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PROLOGUE
Please. No. Not Again.
My eyes fly open in my soaked bed. I feel the heavy weight on my chest before my windpipe starts to restrict. I lie, frozen on my back, unable to move or make a sound.
Let it be over soon, please.
Slow trickles of tears make their way from my eyes and pool in my ears before dripping slowly into my ear canal, where the ringing is getting louder.
I know what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t think past my pounding heart.
I will myself to breathe, but I can’t.
I just want it to be over, but I know that it will get worse before it gets better.
‘Help.’
My silent cry disappears as a forced exhale through the open windows into the dark night.
I attempt to stretch my trembling fingers to reach for him but I can’t move.
‘Jas?’
Nothing but restricted air escapes my throat.
As soon as the room starts to spin, I force my eyes shut.
Let it be over soon, please.
ONE
ARIELLA
I wake up before the sun and the first thing I see is him, like I have every morning for the last couple of years. I scan his sleeping boyish profile, his short, sandy-blond hair, rough from a good night’s sleep; and then his face, from his thick eyelashes to his slightly parted mouth. My stomach still flutters at the sight of him. Careful not to disturb his peace, I leave our bed to turn on the shower. As I wait for the spray to warm up, I study the exhausted creature reflected back at me. I cannot let my nerves get the better of me. I made up my mind in the small hours of this morning that I am going to have to hurt the person I love the most today.
Drenched by the heavy rain outside, I walk into the expansive glass and steel lobby of my office building, and order a hibiscus tea in the café. While I wait, I look at the noticeboard and take down a little note advertising a room in a shared flat. I fold it neatly and put it in my bag, along with the others I’ve liberated over the last three weeks.
Large en-suite bedroom to rent in Hampstead. Caleb ext. 5645.
Do Not Remove!!!
‘He’s going to lose his shit when he finds out who it is. He was here last Friday, accusing us of taking it down,’ says the café manager.
I smile apologetically.
‘Don’t worry, we didn’t say anything.’ She winks and gives me my tea. ‘Why do you keep taking it down? Did he piss you off? Because apparently, there’s a growing line.’
‘No, nothing like that. I’ve been thinking of going for the apartment. I’ll sort it out today, I promise.’
‘That’s a shame. We’ve had an entertaining couple of weeks, watching him replace it.’ She giggles.
I thank her for the tea and make my way to the bank of elevators that services the building’s forty floors.
I’ve always loved the way the lights flicker on as I step out onto the twenty-second floor; home to Ivory Bow, the international marketing and communications agency I work for. It’s a busy, fun office, so the silence that greets me when I am the first person at work is the highlight of my day. No small talk, no distractions and, most importantly, I have space to think.
I get to my desk and switch on my Mac. My diary, event projects and task alerts present themselves and I scan for any urgent items before I settle down to prepare for our daily 10a.m. meeting. My department is responsible for creating luxurious brand experiences for our global clients, and ‘The 10a.m.’ is our often stressful, daily company update meeting.
‘Ariella Mason! I swear one of these days we’re going to find out that you’re secretly living here!’ comes a loud Scottish voice, followed by laughter.
