Chapter Five #2
While I sift through my outfits, I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach that suggests I might not be doing the right thing. Marcus told Luke he thought Dom was controlling, and he’s right, of course. It’s the main reason we broke up. So why am I agreeing to meet him again?
I guess I’m hoping he might apologize. After our horrendous argument, I’ve refused to talk to him, so I don’t know how he feels about what happened. As I take out the long black skirt and white crossover top that I know he liked, I think about the roses, and the messages he sent asking to meet me.
Briefly, I think about my father’s announcement that he’s going to sell the company if one of us doesn’t settle down and have a family soon. I love our company and I’d hate for it to be sold to the Rutherfords. And the thought of getting back into the dating pool fills me with horror.
I remember when I told my father I’d broken up with Dom.
He’d been disappointed, and he’d said, “No man is perfect, Aurelia, remember that.” Of course, I hadn’t told him the whole story.
But maybe it’s better the devil you know?
At least Dom is financially stable and good looking.
He was a good boyfriend… if you didn’t count the control factor.
Could he have changed after our argument, become more thoughtful, more attentive to his partner’s wishes?
I shiver. I’m not sure I want to test that. I have no intention of getting back with him. But it doesn’t mean I don’t have to look nice.
I pin my hair up, because he always said he loved it like that, finish my makeup, then grab my purse and head down to the basement. I’m not seeing him until one, so I’ll go into the office first.
The elevator doors open, and the first person I see is Luke, leaning against the Range Rover. I see the brief expression of surprise on his face as he spots my appearance before he carefully smothers it.
“Morning, ma’am,” he says, pushing off the car and opening the passenger door.
“Morning.” I get in, and he waits for me to tuck my skirt in, then closes the door.
Once he’s in the driver’s seat and we’re buckled in, he starts the car and heads out onto the road.
“You look nice today,” he says.
“Don’t start.”
“It was a compliment! How is that starting anything?”
“I know you’re commenting on the fact that I’ve made an effort for Dom, and I’m cross with myself for it, so please, keep your observations to yourself.”
He doesn’t reply.
I pull out my phone and bring up the coffee shop app. “Latte?”
“You don’t have to buy me a coffee every morning, ma’am.”
“You’d rather drink the brewed coffee in the security office?”
“Er…”
“I keep telling them to buy a capsule machine. That brewed stuff is so strong you could use it for building brick walls.”
He gives a short laugh. “Yeah. It’s Rick’s fault. He likes it like that.”
“I’ll stand you a latte; it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Need to keep you awake. Can’t have you falling asleep on the job.”
“God forbid.”
After a minute or so, I say, “So… you like my outfit?”
He glances at me. “You look lovely.”
“Oh.” I’d expected a sarcastic comment, or something more professional, a stiff Yes, ma’am.
“He used to like this top.”
“I’m not surprised.”
I look down and realize the two wrapover sides aren’t quite wrapping over enough, and my bra is visible. “Fuck.” I pull the material up to make sure it covers my cleavage. “Were you going to let me go into work like that?”
“I don’t think it’s my place to give fashion advice, ma’am.”
“Maybe not, but you’re supposed to be on my side, so I’d rather you let me know if my boobs are out, okay? If you happen to notice, that is.”
His gaze slides to me. I lift my eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to be all professional and say you never look at my boobs?”
He returns his gaze to the road. “If I notice your clothing is askew, ma’am, I promise to point it out.”
“Askew? Where are you from, 1842?”
I continue to tease him like that until we reach the coffee shop, then continue all the way to work. Once we arrive, he gets out of the car and closes the door with a little more force than is necessary and heads to the elevator. I follow him, trying not to laugh.
It’s a short ride up to the ground floor, but he glowers all the way. When the elevator doors open, he says, “I’ll meet you back here at twelve thirty.”
“Yes, sir.” I salute him.
Rolling his eyes, he walks out toward the security office.
I let the doors close, feeling smug. He’s a nice guy, but I don’t need a bodyguard!
To be honest, having him around me all the time only makes me more nervous.
I’d never considered that someone might break into my apartment, but after he checked it out last night, I kept thinking about it all evening.
No, this is complete overkill, and the sooner I can get rid of him, the sooner I can get on with my life and put all this behind me.
*
At twelve thirty, I head down to the basement again and find Luke standing by the Range Rover, waiting.
“Good to go?” he asks, opening the passenger door.
I nod and get in, and he closes the door and goes around to the driver’s side. He starts the car, then heads out onto Shortland Street.
As he drives, he glances over at me. “Everything okay?”
I look down at my hands. “I’m nervous,” I admit.
“At seeing your ex?”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, concentrating instead on the road. Then he says, “You sure you still want to go?”
I look out of the window. “Yeah. I want to ask why he keeps messaging me. And why he sent me those roses. I don’t know what he wants. Is he hoping we’ll get back together?”
“Is that what you want?”
I hesitate. I do miss him… But then I think about how frustrated I felt when he frequently told me what to do. How angry I was when he said I should stop seeing certain friends because he didn’t like them. And what happened that night that led to us breaking up.
“No,” I admit. “I don’t think so.” I sigh. “I probably shouldn’t have worn this blouse.” I look down at myself and curse as I see my bra’s showing again. “I definitely shouldn’t have worn this blouse.”
I open the glovebox and ferret around inside it, hoping to find a safety pin, but to no avail. The only thing I do find is a stapler.
Luke slows, turns into a car park, slots the Range Rover into a space, and turns off the engine. I unbuckle myself, then stuff the material of the blouse into the gap between the two sides of the stapler.
“I can’t get the angle right.” I turn to face Luke. “Can you do it?”
“It’s a silk blouse,” he points out.
“Do you want me to keep giving Dom an eyeful?”
He huffs through his nose. “I’m sure you can do it yourself.”
I try, but the two sides refuse to meet. “I’m not strong enough, with all this material. Please, Luke…” I give him my best Puss-in-Boots impression.
Making an exasperated sound in the back of his throat, he takes the stapler and slides his fingers down to the bottom of it to get a better purchase. For a moment, the backs of his fingers touch my chest above my cleavage. I inhale at the feel of his warm skin, shocked by the contact.
He presses the stapler, punching through the fabric, then removes it. “There.”
I look down and rearrange the two sides to cover the metal staple. “That worked.”
“It did.” He hands the stapler back, and I slot it back in the glovebox.
“Right,” he says. “Ready?”
I meet his eyes, and for a moment, our gazes lock.
“I’m really nervous about this,” I say, not sure why I’m making the admission.
His expression softens. “I’ll be there if you need me.”
For some reason, that makes me feel better, I have no idea why.