Page 17 of A Dark Fall
He nods, flicking through a few stations before settling on one playing something slow and haunting. It calms my busy, fevered mind immediately, and I settle farther into the seat, resting my head against the window, watching as London and its suburbs pass me in a trance-inducing blur.
I always love leaving the city to go home. I love that I live far enough out to feel separate from its heaving oppressiveness, but close enough to enjoy it whenever I want. Which, to be honest, is rare—even rarer since Ben moved back. Selling his flat in Islington to make the big sacrificial move to the country for me was the best thing he ever did for us. He called it huge and sacrificial; I called it a simple lifestyle change. “Emigrating to the country” was something he did for me because he always put me first. Other demonstrations, he said, were allowing me to adopt a cat and proposing.
It was ironic then that the commute from London was the perfect cover for his affair during the six months before I found out. The affair, adversely,wasn’tone of the things he did to demonstrate his love for me. Fucking a blonde sales executive in his car, hotel rooms, and at her flat was something he did to feel like a man.
Christ, I hate dwelling on Ben. It wasn’t a wasted eight years, I know that deep down, but right now, it still feels like it. I resent any moment my thoughts go to him, and so I change their direction immediately and think instead about the man who demonstrated tonight how much he wants me.
Right on cue, my stomach does another of its involuntary lurches at the memory of him and both of tonight’s episodes.
I wonder what his story is. A fortnight ago, he turned up at my surgery covered in blood and looking like a hooligan. Tonight, he’s immaculately dressed and opening an expensive nightclub in Brick Lane. It makes no sense. Neither does his effect on me. He’s attractive, obviously, but when has that ever been enough to turn my mind and body to something sludgy and not solid? Good-looking men have never intimidated me. I have a brain and enough self-esteem to ensure I’m comfortable around attractive men.
But Jake Lawrence seems to trample all over that. His effect on me has the same swagger as he does. Sexual, arrogant, dangerous. And then there’s the kiss.His kiss.I run my fingers across my lips, remembering how he felt on them. I must have kissed Ben a million times, and not once did it feel like that. As necessary as breathing.
If that was what kissing him felt like, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what sex with him would feel like. Okay, I could partially imagine what sex with him would feel like. Hard, hot, and all-consuming. Like he is. I wonder if it is the danger. If that’s the reason my brain leaves my head around him. The forbidden, risky vibe that hangs over him like an aura. God, if that’s it, then I’m a cliché. I’m a girl who likes bad boys after all. How bloody unoriginal. I almost groan in disgust.
Except there’s this: If I didn’t meet him like I did, under that veil of danger and threat, he would still have thatmouth andthoseeyes andthatsmell, and he’d still have kissed me like that. This time, I do groan aloud.
“Where’s 18, love?” the driver asks, startling me.
I look out the window to see we’re driving up the narrow road toward my house. Did I just spend the entire forty-minute drive home fantasizing about this man? Ugh. Ridiculous behavior.
“Oh, I’m up at the end there, on the right-hand side.” I sit up, unbuckling my seat belt to lean between the two front seats and point at my house. “That road up there’s a private one, so you’ll need to turn around and go back down the way you came.”
“No problem, love.” He stops the car in front of my cottage, engine idling.
“Perfect. Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” I open my bag to get my purse.
“Oh, no charge, love,” he says. “Jake’s orders.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of his name. His name spoken like that. “Wh—what do you mean? No, I have to pay you. How much?” I rummage through my purse for the money, shoving three twenties at him.
“Honestly, love, it’d be more than my job’s worth if you gave me any money. Our boy was pretty clear: drive you straight home, carefully, and make sure I see you’re in the front door safe,” he explains.
Our boy?Did Jake order this man to drive me home? This man calls him “our boy.”
“This ... isn’t a taxi, is it?”
He chuckles softly. “No, love. I work for Jake.” A nod. Jake’s name is said with a reverence I don’t entirely understand, as if he’s talking about his son or a family member. I clearly have no choice in the matter of paying this man.
“Okay, well, thank you then. And give my thanks to your ... boss,” I say, shimmying across the seat to get out. I’m annoyed but not entirely sure why.
“Will do, love. I’m just going to watch until you get in the door, and then I’ll be off,” he tells me.
I stop, my mouth dropping open. Watch until I get in my front door? Of the house I’ve lived in for three years in the sleepy village of Shere?
“Oh, gosh, that’s not necessary, honestly. It’s perfectly safe here. I’ll be fine.” I can’t believe Jake thinks I need a chaperone to get to own my front door.
“Orders.” He shrugs easily. I clearly don’t have a choice in this matter either.
“Good night then,” I say, annoyed with this man though it’s not even his fault. It’s Jake’s fault. Jake gives orders, and people follow them, which apparently includes this man and me.
I exit the car and walk the short distance up the pebbled driveway to my front door. My house sits back from the road, almost secluded, but the doorway is still visible from where my chaperone sits, watching. The security porch light pops on as I get to the door, helping me find my front door key in my bag. I glance down at the car and nod, but he continues to wait.
It’s only when I’m inside and the door’s closed I hear him head off down the road. I lock the front door as Fred comes toward me, purring against my leg before flopping down on his back for his obligatory greeting.
“Well, hello, baby.” I slip off my heels and bend down to rub his stomach. “Did you have a fun night? You won’t believe what happened. Mummy met a ridiculously sexy man who has trouble written all over him ...” I pick him up and nuzzle his face as I head through to the kitchen. After feeding him, I fill the kettle and flick it on to boil. Then, following Rob’s orders, I gulp down a pint of ice-cold water and take two ibuprofen and take a seat at the kitchen table.
What a bloody night.