Page 50 of Arrogant Heir

‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re engaged. What an idiot I am.’

CHAPTER32

Jamie

I’m reeling as I rush from his suite, down the stairs and out of the house along the gravel path.

The hurt in his eyes almost destroyed me when I pulled away from him, and it was all I could do to make myself stop touching him. But I won’t be another of his girls he discards like an old tissue after he’s had his fun. I’m still trembling from the adrenalin coursing through me, and I can’t believe we were that close to having sex before I woke up from the fantasy.

What was I thinking? The truth is, I wasn’t thinking. The sexual chemistry between us is electric, and it just took over. From the second our lips brushed, I was lost.

What a fool I am. The evidence of his playboy exploits was spread all over the table, and I almost let him spread me across it, too. Thank God the assignment ends in a few weeks, and I won’t have to face him every day and keep pretending I don’t have feelings for him. I’ve got myself into an impossible spot and I can see with a man like Damian there is no happy ending. He's not the marrying kind, or at least I’m not the kind he will marry. When he’s ready to marry, it’ll be to someone like his ex, Stephanie. I looked her up online a while back and saw she’s from a wealthy family. They were a perfect match, or they were, until she decided she preferred his best friend.

Sebastian mentioned their grandfather expects them to make strategic marriages that strengthen the business and family connections. Their grandfather may like me as an employee, but I doubt he’d approve of me as a match for his eldest grandson, who will be the head of the Rochester dynasty when he dies.

I slump on the sofa when I reach the privacy of the cottage and feel the tears building behind my eyes and then spilling down my cold cheeks. Damian’s hurt expression haunts me, and all I want to do is lock out the world and stop feeling this pain. After years of a predictable steady life, the shit just keeps hitting the fan in the past few months and I’ve had enough.

My heart’s battered and bruised and I’m so confused. My feelings for Damian are intense, but I mustn’t let myself pretend our relationship is more than it is. We’re clearly attracted to each other, and he’s a full bloodied male.

His enormous hard-on confirmed that. He’s obviously used to living in London and having regular sex. And I haven’t had a man’s touch for months, so no wonder we can’t keep our hands off each other. I gradually talk myself into almost buying my own story about why I’m so hot for him.

My phone pings, and I see a message from an unknown number.

Hi Jamie

Hope you don’t mind, but Damian gave me your number. I managed to get a break from work and am home for the weekend. Do you have time to do our interview for the book this afternoon or have you other plans? Marian. x

I take a deep breath and drop my phone back onto the sofa, feeling empty and listless. Marian is lovely and normally I’d be excited. Her interview is the last piece of fresh content I want for the book. I may not even use any of it as it will be sensitive material about their father’s death, but I feel like it’s the missing piece of the puzzle to really understand what makes the Rochester family who they are today.

A cynical voice in my head reminds me that if I’m honest with myself, it’s more about me wanting to understand why Damian hides behind his arrogant mask. And I know in my gut it’s true.

I’d planned to make the most of the weekend and get a sizeable chunk of the first draft of my novel done. When I get back to London, normal working life will resume. I won’t have the quiet I have here to get on with it without being interrupted. There’ll be no more gazing at the pond and watching the sun set over the parkland. It’ll be back to the noisy streets of Clapham for me and the nearest I’ll get to country living is a brisk walk around the common.

After the day I’ve had, I can’t think, never mind write. My heart is heavy with regret, and my thoughts are swirling in a chaotic fashion. The last thing I want to do is write a romance novel. Love stories need happy endings and today I just can’t see one.

I strip my clothes off and lay my jeans on the bed. The jeans Damian almost unbuttoned. His warm hands were all over me and I shiver at the memory of his touch. Now I wish I’d let him continue and seen where it took us. Why do I always have to be so sensible?

Of course, I know where it was going to take us. If I hadn’t pulled away when I did, it would have been a matter of seconds before I dropped to my knees and took his beautiful hard girth in my mouth. He brings out a wildness in me I didn’t know existed. He would have been inside me and there would have been no going back. I’m embarrassed by how much I want him, when clearly I’d just be a passing amusement to him.

He must be confused, though. I gave him signals I wanted him, so I don’t blame him for coming on to me. We were so hot for each other we nearly melted under each other’s touch. He thinks I drew away because I’m engaged and seemed to blame himself for putting me in a difficult situation.

The irony is he asked me to be his fake date for the ball without knowing that Simon is my fake fiancé! How I let it go on this long I don’t know, but there was never a good time to announce Simon called off our wedding. It would be weird if I did, so I just stayed quiet about it and let him think I’m still engaged. I figured it wasn’t any of his business, and he wouldn’t be interested, anyway.

The hot water pounds on my head as I take a long shower, trying to wash away the yearning in my heart and ache in my groin. I think I kept hanging onto the engagement cover story because it was a form of protection against Damian. If I told him the truth, I’d have felt even more vulnerable in recent weeks. But my lie of omission has caused more of a mess now. I can’t help being curious about what he’d have said when I pulled away if he'd not assumed it was because of Simon.

Was it just going to be a quick fuck for him or is it possible he has feelings for me, too? I’ve caught him looking at me in a way I can’t decipher.

I towel myself dry and examine my body in the floor to ceiling mirror. My breasts are full. I’m curvy, with a small waist, and I’m petite. Some would say short. Usually, I quite like my look but now all I can think about is the leggy girl from the club. And his ex, who was as tall as a supermodel. That’s obviously the type he goes for which, although leaves a hollow feeling inside me, confirms I made the right decision.

I don’t do casual fucks, and no matter how much I fantasise about being a devil-may-care kind of girl, deep down, I know I’m not like that and never will be. After I slept with him, I would have hated myself, so it’s for the best. I sigh and wish my mind would stop cycling through endless scenarios and explanations.

If it’s for the best, why does it hurt so much? I tell myself I’ve not recovered fully from Simon’s rejection, so I’m making more of this thing with Damian than I would normally.

I stare at my phone for a while, willing it to ping. If only Damian would message or call. I can’t stand being in this vacuum, so I reply to Marian and ask if she’s free to see me soon. Within a few minutes, I hear from her and head back over to the house. My style is to face things head on, so the sooner I get the uncomfortable encounter with Damian over, the better. We don’t have much work to do together on the book now, but we’ll still need to see each other, and the thought of avoiding him puts me into a bigger spin.

The realisation that I won’t play Cinderella going to the glamorous Rochester ball, after all, stabs at me as I enter the house. My heart’s racing and banging as I look for him, but I needn’t have worried. He’s nowhere to be seen when Marian comes out to meet me.

‘You don’t have a suite like Damian, then?’ I say, when we’re sitting in her room.