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“Ok, yes,” I said, before I could stop myself. “But I’m not sure I’m going to return the favour and guzzle down any of yours, I’m pretty sure that’s a hard limit of mine.”
He smiled, and it was the smile of the beast, dark and horny and dirty as sin. He backed away, retreating onto the street. “We’ll find out, Lydia,” he growled. “I think you may surprise yourself.”
I hoped he wouldn’t hold his breath. The idea was squicky as hell,nearlysquicky enough to stop me jilling myself crazy over it later, but only nearly.
***
Lydia
Even with Salmons eating healthily into our work schedule the week really dragged. It dragged in a way I’d never felt before, not once since I’d been working with James. I guessed it was the contrast, the glimpse of what could be outside of that place, with its corporate mentality and it’s hush-hush agreement.
Work was undeniably different, regardless of how hard we tried. We kept our business-as-normal front on it, but things had definitely changed. There was something more in his eyes than the previous sheen of professional camaraderie, something deeper and darker and much more raw. Maybe he saw it in my eyes, too, I don’t know.
I kept it all firmly to myself, ignoring the temptation to spill some of the emotional beans to Steph. The option presented itself mid-week when she began calling, but I forced myself to avoid and ignore. I told myself she was probably full of more junk about Stu and let it go, having no time for that crap anymore.
Rebecca was my only accomplice, and me hers. We’d talk more than we’d ever talked before, long nights over coffee, laughing about love and life, and weird, dirty sex in public. I loved her for it. My little heart stretched its wings, the tiniest sliver of hope for the happily-ever-after, for the blossoming of romance unlike any other. Maybe white knightsdidturn up to slap your clitoris, after all? Maybe that’s what true love is all about?
I hoped so.
Most of all I hoped for a chance with him, my man in the mask. Arealchance in therealworld.
It’s often the small decisions that are the catalysts for the major events, and my life that week was no different. I just didn’t see any of it coming.
***
Rebecca had picked out my dress, all ready for my nice, posh meal and piss-gate beyond. It was a classy red number, fitted satin with a long split at the back.
“Bingo,” she’d laughed. “Multi-functional. This little gem will look cracking in the dining hall, and possibly even better when you piss in the thing.”
I took her word for it.
I spent the whole day getting ready, and yet I was still late. James was picking me up at seven, nice and early, in line with the time Rebecca and Cara had scheduled their kiss-and-make-up chat. Their reconciliation was inevitable. They’d hardly been off the phone since the blow up.
I scrubbed myself in Rebecca’s posh oriental body wash, taking an age to shave off every scrap of body hair I possessed, then wrapped myself in a towel in time to do my hair and make-up. Rebecca obliged, layering on lashings and lashings of mascara and eye-shadow while I blow-dried my hair in a frenzy. I was just about done when Cara rang the buzzer, merely taking a final moment to adjust my waves before getting dressed.
Bex buzzed Cara on up and stood back to admire her handiwork.
“Hot to trot, baby, you’ll knock him senseless,” she purred, then laughed as she flicked up my towel. “Look at the state of you, Kitty Cat, you still have fucking tigger-stripes, our James Clarke will be chomping at the bit when he sees those beauties.”
I laughed along with her, turning myself in the mirror to check them out for myself. “He hit me bloody hard,” I said. “It hurt like an absolute bastard.”
“Lydia?! Oh my God! Lyddie?!”
My eyes flicked to the doorway, instinctive horror flooding right through me. Cara stood with her hand over her mouth, eyes screwed shut in mortification, but she was the least of my concerns. At her side was Steph, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, her jaw flapping as she struggled for words.
“Steph? Shit! What are you doing here?”
I struggled to back away from her but she was at my side, her eyes all over my fucking bruises. “What happened to you?!” she screeched. “Who did this to you?”
Rebecca yanked Cara by the elbow, dragging her through to the balcony. Cara mouthed ‘sorry’ and Bex mouthed ‘stupid cow’, I appreciated both sentiments.
“Calm down,” I said. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like bloody nothing!” she thundered. “Someone’s beaten the shit out of you! It’s that suit man, isn’t it?!”
“You don’t understand!” I snapped. “You wouldn’t understand. I’m fine, Steph, I’m really fine.”
I wrenched out of her grip, retreating to my bedroom for my dress. I felt so much safer with it on, but still she wouldn’t let it go. “It’s sick, Lyddie, sick! What kind of man would do this to you? What kind of man, Lyds?!”
