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Chapter six
TORY
Ididnotsleep well. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep from the frustration and anger that danced with adrenaline through my body. I imagined everything from the conversation I’d have with my parents once West had got me home, to simply walking out of the door and bashing whoever was sitting out there over the head with a chair. Eventually, in the small hours of the morning, I finally formulated some kind of idea to get away from them again, though it was tenuous at best. With the comforting thought that I definitely wasn’t going to give in and go quietly, I finally fell asleep just as the sun started to rise.
A couple of hours later, I was rudely awakened by a loud banging on my door.
I lifted my head a few inches from the pillow. “No, thank you,” I called, the words cracking in my mouth, dry from the air conditioning.
“Lady Victoria?” Davenport’s voice came from outside the door, and I groaned. “My lady?”
“Definitely no thank you!” I called back and planted my head face down into the pillow. The banging sounded again, and I quietly screamed, “Fuck off!” into the pillow. When it was clear he wasn’t going away, I threw the sheets back and climbed out of bed, stumbling bleary-eyed towards the door. I had slept in a cotton shirt that, thanks to my diminutive height, hung nearly to my knees, so I was decently covered, if not particularly ladylike in appearance. I pulled up the latch and let the door swing open, stepping back for Davenport to come in. It was in his favour that he was carrying a tray with a carafe of strong Arabic coffee and three small cups, which he set on the table in the corner of the room.
When he turned to look at me, his eyes travelled over my bare legs, my creased shirt, and my hair, which I had forgotten to braid the night before, so I was pretty sure without looking in a mirror that it was rather wild in appearance. He raised his eyebrows and an amused smile spread across his handsome face.
“You look... different,” he remarked.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, leaning past him to pour myself a dash of coffee. “We don’t wake up looking like princesses, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured softly, reaching out to untangle a long lock of dark hair that had somehow got caught in a shirt button. “I think I prefer you like this.” His fingertips brushed against my collarbone, and they felt like a brand against my skin. His warm brown eyes locked onto mine and held my gaze for a moment. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. The sensation caught me off guard, and I stepped away from him, my society training kicking in as I fought to cover up my reaction as I gestured grandly at my appearance.
“What can I say, I’m irresistible in hot mess chic. This look will be rocking the catwalks at fashion week next year.”
Davenport smiled at me. “I completely agree, and may I say the raccoon eye makeup really does finish off the whole look.”
My mouth fell open in horror, and I whirled around, darting into the tiny en-suite to look at myself in the mirror.
“Shit!”
“It’s not that bad,” he said from the bedroom.
“No, it’s not... Well, it is, but I’ve just spilled coffee down my shirt and it’s hot!” I pulled the wet material away from my body, wincing at the slight scald on my thigh. Glancing up into the mirror, I groaned. My makeup was indeed raccoon-like, and now I was covered in coffee. My hair had frizzed up overnight with all the tossing and turning, and it was going to take a lot to get a brush or comb through that mess. I set the coffee cup on the edge of the sink and leaned back against the cool tiles.
“Lady Victoria, are you okay? Did you burn yourself?”
Davenport’s voice was concerned, and I smiled. I was really starting to like this guy, even if he was here to try and take me home.
“I’m fine, just a shock, that’s all,” I called through the door. “Can you pass me my bags please?”
There was a rustle and then a quiet knock before he opened the door slightly and passed the bags around it without opening it fully. I took them and started rifling through my recent purchases.
“Can I get you anything else, my lady?”
“Tory,” I corrected, pulling the soiled shirt over my head and dropping it on the floor.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s Tory. Drop the whole lady thing, it’s getting old.” I put on fresh underwear and a loose white long-sleeve top, and then I used a face cloth to remove the remainder of my makeup. Feeling slightly more presentable, I stuck my head around the door.
Davenport was standing by the bed, straightening the sheets and pulling them back to air. He was domesticated too, hmm... Maybe Hattie had been on to something. Maybe when I got back, I would see if Davenport might be up for a bit of extracurricular. “I’m not sure West would like me calling you Tory,” he said, not looking at me.
“Ah, screw West.” I reached out and grabbed the wide-toothed comb off the dresser. “You call me Tory, and I’ll call you... actually, Davenport, what is your first name?”
He looked up and smiled, and I noticed that when he did, his eyes crinkled in the corners in a rather cute way. “It’s Jack, my la—Tory.”
I grinned. “See, that wasn’t so hard!”
I moved back into the bathroom again, pulling on a pair of camel-coloured lightweight trousers, and then faced myself in the mirror, gearing up to do battle with my hair. As I attacked it with the comb, I shouted, “What’s West’s first name?”
