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IT HAD JUST GONE EIGHTp.m. as I stood outside the hotel in Shoreditch. Someone tried to get past me, walking at a brisk pace, pulling a wheeled suitcase along behind them. I apologised and darted out of the way. I prayed no one would recognise me and ask me what I was doing here. I was a Gilligan and shouldn’t be on this side of the city.
I didn’t even know if Jayden would be in. I’d come up with a feeble excuse—wanting my expensive shoes back. He could easily have put them in the post or got a driver to drop them off.
The truth was that I wanted to see him again.
Warning sirens sounded in my head. What good would come of this? Our families were enemies.
Maybe I was thinking about this too deeply? It didn’t have to mean anything, did it? I was allowed to just spend time with someone. It wasn’t as though I had many friends, and those I did have I suspected only liked me—or pretended to like me—because of who my family was. Growing up in a house full of brothers, I’d struggled to understand how to communicate with girls. The rough and tumble play didn’t go down well with the little girls at school. I remembered how they’d cry and run off to tell a teacher, and I’d stand to one side, completely baffled at what I’d done. I’d quickly learned it was better to stand back and keep to myself rather than risking getting in trouble. I was twenty now, but it seemed I’d never quite managed to shake off the habit.
I recognised the same concierge who’d been here in the early hours. The poor man clearly did the night shift. Would he remember me? I thought this might be easier if he did.
With my stomach knotted and my heart all but in my throat, I approached him. He noticed me coming and offered me a polite smile.
“Can I help you?”
“Umm...yes, I hope so. I’m here to see Jayden Wynter.”
Any normal person would have his phone number so they could just call him to say they were in the lobby. But I didn’t have his number, though I’d gone out during the day and bought a new phone and made sure I cancelled the old one. The pricks who’d attacked me and stolen my bag wouldn’t have even been able to get into it—the phone was PIN and fingerprint protected. My mind pulled me unpleasantly towards the memory of what I’d gone through, their hands pawing on me, the way they’d been frighteningly strong, overpowering me. The helplessness had been the worst part, the realisation that my name didn’t mean a goddamned thing if the people attacking me didn’t know about our family and what they did. Then Jayden had come along, and though, initially, I’d been fearful that he’d be the same, he’d been the opposite. He’d taken care of me, and I’d felt safe with him—something I’d never have predicted.
So now here I was, back again.
Was it because I craved that feeling of being safe? Or was I craving his touch on my skin?
“I’ll call up and see if he’s free. Can I ask who’s calling on him.”
“Just say it’s Ivy,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about using my surname around here.
“Just Ivy?”
“Just Ivy,” I confirmed.
He replied with a curt nod and then left me to make the call. I stood, feeling even more awkward than ever. A part of me was tempted to make a run for it, but my feet were rooted to the floor. Though I knew everyonewasn’tstaring at me, I could have sworn I had a flashing neon light announcing that I didn’t belong here. Besides, Jayden might not even be in, or worse, he might not be alone. What if he had a woman up there and I was interrupting a date on the pretence of getting my shoes back? I would just about die.
The concierge returned. “He’s ready to see you.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Had I been expecting to be turned away?
I smoothed down my hair and tugged on the hem of my dress. It was baggier than the one I’d left torn in the bin at his place, but it was wraparound, the front plunging nicely, showing off what I considered to be my best assets. Did I want him to notice me? Did I like his attention?
Over my shoulder was a bag containing the clothes I’d borrowed, all clean and folded. I thought returning the clothes wouldn’t make me look as shallow as coming all this way just to reclaim my shoes, even if they were worth five hundred quid.
Nerves tumbled in my stomach as I followed the man towards the bank of lifts that Jayden had taken me to during the early hours. The concierge was clearly someone who was trusted, as, once the doors had opened, he used a special key on his belt to send it to the private top floor.
He gave me a final nod and stepped back once more. The door shut, trapping me inside, and it rose up. I sucked in a breath and squeezed my hands into fists at my sides. What would Jayden’s reaction be towards me? I hoped he’d be pleased to see me, but he might have decided during the day that he should never have helped a Gilligan.
The lift pinged, and I froze as the door slid open, revealing Jayden Wynter standing on the other side.
His dark hair was damp, as though he’d recently got out of the shower. He was more casually dressed than he’d been the last time, in jeans and a t-shirt that clung to his torso and exposed the tattoos running in sleeves down both arms and across his knuckles. He looked good in a suit, but I liked this more casual dress, too.
I quickly stepped out before the door shut again, trapping me inside. The movement brought me close to Jayden, so there was only a foot between us. I thought he might have stepped back to increase the space, but he didn’t even budge. He didn’t smile either or seem in any way pleased to see me.
I suddenly regretted my decision to come here. What had I been thinking?
“What’s in the bag?” he demanded.
