Page 16 of The Spiral
He grunts some kind of response and turns away from me to head up the road towards the house, leaving me to trail behind him aimlessly until he leaves me at the door, his finger pointing at the steps and telling me to wait there. So I do, sliding myself down the wall to sit on the grey sandstone steps. It’s not like I can get any filthier anyway, is it? And at the moment I just want away from here. I feel lost again. Alone and foolish under his gaze.
I pick out the drying mud on my skirt and jacket, hoping to detach some of it at least while I wait, then give up bothering and stare out into the estate instead. It’s quite beautiful with long rolling fields and the occasional plot of woodland peppering the landscape with tall trees and busy hedgerows. And the area around me, imposing and almost unwelcoming as the house I’m leaning on, towers behind me, dwarfing all it can see. I can smell the redwood’s musky scent. It’s not unlike Jack’s actually, woody and deep, giving a sense of age and wisdom. Wisdom—not a word I can use for what just transpired in the field. Nothing was wise about that, but perhaps this is what being free is all about? My choices. My thoughts.
Time potters by and a rumbling sound around the corner draws my attention back to the here and now. I turn to see a dark green Porsche coming around the corner, gorgeous lines showing me every inch of the car I’ve always wanted. It makes me snicker as I get to my feet and gently walk towards it, desperate to run my fingers across its pristine surface.
It pulls to a stop and Jack gets out, now looking every inch the lord again. He’s obviously showered and changed, which causes me to rub at my suit again, hoping for clean. Clearly nothing alters with my appearance. I shouldn’t sigh at the vision of him coming at me, a gruff frown on his face like he hates the world all of a sudden, but I do. He’s every girl’s dream—wealthy, attractive, and holding that authoritative air that simply begs to have you fall at his feet, worshipping the thought let alone the actuality.
I find myself wavering and looking at my attire, unconsciously trying to fit in with his image. I’m trying to regain some element of professionalism again if truth be told, and find some determination to show myself as capable and strong. It’s quite hard given what happened in that field, and the sight of him walking purposely towards me, a rise to his brow as I look up at him, has me feeling completely inadequate again.
“Are you ready, Madeline?” he asks, nodding at the car. I peer through the window at the interior. It’s as highly polished as Jack, suede seats and chrome elegantly lining its insides. There’s no way this suit of mine is going in there.
“I think I’m too dirty.”
“That’s yet to be determined,” he says, a wry smile on his face that instantly makes me forget about the anger I saw fifteen minutes ago. My insides flutter stupidly, making this whole situation even more debilitating to the professional air I’m aiming for. “As far as I’m concerned, at the moment you’re only mildly grubby, Madeline.”
Hechuckles after that, and I find myself gazing at him, bizarrely infatuated with the smile he’s delivering. The connotation of his words has nothing to do with the state of my clothes, more like the amount of whorish behaviour I might be prepared to show, I’m sure, but his continued smirk as he glances his eyes over me only increases my inability to look away. “Get in the car, Madeline. Unless you want to stay. Do you want to stay?” No. Yes. Absolutely not. I need to go home. That’s what I need to do. I need to go home and talk to Callie about this, and then I need a large stiff drink. Possibly several. “If it makes you feel more in control, you can drive.”
I stare at him, letting myself fall into crinkling hazel eyes that are far too consuming for anyone’s good, and then walk round and lower myself into the car. Home. Home and forgetting about this little misdemeanour, or perhaps improving on it in some way. Driving a Porsche is a good start.