Sexy as Hell Box Set (79 page)

“Why the hell would you want to be around me?” she asked scornfully.

“You know why. And when I love someone, I
love
them. All out love. I mean, think about Helen. About what she did to me, those blatant lies. I could have let her control the rest of my life. I could have gone through my days never allowing myself to get close to or trust someone again, but you came along, and, although you might not want to hear this, I fell damn hard for you. I can’t let you go without a fight, Zara. I won’t let you go—unless you truly convince me you don’t want me. And you can’t do that, can you?”

She shook her head, a barely perceptible shake, but a shake all the same.

“I didn’t think so,” I said. “So, while you’re in the shower, perhaps have a think about those bastards—and I include your mother in that term—and how you’re going to evict them. They’ve been trailing you around for far too long. Only you can make them leave.”

“And you,” she said quietly. “
I need your help.”

I was shocked for a second or two that she’d said that. Christ, had she finally,
finally
come to accept that with my help she could get through this? That was a massive milestone reached. I swallowed, blinked.

“And me,” I said hoarsely, kissing the top of her ear. “
You’ve most definitely got my help.” I paused. “And it’s time to let them go. To stop them from dictating the rest of your life. You love me, I know you do, you just have to give yourself permission to embrace it fully. It’ll be tough, I do realise that, you know, but if you don’t give in, you’re really the same old Zara they once knew.”

That had been harsh, but saying it bluntly might be the only way she’d see.

She gave that barely there nod again. “What if you hurt me? What if…things don’t go as we want them to?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if, later down the line, we don’t make it?”

I’d had similar thoughts myself but was fucked if I’d dwell on them. “We can’t predict the future,” I said. “We can’t know what’s around the corner. How long we’ll last, whether we’ll get through this and end up old and grey together, but if it’s what we want, won’t the journey be worth it anyway? I can’t imagine not being with you now, woman. As far as I’m concerned, in my head I’ve already got our double burial spot sorted. Do you see what I’m saying? No matter what happens, what comes along, I can’t see me doing it without you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she sighed.

“He won’t help you,” I said, smiling against the wisps of her hair. “You have to help yourself. Sometimes in life, you just have to help your damn self. Take what you want and enjoy it while you can. Otherwise you’ll have regrets. What-ifs. And,” I went for lightening the mood, “you already have a suitcase full of those buggers, so trying to cram more in when it’s over-spilling and you know you can’t close the zip…
D’you see what I mean?”

“I see exactly what you mean,” she said, lifting both hands to stroke my forearms.

She didn’t turn to nestle her face against my chest. She didn’t twist her head to look up at me. But blimey, I so wanted her to. But I realised, when it came to totally baring herself, she had to do it without making eye contact. I sensed she was about to say something big, something of such import that I’d be hard pressed not to cry.

“And I have to say,” she said, “you’re a clever bastard, Victor Partridge. Cruel and mean and clever, but I do believe, as difficult as it is to say it…” She paused. Took a deep breath. Let it out. “That I love you.”

That had been hard. To tell him that I loved him.

I curled my hands around his forearms and peeled them away from me, pushed off him and began undressing, still with my back to him. I waited for him to spin me around, to pull me to him and state he loved me, too, somewhat dreading it if he did. There was only so much I could cope with at any given time, and his words had hit home—right where it hurt, yet right where they’d needed to be. Conversely, I also
wanted
him to hold me, to whisper wonderful words to further make me believe that we could do this thing.

I discarded the last of my clothing then stepped into the shower, fully aware he was still in the room. I wondered why he hadn’t acted true to form, why he hadn’t done as I’d expected. Perhaps he’d sensed I needed to be left alone, to have a few moments in between my declaration and any further conversation. Yes, that behaviour fitted him to a T. Victor had always known what I needed, and that should tell me something, shouldn’t it? That he was right, that no matter what the future held, we ought to give it a go and walk the path together. Although I wanted that, could finally admit to myself that I wanted that, there was still a part of me that insisted I didn’t deserve him. That I didn’t deserve anyone.

After all, who could love a domineering, selfish woman? Who would want to? It seemed Victor could and did, and it would take me a little while to come to terms with that. Possibly a long while.

I felt him leave the room, his presence vanishing and leaving me feeling so very alone that I almost turned around to call him back. Maybe ask him to join me in the shower, even though he’d already had one. But I didn’t. Instead, I washed my hair, thinking of all the things
they
had ensured I’d done since I’d left the town I’d grown up in. Bloody hell, how right Victor was. How they had controlled my life.

No, how
I’ve
let them control my life.

Anger surged up inside me then, bitter, sour, hot anger that flooded my system and had me sagging against the tiles. Tears weren’t far off, and my first instinct was to stop their arrival, but it seemed they were too strong, too insistent on trickling down my face. And, sod it, I let them. I didn’t sob, didn’t make any noise at all, just let them fall. The weight I’d been lugging around with me for what seemed my whole life began to lighten. Only a bit, but that bit was a freeing blessing. I could only imagine how I would feel with all of it gone. Already I felt so liberated, so bloody brilliant.

I went through the motions of showering, then got out, dried, and returned to the bedroom. No wonder I’d felt his leaving the bathroom so keenly—he wasn’t in the bedroom either. Panic, something that belonged in my past and hadn’t had a place in my life since I’d been eighteen, ripped through me. Had what I’d said frightened him off? I stalked the room naked, berating myself for letting him know my feelings, for being stupid enough to open up. As I passed the bed for the umpteenth time, a piece of paper on it caught my attention. I frowned, picked it up, and read what had been written there.

Dear Woman-Who-Has-Made-My-Life,

I’ve gone down to the bar to give you some time to yourself. I’ll wait as long as you need me to, and if you’re not down there with me by midnight, I’ll take it that you’ve fallen asleep and I’ll come back up. I know how difficult that was for you to say, how you’ve probably never said it to anyone before, and smothering you…well, I don’t think that’s the way to go. So, my dearest girl, you know where I am when you’re ready.

From The-Man-Who-Plans-To-Make-Your-Life

Relief so swift hit me hard, and I plunked down onto the bed, clutching the note to my chest. So this was how it was, how it was going to be, was it? This love business, so difficult on the emotions yet so joyous to experience. I liked and hated it in equal measure. It was all so bloody confusing, so against everything I’d told myself to believe. Could I just go with it? Let myself be me, allow him to sweep me off my feet with this romance shit? Show me that loving him wouldn’t be so bad?

One weekend, that’s what I’d given him, and look how deep he’d burrowed so far. If I wasn’t careful, by tomorrow night he’d have me hook, line and sinker.

Would that be such a bad thing?

I stood then went to my bag, securing the note in the zipped pouch inside.
I’d keep it forever. After dressing quickly in a slinky, floor-length black dress, I dried my hair and ruffled my fingers through it to create a messy yet sexy look, a little different from my sleek curtains of hair, but hey, I was feeling different, so why shouldn’t that show on the outside too? A dash of make-up applied and I scooped up my small black bag, left the room and made my way down the corridor.

I decided to take the stairs instead of the lift, perversely wanting to make him wait a little longer. I had to stop that kind of behaviour
, though, being such a bitch just because I could—because, as Victor would say, I would be in control that way—yet it was so
in
me to do that kind of thing I didn’t really have the first clue how to teach myself to stop it.

On the floor below ours, a ripple of female laughter had me thinking. Who was to say she hadn’t had a crappy past, yet there she was, laughing her head off at something or other. Millions of people had had dodgy events in their lives, and they hadn’t let it ruin their futures. I just had to learn to be the same way, to embrace everything Victor was willing to give and teach me. No holds barred.
It was going to be excruciating and wonderful at the same time.

That brought me up short. I stopped walking and leant against the wall beside one of the room doors. I’d just thought in the positive, that I was willing to make my next steps be beside Victor, with him in my life as my partner, my lover, my…
Master?

“Dear fucking God…” I whispered on an exhale. “What the hell has happened to me? What has he done?”

I closed my eyes, and another peal of laughter tinkled towards me. I could be like that woman, couldn’t I? Carefree and happy, just being me, the person I didn’t even know anymore. Who
was
the real me? A strong sense of wanting to find out overtook me, and I opened my eyes to see the owner of that laugh at one of the doors ahead, her arms out in front of her, and two male hands grasping her wrists as though he were trying to tug her back inside. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy yet somehow elegant topple of curls, made by a set of tongs if I was any judge. Her crimson dress hugged her curves and reached to her ankles, and her feet looked so small and dainty in a pair of bright red, strappy, high-heeled sandals.

“Stop it,” she said. “
If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the entire first night of the ball and we’re already so late since you distracted me in the shower.” She giggled. “Not that I’m complaining, and you
did
put your mask in my bag, didn’t you?”

Her man said something I didn’t catch—his voice had been too low, too quiet—and she flicked one of his hands off her wrist then swatted what I imagined was his chest.

“It’ll get squashed in your pocket,” she said, laughing again.

“No different to my cock,” he said loudly, “which is being squashed quite painfully in my boxers as we speak. The poor thing’s hard and wanting you to suck the life out of it.”

My blood ran cold. That voice… I shook my head. No, it couldn’t be. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel, would it? Of all the places they could have gone, how was it they had chosen Venice at the exact time myself and Victor were here? Why did fate always seem to have it in for me?

I was imagining things, that was it, but as I peered harder at the woman and properly made out her profile, I knew—knew that the man’s voice was his and no one else’s.

Fuck.

I pushed off the wall with flutters of insecurity
in my chest—and that just wasn’t damn well on—and turned back to make for the stairs that would take me to our room, where I could wait until I felt ready to go down to the bar, where I’d haul the old Zara out and to the forefront so any emotions I hadn’t dealt with in regards to him wouldn’t be plain as day on my face.

The woman seemed to sense me and turned her head to look at me.

Too late, I’d left it too bloody late.

She widened her eyes, and her mouth dropped open for a second or two before she composed herself and snapped it shut. I dragged wicked Zara out of her hiding place and plastered on a sardonic smile, then walked towards her as though I were the most confident woman on the planet. She lifted her hand to her hair, patted it, the gesture telling me she wasn’t as secure in her emotions as she’d maybe like me to think. Then she offered a quick smile before glancing into her room.

“Come in here,” he said. “Come in here and let me spank that saucy little bottom of yours.”

The thought of him doing that to her brought a rush of memories. Of how he’d been so submissive with me. Of how he’d so quickly changed roles with her. The irony wasn’t lost on me. If he could change, then why couldn’t I? If he’d tried one side of his personality on for size and realised it didn’t fit right, then selecting the opposite, why the bloody hell shouldn’t I?

Suddenly, the pair of them were nothing more than people. Just people. Strangers. And they
were
strangers now, especially him. The person he’d been before no longer existed, so I didn’t know him now anyway. Just like he didn’t know me, not the way Victor did anyway.

I drew closer to them, smiled wider, and stopped beside the woman. “Hello.” I nodded politely
at Helen then shifted my gaze to him. “Geoffrey.”