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I watch as Becker wrestles her from his car, holding my tongue to prevent me from blurting out something snarky. He’s cursing and muttering under his breath. The urge to enflame his irritation is overwhelming. ‘You’re doing a stellar—’ I physically slap my hand over my mouth to halt the flow of my condescending encouragement.
His jerky string of movements falter for a few worrying moments, and I brace myself for a barrage of abuse, but after taking a loud, calming intake of breath, he continues to wrestle my dead weight of a friend from the back seat. ‘I have never, not once, let a perfect stranger into The Haven.’ Once he’s unbent his body and has Lucy’s floppy body in a fireman’s hold, he turns and hands me a security card.
I accept, my smile unstoppable. ‘You let me in.’
One of his lovely eyes narrow on me, his lips twitching. ‘Best stupid move I’ve ever made. You going to open this door?’
I oblige quickly and push the door open, holding it for him to pass. ‘Certainly . . . sir.’
‘Oh, girl, you know how to push my buttons.’ He paces past me and disappears into the dark alleyway, leaving me to follow with a huge grin on my face. ‘Where are you going to put her?’ The lights activate and the first thing I see is Lucy’s mouth hanging open, dribbling. I grimace.
‘In Winston’s bed.’
‘You can’t do that.’ I laugh, though it’s tinged with nerves because I know he probably would.
‘Watch me.’ He marches on, determined. ‘She’s going to have a stinker of a headache in the morning.’
‘She needs a shower,’ I say as we breach the end of the alley, breaking into the courtyard. The sensors detect us and spring to life, illuminating the outside space.
‘She’s taken up enough of your time this evening,’ Becker gripes uncharitably as he lets us into the Grand Hall. ‘I want my girlfriend back.’
When I should be telling him off for being so insensitive, I find myself smiling like a prat instead. I . . . God, I just want him to gobble me up, the delicious, scandalously, handsome crook. ‘At least you still have a girlfriend.’ I say, wondering how Mark’s doing. I’ll call him in the morning.
Becker negotiates Lucy down the corridor, and I worry all over again when he stops by the kitchen door. He wouldn’t? He can’t. I’ll never be able to pick her up out of Winston’s bed.
I wait with bated breath, ready to stop him. But after a few worrying moments, he shakes his head and continues on to the end of the corridor where his granddad resides, opening the door opposite Mr H’s suite. I rush past him and pull back the covers of the spare bed.
Becker lowers her to the mattress. ‘My God, she stinks.’
I laugh, thinking Lucy is going to be absolutely mortified come morning. ‘You’d better go before I undress her. She’s got enough to be embarrassed about.’
He shakes his head in despair and backs out of the room. ‘Your arse looks amazing in that dress, by the way.’ He grins cheekily and pulls the door closed.
I’m smiling as I start the task of peeling Lucy’s damp clothes away. It proves trickier than expected; the playsuit is like the Rubik’s Cube of outfits. ‘How the hell do you get out of it?’ I ask myself, forcing her dead weight onto her side with effort. I find a zip, but quickly figure that even by undoing it, I’ve still got to get the thing over her head, and with shorts attached that’s going to be pretty impossible while she’s unconscious. I give up. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, but you’re going to have to sleep in it.’ I try to compensate by tucking her in, all cosy and warm, before leaving her snoring. I shake my head at her on a fond smile. She probably won’t even remember our row in the morning.
Closing the door behind me, I follow my senses to Becker’s office and spend a while staring at the depiction of Adam and Eve on the huge wooden doors. The Garden of Eden. If only I’d known when I first clapped eyes on this door. The temptation I’d be faced with, just like Eve. The irony of the wooden carving has never escaped me.
I suddenly feel a little sleepy as I push my way in and yawn, coming to a stop when I see Becker sitting on the edge of his desk with a tumbler in his hand.
‘My girl’s tired.’ He knocks back a drink and comes to collect me, and I don’t murmur a word of protest as he gathers my useless body into his arms. ‘Time for bed, princess.’
My head hits his shoulder and my eyes are immediately heavy. ‘Thank you for letting her stay.’
