Chapter Thirty-Two Jade
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jade
‘Wow.’ Reece props himself up on one arm and looks at me. ‘That was . . . amazing.’
I can’t help but smile, breathless and a little smug.
Judging from his expression, it’s possible that Bella might have been crap in bed.
Maybe she used sex as a currency, not as a pleasure, or maybe she was just too bored to even try.
I say nothing, just roll myself closer and tuck my face into his neck.
I feel his pulse against my lips, his skin warm and soft, scented faintly with last night’s cologne and the citrusy tang of his sweat.
‘You weren’t so bad yourself,’ I murmur.
He huffs a pleased sound, then starts tracing slow lines and shapes across my skin.
His fingers are gentle, a little uncertain, drawing maps along my spine and hips.
There’s something overly attentive about the way he touches me, like he’s marking out a new discovery, or maybe making sure I’m real.
I feel a shiver of realisation – for the first time, I’m not pretending at being Bella.
I’m actually her, in her life, drinking in all these textures and smells and emotions, letting myself float in her bed with her boyfriend in her impossibly expensive flat. I’m not acting anymore.
‘Not to be weird, but . . . you seem changed somehow.’ Reece keeps his voice low, as if he doesn’t want to startle the moment. ‘Like, since last night – I dunno. You’re different.’
My stomach plummets for a second. Is he on to me? Do I seem off? Was my kiss the wrong kind of kiss, the wrong flavour of Bella? But Reece just looks at me with a sort of lazy, half-drunk admiration – like a man faced with the best steak he’s ever eaten by surprise.
‘Not in a bad way,’ he adds. ‘I’m not complaining or anything.’
I make a show of yawning and stretching, buying myself a beat. ‘New year, new me.’ I kiss his cheek, soft as a feather. I desperately hope it sounds like something Bella would say.
‘Well, I like the new you. I like it a lot.’
‘Good,’ I reply. ‘I want to try being more relaxed. Less work, more play.’
‘Really?’ Reece sits up. ‘You don’t know how pleased I am to hear you say that, Bells. Things have been so . . . serious lately.’
‘I know. So let’s have some fun. Go out more, maybe book a holiday.’
‘Are you sure you can do that?’ he asks. ‘What about all your work commitments that you’ve been stressing about?’
‘That’s why I have staff, right?’
Reece laughs and inches his hand a little further down my back.
We come together again, easy as pie, even though I feel a tiny flare of guilt that I’m not the person he thinks I am.
Afterwards, with limbs tangled, he falls asleep at once, his mouth grazing my shoulder and his warm breath stirring my hair.
I lie awake in the peaceful near-dark, my eyes drifting up to the picture-perfect ceiling rose and chandelier, trying not to think about how different it is from Mum’s old flat, where there was always a permanent night-time glow from an angry streetlamp in the car park or from the flickering screen of the telly after-hours.
I try not to think about Zac, or the way he always wanted to snuggle afterwards.
Instead, I focus on Reece’s solidity. On how he makes me feel safe and protected after such a short time.
I think I misjudged him. I thought he was going to be a boring posh twat.
But he’s sexy, with a great body and a dark sense of humour that matches my own.
And it also doesn’t hurt that his family is super-rich.
Although I guess I don’t need to worry about that, as I now have my own money.
There was a point when I embarked on this scheme where I didn’t believe I was capable of actually pulling it off.
There were too many obstacles. Too many things that could go wrong.
I had to set everything else aside and focus on the endgame to the detriment of my family, my relationship with Zac, my morals, possibly even my freedom.
Because if anyone discovered what I was up to, that would have been it for my life.
Game over. But I’m here. I’m doing it. I’m leading a charmed life as Bella Newbury.
My mind is racing so much with the enormity of it all that I don’t think I’ll be able to get a wink of sleep tonight.
Still, I must have drifted, because the next thing I know, a slant of watery sun is creeping through the curtains and Reece is standing by the bed, stroking my hair.
‘Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead.’
I slide my eyes fully open and stare up at the handsome face of Reece Kernan-Jones – my boyfriend. ‘Hey,’ I croak, as the events of last night come rushing back in a wave of unreality.
‘Made you a coffee.’ He nods at the bedside table where a chunky mug waits on a coaster.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, feeling a little shy this morning without the help of alcohol.
He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a million directions. ‘I’ve got to head over to the parents for New Year’s lunch. Are you sure you can’t come?’
Bella must have had a reason why she wasn’t able to go, and I’m glad because, much as I’m really starting to like Reece, I don’t feel quite ready to meet his parents and any other family members who might be there.
I’m nervous that any little thing might give me away – the wrong laugh, the wrong wine order, the wrong reference to a childhood holiday.
I know from Bella’s WhatsApp history that Reece’s parents are intimidating, old-money kind of people, and that she always found them exhausting.
If she found them difficult, then it certainly wouldn’t be a walk in the park for me, especially as I used up all my charlatan bravado last night.
I need to recharge before attending any other social engagements.
‘I’d have loved to, but I can’t today,’ I say.
‘What about your promise last night to work less?’
‘I meant it. Just let me get through the next few days, and I’ll clear some more time.’ Hopefully, my vague waffle will satisfy him.
‘Okay, I’m holding you to that.’ He presses his lips to mine, slow and sweet. I taste coffee and toothpaste. He lingers, like he doesn’t want to leave, and I have to push him away, laughing.
He groans. ‘God, Bells, what’s got into you?’
‘Nothing . . . yet,’ I reply with a smirk.
He pulls back and looks at me with surprise.
I immediately realise that I shouldn’t be so forward. This wasn’t how Bella acted with him. I grin, trying to brazen it out. ‘What? I told you this year I was going to be more fun. This is me, trying.’
‘Well, I like it. But I really have to go. You know what Dad’s like when I’m late.’
‘Go.’ I make a shooing motion.
‘I’ll try to get away early. Then we can carry on where we left off. You’ll call me later?’ he asks, already halfway out the door. ‘Or, you know, we could meet at the pub after?’
‘Pub sounds perfect. Text me when you’re done.’
He slips out, with one last bemused look, and then I’m finally alone.
Once the door slams behind him, I feel the whole flat shift and settle, like a lake surface smoothing after a boat has left the shore.
I stretch out decadently in Bella’s king-size.
It’s such a luxury to sleep on an expensive mattress, rather than Mum’s saggy sofa bed.
When I was little, Mum would say, ‘Don’t get used to things, love.
Everything changes in the end.’ I somehow don’t think this is what she meant.
The thought of Mum back home in her flat alone on New Year’s Day brings me down, so I push away the image and instead let myself marinate in the memory of last night – the dark tangle of Reece’s hair in my fingers, the sharp clean smell of his aftershave, the way he looked at me with that weird, soft awe.
I’ve never been the object of awe. Desire, sure – hunger, sometimes – but not awe.
I try not to think about Zac. But of course, I do.
I think about the way he used to pull me up against him like I was a bear he’d won at a funfair.
He’s not built like Reece – he’s thinner, paler, always a bit hunched, as if he suspects that any moment the world might swat him away.
I go through the list of last night’s disloyalties and count them off on my fingers.
I don’t feel as guilty as I should. Or maybe I do, but it’s too late for guilt.
I sit up and take a sip of my coffee. Even my morning beverage tastes expensive – a little too strong, but I could get used to it.
Bella has one of those bean-to-cup machines that probably costs more than the average person’s monthly rent.
I press the side of the mug to my cheek, savouring the warmth, and stare out at the view from Bella’s window, which is mostly rooftops and a pale slice of January sky.
The flat is absurdly, impossibly quiet. No toddler shrieking from next door, no arguing couple upstairs, no creak of central-heating pipes, no tinny radio in the background.
Even the fridge hum is soft and expensive-sounding, like an executive toy rather than an appliance.
I take my coffee and walk around the flat just to feel the warm wood floors beneath my feet.
I run my hand along the furniture, like touching it will make it more real.
The rest of the morning passes in a delicious haze of laziness and satisfaction.
I shower in the beautiful, oversized jewel-green cubicle, letting the rainfall showerhead soak me from top to bottom.
I tip my face straight into the deluge and let it flood my nose and eyes, feeling like I could drown right here and be happy about it.