
The playing suddenly stops mid-song and forces a sharp intake of breath from me.
I rush across the landing to my door as quietly as I can manage, and fumble in my purse for my key card.
I hear a woman yelling, a loud bang and the groan of guitar strings as it hits something. The sound makes me wince.
Oh crap, it’s a couple fighting.
Conflict of any kind makes me feel uncomfortable. I rush through my door and close it quietly so no one knows I’ve been there.
***
Regardless of the occurrence across the hall, I’ve spent a couple of hours resting and feel so amazing after my spa treatments that I’ve decided to change and go out to eat.
I choose a little Mediterranean restaurant with a view over the spectacular fountains.
A waiter seats me at a table in the corner of one of the sweeping balconies and I order a drink before taking in the surroundings.
Wouldn’t it be amazing to do this every night?
To have this view and be surrounded by people who are visibly happy and enjoying their time in Vegas?
Before my food arrives, a large, bald man in a suit appears at my table.
I recognize him as one of the doormen who were at the casino last night.
He has a neutral expression on his face but is still intimidating.
He leans down to my table slightly before saying quietly, “Mr. King would like to see you, Miss. Jamesson. If you would follow me, please.”
I’m a little taken aback, but not surprised that he knows where to find me. Denham King is very persistent, but since I haven’t heard from or seen him all day, I would really like to say thank you for my wonderful spa day. Who am I kidding? I’m excited at the thought of seeing him.
I stand and follow the gorilla out of the restaurant. He leads me down a corridor, and my heels sink into the plush burgundy carpet as we walk past closed wooden doors of dark wood with gold surrounds. Stopping at the third door, the imposing doorman knocks and enters.
“Miss. Jamesson to see you, sir …”
“Thank you, Jack. Please show her in,” Denham’s deep voice beckons as the imposing doorman holds the door open for me to enter.
I am met with a modest office, not what I’d expect the owner of such an opulent establishment to have.
His desk is set facing of the door with a few filing cabinets lining the walls.
I can only see two chairs. One which I presume is his—a high-backed, black leather chair positioned behind the heavy set desk.
The other is placed in the corner of the room for guests, I imagine.
The lighting is dim, giving the room a cozy feel, almost intimate.