Chapter Eight #2
Her lips curve up. “Don’t mock him.” She elbows me. “He’s a nice guy.”
“I’m sure he is, if you’re turned on by eighteen-year-olds.”
She pokes her tongue out at me. “He’s only a year younger than me. And he’s quiet and gentle. He doesn’t boss me around.”
“I’m supposed to boss you around. It’s my job.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” she says, amused. “Although if the cap fits…”
“You’re talking about Dom?”
“Yeah.” She looks at her glass, then has a mouthful of wine. “It really shook me up, seeing him again. I should have listened to you.”
“Can I have that in writing please?” I joke, even though the thought of Dominic thinking he can control her fills me with fury.
She smiles, but there’s sadness behind it, and she gives a little shiver. “I hate admitting it, but he scared me.”
I look down at her. “If he comes anywhere near you again, I’ll punch his teeth down his throat.”
In the background, everyone starts counting back from ten. Aurelia looks up at me again, and her bright-green eyes meet mine.
We stand there for ten seconds, looking at each other, until everyone cheers as the clock strikes midnight.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she whispers.
My gaze slides from her eyes to her mouth. She has a pronounced Cupid’s bow. Her bottom lip is bigger than her top lip and looks soft and extremely kissable.
I’ve wanted to kiss her for days now. But she doesn’t really want that.
She’s been drinking, and she’s feeling vulnerable and lonely after meeting her ex, that’s all, and she feels safe with me.
That makes me feel good… but I can’t give in to my feelings for her.
I can’t protect her if I do that. And I have no doubt she’d regret it tomorrow.
I lift my gaze back to hers. “No.”
She looks at my mouth. Her eyes turn sultry. She’s thinking about kissing me. “Are you sure?”
I swallow, and she watches my Adam’s apple move. “I’m sure.” I add, “Ma’am,” as a reminder of my position.
She looks back up at me. Then, without smiling, she turns and walks back into the building.
*
Half an hour later, she asks to go home.
We drive in silence to the ferry, and once I’ve parked the car, she gets out and walks off without waiting for me.
I sigh, get out, and follow her onto the deck.
She’s standing by the railing, looking down at the dark water, clutching her bolero jacket around her. She looks sad.
“You okay?” I ask, joining her and leaning on the railing.
“I’m fine.” She scratches at a mark on the bar. “I’m going on a date with Ivan next Friday.” She waits a moment, then looks at me, waiting for my reaction.
My jaw clenches, and I have to force the words out. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
If I’m curt or angry, I’ll give myself away. So I say, “Where’s he taking you?”
“Just for a drink at Angels.” It’s a trendy bar in the city. She tosses back her hair. “I suppose you’re going to want to come and watch.” Her words are sassy, taunting. She wants me to fight with her.
When I don’t say anything, she studies my face. Her chest heaves as if she’s struggling not to say something. Is her bottom lip trembling?
I soften. “Aurelia…”
The emotion fades from her face, and she looks back at the ocean. “I’d like to be alone,” she says stiffly.
I pause, reluctant to leave it like that. But what can I possibly say? I can’t admit to her that I like her. She has a stalker, and I won’t be able to keep her safe if I get emotionally involved with her. Plus Marcus will kill me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur, and I walk away, taking a seat across the other side of the boat.
She doesn’t move for the rest of the journey.
When the ferry arrives, we make our way back to the car. We get in, and I head the car off the boat and into the city.
We don’t speak again until we pull up at her apartment building.
“You needn’t come up,” she states. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sorry, ma’am, I have to come with you.”
She makes an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, gets out, and slams the door. I follow her, gritting my teeth. I’m the good guy here!
We go into the elevator, and I punch the button for the top floor. The doors close, and the carriage rises slowly.
“Don’t glare at me,” I tell her eventually.
“I’m your boss,” she says. “I can do what I like.”
“Marcus is my boss. You’re just my principal.” In my pocket, I press the button and say, “On our way to the apartment.”
“Copy that,” Stacy replies from the office.
“For fuck’s sake.” Aurelia rolls her eyes. Then something obviously occurs to her, and she looks around the elevator. “Is there a camera in here?”
“No, ma’am. Only in reception and in the corridor outside your apartment.”
“What about… oh my God… in my apartment?”
“No, ma’am?”
“You swear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is it bugged?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You swear?”
“We decided we had no need to watch you toasting Pop Tarts and watching episodes of The Bachelorette.”
She gives a short, humorless laugh. “I’m a fucking great cook.”
“If you say so, ma’am.”
The elevator pings and the doors open. She storms out, and I have to run to catch up with her.
“Wait here,” I tell her as we reach her door.
Fuming, she folds her arms and stops, and I let myself in.
I walk quickly through the apartment, switching the lights on as I go. It’s a huge place, but it’s homely, not cold and clinical the way some penthouse apartments are portrayed on TV.
I go down the corridor and into her bedroom.
It smells faintly of her perfume. It’s neat and tidy.
A pile of books rests on the bedside table—all novels, including one called Fourth Wing.
What do they call the genre? Romantasy? It makes me smile to think of her reading about dragons and knights in shining armor.
Opening the door to her walk-in wardrobe, I glance around it. She has a lot of clothes. The hangers are full of dresses, skirts, tops, and jackets. The shelves hold folded trousers, tees, and jumpers. She also has hundreds of pairs of shoes. Such a girly girl.
Jeez, I’m as bad as her stalker. Cross with myself, I go out, close the door, and check the remaining two spare bedrooms. Everywhere is cool and quiet, and eventually I return to the living room and cross to the front door.
“All clear,” I say.
“Are you talking to me or someone else?”
“To you,” I reply, although I had pressed the button at the same time.
I wait for her to march past me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hesitates. “I’ve decided,” she says. “I’d like you to teach me some self-defense moves.”
My eyebrows lift. “May I ask why you changed your mind?” She just studies her shoes, and I remember that she said Dominic frightened her. “Of course,” I say softly. “We can start on Monday if you like.”
She nods.
“You don’t have to worry,” I tell her firmly. “He’s going to have to come through me now.”
“I want to be able to defend myself. I don’t want you to fight my battles for me.”
I slide my hands into my trouser pockets. “That’s a fair comment.”
She lifts her chin. “I know you went to his office.”
My brows rise again.
“Stacy let it slip,” she says. “Wasn’t her fault. She didn’t realize I didn’t know.” She gives me a curious look then. “Why did you go? What did you say to him?”
I pause, not sure what to say.
“Go on,” she says, “tell me.”
I look into her eyes. “I told him if he comes within a country mile of you, I’ll break both his legs.”
She bites her lip. “Really?”
“Really. I could see that he scared you, and that made me mad.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much.” I frown then. “I apologize if I overstepped the mark.”
“You didn’t,” she says softly. “I’m glad you did it. He deserved it. He’s a bully, and he’s hurt me in the past. I don’t know why I agreed to see him again. You were… you were right. I don’t mind saying it again.”
We study each other for a moment. The building is quiet. I’m conscious of the camera at the end of the corridor that’s focused on the door, and the fact that Stacy is probably watching us.
Aurelia’s eyes are huge, the pupils dilated in the low light. Her lips look very soft.
“Happy New Year,” I say.
“Happy New Year.”
“I’ll see you Monday morning?”
“Yes, okay.”
I back up, out into the hallway, holding her gaze. She watches me, then lets the door go, and it slowly swings shut.