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I dash at hot tears that are clinging to my lashes. What a foolish, idiotic woman I’ve been!
To let him so deep into my soul when he’s insisted all along that he doesn’t want that.
Hurt morphs to fury, carrying me farther down the pavement, away from the bar. I step out onto the road without looking and might have been hit by a black taxi cab had it not blared its horn loudly and swerved to avoid me.
My heart beats a frantic tattoo in my chest, and I support my weight against a thick tree trunk. I stare at the road and, beyond it, the Thames, and I curse. I curse Noah, I curse Gabe, I curse Julianne, and everything that conspired to bring him into my life. How dare he do this to me.
How dare he think we were ever just about sex.
Fuck him!
I glare back in the direction from which I’ve come and I begin to walk that way, my back straight, my eyes unwavering from Noah’s door. He thinks he can do this to me? No way.
He’s going to hear exactly what I think of this decision—to hell with his pains and hurts. This is about me now.
* * *
The girl from the bar has helped herself to a drink and is looking around my place.
I’m bored of her. I want her to go. I feel invaded and angry that she’s here.
But I don’t want to admit that, even to myself.
‘So, sweetheart. What do you do?’
‘Do?’ She lifts a brow. ‘You mean sexually?’
I laugh, but it’s a sound of despair. Frustration. Confusion. What’s happening? Is this a dream? Can I shake myself awake from it? I look down at my hands. They’re real enough. Shaking slightly.
‘I mean professionally.’
‘Oh. I’m a model.’
‘Of course you are.’ I can’t help—and don’t bother trying to hide—the derision that curls my words.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Her fingers find the straps of her dress, toying with them.
My body doesn’t respond. Not even a little bit.
‘What do you do?’
‘Software development,’ I say, somewhat disingenuously. It’s been a long time since I’ve coded for more than fun.
‘That explains all this.’ She waves a hand around.
I don’t want to sleep with her. I want to get rid of her. Holly’s eyes are in my mind again. Filled with tears. Her lips parted. Her face pale.
Fuckety-fuck.
‘Look, sweetheart, you’re very attractive, but you’re not really my type.’
Her eyes narrow. ‘You don’t like models?’ she prompts, sashaying towards me, her skinny hips jerking from side to side. I would have gone for her a month ago. Three weeks ago. Pre-Holly I’d be stripping that dress from her body and pulling her against me.
‘I’ve never been with a model.’
She pauses in front of me, locking her hands behind my back. Still my body doesn’t respond. I am impatient to be alone now. ‘And I don’t intend to be now.’
She lifts up on her toes, dragging her lips against my cheek. I step back.
