#just got yelled at for raising a serious safety concern in an email

[choking-on-roses]

I think I'm going to quit my job in February regardless of if I get this new job or not.

[lovestrucked-again]

Sanguine I Mafia

Genre: Mafia AU Warnings: dark themes Word Count: 3k ANON Ask: Hi I really LOVE your writing and I’d like to request the reader in the nct mafia series gets in some trouble with another company. Serious trouble. But on accident. So the boys have to really work something out to get her back – I’ve taken the idea and done a little series, hope you like it <3 Summary: You were a second year med student taken in by the house of NCT. It’s not uncommon to be the last to learn things within the house but when your safety is threatened, your forced to leave home with no option. But it only makes things worse.

****

Waking up to a loud racket in the morning was nothing new or surprising for you. After moving in, the rarity of having a silent morning was priceless and you could only dream of those days. However, for this Thursday morning, waking up so late in the morning was a disaster, finding out you’re running late to your morning lecture wasn’t what you were expecting. As a second year med student, suggested by yours truly, Qian Kun, you were crushed by the weight of content, leading to late study nights and hectic schedules.

When you were first bought in, you were still a first year student, confused in what course direction to take, what your interests were, and your own capability. As you got comfortable within the house while your first year ended, Kun suggested going into medical school, noticing your attention to detail and caring nature. Lucky for you, your studies were never an issue and getting in proved no difficulty.

Your bedside clock given as a gift from Doyoung (because your always late), showed 8:02am, 28 minutes before it starts. Quickly jumping out of bed you ran to your bathroom, brushing through the knots that had formed in your hair overnight and taking a shower. After getting dressed and grabbing your phone and bag you ran downstairs to grab a snack before leaving. Surprisingly the house seemed strangely quiet for an early morning. A few of the boys slept in during the mornings, somehow managing to sleep though the heavy noise, but majority would be up and about by now.

You sneaked a peak into the living room while grabbing an apple from the fridge, seeing the absence of people. You grabbed your usual set of keys from the row of hooks at the entrance to the garage, noticing most of the car keys were missing but too late to think deeply into it. You ran over to your favourite car within the garage and threw your backpack onto the passenger seat beside you before starting the engine and driving as fast as you could to your class.

Arriving 5minutes after the lecture started, you sneak in through the back door hoping no one would notice you. Obviously with your luck, the class happened to be completely silent when you entered and the sound of the door creaking open caught everyone’s attention. You mumbled a small apology to the lecturer who didn’t bother to acknowledge your presence and continued with his talk. You settle into your seat and pull out your laptop and begin typing away as he talks.

Almost halfway through your lecture your phone buzzes. You ignore the initial vibration felt from the phone on your desk, too immersed in typing as your lecturer continues talking without bothering to slow down. However, as soon as the continuous texts popped through, the students around you were starting to give you looks and you had no choice but to answer to your phone. You glance at the screen noticing the texts from Jaehyun.

Jaehyun: Where are you?

Jaehyun: Y/N?

Jaehyun: Y/N? Answer me.

Y/N: In a lecture, something up?

You see the three little dots typing through the screen for a minute, then disappearing, and then reappearing.

Jaehyun: No, have fun and stay safe.

Not bothering with it too much, you placed your phone in your bag this time, and tried to catch up to what the lecturer was explaining. When the digital clock above the board showed 10am, the lecturer began piling up his paperwork, and dismissed the class.

Normally you’d find the Dream group who would be roaming around the campus around the same time as you had your lunch break. The 2000s line were first year students due to their part time commitment as students. They balanced life at home with training and missions while also completing a normal life – forced upon by Taeyong. You made your way over to the tables under the shaded trees and pulled out your phone to pass time. It was almost 10:30 when you realised there was still no one here.

You pull up the group chat you had for the bunch of you who attended college; Renjun, Haechan, Jeno, Jaemin and you.

Y/N: Did you guys all ditch today?

Haechan: We got held back at home

Y/N: You’re at home?

Haechan: Yeah

Y/N: It was so quiet this morning though, I thought no one was home.

Haechan: Big meeting today

Y/N: Guess I’m spending lunch alone

Jaemin: Go make some new friends

Jaemin: Girl-friends only

Y/N: :(

You hum to yourself, putting in your earphones and grabbing your drawing pad along with a pen. The time passes rather quickly as you sketch out the trees in your view, the figures of people passing by, the group of friends gathered on the lawn. The music abruptly stops and you look at your phone, confused at the interruption. You notice the call coming through and pull out your earphones to place the phone against your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey can you come to the car?”

“My car?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah, I’m at your car.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes.” You tell him, hanging up to gather all your belongings.

You notice the familiar car parked next to your own car and your face crinkles up confused at the unannounced visit from Lucas coming to your campus. Lucas stands leaning against the bumper of his car, staring at his phone not seeing you approach him.

“Hey what are you doing here?” You ask,

“I’m picking you up.” He simply states, putting his phone in his pocket and taking your laptop and textbooks from your grasp.

“I drove though.” You tell him.

“I know, one of the guys will get your car,” he says, motioning to the passenger side of his car for you to get in as he places your stuff in the back seat and opens the door on the driver’s side for himself.

“What’s going on?” You ask, closing the door before your fighting with your seatbelt strap to pull over your shoulder.

“We’re going on a vacation.” Lucas replies, leaning over to help you with your seatbelt. You lean back against your seat as he fumbles with it for a second and then buckles you in.

“Thanks, and I don’t know if you’ve realised but I still have lectures to attend tomorrow.” You tell him.

“Jaehyun handled them already.” He tells you.

“What do you mean?” You ask, starting to get concerned with the sudden situation. “Lucas what’s going on?” you ask again.

“Call Jaehyun, it’s better he tells you,” Lucas says, letting out a sigh as he pushes the gear stick into drive. You pull out your phone and dial his number, being sent straight into voicemail. You try again while Lucas watches, waiting for a response as well.

“He isn’t answering.”

“Try Taeyong.” He tells you. You click onto your speed dial for 1, calling Taeyong immediately. The phone rings for a few seconds and as your about to give up, he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey princess what’s up?”

“Jaehyun didn’t pick up his phone and what’s with this sudden vacation? I still have classes to attend.”

“I’ve put your application on defer for now.”

“You did what?!” You yell into the phone. Lucas flinches from your sudden raise in voice.

“Sorry I should’ve talked about this with you.” You hear Taeyong sigh through the other end.

“Yeah, obviously. I’m not going on vacation or whatever this crap is Tae, I’m going back to class tomorrow.”

“Y/N things aren’t going very well recently and I need you to get away from everyone so your safe.”

“I don’t care about that, since when did you have a say in my education and what I do?!” You yell, “I’ll move in with a friend if I have to but I’m not leaving.”

“Sorry Y/N but I can’t let you do that, please just go with Lucas for now okay? I’m busy at the moment so I’ll call you back later.” He states, hanging up before anyone has a chance to say more.

Little did you know, the meeting that occurred earlier in the day was to discuss the current situation with enemy plans and events that have recently been going on. The members had been taking turns following you secretly to classes or trying to accompany you wherever you went without you realising it. Taeyong had been receiving threats lately regarding the entire NCT and the safety of the members. When someone sent an anonymous email to him containing images taken of you doing your daily activities outside of the house he decided it was time to separate you from the group.

Much to many of the members disliking of being separated and out of site, you were in danger to be living with them in this current situation. You leaving the city was planned last minute today and was agreed upon by majority in the meeting. Doyoung and Lucas had packed all your essentials within a few minutes before Lucas left to pick you up, leading you to where you were now. Your safety had been left in the hands of Lucas, unfortunately. Not saying that you were on bad terms with Lucas but more of his reliability seemed to be questionable.

Lucas on the other hand was even more miserable than you. The problem of babysitting you while being separated from all the action back home and being stuck inside a hotel would kill him of boredom.

The car ride was mostly silent, Lucas trying to change through the music playing and then being interrupted by phone calls coming through. He connected them to his in ear Bluetooth, trying to avoid you from hearing about the business projects he was dealing with. You rotated between sleeping and scrolling through social media for the car ride. Eventually as night falls, he pulls into a hotel within a small town. The two of you get out the car and he goes in ahead of you, tossing the keys to you while he susses it out.

The front desk lady had placed a pair of keys on the counter bench when you walked in the front door. You could see Lucas was running a hand through his hair – a habit he did when he was frustrated - when you approach him.

“What happened? Did you place a reservation?” You ask Lucas as he dials Jaehyun.

“The guys did, Jaehyun gave me the address for this place.”

“What’s the problem then?” You question, confused.

“Why did you book only one room and there’s only one bed?” Lucas complains into the phone. As soon as Lucas mentions one room you go blank. Sharing a bed wasn’t an issue for either of you, considering you’d had frequent movie nights with him which you ended up sleeping there instead of returning to your room. The problem is his sleeping habits. They want me to share a room with this loudass? How am I meant to sleep through his snoring? Your head was running through a billion problems and you were bought back into reality just as Lucas was about to hang up.

“Jaehyun what is this?” You ask, motioning for the phone from Lucas.

“Hey baby how are you?”

“Great. A little frustrated but you know, nothing new.” You tell him sarcastically.

“Yeah I know, sorry everything was too sudden for you.”

You sigh into the phone, knowing that you shouldn’t be taking your feelings out on him, “Yeah.”

“It’ll be over soon,” He says, comforting you through the phone.

“Okay,” you mumble, “Lucas and I are checking in now, be careful okay?”

“Yeah you too.” He replies, just as you end the call and hand the phone back to Lucas.

Lucas takes the keys on the counter and the two of you head back to the car to bring your belongings up. The room was simple. A large king sized bed and a TV in its direct line of sight. The bathroom connected near the entrance in a separate area and a little study desk and lamp. A little couch at the far end near the curtains covering the sight of a balcony.

“I’m going to shower first.” You tell him, searching for your pyjamas.

“Don’t be so slow, I’m tired.” He complains.

“Says the boy who spends 20minutes in there.” You shoot him a glare and he smiles at you blinking his eyes with innocence. “Also who packed my suitcase, where’s my pjs?”

“Doyoung and I did, don’t know if we packed pjs though..” he trails off. He pushes himself up from the couch and flips through his bag. He pulls out a plain white shirt and throws it across the room to you, “Wear this.”

“Is it clean?” You ask, holding it with the tips of your fingers. His hygiene routine isn’t classified as one of the best within the group and you feared he had given you a sweaty one.

“Obviously.” You give him a suspicious look and gather your night time things, heading into the bathroom. You strip down and step slowly into the tub, turning the water on high and letting it beat over your head as the steam begins to fog up the mirror. Closing your eyes, the heat of the water soaks into your skin and you lean against the cool tiles, exhausted at the day of events.

After you’ve washed shampoo and conditioner through your hair, you turn the tap off, squeezing out the water with your hands into the tub before stepping out. The towel hangs from the door hook and your easily able to grab it without getting the floor wet. You quickly dry yourself off and chuck on a bra, undies and Lucas’ white shirt. You wrap the towel around your hair as you step out and the temperature difference of the rooms immediately causes you to shiver.

“You can go now.” You tell Lucas, jumping straight under the covers of the bed. He hums in response, throwing you the TV remote while he disappears. You lean up against the bed board and flick through the channels, finally deciding to just turn it off instead when nothing seems interesting just as your phone beeps.

Johnny: Hey Princess are you still awake?

Y/N: Yeah, how is everyone?

Johnny: Everyone’s okay, there’s a training session going on at the moment so they’re all a bit busy

Y/N: Ahh okay.

Your debating whether you should ask about Taeyong, regretting yelling at him earlier and knowing he was only trying to keep you safe.

Y/N: Is Taeyong mad at me?

Johnny: He’s not mad, just a little stressed is all.

Johnny: Don’t worry about it.

Y/N: Okay

Johnny: Go to sleep now, it’s getting late, you and Lucas still have to keep driving tomorrow.

Y/N: I will, goodnight.

Johnny: Night <3.

Just as you shut your bedside light, Lucas walks out the bathroom shirtless, ruffling his hair with the towel and eyes glued to his phone.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch?” He asks, glancing over at you.

“Me?” You question.

“Well I’m too tall to fit and besides, I’ve been driving all day and I’ll be driving all day tomorrow.” He states, pulling the sheets down on the other side.

“Do you know how many bedbugs are on that couch?” You ask before answering it yourself, “too many.”

“Just don’t kick me throughout the night like last time.” He warns you, flipping over to his side.

“Wow you’re so terrifying.” You mumble, crawling more towards your side of the bed. “Don’t snore like your Santa Claus okay?” You remind him.

Lucas obviously ignored your warning as he snores throughout the night. You let out a groan as you sit up and push him over, tossing him more towards his side of the bed. He stops snoring momentarily and then it starts again after a few minutes of peaceful silence. Are you kidding me. You do your best to just ignore him and fold the pillow against your ear, making the sound as quiet as possible. Your phone rings just as you feel like you’re finally falling into sleep and you cry in frustration, rolling over to reach it and pick up, not looking at the caller ID.

“Hey baby, how have you been?” The deeper voice asks.

“Sorry, do I know you?” You mumble, still asleep in your state.

“Ouch, that hurts, how could you say that to your lover.”

You open your eyes, squinting at the light of the unknown number on your phone screen. “Sorry I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“Do I really? I swear this was the number for Miss Y/N, the beautiful lady who happens to be living with one of the desired Mafia gangs.” You stayed silent through the phone, immediately sitting up, obviously this guy knew who you were and your relation to the boys. You glance at Lucas whose still asleep and your feet search for your slippers. Quietly you tip toe out to the hallway, leaving a gap in the door behind you. “If I’ve still got the wrong number feel free to hang up, I’ll continue chatting with the so notorious leader who happens to be knocked unconscious.”

“WAIT!” You whisper into the phone,

“Hm?”

“Wh-what do you want?” You hesitatingly ask.

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs. “Now I know you aren’t alone baby, so is anyone listening to us?”

“No.”

“Good girl.” He hums before continuing “I want you to come home.”

“What?”

“Come home, alone.” He says, “and remember to keep this a secret, or it might be bad for the present I have for you. I’ll be waiting.”

[kinghoranshit]

Tell Me a Lie (NH) Ch 2

Word Count: 1,615

Warnings: swearing?

“Do you have any questions about anything we went over?” I asked as I closed the binder with a marker where we’d decided to stop for this session. After this I’d have to send an email to my manager with updated notes about our meeting. I was hoping it wouldn’t take too long since I needed to read the contract Niall sent me about the PR. 

Maya had a perky smile on her face. “I do not. Thank you so much, Lauren!”

“No problem, I’m happy to be working on this journey with you. I will see you soon to discuss more notes.”

“Talk soon, love.” She waved with the smile still present on her face before I hit on the call. 

We definitely went over the allotted time and I’d have to push back my other client’s appointment to tomorrow. It happened a lot more than I would like, but it was okay. Everything worked out. 

I finished my update email as thoroughly and fast as I could; it included the typed up version of my notes. Once I hit send, my eyes trailed to the email that Niall’s management sent me. I barely tapped the mousepad to open it, or breathed air as I skimmed the first initial part. Though, that wasn’t what I should’ve been anxious for; they were welcoming me to the team. I had to admit, it was bizarre I was considered a team member if I was his PR girlfriend. That didn’t settle right with me, but I knew I’d have to get over it to help my best friend out. 

Finally, I had the contract open in a different tab and actually thoroughly read these paragraphs. A lot of it was the regular legal statements and their management mission statement. What I would be getting in return and what I’d have to do were scripted at the end of it, which were the last two pages out of twenty.

I was required to be seen publicly with Niall a minimum of once a month, be present at all red carpet events during the time of this PR contract, attend a concert in every leg of his upcoming tour, promote all of his singles/albums on Instagram, and be open on social media without exposing any secrets. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone in my life that the relationship was fake, aside from any business partners. I couldn’t shit talk Modest!, Niall, or any of his ex bandmates. I was not allowed to date anyone while under this year long contract, which wasn’t much of a problem for me at the moment.

Their payment was all my debts would be paid in full and marketing support for all my self-published works during the duration of our PR. That included whatever Niall would want to post on social media about them. 

It seemed all pretty self-explanatory to me, and with my current job the travel part shouldn’t be an issue. I would have to confirm with my main editorial manager that it was going to work though. Of course, I would have to finesse the truth a bit with them; they weren’t exactly business partners. 

As I sat back against my wooden chair, Skype began ringing me for a call. It was Niall. That wasn’t at all shocking. 

“What up, nerd?” I answered. 

He busted out a laugh. “Just wanted to call and see how you were doin. Get your thoughts on everything.” 

“I actually just finished reading the PR agreement and contract.”

“And?” He raised his eyebrows as he licked his lips in nerves. 

I smirked lightly. “I’ll do it. What they’re asking doesn’t seem overkill, and it’s a year. We can do that.” 

I noticed him sit down on his couch in his dim living room, which looked to only be lit by the TV; it was probably golf. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.”

He yelled something at the TV before he brought his attention back to our conversation. “You’re sure, Kelly?” 

“I’m positive, Nialler.” I laughed. He was adorable when he got distracted by sports or writing. It was one of the many things I loved about Niall; it never annoyed me. Well, okay, maybe sometimes. But there was nothing I could do about it, and I knew I wasn’t any better at times when I had a show on or suddenly got an idea for a piece. 

“You are seriously a lifesaver. This was the first time they let me find the girl. I promise to make it fun.” 

I cheesed. “With you, it’s already going to be fun. I wouldn’t have considered it otherwise. So I will get these papers digitally signed and sent. Then we can consider the first meet up place?”

“Yeah, yeah. Modest is thinking LA already. They called this morning.” 

“Sounds good.” I nodded. 

Niall looked at me curiously now. “Are you at all nervous? You know how the fandom is.” 

“You mean how every fandom is.” I smirked. “There’s always going to be the toxic side. If you’re looking for it, you’ll find it, but I’m not… I know there’s other things such as safety involved, but under this contract Modest is obligated to give me my own security. I will own them up to that end if I need to.” 

“I hope you won’t when you’re alone.” His eyes were so soft, almost like I could reach out and touch powdered snow. It would be the perfect snow too. It wouldn’t melt, turning into water… It would stay fluffy and sparkly. 

I couldn’t hold back the same feeling he had. I didn’t want safety to become such a concern that I'd need security 24/7. There was no sense in worrying about it. I was someone to just take the hits when they came and get back up afterwards. Which had both it’s good and bad aspects.

I shook my head. “I’m reassuring you now that everything will be okay. I better get the agreement and contract back to Modest.”

He only nodded, blinking his eyes a couple times. “Talk soon, Kelly.” 

“You too, Horan.” 

I knew that this was a tricky road we were about to drive, but we were armed with better defenses. We were adults and could make our own decisions. I knew that this would be more beneficial than harmful. 

***

I waited somewhat patiently for Charlotte to answer the Skype call. I decided I would tell Charlotte about what was going on since she was the co-author of the trilogy Niall would be promoting. It was only fair she knew that the relationship wasn’t real. As for the rest of my friends and family, they wouldn’t know. Niall and I have been friends for years, it would seem pretty believable that we naturally had feelings grow for each other.  

Finally, she answered and her freckled face popped up. “What is it you need to tell me, Laur?”

Seeing her eager face made me actually nervous to lay it all out on her. But I took a deep breath and did it. It needed to be done. There was no beating around the bush. 

“Niall asked me to be his PR girlfriend and I’m gonna do it. I know the risks of this, but he needs my help. They’re going to benefit us by promoting the Stone Cold trilogy. You’re the only person who knows that the relationship is fake, no one else will know that. They can’t.”

Her eyes went wide and she gasped. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “Completely.”

“Wow, that is crazy… Awesome! You’re about to live the dream.”

I snorted. “Oh for sure. But this means we should get the final version of Stone Cold done as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, of course! This is so exciting!” she gushed, smooshing her cheeks together. 

“It is. It really is.” I laughed, the sound radiating through her side, which caused her husband to peek his head into the camera lens. 

“Hey, Lauren!” He waved with a closed smile. 

I smirked and waved back. “Hey, Jeremy. How goes it?” 

He moved himself beside Charlotte, squeezing in close to her. “It goes well. How about you? How are your projects going?” 

He happened to be a head chief editor at a publishing firm in Chicago. He and I did the same work, but his load was definitely more than mine. He also had the task of looking over the other editors in his division to make sure their work was being done. I was glad to not have that sort of responsibility; even if the pay was more. 

I shrugged. “They’re going well. I’ve only got two at the moment, but once I finish with this one fantasy novel, they’re going to be giving me a memoir.” 

“Memoirs are all I have right now. Not the most exciting if I’m being honest, but it’s alright.” 

I chuckled under my breath. “I can get behind that. I’m definitely enjoying the fantasy and sci-fi right now. Oh, uhm, there is something else I wanted to tell you, J. I’m dating Niall, it’s been a secret for about a year now, but he’s finally ready to go public with it.” 

Jeremy’s smile made my heart tug at the lie. “That’s wonderful!” He lightly whacked Char’s shoulder. “I told you there was something going on. I’m good at reading that sort of thing.” 

“That you are,” I confirmed. That only stirred another weird sensation in me because he truly never was wrong about romantic feelings between two people. He called all of our friends' relationships, regardless if they worked out or not. I wasn't sure what that said about Niall and I then. 

Next: Ch 3

[Masterlist]

[hmhteen]

HMH Teen Teaser: TIME BOMB by Joelle Charbonneau!

Tick…tick…tick…time is almost up before you new fave psychological thriller hits bookstores! If you loved ONE OF US IS LYING or THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS (and even THE BREAKFAST CLUB!) you will love this twisty turny thriller about a group of teens caught in their school when a bomb goes off. The problem? One of them is responsible. (Cue dramatic music here.)

Scroll down for an exclusive excerpt!

1:51 p. m .

“Don’t fight,” Cas said from the doorway that Frankie and Z had just disappeared through. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can we turn the radio back on? Maybe they’ll tell us help is finally coming.”

Rashid clicked on the radio before heading over to help Tad. There was the buzz of static, then the announcer telling ev- eryone that the firefighters were making progress. The fire was contained to the west side, and they hoped to have it out soon.

“With one person of interest being questioned, authorities are now working to find another individual they have con- firmed is involved in this terrible bombing. A source confirms that the individual is one of the students trapped on the second floor of the school. With four bombs having already gone off, there appears to be one explosive device still inside the school that could detonate at any time.”

Another bomb was ready to go off, and the bomber was one of them.

Earlier   Tha t  Da y  .  . .

8:35  a.m. 

 D i a n a

 —  C h a p t e r  1  —

All you had to do was smile and wear the right clothes, and everyone would think you were special. If you appeared successful, people would automatically assume you were suc- cessful. Her parents believed that. Her father had built a career on it. They wanted her to believe it.

Diana hated that she did.

“Perception is everything, Diana,” her stepmother said so often that Diana wanted to scream. But screaming wasn’t pre- sentable. And, boy, did it make the wrong impression. This made screaming at the top of her lungs very tempting.

“Always take care to make the correct choice, Diana,” her stepmother said over and over again. “Everything you do is im- portant and reflects on your father and the positions he takes. And think about what your father’s opponents would claim if you don’t do well in school or become a leader in the activities you’re in. They’ll wonder how serious your father is about edu- cation if his own daughter doesn’t do well in school. The other side is always looking for a reason to point fingers and show that your father isn’t worthy of his position. That we aren’t worthy. So you can’t allow your grades or your attention to detail to slide, or you’ll hurt your father and, worse, you’ll hurt the work he’s trying to do.”

Diana looked down at the clothes she’d chosen for the day. After sixteen years, she knew exactly what details would be no- ticed and what people would think when they saw her.

Stylish white jeans. A tasteful pink top. But nothing too expensive, because that made people jealous. Nothing too tight, because that gave people the wrong idea. And no wrinkles. Wrinkles made people think you were lazy. No one trusts a per- son who is lazy. To get what you wanted in life, you must in- spire trust — even if you intended to break it.

Her father inspired trust with his perfectly tailored suits that were made less stuffy because he never wore a tie and al- ways left the collar open.

Folksy. Friendly. Everyone’s idea of the perfect dad and for- mer army-communications specialist who always puts his family and country first. At least that’s what people must have thought, because he got elected. He was working hard to make sure he got to keep his job for another term, and it was their family’s job — Diana’s job — to make sure she didn’t do anything wrong that could make voters question whether they wanted him back in office.

No pressure there.

“Katherine?” she yelled, knowing how much her stepmother hated raised voices. No response. She must have already gone downstairs. Dad would be in meetings already. Diana bit her lip as she reached for the gold studs Katherine gave her for her sixteenth birthday, then added the gold-cross necklace that had technically been from her father. She’d pretended not to notice when one of his aides handed him the box that he’d clearly been unaware of up until that moment.

“Little touches make all the difference,” Katherine insisted. “People notice the details.”

Yes, they did, Diana thought as she reached into her jewelry box and pulled out the ratty friendship bracelet she’d made for herself years ago, wishing she’d had someone to give it to and to get one in return from. No one ever assumed the popular girl needed to be given a gift. No one thought about whether the popular girl was lonely when she went home. Everyone as- sumed the popular girl had a million friends and a family who supported her.

Diana walked to her mirror and checked her makeup. Just enough to make her blue eyes look bigger. Nothing more, or people might question whether she was a good girl. And she was supposed to be a good girl. She ticked off her stepmother’s checklist one by one.

Good shoes. A nice home. Top grades.

Smart, respectable family tree. Perfect manners.

All signs of a strong, well-brought-up girl. A girl everyone claimed to know from school. One parents and teachers pointed to as an example to others. One who had been taught to calcu- late her appearance and demeanor down to the plain red color of her cell-phone case. One who was determined to use it all to show everyone that it was foolish to trust what someone wanted you to see.

Perfect.

And if she didn’t want to ruin her perfect image, Diana would have to get moving. Tardiness was not acceptable for a girl who was supposed to be without flaws. Tardiness implied a lack of respect for other people’s time.

Glancing at her watch, she shook her head and hurried downstairs to find her stepmother so she could get a ride to school for the yearbook meeting.

“Katherine?” she called.

No answer. Huh. Well, Katherine was probably in the back- yard making sure the staff had polished the patio furniture to a shine so that guests could be invited back to the house after the event tonight.

“Katherine?”

“Your mother went out.”

“What?” She turned and spotted her father standing next to the porch swing with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Since there was no point in correcting him about Katherine’s relation- ship to her, she simply asked, “Where?”

He put up a hand to quiet her. “Yes, I’m here, and yes, I understand there’s been some pushback, but I can’t step back from the bill, or I’ll get hammered. The press will smell blood and it’ll be over, and we all know I’m right on this. I just need one thing to tip in my favor. You have to trust me on this.”

Diana started to speak again, but before she could get a word out, her father turned his back and nodded. She would have to get in line for his attention.

“Yes. I’ll make that distinction tonight, and don’t worry. The event will be the perfect place to highlight the positive points in the bill and to take charge of the conversation. If you have other things you want to talk about, I’ll be at the office in a half-hour. Good speaking with you, too, Tim. I appreciate your dedication. We’re going to turn things around.” Finally he hung up and turned toward her.

He was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a red polo shirt under a deep blue sports coat — relaxed authority was what her stepmother called the look. But despite the clothes, Diana didn’t think her father appeared relaxed.

“That was Tim?”

Her father nodded. “He’s worried about the negative press my Safety Through Education bill is getting.”

Tim hadn’t been on her father’s staff as long as the oth- ers, but he was smart and perceptive, which is why her father’s chief of staff hired him right out of graduate school. And even though he was younger than the rest of the staff, Diana knew Tim was right to be worried about her father’s bill. The press was calling it an invasion of privacy. The law would require that students and teachers inform the administration if they thought someone in the school might be interested in doing harm to students, teachers, or school property. Any students reported would then have to hand over their passwords to social media and email accounts or face suspension and a potential inves- tigation by federal authorities. Those who didn’t report suspi- cions before a harmful event could be charged with aiding and abetting.

Her father believed the law would turn everything in the country around and would finally do what no other laws had been able to do — make things safer. Any students interested in causing trouble would think twice about it if they knew their friends and teachers were watching them and ready to act on any suspicious activity. And by catching and circumventing threatening behavior early, there was a good chance of diverting those students toward a more positive path. Her father was cer- tain that taking action in the schools and the education system was the best way of changing the escalating pattern of violence in the country.

“Was there another bad story in the press?” Diana asked. Not everyone agreed with her father’s thoughts on how to keep the country safe. Since the unveiling of the bill, there had been phone calls and mail and huge editorials about invasion of pri- vacy and people’s differing definitions of what a “threat” to society actually was. Diana had even gotten hate mail for her father’s idea. When she had tried to talk to her father about it, he had just told her to give the mail to Tim and ignore it. That everything would work out. But when Tim had sat with her and listened to her talk about the threats she’d gotten and how people made a point of telling her they were going to vote her father out of office, Tim had admitted the backlash was concerning. If the tide of bad press and angry editorials about the potential law continued, they both agreed that it would be sunk before it ever had a chance to be tested. And her father’s career — one she had been told was necessary to make the world better — would be sunk along with it.

Was it any wonder Tim wanted to pull out all the stops to make sure her father’s event tonight got the press’s attention, or that she was willing to do whatever it took to help? It was nice to have someone finally realize that she was capable of helping, and to finally listen to her when she had an idea. And Tim had said he was glad he could run ideas by someone without having to worry about her telling the senator that his ideas were too radical or that he wasn’t up to the job.

Her father shrugged and gave her his own practiced smile. “Some of my co-sponsors are wondering if we should shelve the idea for more study, but Tim has some polling that says retreat- ing might do more harm than good. I’m not worried. Tim and the others have a plan to make this all come together.”

“If you need me —”

Her father held up his hand as the phone rang. The phone was always ringing. “I’ll catch this on my way to the office.” He looked at Diana and gave her a tense smile. “Your mother left a note for you on the counter. You can help by making sure you’re ready when she comes to pick you up. I need everything to be perfect if we’re going to turn this around.” Then, before she could say anything, her father put the phone to his ear and said, “Larry, I’m glad you called …” as he disappeared into the house.

Diana hurried after him, but he didn’t bother to look back. A minute later, Diana heard the front door slam behind him as he left before she could remind him that she needed a ride. And when she read her stepmother’s note, she knew she wasn’t going to get one from her, either.

Diana dear,

I’ll be home to pick you up at four. Wear the

blue satin dress hanging in your closet and leave

your hair down. Please be on time. Tonight is very

important to all of us.

Katherine

She stared at the letter.

Be on time.

Leave your hair down. Tonight is important.

But, clearly, driving Diana to school today was not.

She turned the bracelet on her arm again, looked at her stepmother’s words one more time, hearing each of them ring- ing in her head along with all the other things she’d said over the years.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Diana.” Because they might differ from what she was supposed to think. And that wasn’t allowed.

“Remember that we’re counting on you.” Yes. They were.

Diana headed back upstairs to the antique toy chest in the corner of her room. Quickly, she dumped the decorative pillows and extra blanket stacked on top onto the floor, then lifted the lid. She pulled out two bags. In the side pocket of one of the bags, she found the list she’d made for herself a few weeks ago and put it in her pocket.

A quick glance at the clock told her she’d better get going or she’d be late for the yearbook meeting. Yesterday she’d moved the meeting to two hours earlier than originally scheduled. She doubted anyone would be thrilled that she’d asked them to change their plans simply to make them wait.

Diana turned, took one last look in the mirror and saw what her family wanted her to be. What she had tried so hard to pretend to be.

Perfect. Someone everyone expected to do the right thing and no one would ever suspect of doing something wrong.

Good.

Booting up her computer, she sent a quick message to Tim, telling him that she was going to school now. Then Diana care- fully picked up her bags and headed downstairs and out the door. Her father thought the only contribution he needed from her was for her to nod and smile and look flawless — like their family was supposed to be. She was determined to prove him wrong.

   9:52  a.m.

R a s h i d

—  C h a p t e r  2  —

“Why do you have to go to the school today?” his father asked, coming into the kitchen. Rashid had hoped to get out of the house before his father had gotten home from the hospital. So much for that idea. “Your classes do not start for another week.”

Rashid hefted the bag he had slung over his shoulder and explained, “I need a new school ID, Father.”

“What happened to your old one?” His father looked at him with a frown.

“I lost it when  we were visiting with  Sitto last month.” Technically, that was true. Although Rashid knew his words implied that he accidentally left his ID behind at his grand- mother’s in Palestine. “The office is open for new students to get IDs. I thought I should do it now instead of waiting until school starts.”

His father nodded, then glanced at the kitchen clock. “Will you be back by the start of Dhuhr?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can call and see if the office will be open during the af- ternoon. If you wait, we can pray together, and then maybe you can take your sister. It would be good for her to see the school without so many people. It’ll help her get used to the idea of going there next year. You could introduce her to some of your friends.”

His sister already knew most of his friends, since they either lived nearby or went to mosque together. The others …

His father thought he understood what it was like for Rashid at school, but he had no idea. He didn’t listen. Or maybe Rashid’s cousins in Palestine were right, and it was Rashid’s fault he didn’t completely fit in, because he did not know who he was or what he wanted.

A few years ago, he would have brought his sister with him to school. But that was then. Now … so much had changed. He was different. His sister certainly was, and his friends … They all still enjoyed the comics and building robots, which held their friendships together. But Rashid could tell there were other things — like the facial hair that he had started growing earlier than anyone else in his class, and the adherence to his faith that prevented him from shaving it — that were creating an invisible wall between them.

He bit back the anger that seemed harder and harder to keep hidden and respectfully said, “Next time. I don’t know who will be there, and I don’t want her to have a bad experience.”

It was hard enough for Rashid to fit in, especially now. He didn’t want to bring Arissa. The hijab made her stand out even more than his untrimmed beard did. But Arissa didn’t seem to mind wearing it. More than once, she said that she liked the attention the hijab brought, and it helped her know exactly who her friends were. The hijab signaled who she was and that she was proud of her heritage. She said if people didn’t like it, they could just get out of her way.

Rashid wondered if it wasn’t easier for her because the hi- jab was so obvious and its meaning so clear. Since some of the other students chose to grow beards and mustaches, his own beard was sometimes interpreted as a personal choice instead of a mandate of faith. But it often raised questions he could see in people’s eyes that never got spoken aloud — not even by his friends. If he had been braver, he might just have sat down and talked to his friends about it and helped them understand. Instead, he let the silences get longer.

Now he felt he had only one option open to him.

“I should probably go now so I don’t have to stand in line all day,” Rashid said, feeling the weight of the bag pulling on his shoulder. “I will pray at school.” There were plenty of empty classrooms. Since it wasn’t a school day, he wouldn’t have to worry about people making fun of him washing in the bathroom first. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

His father smiled. “No need to rush. If you see people you know, you should spend time with them. You haven’t had the chance to see any of your friends this summer. The best life has balance. Maybe while you’re at school, you can see if there are any new clubs you’d like to join, although I still think you should take photos for the yearbook. The pictures you took this summer are very good.”

“I’ll look into it,” Rashid said, knowing he wouldn’t. He had other things to do. He just hoped his father would be able to understand.

“Good.” His father patted him on the arm and frowned. “Why are you taking your school bag?”

Rashid smiled to hide his nerves. “I’m bringing some note- books and comic books and a couple of other things to put in my locker so I don’t have to bring everything on the first day. I like having stuff to read in study hall.”

He also read when his friends were late for lunch, to avoid drawing the attention of some of the football players, who liked to harass him.

“Using extra time for study is always good.” His father pat- ted him on the arm again. “Do you have your Koran?”

“No,” Rashid said, shifting toward the door. “I’m leaving it here. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a second.” His father disappeared out of the kitchen and returned holding a thick paperback that Rashid had no choice but to take. “You might be glad to have it at school with you.”

Rashid forced himself to thank his father, but he couldn’t meet his eyes as he walked out the door. He put the book in the bag and headed to school, still trying to decide if he was going to go through with his plan.

Was this really the time to draw the line in the sand?

He thought about the names he’d  been called last year and how uncomfortable his non-Muslim friends looked when they pretended that they were all the same. That nothing had changed.

He wished nothing had changed. More than anything, he wanted to turn back the clock to before the beard and the sus- picion it brought into focus. Things had already been hard then, but they had been better.

Hitching the bag so that the weight was better distributed, Rashid frowned and started walking faster. If he was going to change things, he had to do it today. He only hoped that he had the courage to do what needed to be done.

9:58  a.m.

Z

— C h a p t e r 3 —

“You’re Kicking me out?” Sweat pricked Z’s back and forehead. He should have had two more months. His mother had said they’d agreed. And now he was getting screwed.

Z turned his back on the landlord’s son. He couldn’t look at the satisfied smile on the jerk’s pimply face without wanting to deck the guy. Z felt like hitting something — everything.

“Not exactly,” Nick said. “I mean, I know my dad and your mom talked about trying to lower the rent over the sum- mer to help you out, but my dad realized that if he changed the terms of the lease for you, he’d have to do it for everyone, and you know how that goes. It’s not like my father wants to do this.”

Sure he does, Z thought. He just doesn’t want to say he wants to boot the guy who’s just lost his mother to cancer. That would make him have to admit he’s a crappy person. But that’s what he was. All Nick’s father knew was that a guaranteed rent check was dead and buried. It was time to find a new one, and to hell with anything else. Yeah — Z knew exactly how that went. 

“I’m sure this is breaking your father’s heart.” Z clenched his fists and looked out the narrow window over the sink. If he closed his eyes, he could still see his mother standing there, washing dishes … when she had been well enough to do some- thing that normal.

“Hey, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Z turned and stared at the guy. Nick straight- ened his shoulders but took a step back, tugging at the hem of his dirty T-shirt. “Your father made a promise to my dying mom, and two weeks after she’s gone, he sends you to tell me he was just kidding.”

Nick took another step back and swallowed hard. “He’s re- ally sorry about this.”

“Sure he is.” Everyone was sorry. Z was so tired of hearing everyone tell him how damn sorry they were. Only they weren’t. But they would be. Soon. Very soon. Z unclenched his fists and turned back toward the off-white fridge that his mother had plastered with photographs. “Tell your dad not to beat himself up about it. It’s no problem, Nicky,” he added, yanking open the fridge. The cool air washed over him, helping to tamp down the anger he wanted to let break free. Despite the open windows, the apartment was sweltering.

“Hey, kid, if it was up to me, I would let you stay. I know things are tough. After everything that happened, this really sucks, but —”

“It’s fine,” Z said, grabbing a bottle of tap water out of the fridge. It wasn’t fine. There was nothing fine about being told by a twenty-seven-year-old guy who lived in his parents’ basement and had Cheetos stains on his T-shirt that you had to clear out in three weeks. Adios, boy. Don’t let the door hit your long-haired, tattooed self on the way out.

“Look, my father would like to be able to let you stay. He really liked your mom. She was a nice lady.”

“Yeah.” Z closed the fridge and looked at the photo of his mother’s happy, healthy face pressed next to his five-year-old chocolate-coated one. “She was great.”

Was.

He swallowed hard while, behind him, Nick Mansanelli said, “I could talk to my dad about having you do some work on our cars in exchange for staying in their attic. It’s not the best place, but it would give you some time to sort out whatever it is you’re going to do next. I’m sure you could use the —”

“No need.” Z would rather sleep in a ditch than become slave labor for anyone. He uncapped the cold water and took a drink. “Tell your dad pretty soon he won’t have to worry about dealing with me ever again.”

Nick took another step back and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he looked around.  “Can I …  you know … help you do anything? Do you need some boxes or tape?” Nick turned toward the living room and nodded. “You got a lot of stuff to pack up around here. Why don’t I —”

“No.” Before Nick could step into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Z stalked forward and blocked him. “I don’t need your help.” Z didn’t need anyone.

Nick frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s no prob —”

“I’m sure,” Z said as the phone in his back pocket chimed. He pulled it out and looked down at the display.

YOU OK? DID YOU HEAR FROM YOUR UNCLE IN CALIFORNIA? I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU. PLEASE TALK TO ME.

Kaitlin.

Of all the people who said they wanted to help, she actually did. But there wasn’t much more she could do or say. She kept telling him it was okay to be angry. That it would get better if he just gave it time. They all warned him about making deci- sions too fast. Urged him to give the relatives he barely remem- bered a chance to reach out. He had to give things time.

But time wasn’t going to change the fact that his mother was dead and that everything sucked.

Kaitlin had been there for him when everyone else had bailed. Extended family. Neighbors. Teachers. He’d tried to tell her to get lost when she followed him out of the school after he’d been in detention. But she dogged him all the way to the parking lot and insisted he give her a ride home. Her mother was a nurse at the hospital where his mother got treatments. It wasn’t as if he was going to say no, but that didn’t mean he was going to talk to her. Which was probably what Kaitlin wanted, since she had plenty to say. Kaitlin had been determined to be his friend, even when he didn’t want her to be. Even when he  cut school more than he bothered to go. If it hadn’t been for her, he wasn’t sure he would have made it this far.

And now he was going to cut her loose before he dragged her down. She deserved better.

Z shoved the phone into his pocket and looked back at Nick. “Look,” Z said with a deliberate sigh. “If that’s all you came here for, I’ve got to get going. There’s a teacher I have to talk to

at school, and I don’t want to miss him.”

Nick slapped Z on the shoulder. The universal sign for I want you to think I’ve got your back, even though I plan on screw- ing you the first chance I get. “Hey, no problem. I just came by to see how you were doing and make sure you didn’t need any- thing before —”

Before you chucked me to the curb. Z again clenched his hands into fists at his side, and Nick backed up a step.

Finally, the guy turned toward the front door and said, “Hey, make sure to take care of yourself. And give them hell at that school. I never liked it much anyway.”

At last, one thing they could agree on.

Z chugged the water, then headed down the hall toward his room to grab his father’s old army duffle and the letter that had arrived last week. His cell phone chimed as he was slinging the bag onto his shoulders, but he ignored it. He had things to do.

In the kitchen, he grabbed the picture of him and Mom and slid it next to his phone. He then walked out of the apartment. No need to lock the door. If someone wanted to clear the rest out, let them. He was going to school, and he wasn’t coming back.

***

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[artificialqueens]

Chapter Two: We'll Show Them-Luci

an: here’s chapter two! sorry for the lack of writing, I have to get through a fair few exams this summer! I’ll be able to write more now though, since I’m only in school for a few hours a day (yes, I’m writing instead of revising but that’s not important) hope you like it

summary: Alexis’s concern leads to Sasha questioning the blurring lines of her relationship with Shea as she fights to save her damaged reputation  

The rain from the night before had refused to clear up in the morning and, after a motivational cappuccino before leaving, Sasha ran out into the busy streets to catch the bus waiting for its passengers. The bus journey wasn’t long, but it provided enough time for Sasha to watch raindrops race down the window. She made a mental note to paint a picture from this perspective of the weather. Sasha had never been a fan of rain, whether she was trapped in it or not, but she knew Shea loved watching the rain from the safety of indoors.

The bus had dropped her off around the corner, a dreaded ten minute walk away from the office building she needed to reach. Sasha huffed; focusing her eyes in the direction of her destination. She’d hoped that the rain would have calmed down by the time she’d been forced to walk in it, but she was wrong.

Her ivory shirt, ironed and pressed, clung to her dampening body. Two stains on her collar, one rose pink and the other mint green, had proven almost impossible to wash no matter how many times she’d put them through the washing machine. The acrylic paint from the previous night had gotten onto her laundry and, running out of her trusty acetone; she was forced to deal with her co-workers’ inevitable stares. They knew way too much about her artist alter ego from just her clumsiness. Alternative to fixing the stains, Sasha strategically placed two pins over the stains. One was a greyhound and the other was a vegan slogan she’d been handed on the street, ‘animals aren’t ingredients’.

Sasha shielded the papers in her arms from the rain, hoping she wouldn’t smudge the ink. The rain was worsening, and Sasha struggled to avoid the puddles in her heels. She waited for the cars to slow down for her so she could cross the busy road. The cars didn’t slow down for her; instead they drove faster so they didn’t have to make eye contact with the shaking woman. Eventually, a taxi took pity on her and stopped, allowing her to stumble towards her building. As she crossed, a car pulled up beside her, the splash of a puddle almost ruining her light shirt. The figure ran over to Sasha, holding out a red umbrella over her hair, saving her flattening curls from the cruel rain.

“Thanks.” Sasha spoke breathlessly, blinking rain out of her eyes so that she could see the stranger who had become her knight in shining armour. She noticed, after seeing the dark eyes looking down at her, which her saviour wasn’t a stranger at all. Shea held up the umbrella so it covered Sasha’s soaked frame. Shea seemed to be reasonably dry but the rain was ruining the left side of her black and white blazer as she sacrificed the majority of the umbrella to Sasha.

“No problem, can’t have my favourite employee catching a cold, how boring would my job be then?” Shea greeted, rolling her eyes to put across her point.

Sasha gave Shea a grateful nod as she held the door of their building open, collapsing the umbrella before following Sasha into the hallway.

The gust of air from the central heating was a blessing to both women as they shivered at the reception desk. The door that held all the superiors’ offices behind it was pulled closed, a sign saying ‘MEETING IN PROGRESS’ placed in the centre. Sasha felt herself shrinking, as she imagined the meeting was probably discussing her fate. The public meeting was in a week; and if it didn’t go in her favour, Sasha knew she’d have to pick up the paint-covered newspaper she had led down in her house and search for a new job.

Shea had clearly noticed her discomfort because she moved a bit closer, frowning in concern. Sasha tried to flash a reassuring smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

“It’s probably about the broken coffee machine, not you.” Farrah called from behind the desk, noticing the atmosphere in front of her. She had her elbow placed on the surface of the desk; her head rested in her hand. There were two pencils behind her ears, one stained with red lipstick from where she’d chewed it.

“Yeah, probably.” Shea agreed, leaning over to the desk to sign in for the day. Sasha did the same, thanking Farrah as she handed them the schedule for the day.

The stairs led down to the live room where both girls worked. They paused in the room before it, however, once they reached the base of the stairs. It was where Sasha tended to hide when things got too serious, namely when Alexis yelled at her for being too forthright. Shea was normally the one who had to bring her back before a show, so she was aware of all Sasha’s hiding places. It was why Sasha always lost when they played hide and seek in the office, usually with Farrah in first place since she was able to fit in the smallest of places.

They usually played it on the first Monday of each month, but often indulged if someone was having a particularly hard day, like when Alexis’s dog was having surgery. Even Alexis, the most sensible of them all, couldn’t resist running around like a child. That’s what Trinity had called them when she’d found them, saying she ‘hadn’t left her children at home to come to work and look after bigger, more stupid children’. She hadn’t tried to stop them, however.        

“You’re alright, aren’t you?” Shea asked, hands on Sasha’s shoulder. She knew Sasha was worried about going live again, anticipating all the hate she is going to receive. Each negative comment means bad news for Sasha, as Trinity had said.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.  Nothing a block on Twitter won’t fix.” Sasha waved her hands in dismissal, smiling at Shea.

“When you call yourself a strong independent woman, you sure aren’t lying about the damn independent part. Just let me know if you need anything bitch.” Shea sighed, throwing up her arms dramatically. Sasha gave her a smug smile and sauntered through the doors into their office room.

It was much quieter than usual in the early mornings; the hive of activity had subsided until the upcoming live show was being directed. Sasha never liked being shouted at and Shea never liked being given orders, so neither woman enjoyed the time of day that introduced the producers and directors.

Sasha’s desk was exactly as she always left it, perfectly organised and colourful. She had sketchbooks piled in desk drawers and pots of pens and pencils of a variety of shades. Sasha had disregarded paperwork neatly on the edge of her desk, as if she was ready to push it into the recycling bin below at any second. She gave it side eye as she took a seat at her desk, sighing as she continued to procrastinate reading through everything.

“Did you guys have a nice kiss in the rain?” Alexis commented from the desk beside Sasha’s. She gritted her teeth as Alexis’s focus turned to Shea, who was being bombarded by questions from her employees.

“Shut up, Alexis.” Sasha mumbled; her mind blank of clever retorts. Alexis obviously noticed this, because she raised her eyebrow.

“I wonder who she’ll have secret rendezvous with when you don’t have a job.” Alexis mused maliciously. Sasha didn’t respond, she just balled up her fists and frowned in the direction of her computer screen.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. But if you don’t start thinking about how you act, you’re gonna end up where you don’t want to be.” Alexis shrugged, gesturing to the post-it note on top of Sasha’s pile of papers that read, ‘Sasha- public meeting @7:30 next Tuesday. Good Luck!! -Farrah’.

“Just because I’m gay, doesn’t mean every woman I’m friends with is too. We’re friends; does that mean we’re in the midst of a secret gay romance?” Sasha tried to distract herself from the conversation by using jokes, but her usual comedic mask was torn off by Alexis’s stubborn need to argue. “The difference is that I have a boyfriend. You can’t deny that you would’ve been fired a long time ago if Shea didn’t think you were cute. I mean, you haven’t been on time since you’re second day. I’d say first but I’m pretty sure you turned up late then too.” Alexis spoke matter-of-factly.

“Shea isn’t that shallow.” Sasha argued, looking up towards Shea, who had just walked through the doors. She looked stressed, her eyebrows knitted together as she frowned.

“The fact is you’re not seeing the bigger picture. You choose each other or your careers.” Alexis finalised her point.  Of course Alexis would reduce her friendship with Shea to some dramatic rom-com. Sasha watched her turn to another co-worker who needed her help with some files. Groaning, Sasha turned to her computer and clicked open the fifty pending emails flashing on her screen. Each less important than the one before it, Sasha flicked through them distractedly until she was called onto set by one of the directors.

She noticed Shea waiting for her, long legs crossed as she perched on the edge of the desk. Her heels tapped gently against the wood as she swung her legs. The head producer was talking to her, holding a clipboard close to his chest. Shea’s legs stopped their rhythmic motion when she noticed Sasha approach. She gave Sasha a pointed look and rolled her eyes in the direction of the producer. She clearly wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.

“Miss Velour, have a good show.” The producer nodded politely before walking away to talk to an equally as bored cameraman.

“Hey stranger, I haven’t seen you all day.” Shea hummed as Sasha pulled up a chair next to her.

“I know darling, that’s the price we have to pay when someone,” Sasha nodded pointedly at Shea, “is a successful business woman with meetings every hour.” Shea laughed and gave a smug grin.

“So, what was that about?” Sasha asked, looking towards the producer curiously. Shea shrugged dismissively.

“Oh, just wanted my ideas on a set change. Honestly, I’m pretty sure he just wants a chance to accidentally touch my ass. If he was being paid for flirting, he’d actually be good at his job.” Shea huffed, her voice laced with mirth.

Sasha hoped there were no physical signs of the sudden drop of her stomach. She looked up in surprise.

“Oh, did he ask you out?” Sasha asked, hoping she had managed to keep the tone of her voice consistent. Shea didn’t seem to notice either way.

“Oh please, he’s been asking me out for months, doesn’t mean I’m gonna say yes,” Shea answered, turning to look at Sasha, “besides, he isn’t exactly where I’m keeping my eye.”

Sasha’s lips separated slightly as she searched for something to say, but the shouts of directors and producers tore the pair apart as they were taken to their desk spaces.

The lights signalling quiet, we’re live blared above the camera and the two co-anchors prepared to read their Teleprompters.

“And now Alexis Michelle, discussing what happened when Trump arrived in Saudi Arabia, and we place our bets on how long it will take for him to get every country to hate him.” Shea grinned, pausing to let Sasha say her final lines.

Sasha was grateful when the cameras turned to Alexis, who perfectly delivered a story without even a pause of breath. Though she often lacked in charisma, Alexis was a talented newswoman, and Sasha wouldn’t be surprised if she was her replacement.

They went off air a while after, and both women were grateful for the chance to joke around again. They got told off for speaking too loudly, being shut out until filming was over and scolded, and Sasha was a repeat offender. Much to Shea’s amusement, Sasha found it extremely difficult to hold in jokes once she’d thought of them.

“Have you heard anything new from Trinity?” Shea asked, her legs swinging absentmindedly beneath the chair.

“Nah, I guess they’re waiting till Tuesday to tell me. It’s a bit cowardly, isn’t it? Keeping me in the dark. At least if they told me now that it’s not looking good, I could start finding a job. I’m sure that charming pub on the corner would hire me.” Sasha finished sarcastically, grimacing at the prospect of the cat calls and having shots spilt on her already paint stained clothes. Shea wrinkled her nose, reminded on the story she once reported on the drunken fights between Brooklyn men and invading neighbourhood raccoons.

“I won’t let you do that to yourself. You’d be a terrible barmaid; I’ve seen how many laptops you’ve destroyed. Spill resistant keyboard doesn’t mean half a cup of boiling coffee.” Shea laughed, placing a hand on Sasha’s shoulder in mock concern. Sasha pouted, remembering when she’d tripped and spilt a latte on her laptop and Farrah’s arm. The woman had whined for a week, mostly because the burn meant she couldn’t wear her favourite bracelets. Sasha would’ve made fun of her, but she felt she’d done enough damage.

“Yeah, you know, you’re probably right.” Sasha laughed, her hands covering her face in embarrassment.  

“Now come on, sitting around here isn’t going to help you, let’s go home. It’s like seven, time for food.” Shea exclaimed, pointing to their co-workers that were beginning to leave. Sasha sighed loudly.

“I’m not hungry for dinner, I’m hungry for justice,” Sasha collapsed into her chair, limbs sprawled out in exasperation.

“You can’t fight social injustices on an empty stomach. Come on, I’ll take you to dinner.” Shea argue; pulling Sasha reluctantly to her feet.

Sasha was about to follow Shea absentmindedly, but she hesitated. Shea looked back in confusion. The change in tone had been a surprise to both of them. Sasha imagined a metaphorical Alexis sitting on her shoulder. To her heart, Alexis was the angel, but to her mind, she was the devil. One thing Sasha knew for sure was that, unfortunately, Alexis Michelle was right. If Sasha really did care about her career, she couldn’t throw it away on a date.

Sasha looked down at the floor, her eyes landing on the black leather of Shea’s heels. They were ambitiously tall, and Sasha suspected that she’d probably be taller than Shea if she’d stop wearing them. She’d tried to get Shea to wear flats, but to no avail. She liked having the edge. She felt smaller than usual standing in front of Shea as the woman waited for her answer. Sasha felt a pang in the pit of her stomach, but she couldn’t tell if it was regret or guilt. Possibly both.

“I’m sorry, Shea, but I can’t. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sasha scurried away, trying her hardest not to look back. Shea watched her go, the offering of a lift home left as a breath on her lips.

[anavoliselenu]

This man chapter 12

I persistently ignore my phone, except when Mikael calls to arrange a meeting for tomorrow. He’s stuck in Denmark for the rest of the week, so I’m meeting his PA at The Life Building at nine in the morning. As six o’clock hits, I’m satisfied with my productive day and glad I knuckled down. The day has flown by.

Crawling through the front door, I find an empty house. I’m absolutely shattered. It’s a combination of the after effects from my Saturday night blow out and the Justin saga. I’m rubbish at hangovers. They last longer than the average day for me. My Monday night cheeky glass of wine will not be happening tonight.

I take myself to my room and strip down to shower, gazing up at the ceiling for strength when my phone starts ringing again. This man is not going to make this easy on me. I know it. But then I realise…it’s not Black and Gold. I’ve endured the damn track all bloody day, knocking my phone to silent each time. I’m pleasantly surprised when I see “Mum Mobile” flash up.

I listen to her for twenty minutes as she gives me the full itinerary of Dan’s journey from Australia to Heathrow. Bottom line…he’ll arrive next Monday morning, spend the week in Newquay and return to London on the Saturday. After checking all is well in Newquay, I go to take a shower. Sam Sparro starts shrieking about Black and Gold again, and I turn my phone to silent…again. If I can’t hear it ring, then I won’t be tempted to answer the thing.

After my shower, I fall into bed and I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

‘Wake up sleepy head!’ Kate’s shrill voice stabs at my eardrums. I roll over and look at my clock.

In a blind panic, I clamber out of bed and try to gain a bit of composure. It’s eight O f**king clock! I’ve slept for thirteen hours. Christ, I must have needed that.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ I yell as I hot foot it across the landing to the shower. I’ve got to be at The Life Building in an hour to meet Mikael’s PA.

‘I was asleep myself.’ Kate replies, all happy and fresh. Why is she so bright eyed and bushy tailed? I soon find out when I collide with Sam’s half n**ed body coming out of the bathroom.

‘Easy chick!’ he laughs, steadying me with his hands.

I rip my eyes away from his fine physic. ‘Sorry!’ I blurt, highly embarrassed. Does the man always wander around women’s apartments semi clothed?

His infectious grin reveals his cute dimple as he steps to the side and bows. ‘It’s all yours.’

I dart in and slam the door to hide my red face, but I don’t have time to dwell on my embarrassment. I jump in the shower and wash my damp hair, peg it across the landing in my towel to the safety of my room and fly around in a frenzy getting ready. It’s now that I’m glad I had such a good sort out, finding everything I need at first look. I throw on my blush dress, nude heels and rough dry my hair before piling it up. A quick sweep of powder, blusher and mascara, and I’m all set. I’ve never got ready so quickly.

I take my phone off charge and clear the forty two missed calls from Justin before throwing it in my bag. Flying into the kitchen, I find Sam and Kate sat at the table. Has no one else got work today?

Sam looks up from his bowl of cornflakes and grins. ‘Seen Justin?’ he asks.

I halt, mid-frenzy, and look at him. He’s still grinning at me. ‘No, why are you asking me?’

‘Have you been in your pit all night?’ Kate asks, completely confused.

‘Yes, I got in from work about six thirty and collapsed into bed. And you can’t call it a pit anymore.’ I correct her proudly. ‘Why?’

I watch as Kate looks at Sam, and Sam looks at Kate, then they both look at me. They both look confused and slightly worried.

‘You’ve not seen or spoken to him?’ Sam asks, his spoon hovering in mid-air on its way to his mouth.

‘No!’ My tone is impatient. What’s the matter with them? I don’t plan on seeing or speaking to him ever again. ‘I’m not stitched to his hip.’ I spit harshly.

‘He rang me five times last night, looking for you,’ Kate explains.

‘Me ten!’ Sam interrupts.

Kate looks truly concerned. ‘We got in about eight and assumed you were still at work. He was frantic, Selena. We tried calling you.’

Oh, I’ve not got time for this. What does he think’s happened to me? The man is neurotic, and I’m certainly not his concern. ‘My phone was on silent. Anyway, as you can see, I’m alive and well so if he rings again you can tell him so.’ I huff shortly. ‘I’m going, I’m late.’ I turn to leave the kitchen.

‘When he stopped calling, I assumed you were with him.’ Kate calls to my back as I leave.

‘Well, I wasn’t.’ I shout on my way down the stairs.

I arrive at The Life Building bang of time, in a bit of a fluster, to meet a petite, blonde lady in the lobby. She’s middle aged and very pixie looking, with sharp features and cropped hair. Her plain black business suit does nothing for her pale complexion.

‘You must be Miss O’Shea,’ She holds her pasty hand out to me. ‘I’m Ingrid. Mikael advised you that I would be here, yes?’ Her Danish accent is very strong.

‘Ingrid, call me Selena, please.’ I take her hand, shaking it lightly. She looks so fragile.

She smiles and nods. ‘Selena, of course,’

‘Mikael called me yesterday to tell me he’s held up in Denmark.’

‘Yes, he is. I’ll give you the tour. Works are not quite finished so you’ll need to put these on.’ She hands me a yellow hard hat and hi-visibility vest.

I slip on the safety kit, while considering what I must look like in my lady-like, blush dress and this get up. I panic for a moment, worried that she might make me put on some steel toe cap boots, but she presses the button for the elevator and my worries disappear.

‘We’ll start in the penthouse. It’s very similar to the layout of Lusso.’ The elevator arrives and we step inside. ‘You’re familiar with Lusso, of course.’ She smiles, revealing a mouth full of straight teeth.

I like her. ‘Yes, I’m familiar with Lusso.’ I return her friendly smile. More familiar than you know! I snap a lid on my drifting thoughts immediately. I must not think about him. I must not think about him. I repeat the mantra all the way to the penthouse, while Ingrid explains the minor differences between Lusso and The Life Building. There are not many.

The elevator opens straight into the penthouse; this is one of the differences. Lusso has a Penthouse foyer. The underground parking is the other.

‘Here we are. After you, Selena,’

I take her direction, walking into a vastness I’m familiar with. The size of this Penthouse must be almost exact to Lusso. It looks bigger at the moment, standing an empty shell, but I recall Lusso feeling the same.

‘You can see we used oak here. All of the windows and doors are bespoke and made using sustainable wood. I’m sure Mikael has advised you of this part of the specification in the email he sent you.’ I glance at her. She must catch my blank expression because she laughs, shaking her head. ‘He didn’t mention it in his email?’

‘No,’ I reply, praying that I read it properly, and in full.

‘You’ll have to forgive him. He’s slightly sidetracked with his divorce.’

Divorce? Oh, is that what’s held him up in Denmark? I think it slightly inappropriate that she’s told me such a private part of Mikael’s personal life. Everyone is being so open and honest these days. Or am I just being closed and guarded?

‘Consider me advised.’ I smile.

Over the next few hours, Ingrid walks me through the entire building. I take photographs of the spaces, making notes en-route. The Life Building houses the same luxuries Lusso offers to its residents – a luxury health club, a twenty four hour concierge and the latest security systems. The list goes on. Mikael and his partner certainly know how to deliver on modern, luxury living. The views over Holland Park and the city are incredible.

We find ourselves back in the main foyer. ‘Thank you for the tour, Ingrid.’ I remove my fetching hat and vest.

‘You’re welcome, Selena. Do you have everything you need?’

‘Yes, I’ll wait to hear from Mikael.’

‘He said he would call you on Monday.’ she says as she shakes my hand.

We say our goodbyes, and I leave Ingrid and The Life Building, heading back to the office. I call my doctors surgery on my way; I need to replace my pills. Where they have gone is a bloody mystery. I get an appointment for four o’clock today, which is a relief. Not that I plan on having much sex anytime soon. I’ve had enough lately to see me through for a while.

‘Afternoon,’ I sing to Tom and Victoria as I walk into the office.

Tom frowns and glances at the clock. ‘Oppsie! I’m late for Mrs Baines. She’ll be having kittens!’ He jumps up from his desk, straightens his yellow and blue, stripy tie – which wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t sporting an orange shirt – and tweaks his blonde quiff. ‘I’ll be back after I’ve pacified the loopy old bird.’ he chants, collecting his man-bag and dancing out of the office.

‘Bye.’ I call, landing at my desk. ‘You okay, Victoria?’ I ask. She’s daydreaming. ‘Hello?’ I call.

‘Huh? Oh, sorry. I was miles away. What did you say?’

‘Are you okay?’ I prompt.

She smiles brightly, flicking her long blonde locks over her shoulder. ‘I couldn’t be better.’

Of course. I wonder if her good mood has something to do with a certain standoffish, smart suited man called Drew. I haven’t seen her since Saturday night, but from what I recall – before drunkenness rendered me stupid – she and Drew were looking rather friendly. Is everyone getting it on at the moment?

‘And why is that?’ I ask on a raised brow.

She giggles like a little girl. ‘I have a date with Drew on Friday night.’

I knew it, although I still can’t wrap my brain around ditsy Victoria and serious Drew. ‘Anywhere nice?’ I ask.

She shrugs. ‘He didn’t say. He just asked if he could take me out.’ Her mobile rings and she excuses herself by waving it at me.

I turn my attention to my computer, silencing my phone when it starts blurting Black and Gold. It’s becoming automatic to just reach over and press the button on the side without even looking. After it’s shouted at me three times on the bounce, I turn the sound off altogether. The man is a persistent pain in the arse.

‘I’m off,’ Victoria calls, getting up from her desk. ‘I’ll be back about four.’

‘I won’t see you. I’ve a doctor’s appointment at four.’

‘Oh?’ She glances over on her way out.

‘I lost my pills.’ I offer. She pulls a face that tells me she’s been there and done that. It makes me feel slightly better for being so careless.

I start filtering through my emails and take some copies of drawings to send to my contractors.

When it hits three o’clock, I go to make the coffee. Sally always does it, but I’m relieved to ease my eyes from my bright computer screen.

‘Selena?’ I hear Sally call me. I poke my head around the kitchen door, seeing her waving the office phone. ‘A man on the phone for you, he won’t say who he is.’

My heart jumps into my throat. I know damn well who it is. ‘Is he on hold?’

‘Yes, shall I put him through?’

‘No!’ I yell, and poor nervous Sally flinches. ‘I’m sorry. Tell him I’m out of the office.’

‘Oh, okay.’ She looks all wide eyed and confused as she pushes a button on the phone that will connect her back to Justin. ‘I’m sorry, Sir. Selena is out of the offi…’ She jumps a metre into the air, dropping the phone onto her desk with a loud clatter. She scrambles to pick it up again. ‘I…I…I’m…I’m…sor…sorry, Sir…’ She’s stuttering and stammering all over the place, a good indication that Justin is yelling down the phone at her. I feel riddled with guilt for putting her through this. ‘Sir, please…I…I assure you…she’s…she’s not here.’

I watch as she freaks out at her desk, looking at me wide eyed and stunned as she’s verbally assaulted by Mr Neurotic. I smile apologetically. I’ll buy her some flowers.

She drops the phone back into the cradle, looking at me in shock. ‘Who was that?’ she asks. She’s going to cry.

‘Sally, I’m so sorry.’ I quickly grab the coffees from the kitchen – the only peace offering I can lay my hands on at the moment – and drop Patrick’s on his desk, exiting sharply before he can strike up a conversation. I take Sally’s coffee to her desk and place it on her coaster. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I hope I sound as guilty as I feel.

Sally blows out a long exasperated breath. ‘Someone needs a cuddle!’ She starts giggling.

I’m completely stunned on the spot. I was expecting tears and a nervous breakdown. Instead, dull as dish water Sally has just cracked a joke. I look at the mousey, plain Jane chuckling, and I start laughing too – a proper bend over, tears in my eyes, stomach cramping belly laugh. It feels so good. Sally joins me in my hysteria as we both fall apart all over the office.

‘What’s going on?’ Patrick’s voice calls from his desk.

I wave my hand in the air to him and he rolls his eyes, returning to his computer on an exasperated head shake. I couldn’t tell him, even if I was in a fit state to talk. I leave Sally crying and head for the toilet to sort myself out. Oh, that feels so good. I’ve seen Sally in a whole new light. I like sarcastic Sally.

When I’ve gathered myself together and dabbed my running mascara, I let Patrick know that I’m off for a doctor’s appointment. ‘I’m sorry, Sally, I can’t look at you!’ I splutter as I pass her desk and leave the office, hearing her laughing again. I compose myself and make my way to the tube.

Chapter 23

After receiving a lecture about carelessness from Doctor Monroe, our life-long family doctor, she gave me a prescription for my pills and sent me on my way, but not before checking how Mum and Dad are getting on in Newquay. With Dad’s health being the main reason for their winding down from the big city, she was keen to hear all is well.

I stop off at the chemist on the way home, rolling in the door at just before six. It makes a change to be home so early. I’m surprised to find Kate isn’t home, but Margo is parked up outside so she’s not delivering cakes.

I shower, change into my shorts and vest, and blow-dry my hair roughly. When I’m done, I grab my phone from my bag and roll my eyes at the twenty missed calls and, rather sensibly, delete the five texts without reading them. It starts silently flashing in my hand as I walk through to the kitchen. Won’t the man just give up? He’s clearly not use to rejection, and he clearly doesn’t like it.

My wine bottle clatters against my glass, mid-pour, when I jump out of my skin at an almighty bang on the front door.

‘Selena!’

‘Oh God,’ I mutter to myself.

‘Selena!’ he roars, banging again.

I hurry through to the lounge, looking out of the blind to see Justin staring up at the window. He looks frantic. What’s wrong with that man? He can stay out there all night, if he likes, I’m not answering the door. Being face to face with him will be a huge mistake. I watch as he holds his phone to his ear and mine starts flashing in my hand again. I reject it and look on as he glances at his phone in disbelief.

‘Selena! Answer the f**king door!’

‘No.’ I snap, watching him pace down the path to the road. I nearly have heart failure when I spot Sam pull up in his Porsche. Kate gets out.

Shit!

She approaches Justin, who’s waving his arms around like a loon, as Sam joins them on the pavement and rubs his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. They talk for a few moments before Kate leads them up the path to the front door.

‘No, Kate!’ I shout at the window. ‘Fuck, f**k, f**k, f**k!’ That’s it, our friendship is over!

I stand like a complete lemon in the lounge, hearing the front door swing open, smashing against the wall behind it, and then the stamping of heavy feet flying up the stairs. He crashes through the lounge door, the anger on his face turning to relief before reverting back to pure fury again. His grey suit looks perfectly smooth and unaffected, unlike his disheveled hair and sweaty brow.

‘Where the FUCK have you been?’ He blasts me with his shout, his breath, literally, breezing past my ears. ‘I’ve been pulling my f**king hair out!’

Yes, I can see that.

I stand staring at him, completely dumb struck. I have no idea what to say. Is he under some sort of illusion that I’m answerable to him? Kate and Sam approach behind him, all quiet and apprehensive. I look at Kate, shaking my head. I’m dying to ask her if she likes this Justin.

‘We’re just gonna pop down The Cock for a drink.’ Sam says quietly, grabbing Kate’s hand and pulling her down the landing. She doesn’t try to stop him. I watch them leave, mentally cursing their chicken arses for leaving me alone to deal with crazy man here.

He seems to take a few calming breaths, looking up at the ceiling in weariness, before returning his blazing gaze to mine. It penetrates me deeply. ‘Does someone need a reminder?’

I think I must have a carpet burn on my chin because my jaw has just plummeted to the rug. It really is all about sex to him. His self-assuredness is shocking and his opinion of me inexcusable.

‘No!’ I shout, steaming past him into the kitchen. I need that drink! I hear him follow me, watching as I chuck my phone on the worktop and yank the bottle of wine up. ‘You’re a complete bastard!’ I yell, pouring my wine with shaky hands. I’m boiling mad. I swing around and fire him my most evil look. He actually winces slightly, which fills me with immense satisfaction. ‘You’ve got what you wanted. So have I. Let’s not f**k about.’ I spit. I haven’t got what I wanted, not in the least bit, but I ignore the voice in my head screaming that at me. I need to stop this before I get dragged any further into the intensity that is Justin Ward.

‘Watch your f**king mouth!’ he shouts. ‘What are you talking about? I haven’t got what I wanted.’

‘You want more?’ I quickly swig my wine. ‘Well, I don’t, so stop hounding me, Justin. And stop shouting at me!’ I go for brutality, but I fear I probably sound pretty pathetic in my attempt. Something’s got to work. I take another huge gulp of my wine, jumping when it’s swiped from my hand and tossed in the sink. I wince at the shattering of glass that cracks through the air.

‘You don’t have to drink like a f**king fifteen year old.’ he yells.

My fists ball at my sides as I use all of my willpower to calm myself down. ‘Get out!’ I scream. My attempts are failing miserably. I’m becoming frantic – desperate.

I shrink when he roars in frustration, throwing his fist into the kitchen door, leaving a huge dent in the wood.

Oh, shit! I stand there, eyes bulging and lips sealed firmly shut as I watch his fierce reaction to my rejection. He turns to face me, shaking his hand a little, and looks me square in the eyes, his sludgy stare attacking me.

Fuck me, that’s gotta hurt. I’m about to go to the freezer to get some ice, but he starts to stalk towards me. I brace my hands behind me on the edge of the worktop and watch him gain on me until we are front to front. He leans forward, placing his hands over mine, effectively trapping me.

Breathing heavily in my face, he scowls at me, and then smashes his lips onto my mouth. My breath is literally sucked out of me as I writher under him, trying to free myself. What’s he doing? Actually, I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to hit me with a reminder f**k. I’m so screwed.

He pushes his lips harder against mine, but I don’t accept his kiss. I keep telling myself that this is bad, so bloody wrong. I’m going to hurt even more if I accept this, I know I will. I half-heartedly try to free myself, but he growls low in his throat, his hands tightening on mine. I’m not going anywhere. My desperate attempts to halt this are being seriously hindered by his sheer determination to break me down.

His tongue skims my bottom lip as I continue to deny him access, shuddering in an attempt to fight off the reactions he’s drawing from me. I know if he gains entry, it will be game over, so I stubbornly keep my lips locked shut while mentally pleading for him to give up.

When he releases one of my hands, I instantly grab his bicep to push him away, but it’s no good. He’s a powerhouse of a man and a determined one at that. He’s not affected in the slightest by my meager attempts to free myself.

He grabs my hip tightly and I jerk under him, but I’m pressed back into the worktop. I’m completely trapped, but I still defiantly reject his kiss, keeping my lips shut tight. I turn my head away when he eases up a bit.

‘Stubborn woman.’ he mutters, pressing his lips against my neck, licking and nibbling his way down to the hollow, circling long, wet strokes before working his way up to my ear and biting at my lobe.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pleading with my self-control to resist his irresistible touch. My fingernails are digging into his tense upper arm and my lips are locked shut for fear of letting out a cry of pleasure. His hand leaves my hip and moves slowly across my stomach, skimming the waistband of my shorts.

‘Please. Please, stop.’ I cry.

‘You stop, Selena. Just stop.’ Slipping his index finger under the material, he traces left to right, in slow, soft, measured strokes while continuing the invasion of his lips on my ear and neck. I could cry with frustration.

The warm friction buckles my knees, sending violent quivers over my entire body. I hear him laugh lightly, deep at the back of his throat, sending vibrations down my spine and a slow steady beat to my core. I clamp my thighs together, moving my hand from his arm to his chest and pushing in total vain. I don’t even know why I’m bothering now. I’m a heartbeat away from surrendering to him. He’s persistently pursuing me in lust, and I’ve fallen hard for him – really hard. My head feels like it could explode, and I’m not sure if it’ll be in pleasure or confusion. I’m so bloody confused.

When his lips reach mine again, I still resist, trying my hardest to block it all out. My poor brain is being thrown a million different commands – fight him; resist him; accept him; kiss him; knee him in the bollocks.

And then his hand is delving into my knickers, his fingers separating me, causing electricity to spark violently through me. He brushes over my clitoris, so very gently. I jerk, my mouth opens and I let out a cry of pleasure. He takes full advantage of my lapse in willpower, thrusting his tongue into my mouth, exploring and lapping every corner, his thumb slowly circling my burning core. I kiss him back.

‘Let my hand go.’ I pant, flexing the muscles in my arm.

He must know that he’s got me because my hand is released on a moan and he’s griping the nape of my neck immediately. I throw my arms around his neck to pull him closer to me – just like that.

His h*ps thrust against his hand, increasing the pressure of his assault on my core and his fingers enter me. My muscles grip him hard. I moan.

He pulls away from me, gasping and heaving, looking at me through his hooded, glazed eyes. ‘I thought so.’ he says, his husky tone pushing my building orgasm higher.

He crashes his lips back on mine, and I accept it - all of it. Once again, I’m a slave to this beautiful, neurotic man. My willpower has diminished and my weaknesses have been weakened.

I run my hands across his suited back, my fingers delving into his dirty blonde hair as he continues his excruciatingly slow, controlled drives with his fingers. I could cry with pleasure and frustration, but how can I resist this? I’ll never escape him.

Now that I’ve stopped fighting him, his tongue is working my mouth at a calmer, steadier rate. The hotness of our combined mouths feels natural and absolute. My thighs tighten with the building cl**ax threatening to attack me from every direction, and my grip of his hair increases. He gets the message, hardening his kiss, the strokes of his fingers and thumb becoming firmer as I’m bulldozed by pleasure and rocketed skyward. My mind goes blank, except for the bliss of release riding through me. I bite his lip. He groans. Holy f**king shit!

His strokes ease up, and I release his lip from my clenched teeth. I think I can taste blood, but my eyes won’t open to confirm it. It would serve him right.

‘Remember yet?’ he whispers softly against my lips. I sigh, pulling my heavy eyes open to meet his green gaze. I don’t answer him; he knows the answer to that question. But as always, I never forgot. He doesn’t demand an answer. He just leans down, dropping a gentle kiss on my mouth, my tongue sweeping across his bottom lip, licking away the small drop of blood that I’ve drawn.

‘I’ve made you bleed.’

‘Savage.’ he breathes, pulling his fingers slowly out of me and sliding them into my mouth. He watches me closely as I run my tongue over them, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He’s got want he wants again – me, surrendering to him.

I’m lifted onto the worktop. ‘Why do you keep running away from me?’ His eyes search mine as he rests his hands on either side of my thighs, bending his body, leaning in.

I drop my head. I can’t look at him. What can I tell him? That I’ve fallen in love with him? Perhaps I should – he might freak out and leave me alone. I shrug instead.

He places his index finger under my chin and tips my head back up so I’m forced to confront his achingly handsome face.

He raises his eyebrows at me expectantly. ‘Talk to me, baby.’

‘I don’t know.’

He rolls his eyes and slaps my hand away from the piece of hair I’m coiling around my finger. ‘You’re a shit liar, Selena.’

‘I know.’ I huff. I’ve got to sort that bad habit out quickly.

‘Tell me, now.’ he demands softly.

I sigh. ‘You’re distracting me. I don’t want to get hurt.’ There, I’m not lying. That’s true. I just left out the minor, major detail of my feelings for him.

I look at him as he chews his bottom lip, the cogs of his mind going into overdrive. He doesn’t know what to say to that. I’m so glad I didn’t hit him with the love bomb.

‘I see.’ he says flatly. Is that it? I see? ‘I’m a distraction?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’ I scowl. The worst kind!

He pouts. ‘I like distracting you.’

‘I like you distracting me too.’ I mumble sulkily. I notice he ignores the hurt comment, homing straight in on the distraction tactics.

‘What am I distracting you from?’

‘Being sensible,’ I reply quietly. The intoxicating affect he has on my body is setting deeper into my mindset. He said he would make me need him, and he’s keeping true to his word.

He smiles, completely satisfied, his eyes dark and promising again. ‘I’m going to distract you some more now. We need to make friends.’ His low voice is sparking off my desire for him all over again as he grabs me under my bum and slides me off of the worktop to straddle his waist.

‘Didn’t we just make friends?’

‘Not properly. We need to make friends properly. It’s the sensible thing to do. We don’t run anymore, Selena.’

I smile and wrap my arms around his back as he walks us out of the kitchen, into my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He places me on the end of the bed, pulling my vest up over my head, my bra-free br**sts springing free. He smiles, looking down into my eyes and tossing my vest on the floor. He starts pulling at the waist band of my shorts, encouraging me to lift my bum so he can draw them down my legs, taking my knickers with them.

‘Stay there.’ he orders, reaching up and pulling at his tie. Sparks of anticipation ricochet all around my body as I watch him slowly undress in front of me. His jacket follows his tie, then he slowly unbuttons his shirt.

Hurry up! The flex of his ripped chest has me virtually dribbling as he stands before me, taking painfully long to undress. My eyes are automatically drawn to the sight of his scar. I’m desperate to know where it came from.

‘Look at me, Selena.’

My eyes fly straight to his, those sludgy pools of green watching me carefully as he removes his shoes, socks and trousers, before finally dragging his boxers down his legs. His erection springs free. It’s at eye level to me. If I reach forward and open my mouth, I’ll have the upper hand. That would make a nice change. I glance up at him, catching a wicked grin and blazing eyes.

‘I’m desperate to be inside you after looking for you for the last two days,’ he says darkly. ‘I’ll look forward to f**king your mouth later. You owe me.’

A powerful thud crashes into my core as he leans down and curls his arm around my waist before crawling up the bed above me and placing me down gently beneath him. My thighs are spread by his knee, and he cradles himself between them, resting his forearms on either side of my head as he looks down at me with soft eyes. I could weep.

Any plans I had of walking away before it’s too late are totally obliterated. It’s already too late, and his determination to have me, as and when he pleases, is not doing me any favours.

‘You won’t run away from me again.’ he says softly but firmly.

I know I have to answer this. I shake my head and reach up to his shoulders.

‘You need to answer me, Selena.’ he whispers. I feel the broad head of his erection pushing at my entrance, causing a ridiculous amount of heat to plague me.

‘I won’t.’ I confirm.

He nods, holding my gaze as he slowly draws back and drives forward, plunging deeply into me. I moan and adjust my grip on his shoulders, shifting under him. The fullness is incredible, and I’ve fast become use to him. He blows out a long controlled breath of air. The concentration frown flickering across his brow is shiny with sweat and heavy on his forehead.

I resist the urge to contract around him – he needs a moment. His eyes close, his long lashes fanning, his head dropped to mine as he battles to compose his erratic breathing. I wait patiently for him to sort himself out, running my hands up and down his firm upper arms, more than happy to lay here looking at this beautiful, neurotic man so closely. He knows I need gentle Justin right now.

After a few moments, he gathers himself together and lifts his head back up to look at me. My heart constricts in my chest. I’m so in love with this man.

‘This is what happens when you deny me. Don’t do it again.’ He lifts his upper body to brace his arms, then lazily drags back and gradually drives forward.

I purr. Oh, good God. He repeats the delectable move, over and over, watching me the entire time.

‘You need to think about this, Selena. When you’re tempted to run again, think about how you feel right now. Think about me.’

‘Yes.’ I breathe, struggling to dampen down a fast buildup of pressure. I want to carry on like this forever. I want to feel like this forever. This is exactly why I’ve been avoiding him. I’m weak and feeble in my attempts to brush him off. Or is he just determined? Well, either way, I always end up at square one again…giving myself to this man.

I rock my h*ps up to meet his every thrust, and he lowers his mouth to mine, taking my lips leisurely and lazily, matching his blazing hip rhythm with his tongue.

I whimper, digging my nails into his arms. I’ve got to stop marking him and drawing blood. The poor man is mistreated almost every time. He drives slowly forward, circles deeply and withdraws lazily, time and time again. I can’t hold out for much longer. How does he do this to me?

‘Does that feel good?’ he whispers.

‘Too good,’ I gasp on a lazy grind.

‘It does. Are you there, lady?’ he asks against my lips.

I nip his tongue. ‘I’m there.’

‘I’ve got you, baby. Let it go.’

The racking shudder that courses through my body has me clenched around Justin’s arousal, shaking wildly against him as I moan my release into his mouth. The last, deep thrust, followed by a jerk and hot sensation flooding me, signals Justin’s release. He holds himself deep and clenches his eyes shut, while paying loving attention to my mouth, moaning long and low. The pulsating of him is triggering my muscles to tense around him, all in time to his throbs. I’m draining him dry.

‘God, I’ve missed you.’ he whispers, burying his face in the crook of my neck and nuzzling before rolling onto his back. He holds his arm up, and I move into his warm, firm chest, resting my cheek on his pec. I’m so screwed – totally f**king screwed.

‘I love sleepy sex with you.’ I muse dreamily.

‘That wasn’t sleep sex, baby.’ He brushes my hair from my face with his spare hand.

It wasn’t? ‘What was is then?’

He kisses my forehead gently. ‘That was catching up sex.’

Oh, a new one. ‘I like catching up sex then.’

‘Don’t like it too much. It won’t happen very often.’

A stab of disappointment pierces me. ‘Why?’

‘Because, lady, you won’t be running away from me again, and I don’t plan on being away from you very often either.’ He inhales in my hair. ‘If ever,’

I smile to myself, throwing my leg over his thighs. He clasps my knee, rubbing circles over my skin with his thumb, while I trace my fingers across the surface of his scar. I’m compelled to know how he got it. He hasn’t mentioned it, except to warn me off asking, but it’s not like it can be overlooked. I need to know more about him.

‘How did this happen?’ I ask as I follow the line around to his side.

He inhales tiredly. ‘How did what happen, Selena?’ His words leave no room for movement or interrogation on the matter. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘Nothing,’ I whisper softly, making a mental note not to ask again.

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks in a blatant change of subject tactic.

‘It’s Wednesday, I’m working.’

‘Take the day off.’

‘What, just like that?’

I feel him shrug. ‘Yes, you owe me two days.’

He makes everything sound so straight forward. It’s okay for him, with his own business and no one to answer to. I, on the other hand, have clients, a boss and a pile of work to do.

‘I have too much to do. Besides, you abandoned me for four days.’ I remind him. He still hasn’t explained himself. Will he now?

‘Come with me now then.’ He squeezes me in a little bit more. I notice I get nothing of an explanation.

‘Where?’

‘I’ve got to shoot over to The Manor, sort a few things out with John. You can have some dinner while you wait for me.’

Not a chance! I’m not going to The Manor, I’m not waiting for him in the restaurant while he sees to business and I’m not risking bumping into old pouty lips.

‘I think I’ll stay here, I don’t want to get in your way.’ I say quietly, hoping he doesn’t push this. Another standoff with Sarah will not be a good way to end the day, the devious, interfering cow. What has Justin’s personal life got to do with her?

I’m rolled onto my back with my wrists pinned to the side of my head as Justin looms over me. ‘You won’t ever be in my way.’ He rests his lips between my br**sts and trails kisses across to my nipple. ‘You’ll come.’

My nipple lengthens under his gentle, swirling tongue, my breathing fluttering. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I force the words through pants.

His teeth clamp lightly onto my nipple as he looks up at me, grinning. ‘Hmmm, sense f**k?’ he offers, through a mouth full of breast.

Oh, no. I’ll take the f**k, but I’m still not going to The Manor. Although, if he starts f**king his so called sense into me, then I’m screwed in more than one way. He can make me say anything. Well, he can do that pretty much all of the time, but especially during a sense f**k.

I hear the front door crash open and the laughter of Kate and Sam coming up the stairs. I look down at Justin still clamped around my nipple, the frustration marring his face having me secretly pleased. While I’d take a sense f**k anytime, the sense he aims on f**king into me, on this particular occasion, makes no sense at all. Why would I want to set myself up for a verbal spar with Sarah?

He huffs childishly, releasing my nipple. ‘I don’t suppose you can keep your mouth shut while I f**k some sense into you?’

I raise my eyebrows. He knows that’s impossible.

‘For f**ks sake.’ he grumbles, pushing himself up, making a point of brushing his knee up the inside of my thigh and over my moist centre. The friction has me wanting to yank him back down to me. I don’t want him to go. He leans down and kisses me hard and purposefully. ‘I’ve got to go. When I call you tomorrow, you’ll answer the phone.’

‘I will.’ I confirm obediently. God help me if I don’t.

He smiles darkly and grabs my hip. I squeal like a little girl and flip myself onto my front. Then I feel the sting of his palm meeting my backside.

‘Ouch!’

‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’ The bed shifts as he gets up.

When I turn over, his shirt is on his back and he’s working the buttons. ‘Will Sarah be at The Manor?’ I blurt, before my brain filters the stupid question.

He pauses briefly before picking up his boxers and stepping into them. ‘I hope so, she works for me.’

What? ‘You said she was a friend.’ I sound whinny. I mentally slap myself for it.

He frowns. ‘Yes, she’s a friend and she works for me.’

Marvelous. I roll out of bed and find my vest and shorts. No wonder she’s always loitering about. Should I tell him that she’s warned me off? No, he probably wouldn’t appreciate immature, petty jealousies. God, I hate that woman. I yank my vest and shorts on, and turn to find Justin pulling his suit jacket on. He’s watching me thoughtfully. Does he know what I’m thinking?

‘Are you going to put some clothes on?’ he asks, looking me up and down.

I look down at my shorts and vest combo and back up to him. His eyebrows are raised. ‘I’m at home.’

‘Yes, and Sam’s out there.’

‘Sam doesn’t seem to think anything of walking around in his pants. At least I’m covered.’

‘Sam’s an exhibitionist.’ he grumbles, walking over to my wardrobe and flicking through the rails. ‘Here, put this on.’ He hands me a chunky knit, oversized, cream jumper.

‘No!’ I splutter in disgust. I’ll pass out of overheating!

He thrusts it closer to me with a determined, dirty look. ‘Put the jumper on.’

‘No.’ I say it slowly and concisely. He’s not dictating my wardrobe, especially not when I’m at home. I snatch the jumper from him and throw it on the bed, watching as he follows its path through the air. He looks at it sprawled on the bed, then slowly returns his eyes to mine. His teeth are going ten to the dozen, chewing his bottom lip.

‘Three,’ he grates.

My eyes widen. ‘Are you winding me up?’

He ignores me. ‘Two,’

I still don’t know what happens at zero, but it looks like I’m going to find out. ‘I’m not putting the jumper on.’

‘One,’ His lips press into a straight line of displeasure.

‘Do what you like, Justin. I’m not putting that jumper on.’

His eyes narrow. ‘Zero,’

We stand opposite each other, him with an expression of genuine fury mixed with a bit of delight, and me wondering what the hell he’s going to do now that he’s reached zero. I scan the room, looking for an escape, but there’s only one, and I have to get past Justin to make it there. What are the chances of that?

He shakes his head, exhaling a long, lung full of air, and then he makes his move. I dart across the bed to escape, getting caught up in the mountain of sheets and squealing when I feel his warm palm wrap around my ankle. He yanks me across the bed.

‘Justin!’ I cry as he flips me over and straddles me, pinning my arms under his knees. ‘Get off!’ I blow my hair out of my face, finding him looking down at me, his face deadly serious.

‘Let’s clear something up.’ He removes his jacket, throws it on the bed and picks up the jumper. ‘If you do what you’re told, our lives will be a lot easier. All this…’ He strokes his palms over my torso and pinches my ni**les through my vest. I yelp. ‘is for my eyes only.’ He moves his hands behind him and digs his fingers into the hollow above my h*ps bone.

‘NO!’ I scream. ‘Please, no!’ I start laughing. Oh God, I’ll pee myself!

He continues with the digs and squeezes, sending me on a wild bucking mission. I can’t breathe. I’m between laughter and crying at the torturous assault, my bladder set to burst.

‘Justin, I need the toilet!’ I half laugh, half cry. All I’m aware of is the agonising suffering he’s inflicting on me, the cruel bastard. And all because I won’t put a stupid jumper on?

‘That’s better.’ I hear him say through my bucking frenzy. I feel my hair being brushed away from my face, then his lips pressed hard on mine. ‘You could have saved us both a lot of trouble if you’d have just put…the…fucking…jumper…on.’

I look up at him and scowl as he lifts his heavy weight from me and puts his jacket back on. I sit up, finding I’m wearing the stupid jumper. How did he manage that? I turn my fierceness onto him. He’s regarding me intently, not a hint of amusement on his face.

‘I’ll just take it off.’ I spit.

‘No, you won’t.’ he assures me, and he’s probably right.

I get off the bed, heading for the bathroom in the ridiculous jumper. ‘You’re an unreasonable arse.’ I mutter, slamming the door behind me.

I go for a wee and make a mental note, never to let him get to zero again. That was my worst nightmare. I rub my poor abused hips, the sensitive flesh above my bones still tingling.

When I’m done, I find Justin in the kitchen with Sam and Kate, who both run their eyes over my jumper clad body. I shrug, pouring myself another wine.

‘Made up?’ Kate asks, perching on Sam’s lap. He separates his thighs, causing Kate to slip between his legs on a squeal. She playfully slaps him before looking at me for an answer.

‘No,’ I mutter, throwing Justin a disgruntled look. ‘And if you’d like to know who has put a hole in your kitchen door, look no further.’ I point my glass at Justin. ‘He also smashed your wine glass.’ I add, like the pathetic snitch I am.

I watch as Justin reaches in his pockets, palms off a pile of twenties and slaps them on the table in front of Kate. ‘Let me know if it’s anymore.’ he says, keeping his eyes firmly on me. I look down at the table. There must be at least five hundred quid there. And I notice he didn’t apologise, the arrogant arse.

Kate shrugs and scoops the money up. ‘That should cover it.’

Justin shoves his hands back in his pockets, saunters over to me and bends so his face is level with mine. ‘I like your jumper.’

‘Fuck off.’ I mouth, before taking a huge swig of wine.

He grins, kissing my nose. ‘Mouth,’ he warns. He grasps the back of my head, bunching my hair in his fist and pulls me forward so we’re nose to nose. ‘Don’t drink too much.’ he orders, and then lands me with a searing hot kiss. I try to resist…a little.

When I’m free from his lips and I’ve regained my senses, I scoff, taking another glug.

He shakes his head mildly, inhaling deeply, before turning away from me. ‘My work here is done.’ he says smugly as he leaves.

‘Bye.’ Kate sings on a laugh. I throw her a filthy look.

‘My man,’ Sam holds his hand up on a grin. ‘Selena, where’s the love?’

‘Up his arse!’ I snap, discarding my wine glass and collecting my phone before storming out of the kitchen, back to my room. The man is impossible. I hear Sam and Kate laughing as I crawl into bed with my jumper on.

I’m pretending the only reason I’m pissed is because Justin has just manhandled me into a jumper. The fact that he’s on his way to The Manor, and a certain pouty lipped witch is sure be there, has nothing to do with my bad mood – nothing at all.

As I’m dozing off, my phone starts singing The Stone Roses, This is the One. I roll my eyes, reaching for it from my bedside table. I need to teach that man some phone manners.

‘What?’ I snap.

‘Who do you think you’re talking to, lady?’

‘An unreasonable arse!’

‘I’ll ignore that. Have you still got the jumper on?’

I want to say no. ‘Yes.’ I grumble. Would he come back and torture me some more if I did say no? ‘Is that all you rang for?’

‘No, I wanted to hear your voice.’ he says softly. ‘I’m having Selena withdrawal.’

I melt a little on a sigh. He can be so domineering, bossy and unreasonable, and in the next breath, completely soppy and lovely. ‘You’ve been messing with my phone again.’ I accuse.

‘You’re not going to hear me call if it’s on silent, are you?’

‘No, but how did you know it was on silent?’ I ask, although I already know. I need to put a PIN lock on it. ‘Anyway, it’s rude. And you need to apologise to Sally.’

‘I’m sorry. Who’s Sally?’

‘No, you’re not. Sally is the waif like creature in my office who you verbally attacked.’

‘Oh, I’ll take care of it. Make sure you dream of me.’

I smile. ‘I will. Goodnight.’

‘Oh, Selena?’

‘What?’

‘You’re the one, baby.’ He hangs up, and my heart jumps up into my throat. What is the one? Does he mean what I think he means? I start chewing my thumb nail and drift off to sleep considering his coded statement.

Am I The One?

Is he The One?

Oh, hell. I really want him to be.

Chapter 24

I sit at my desk in a complete daydream, my mind racing with thoughts of The One and f**kings of various degrees. If – in my perfect little world – I end up in a relationship with Justin, would this be how it is all of the time? Justin making his commands and me who obeys? It’s that or receiving some sort of f**k, or being subjected to some kind of countdown and torture until I relent, or he manhandles me into complying. I’m not denying the certain element of fun in the f**king side of things, but there has to be give and take. And I’m not sure Justin knows how to give – unless it’s one of his varying degrees of f**king. He’s so good at it, though. I bristle when I conclude that it is, undoubtedly, because he’s had plenty of practice. My pencil snaps in my hand. What? I look at the splintered wood in my grasp. Oh…dear.

‘Selena, you’re here early.’ Sally walks into the office, and I immediately giggle to myself. I saw Sally in a different light yesterday.

‘Yes, I woke up early.’ I say, wanting to add that it’s because a neurotic arse made me wear a winter jumper in bed, causing me to wake up in a pool of sweat.

She settles herself at her desk. ‘I tried calling you yesterday after you left.’

‘You did?’ I frown, but then realise that I probably cleared Sally’s missed call with the dozens of others from Justin.

‘Yes, that angry man came into the office shortly after you left.’

‘He did?’ I should have known.

‘He did. And his mood had not improved.’ she says dryly.

I can imagine. I smile. ‘Did you give him a cuddle?’

Sally snorts, flopping back in her chair in another fit of laughter. I join her, laughing helplessly as I watch Sal fall apart all over her desk.

Patrick walks in and looks at both of us in exasperation before making his way to his own office, shutting the door behind him.

Oh, shit! ‘Was Patrick here?’ I ask.

She takes her glasses off and starts cleaning them with the hem of her brown, polyester blouse. ‘What? When the lunatic came in? No, he was collecting Irene from the train station.’