Chapter 3
DAYNA
‘Is that everything?’ Duncan asks after loading my ski gear into the back of the four-wheel drive that replaces the Mercedes for today.
‘Are you being sarcastic?’ I ask over the rim of the Starbucks coffee he brought me.
He fights a smirk, but his eyes are laughing. ‘No, not at all. I thought you might need more, given it’s a short break and all.’
‘Now I know you’re mocking me.’
Five a.m. love songs play on the radio as we drive the dark, empty streets of London to Heathrow. At the airport, Duncan stacks my luggage on a trolley, after I assure him I’m capable of getting from the car to the check-in desk alone.
As is par for the course, Heathrow is packed, despite the ungodly hour.
On a work day, getting up at four-fifteen in the morning doesn’t seem too bad, but on a holiday-day, it’s a form of cruelty.
Scouring the large digital screens overhead, I find the flight number Rachel gave me – Geneva – and see we’re on time for an 8. 05 departure.
My trolley needs a kick-start, but once I get rolling, I manoeuvre through the crowds, trying not to jab anyone with my overhanging skis, and wheel into the business-class queue.
‘Dayna!’ I watch Rachel theatrically navigate the barriers only to ditch her trolley and crash against me. ‘I love your thirtieth!’ Despite the hour, she looks fresh as a daisy. Skin glowing, zero puffiness, blonde waves immaculate.
‘Quit ageing me prematurely.’ I hug her back. ‘So, Geneva. Does that mean what I think it means?’
‘That depends. Do you think it means we’re going to Verbier, your faaavourite ski resort?’
I give her a cheek-splitting grin and pull her into another hug. ‘Thanks so much for arranging this. I’ve decided this is exactly what I need: a few days away.’
‘Erm, yep. I should tell you, Teddy arranged certain things.’ Teddy, Arthur’s son and my honorary brother, on account of Arthur and his wife Evelyn being parental figures for me growing up.
‘He did? I’ll have to thank him. He texted to say he’s here already. We’re meeting in the lounge.’
When our bags are checked and admin is taken care of, we head to security. Rachel’s foot taps as we wait in the short queue for the bag scanner. Her pupils bore holes in me when she thinks I’m not looking and she doesn’t make conversation.
‘Why do I get the feeling there’s something you want to tell me?’ I ask.
She pushes her hands into her pockets. ‘I— It’s just that?—’
‘Ladies, step forward, please,’ a security officer asks.
We place our things in two grey trays before stepping through the body scanner.
‘What were you going to say?’ I ask as I zip up my boots.
She opens her mouth but doesn’t speak, then smiles and picks up my coat, holding it out for me to take. ‘Never mind.’
‘What are you up to, Rachel Parmer?’
‘You’ll see soon enough.’ She mutters something under her breath as she leads the way through the chaos of Departures to the lounge. ‘After you,’ she says, standing by the red tinted-glass door.
The first person I clap eyes on is Teddy, perusing a selection of pastries near the door. I bound into his welcoming arms.
‘Happy weekend-long birthday,’ he tells me.
‘It’s my birthday tomorrow. Today, I’m technically three years younger than you, and I am going to gloat like you wouldn’t believe.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Tell me if you’re still feeling so youthful tomorrow.’
‘Here’s the birthday girl!’ I turn right into Yvette, Teddy’s wife, and her cosy-chic thick-knit jumper.
‘You’re all trying to age me, aren’t you? It’s like a sick joke.’
She laughs and pulls me into a hug.
‘Oh, hold me all day long; this jumper feels so nice. How are you?’
‘I’m good. I’m excited about this weekend. We’re excited about this weekend. We hardly see you any more.’
‘You saw me two weeks ago, but true, it isn’t enough.’
I step back from her and tap Teddy’s shoulder as he selects a cinnamon swirl from the buffet. ‘I hear you had a hand in organising all this. Thank you.’
‘Oh, don’t thank me yet.’ He flashes a wide fake toothy grin.
‘Hey, girly.’
Tim, a friend from uni who I haven’t seen in months, heads over to me, flanked by Amy, who Rachel and I lived with at uni. Matty is also with them. He’s Tim’s old housemate, the ex-captain of the university rugby team, my friend – oh, and my ex. There’s nothing left there but friendship, though.
‘You guys! This is an amazing surprise.’ I hug and air-kiss them all, grabbing Amy last. Her voluminous brown curls shield my view of who I think is and hope isn’t behind her, sitting in a leather chair, one foot crossed over the knee of his other leg.
I let Amy go and take a step back, from both her and him.
My head spins with my sudden change in heart rate and the worry that takes hold in my chest.
He bends to put his coffee down on a table then wipes his hands on a napkin as he rises and makes his way over to us. I’m acutely aware that my friends have stopped moving and talking.
‘Someone please tell me this is a godawful coincidence,’ I ask of any of my friends.
It’s a plea. Because I cannot spend a weekend with this man.
I wanted to get away from everything – the anniversary of my dad’s death and the biggest oil disaster of the century, my mother’s latest husband and my new it-girl stepsister, and the riskiest business move I’ve made since taking the helm of SP, a tender bid for a new pipeline against the man who murdered my dad and tens of workers on our rig.
Last but by no means least, I wanted to get away from the fact I was seated next to this very man at an industry dinner last week and the contradictory, unfathomable feelings it stirred in me.
Layton’s intensely blue eyes are trained on me.
His chiselled jaw is outlined with a five o’clock shadow.
His polo shirt is tucked into indigo jeans, displaying the contours of what I know lies beneath: a finely tuned torso, the lightest kiss of the sun colouring him, a small trail of almost perfectly shaped hair down his navel.
I tear my gaze from him and glare at Teddy. ‘Tell me.’ My words are barely audible. I’m not sure what hurts more: the words grating my throat, that Clark is walking towards me, or the fact that I know what Teddy is about to confess.
‘We’re staying in his family’s chalet,’ Teddy says.
I try to flee, but Teddy’s arms hold me still. ‘He’s having a rough time, Dayna. You know about the wedding. Or non-wedding. It’s viral. Come on, give him a break. You’re going to be skiing, anyway. You don’t even have to speak to him if you don’t want to.’
I clench my fists at my sides. ‘Give him a break?’
‘Just last week, you told Yvette and me that you were over him a long time ago.’
I lied. ‘Fine. Whatever. Forget him; we’ll have a great time. I’m not going to turn my back on you because you sold your soul to the devil.’
‘That’s my girl.’
‘Am I the devil in this scenario?’ Clark’s voice is smooth, self-assured.
I brace myself before facing him, trying to contain my anger with both him and the whole goddamned situation. ‘If the horns fit.’
His lips turn in a crooked smile. The very smile that brought me to my knees. I remember the taste of those lips, the feel of them between my teeth, the touch of them against my neck.
‘Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?’ It’s a cheap shot but one I enjoy taking, regardless.
He bites his gums in the way he does when he’s trying to fend off that darkly wicked temper he’s renowned for and creaks his neck.
He opens his mouth and I’m braced for a retort, but he’s nudged aside, giving me a welcome break from the intensity of the connection between us.
To my surprise, I’m presented with a similar face: slightly darker-skinned and less groomed, but still attractive.
‘Hi, Dayna, it’s nice to see you again.’
I can’t say the same, not because I dislike Spencer Layton, but because his presence is dependent on his older brother’s.
I hold out my hand. ‘Hi, Spencer.’
He takes my hand but still leans in to kiss my cheek. His skin is different to his brother’s: coarse and dry. His scent, while pleasant, doesn’t make the hairs on my body stand up or send a current through me that sensitises my skin. ‘Thanks for letting me gatecrash your birthday weekend.’
‘Thank you to you and your family for the chalet.’ Come on, Dayna, shake it off. Shake him off. ‘Right, who’s up for champagne breakfast on me?’
‘You mean courtesy of the first-class lounge?’ Amy asks.
I slip my tongue out briefly, and she laughs.
Rachel drops an arm over my shoulder and yanks me into her side. ‘Mine really is on you. I used your air miles.’ She leans into my ear so only I can hear her next words. ‘Maybe it’s a good chance to put it to bed. In the non-sexual sense, naturally.’
When I dare to glance back at Clark, he hasn’t moved. He’s looking right back at me.
* * *
I find my seat in the fifth row of business.
Rachel, Teddy and Yvette are in the row behind.
I’m sitting by the window, and the two seats next to me are free.
I hope it stays that way. When I can’t book first class because the flight isn’t long enough, I always have Rachel book extra space so I don’t have anyone in the seat next to me.
It’s not that I’m completely antisocial.
Not always, anyway. I know, I know, it’s not very friendly to the environment or other humans but I really like to spread my elbows and pull my feet onto my chair.
I don’t want some random person leaning over my shoulder to see my screen or trying to make small talk.
‘Champagne?’ an air steward asks, holding out his tray for me to take a glass.
‘Thank you.’ I take off my boots and curl my feet onto the seat. I’m just getting comfortable when I see Clark heading in my direction. Please, no. He looks bloody pleased with himself as he locates his seat on the aisle of my row.
I find my phone and hammer out a message to Rachel:
Me
Are you kidding me?
I hear her laugh in the seat behind before her reply lands:
Rachel
If you weren’t so precious about your personal space you’d be on this row with me
Some personal space. Sitting one seat away from Clark is just about the most claustrophobic I could ever be. As if two feet will be enough to stop the air feeling so heavy between us that I’m struggling to draw breath.
Clark didn’t get married.
I hate that he’s thrown me, messed with my head. It’s irrational.
Constance was too good for him, anyway. She’s high maintenance, from what I hear, but the few times I’ve come across her, she seemed nice.
Clark, on the other hand, is anything but nice.
He’s a player. He uses women and ditches them at the first sign of an emotional connection.
Frankly, I’m surprised they lasted a year and a half.
So why did my stomach leap and my fingers start to tremble when I saw him? And when I found out he no longer belongs to someone else?
He closes the overhead compartment and takes his seat. I fight against my body’s desire to look at him but fail and end up scowling at the supercilious smirk on his face.
I plug in my headphones and start scrolling through the inflight entertainment until I find a movie I think I’ll like, despite knowing I won’t have time to finish it on this flight.
Unusually, I pay full attention to the safety talk and actually listen to the captain’s welcome speech.
I read the inflight snack menu as my chosen film plays through my ears.
Everything, anything, to stop me from thinking about how I’m squeezing my thighs together and my nipples are hardening in response to his proximity.
It’s a good tactic. Until the onscreen couple take things to the bedroom. As Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome crawls over the naked body of his on-set beauty, I find myself thinking about our first time…
The urgency of it. The heat. The sweat. Sucking, biting, clawing. And the way he’d speak to me. No man had ever spoken to me in the downright filthy way Clark did, and I was like hot candle wax for it. Remembering how it felt to be with him then has me liquifying now, even though?—
‘Miss Cross, your snack.’
I jump as the flight attendant holding out a small tray of pastries startles me back to the here and now. ‘Hmm, excuse me?’
‘Your snack.’
‘Right. Yes. Thank you.’
This is going to be the birthday from hell.