Chapter Twelve #3
‘Oh, Abbey, I’m disappointed.’ His hand that wasn’t on my wrist went straight under my blazer and he rubbed my back, not bothering to look in Nick’s direction.
‘What fabric is this? It feels delicious.’ He raised an eyebrow at me and, when I did not take his bait, he added, ‘You know I don’t like other roosters in my henhouse, gorgeous. ’
Arrogant fucker.
I remembered the first time I’d met him; I’d been a little starstruck and flattered by the attention he paid me.
Eric had noticed straight away that I got a lot more out of Jack than he or any other guy did, so from then on they sent me down for everything to do with the build of Fiefdom.
I lived in Melbourne for about six months.
I’d just met Peter and had put my romance on hold to come and project manage Jack, though I was never paid accordingly.
Jack had done a brief stint in the UK on a cooking game show, which had skyrocketed him to fame, and he came home demanding a restaurant from the fanciest hotel in Melbourne, which happened to be us at the time.
Conceited and overconfident, he was the kind of man who would look at other women while he dined me, but he took me to great restaurants, introduced me to wine, kissed me a few times, and tried to have sex with me frequently.
Despite what my sister thinks, I am not na?ve about men, and I knew that holding back sex gave me leverage with him.
There were plenty of other women who would sleep with him.
But in the twenty years I had worked for Delacqua, I was (proudly) not one of them.
As such, I was the road not taken. The mystery never solved. That was all it was. The allure was that I had never bedded the man while thousands of others … had.
‘Oh, Jack darling. Nick isn’t another rooster.
’ I used my hip to bump Nick and ran a hand down his arm, which earned me a confused, semi-heated look.
He was watching Jack with distaste, and I desperately needed him to play along here.
‘Nick is not a rooster. He is the farmer, Jack. The fucking farmer, who owns the fucking farm. So why don’t you sit down with us, tell us all your problems, and then let us know how we can make your coop nicer, Jack? ’
Jack sighed, crossing his arms in front of him, mirroring the pose of the picture above the bar, cock-sized knife sheathed. Then he extended his hand to shake Nick’s. ‘You’ll come to see that I like Abbey, Nick. She’s a straight shooter, and she never takes my bullshit.’
‘She doesn’t take mine either,’ Nick said simply.
Utter bullshit. I put up with so much of his shit, it’s not remotely funny.
It took Nick approximately an hour to sort out Jack.
The chef wanted a Michelin star for Fiefdom and had a list of demands that came along with the attempt to get it.
Nick had no objections to Jack’s plan, so there was no real argument.
They both knew they would have to put significant pressure on Michelin to make it happen because, geographically, they chose not to assess restaurants in Australia.
Nick was prepared for some manoeuvring of the budget required to obtain it and they detailed out a six-month plan, which I took notes on.
Once everything was resolved, to Jack’s satisfaction, we were offered a table at the restaurant that night, which Nick declined. The civilised nature of the conversation and the business objectives aside, I could clearly see that Nick disliked Jack. He had that effect on people.
Jack walked us to the foyer. ‘Abbey, I hear you are single again, babe. I finish at eleven tonight. If you want to come to mine? I bet you’re a minx in bed.
I’d love to get under that pencil skirt.
I’d want you in black lace underneath, though.
How do you feel about bondage, babe? I can just imagine using that tie around your throat—’
Nick turned and grabbed Jack by the throat of his chef whites, pushing him up against the nearest wall.
Jack’s shock turned to laughter. ‘Uh, I’ve obviously overstepped.’
‘Do you think I give a shit about who you are, Fife? Everything here is mine, not yours. If you do not like it, you can sod off. If you decide to stay and I ever hear you disrespect another employee of mine or hear a whisper of sexual harassment, a breath of inappropriate behaviour, I will put you out on your arse and find another fucking cook. Do I make myself clear?’ Nick’s eyes were glittering, and his voice was like ice. ‘Apologise. Immediately.’
The silence hung in the lobby. My heart was pounding so loudly it was all I could hear. Jack looked as if he desperately wanted to be defiant. He wasn’t an idiot though, and he knew power when he saw it.
‘I apologise,’ he said to Nick.
‘Not to me, idiot.’
‘Abbey, I’m sorry if I offended you.’
Nick released his grip and stepped back. He then turned and walked to the waiting lift, and held it for me.
Jack held my gaze for a beat too long, the thought clearly occurring to him that I might be sleeping with Nick. But then he shook his head, remembering he’d never managed the conquest, so Nick could not possibly have. He walked back to the restaurant, and I turned to the lift.
Once we were inside, Nick went to step towards me, but I pointed to the camera, and he stopped moving. His breathing was heavy, a flush underneath his stubble.
‘Where is your bag?’ he growled out raggedly.
‘At reception. Why?’
‘We’re not staying here. There are too many eyes.’
‘I’m not staying, Nick.’
‘Abbey. I’m asking you to stay.’
The doors opened to the main lobby. I noticed everyone looking at him, then the murmurs of ‘new owner’ and his name being whispered.
I felt suddenly protective of him. It was a fishbowl at Delacqua.
He couldn’t stay here and be enraged over another man being disrespectful to me without everyone knowing something was going on between us.
He walked to reception, grabbed my bag without speaking to anyone, and then headed out the front to where his driver was waiting.
The weather had turned wild, and wind was gusting up the street. It was forceful. It pushed me sideways.
‘Nick, I am not coming with you. I’m done. I cannot do this with you anymore,’ I shouted over the top of it.
‘Abbey, please. Get in the car. We can’t speak out here.’ His hair was whipping about wildly.
‘What is there to say?’ I shook my head and went to grab my bag.
He held it out of my reach. ‘I will drive you to the airport. Get in the car.’
‘I can get a cab, Nick.’
‘Abbey, please,’ he yelled. ‘Please.’
I could hear the heartbreak in his voice, and I felt his emotion in my body.
I nodded, and he opened the door for me to get in.
I sat in the welcome silence out of the wind and closed my eyes against the feeling of giving in to him; I placed my palms on top of the leather seat and tried to centre myself while he walked around the car and got in the other side.
Once he was in, he gave me a long assessing look and then spoke to his driver.
‘Steve, I’m so sorry, I realise the weather is wild, but can you give us a few minutes, please? Go get a coffee or something?’
‘Of course, Mr Northby.’ Steve exited the car and the minute the door closed, Nick turned to me.
‘Abbey. What is going on? You left dinner Monday night upset and now, trying to deal with Fife without me, which quite frankly makes me absolutely bloody horrified now that I’ve met the prick … Why are you trying to put distance between us?’
‘Are you blind?’ I asked him. ‘Or are you choosing to ignore what should be absolutely clear to you. Which is it?’
He went to speak, and I cut him off, unable to hold on to it for a second longer. ‘Nick, I am in love with you. I love you. I want you to love me. And I want you to let me love you.’
His eyes went wide, and then his face softened.
‘I knew. I mean, I know what you think and where your boundaries are, but I haven’t told you mine, Nick.
I haven’t made those clear and we are so fucking past them, it isn’t even remotely amusing.
I think I was in love with you before I left the resort.
’ My voice dropped to a heartbroken whisper, and he reached out, taking my hand in his.
‘I honestly think I was. But now this constant having you near but not having you thing. The sex whenever you feel like it. The fucking perfect, perfect family dinner with our girls. You keep doing nice things for me, but denying you feel anything. My body and my heart respond to you as if you are mine. You will break me if it doesn’t stop.
And I can’t. Not anymore.’ Now the honesty was flowing, it was kind of hard to stop it.
‘Is this about the doctor?’ he whispered. A flash of jealousy escaped that we both knew he had no right to.
I snorted. ‘I need to move on from this. And it isn’t about someone else.
But it’s not going to work with the doctor, it’s not going to work at all.
He’s fine. He’s perfect. Most women would love him.
Hell, I think Kate may love him. But it doesn’t matter to me.
It’s not going to work because he is not you, Nick.
I think about you all day. I dream about a life with you at night.
I worry about you endlessly. I love your family like they’re my own.
I love you with a fierceness I do not recognise. I haven’t felt like this before. Ever.
‘And I’m not even sure you deserve it, because you give me nothing.
You keep everything so compartmentalised that you are unknowable.
And I’m done. I feel like I’m dreaming or imagining there is something between us because every time you get the opportunity to declare your feelings, you don’t. I cannot do this anymore.’
Nick
There was this huge part of me screaming to tell her the truth. It was making my mouth water at the thought of saying it to her. I was salivating. I love you too. Please do not ever, ever leave me.
I shut my eyes against it and tried to find the darkest day I could.
It was two weeks after I had buried her.
Oliver had come through the door and the house was as dark as I was, even though it was midday.
Summer was screaming. She was screaming so much she was taking these outraged breaths in between because it had gone on so long.
I was collapsed against a wall, unable to move.
It had been four days since I had slept, and I had not changed my clothes or showered in that time.
I’d fired all our staff, telling them to get the fuck out.
I remembered the shock on Ollie’s face and him running to Summer to hold her.
I remember him coming back into the lounge, shouting my name.
I’m not sure I could hear him. But I remember Summer.
She was sweating and red and her little body was convulsing with these stuttering breaths, and she pressed into Ollie as if she could not get close enough to him.
‘I’m sorry, Abbey.’ I opened my eyes and forced myself to look at her. There was no surprise in her face. Hope had not been there. She knew I would shut her down even as she spoke. How fucking brave is that?
Her phone vibrated in her lap.
‘Fuck,’ she breathed.
‘What is it?’
‘They’ve just closed the airport. All flights are cancelled.’
I looked outside the window at the gale-force winds. Somehow, the world was conspiring for us to be together.
Her hand reached for her grandmother’s pendant and the other hand, which was in mine, was limp.
‘I’m sorry we lost Grandma Iris’s necklace on that adventure, back at the waterfall. But I’m not sorry for what happened between us over there,’ I said quietly to her. ‘I’ll never be sorry for it. I care about you so much. I care more than I can ever tell you.’
She looked at me and nodded. Her eyes were a grey colour reflecting the sky outside.
‘Stay. Delacqua will pay for a hotel room. I want you to stay. You make the rules, okay. You decide everything. I’d like to hang out and talk some more.’ The hopeful note in my voice was painful.
She looked at me for a long time and then gave a very slow nod, squeezing my hand and I sagged a little. I was relieved I had twenty-four more hours with her, at least. I would spend every second with her she would allow and then, when she decided she’d had enough, I would respect that too.