His lips kick up in a sweet smile. “Sweetness, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you.” Again with the sweet statements. I may have to check he hasn’t had a personality transplant. I want to crack a joke at him, but I don’t.
“Thanks.” I smile.
He takes my hand, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “No-one gets to put you down except me.” He flashes me that charming smile and a wink.
Hugo stays and hangs out with me. I don’t know if it’s weird that I spend more time with Hugo than I do with Alex, like a lot more time. I guess that’s just how it goes when Alex works ridiculous shifts, and Hugo doesn’t work at all. I’m well aware of the fact that Hugo and I hang out mainly because he currently has no-one else. I’m sure that as soon as Theo and Lilly come back things will go back to normal, and we’ll see each other on social occasions like we did before. That thought makes me sad. Hugo and I have become the most unlikely of friends. I doubted we would ever have anything beyond flirtation and sexual innuendos, but I think I judged him too quickly. Under his bullshit, he’s a good guy. He’s borderline insane most of the time, and he does some crazy shit, but he’s good.
I send Alex a text wishing him a good night. I don’t get one back, but then I don’t expect it. He’s working the late shift tonight.
We eat pizza, drink wine and watch this year’s Victoria Secret fashion show. I love all the theatrics of it, and well…Hugo isn’t exactly complaining. I eventually fall asleep watching some film with my head on his lap. Who knew that under that man-whore exterior is really just a big softie.
************
I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I’m wearing a pencil skirt with a fitted blouse tucked into it. My father would approve. God, really? Part of me wants to throw on a mini dress and thigh high boots just to get a reaction, but honestly, I just want to get this over with as quietly as possible. I lift my hand to tuck my poker straight blonde hair behind my ear, and notice that my hand is shaking. I snatch my fingers into a fist. “Man the fuck up Molly.” I growl at myself under my breath.
My stomach is in knots, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I’m debating sending him a message to tell him I’m ill, when I hear a quiet tap tap on my bedroom door.
“Come in.” I shout through the bathroom doorway.
I hear the bedroom door click open, and then Hugo appears in the doorway. He leans against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest. His fitted shirt strains over his biceps and shoulders, and he’s wearing trousers, proper suit trousers.
I can feel my eyebrows creep up to my hairline. “Wow, you look really smart.” I comment.
His face breaks into a smile, and suddenly the handsome stranger turns back into the Hugo I know. “Thanks, sweetness. Needs must and all that. Wouldn’t want your dad to think you’re dating someone who doesn’t know how to dress properly.” I’ve seen Hugo go to some of the smartest parties, and he never dresses appropriately. We once went to a black tie do, and he wore a suit and shirt, with no tie. That’s the smartest I’ve ever seen him. For dinner with my father, I thought black jeans was being pretty hopeful. Smart looks good on him though, like really good. Those trousers are clinging in all the right places. I shouldn’t be ogling Hugo, but he’s a good distraction right now.
His smile widens into a full blown grin. “You keep checking me out like that and we won’t be going anywhere.” My eyes flash to his. He laughs. “I’ll have to wait a while for Rambo to calm his shit down.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? Do you have an off switch?”
“I prefer to be turned on.” He smirks at himself. “Anyway, enough fantasising about my cock, you. We going?”
I take a deep breath. Ready as I’ll ever be. “Sure.”
He narrows his eyes at me, watching me closely. I push past him out of the bathroom and through the bedroom. Best to just get this shit out of the way I think.
My stomach clenches hard as I walk into Cote. The hostess greets us at the door and leads me into the restaurant. Hugo follows, keeping his palm on the small of my back, as we move through the busy restaurant.
My father is seated at a table, his young fiancé seated next to him. Of course, I should have expected him to bring his latest bit of stuff. Jesus, she’s not much older than me. I’ve never actually met her in person. Just heard about her. She’s the one he left the secretary for. Shit, what’s her name?
“Molly.” He says as he stands.
“Dad.” He sort of hugs me, although it’s stiff and clearly uncomfortable. He pulls away quickly, and his eyes narrow on Hugo. “Who’s this?” He asks, his voice brusque.
“This is Hugo Harrison. He’s a friend.” I quickly add. I don’t turn to look at Hugo. I can imagine what my father is seeing. Cocky smile, messy, just fucked hair, and a suit that’s worth more money than the average person’s car. Hugo is a walking contradiction if ever I saw one. I also have no doubt that he’s probably got his eyes firmly trained on the fiancé’s very ample cleavage. Not that my father can really judge him. I can’t imagine he’s with her for her sparkling personality.
No matter how self-righteous they are, deep down, all men are the same. They’re all animals. At least Hugo admits it. Men like my father make me sick, so bloody determined to be better than everyone else, but under it all, they are just as corrupt, if not more so. My father likes to pretend that he’s holier than thou, and yet he cheated on his wife, his beautiful wife. For what? Instant gratification? A little wild sex? He’s no better than anyone. He’s a total failure. I know this, and yet when he looks at me, I can almost feel myself buckling under the pressure of it.
“Sit.” He snaps. He’s not happy that Hugo’s here, and even though I didn’t want Hugo to come with me, I’m now pleased he’s here. I have to stop myself from reaching out and taking his hand.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé?” I say with false politeness.
“This is Monique.”
She turns her gaze to me. “Hello Molly.” She has a heavy Russian accent. It would seem he likes his Russian beauties. She has long dark hair, and bright hazel eyes. Her lips are full, her boobs even fuller and her waist tiny. She’s wearing a light blue blouse, with a navy blazer over the top, and a string of pearls around her throat. She looks out of place in the attire. My father is clearly attempting to make her look older, or classier, or both. It’s not working, she just looks ridiculous.
“Do you mind me asking how old you are, Monique?” I ask in fluent Russian. From the corner of my eye, I see Hugo’s head whip around to face me. My father stiffens.
Monique’s lips pull up at the corners. “You speak Russian? I’m impressed.” She replies in her native tongue.
I nod. “Yes, my mother taught me.” Her face falls slightly. “She’s half Russian.”
Her smile disappears, and she reverts back to English. “In answer to your question, I’m twenty six.” Huh, she looks younger. That’s old for a Russian girl. They usually get married early.
“Molly.” My father hisses under his breathe.
I ignore him and turn my attention to Hugo. “What do you want to drink?” I ask him, trying to crawl out from under my father’s harsh glare.
Hugo has a small smile on his face, as though he finds this entire situation amusing. “Corona please, babe.” I narrow my eyes at him and he blows me a kiss.
When the waiter comes over I order his Corona and a glass of red wine for myself. He takes our food order whilst he’s here. I always get the steak here.
“So Hugo, what do you do?” My father asks.
Hugo shrugs. “Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that.” I smile at my father’s exasperated expression, glad it’s not only reserved for me. “I own a distribution company, as well as some other business ventures. Property, a bar, a night club, oh and a strip club. Can’t forget that one.” He smirks at me. Fucking Hugo.
“Small businesses then?” My father asks, that condescending tone of his kicking in.
Hugo laughs. I sigh and turn to my dad, taking pity on him before he embarrasses himself, although he doesn’t have to try to look like an arse, it comes very naturally. “He owns HH Distribution.”
My fathers eyes go wide, and Hugo tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling. “You’re
that
Hugo Harrison?”
Hugo rolls his head to the side, like a defiant teenager. “The one and only.” I don’t know which way this will go. My father appreciates a good businessman, but Hugo is more famous for his partying, womanising antics than he is for his business prowess. He and Theo have made quite a name for themselves over the years. With Theo getting engaged and settling down of course, Hugo is now a one man partying and fucking machine.
Just when I think he’s going to say something, he turns his attentions on me. “And what about you Molly? Are you still working as an assistant?” He spits the word assistant as though it insults him.
“Yes.” I reply without emotion.
He turns to Hugo. “I had such high hopes for her, but her mother filled her head with dreams of journalism, and now she’s an
assistant
.”
Hugo presses his lips together in a thin line, actually looking serious for once. “Molly wants to be an editor. What better way to learn than to assist the editor of one of the biggest publications in the country?”
My father shakes his head. “You could have been anything Molly. You went to the best schools…” Okay, so apparently he’s realised that Hugo will not side with him on this, and reverted back to his usual tactics of ‘let’s make Molly feel like a total fucking let down.’ I say nothing.
Hugo however, says a lot. “You know, my parents did nothing but pressure me when I was going through school and college. They paid for me to go to Eaton, expected me to get into Oxford, but I hated it. Business acumen is not learned in the classroom. So whilst they sat there bragging to all their posh prick friends about how their son was in Eaton, I was getting wasted, and shoving enough cocaine up my nose to start my own cartel.” He laughs. My father blanches. “All of their money and their pressure was a total waste of time. I dropped out in my second year of A-levels and disowned them. A friend helped me start up my business, and here I am today, richer and happier than my parents will ever be.” He drags his hands through his messy hair. “The worst thing you can do is tell someone they aren’t good enough. It just makes them resent you.” I glance at him and flash him an appreciative smile.
A waiter interrupts to bring our food. Hugo’s hand reaches out and covers mine on my lap. “You okay?” He whispers.
I nod. I’m not okay, but I’m no worse than I usually am around my dad. God, I wish I could just give him the fucking finger. But unless I want both George and I to have to live in some hell hole flat, I have to stick it out. George and I couldn’t even afford half the rent on our flat without my dad paying for it. I know he only does it to keep a hold over me, which just makes it worse.
As various dishes are placed on the table, I sneak a quick look across the table at Monique. She hasn’t said a word. The perfect wife, seen and not heard. Just how Sebastian Curtis likes his wives. My mother never really fit that bracket. She was always wild and free, a butterfly that he liked to keep in a jar. As a child, I never really understood their relationship. If he loved her, then why did he want to change her? I look exactly like my mother, and I have many of her traits. Since I was thirteen years old, he’s been trying to tame me, because he couldn’t tame her. He would never willingly divorce her, because it wouldn’t look good. So instead, he had an affair with his pathetic secretary. Seriously, the woman wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Of course when my mother found out she left him, which shocked the shit out of him. I remember him telling her that she was nothing without him. Truth is, he was nothing without her. When he was with her, there was a shred of kindness in him. He was the cold hearted businessman, but deep down, he loved his crazy and beautiful wife, he loved me. Just not enough. He brought about his own destruction. A small part of me pities him.
I’m his only child, and an eternal disappointment to him. I don’t know why I care, but I just can’t help myself, no matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t.
As anticipated, dinner was awkward as hell. I slide into the seat of Hugo’s bright orange Lamborghini and rest my head back against the smooth leather.
Hugo gets in next to me, and says nothing for a while. “Your dad is a fucking dick.”
I laugh. “Yep.”
“Want to go get drunk?” He asks.
“Yep.”
Hugo stops at a Bargain Booze garage on the way home, which makes me laugh. Fuck knows what dodgy shit he’s buying.
As soon as I get inside Hugo’s flat, Gaz runs over to me, well, sort of shuffles really. I crouch down and stroke the ugly bugger. He presses against me, wanting to touch as much of me as possible, whilst his bum wiggles around in a happy dance.
“That dog is soft as shit over you.” Hugo mumbles.
“I’m weirdly fond of his dribbling, snoring ways.”
He snorts. “Someone has to be.” Hugo is so full of shit. He loves this dog. I’m pretty sure if anyone else took a shit on his rug, they’d be out.
I stand and make my way through to the living room. Gary follows behind me, sounding like a little pig, snorting as he goes. Poor guy can barely breathe.
“Here.” Hugo appears from the kitchen doorway and hands me a glass of …something. A sniff tells me it has a lot of vodka in it. I take a big gulp and wince at the burn. Okay, more like three parts vodka to one part soda.
“Oh god, that’s nasty.”
“It was ten quid for the bottle. Of course it’s nasty.” He points out. “You don’t drink it for the taste.” He says, chuckling to himself.
He presses a button on a remote, and rock music starts blaring through the sound system.
Three triple vodkas in and I’m pissed. “I mean really, I should expect it. He’s such a prick.”
He nods his head. “Yeah, we established that the last ten times you said it.” He says with a wry smile on his lips.
“God, you must hate me.” I moan. Poor Hugo, listening to my shit all the time. I’m just hurt. My dad always hurts me. “I’m pathetic.”