Chapter Twenty-Eight

And so it began.

Each day another message arrived, another gift, and another attempt to wear down Tori’s resistance.

Every day she deleted the texts, considered getting a new number but didn’t, and then didn’t let herself consider why she didn’t change the number.

She kept the gifts. But only because—she told herself—it would be wasteful to throw them in the rubbish. Having finally managed to get the slave collar off Tuesday night, she’d tucked the unusual necklace in a drawer in her bedroom. She put Ian’s letter there, too, unread.

Tuesday brought a big box of Fortnum & Mason chocolates in their signature mint-green wrapping. How did he know her favorite treat? Well, everyone liked chocolate. The text had been sweetly apologetic, and she’d found it harder to delete.

Wednesday brought whimsy in the form of a gigantic lollipop on a two-foot stick, also an F&M exclusive. She giggled, taking a selfie with it before depositing it on her credenza next to the flower vase.

Thursday afternoon brought a bottle of the finest Château Ducru Beaucaillou. Again, her favorite. Where on earth was he getting all his inside info? It couldn’t be a coincidence, not this time.

Sharing a glass with Kate in her chambers at the end of the day, she admitted to her friend that she kind of enjoyed the surprises.

Friday, she found herself anticipating the knock on her chambers that would herald the arrival of today’s surprise. She waited the entire day. As 5:00 p.m. neared, doubt prickled. Perhaps he’d finally realized she wouldn’t take him back.

Why didn’t she feel relief?

Her phone rang, and simultaneously someone knocked on her door. She laughed delightedly, instinctively knowing both were Ian.

She grabbed the phone and hurried to the door. Reaching for the doorknob, she answered her mobile without looking at it. “How do you do it?” she asked excitedly.

“Do what?”

Disconcerted, she pulled the phone from her ear to look at it, needing confirmation of something she already knew.

Rupert’s haughty portrait stared back at her. Her finger itched to hang up on him. His three previous attempts had gone unanswered, his voice messages deleted. Between Rupert and Ian, she couldn’t handle any more crazy.

The knocking continued, and she called, “Sorry. Be there in a minute.”

“Victoria! Are you there?” her phone squawked. Rupert wasn’t going to give up, either.

“Hello,” she said, sighing inside.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” His tone slithered from annoyed to wounded. “You haven’t returned any of my calls.”

“That’s because I don’t want to hear even one more word about my being at that club. You’re the only reason I might have been outed since you were the one who kept saying my name, and—”

“No,” he interrupted. “That is not why I am calling. The opposite, actually. It was such a blooming shock running into you there. I do apologize, and I hope you will forgive my boorish behavior.”

“Well…” She wanted to rant some more, tell him his conduct was unacceptable, demand to know why he was fucking other women, but his contriteness surprised her. “Um. I feel the need to point out that you were there, too, and I’m guessing having sex with women who were not your fiancée.”

“Victoria, I—”

“I go by Tori now.”

“Oh, okay. Tori it is, then. I know this is going to come as a bit of a surprise after everything, but I would like to invite you to dinner. We have been close friends for years, and I hate the way we ended things. I think we should talk about it, see if we can still be friends.”

“I don’t know. This is a bit of a stunner.”

“Victo—I mean, Tori, please consider having dinner with me. For old times’ sake, if nothing else. Please at least hear what I have to say. It surprised me, finding you at Club Exotica. I think we both underestimated each other, and it would be such a waste to throw our friendship away.”

She vacillated. Both men wanted to apologize, and maybe that was the way to get past all this hurt. Let the men have their chance, but offer them only platonic friendship in return. She hated to admit it, but she missed Rupert’s friendship.

“Please? What do you say? Join me for dinner.”

That he pleaded astonished her. He’d never lowered himself like that before. It must be a sign of how much he wanted her friendship back.

“Okay. Sure. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Oh, excellent. Would next Tuesday work? I can pick you up at eight.”

“Sure. I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, Vic—I mean, Tori. See? Even this old dog can learn new tricks. Cheerio till next Tuesday.”

“’Bye.” She pushed the off button, then hurriedly opened her office door, calling to her clerk, “Sorry. Had a call I couldn’t—”

Standing in the foyer were six colleagues, all smiling at her, each one holding a gift—five parcels and another sumptuous bouquet of flowers.

Incredible!

Ian was a world master when it came to wooing, she silently admitted. And he hadn’t been bad as a Master, either. She giggled.

“Come in.” She beckoned with her hands.

The various staff and a fellow judge flowed into her office, each commenting and/or asking questions:

“Boy, are you lucky!”

“Who sent all this?”

“Is it your birthday?”

And more.

She liked all the attention and envious looks. Who wouldn’t?

Although a shadow of guilt darkened her delight. It felt wrong to accept gifts from someone she wasn’t going to take back into her life. But then again, this rare situation was irresistible. Never before had a man cared enough to do anything excessive to please her, let alone this kind of demonstration.

After her colleagues placed the packages on her desk, they stood around, clearly curious to see what they held.

“Okay, I’ll open them.”

The biggest package contained two more bottles of her favorite wine. Then came another box of chocolates and an F&M platter of cheese and crackers. The smallest bag contained an MP3 player and a note telling her he’d preloaded it with music chosen especially for her. She tucked that gift into her purse.

Lastly, she opened a gift-wrapped box to find a red silk scarf.

The ladies oohed and ahhed over everything.

“You’re a lucky girl,” noted her elderly receptionist, and several begged her to reveal the name of her admirer.

However, it was the young male clerk who asked the question that made her blush. “What’s the deal with the scarf? I mean, it’s nice and all, but it doesn’t seem to fit with the other presents.”

“Well, um.” Stuck on the real reason for a neck scarf, she could think of no answer that made sense, so she went on the offensive. “Who knows? It’s the end of the day. Let’s have a party!”

She guessed that was Ian’s intention, even knowing he wouldn’t be one of the guests. Everyone went to get glasses or help open the wine, while she read the text that had buzzed when her phone rang.

Randy: I can’t stop thinking about you. Please let me apologize to you in person

Pain knifed her, cutting her gut. Tears burned the corners of her eyes. She missed him terribly, no matter how much she denied it.

No! She couldn’t trust him.

But she really wanted to.

Distracted, she pretended to enjoy the impromptu party for her colleagues’ sake. No one seemed to notice that her laughs were hollow or that she hardly paid attention to the bubbling chatter.

A question bumped about in her mind. What did one do with two ex-lovers who betrayed you but then wouldn’t leave you alone?

She raised her wineglass in salute to her colleagues, but privately she toasted the mess she’d made of her life—all because she wanted more fulfilling sex.

She downed half of her glass in one big swig. No one noticed.

Going forward, she was determined to focus on her work—something that mattered far more than the number and size of her orgasms. But the prospect left her as empty inside as the two wine bottles she’d just tossed in the rubbish bin.

Even so, she resolutely put sex out of her mind and joined the party.