Chapter Eleven
Violet
Lucas and I are going on our first real date. He’s booking a table in a classy restaurant.
I’ve not seen him since Wednesday, although we’ve texted and phoned each other a few times. He even sent some pics of himself in the Scottish Highlands, and although he said he was wearing boxers, all I could focus on was his breathtakingly ripped chest, so for all I know, he might’ve been running around the mountains stark naked.
Lucky cattle.
I can’t stop thinking about our kiss, and how he didn’t pressure me to take things further.
And although it would’ve been a lovely fantasy if he’d assured me he wanted more than a brief fling, at least he’s honest and upfront about it.
No strings.
That’s okay. I need to get back to the dating scene and can’t think of anyone I’d rather break my self-imposed drought with than Lucas.
Most of my shifts at the Lodge so far have been for three to five hours, but because Katie’s so short staffed this week, I offered to do a double one on Friday. Even though my back’s killing me when my ten-hour shift finishes and I finally get home, it doesn’t dampen the excitement swirling around my stomach as I open the new lipstick I bought yesterday. It’s a red-wine color, not my usual shade of pastel at all. But red stands for courage and sex, and I need the first and hope to God I get some of the second.
“Shut up,” I tell my reflection, since there’s no way I can give myself the perfect pout if I’m sniggering.
When I’m done, I stare at the siren in the mirror. I’m a little in awe of what a difference the bright lips make, but in a good way. Since I had nothing to wear for such a milestone date, I had to go buy something new, and even this form-fitting green dress isn’t quite like anything I’ve owned before.
Am I showing too much cleavage?
I bite my lip before I remember the lipstick, but luckily it does what it says on the box, and there are no smudges on my teeth. But still, back to the cleavage. I’m not used to seeing my boobs pushed up on display like this, and I’m sure they didn’t look this big when I tried the dress on in the shop. Then again, I wasn’t wearing a new push-up, padded bra, which totally does what it promises and makes mountains out of molehills.
I grab my phone and send a pic to Katie, although I don’t know why. It’s not as though I’ve anything else to wear.
Luckily for my tattered nerves, she answers straight away.
I’m standing in the hallway five minutes before Lucas is due to pick me up and check my cute new bag again to make sure I’ve remembered all the essentials.
Wallet and phone. Check.
Lipstick and condoms. Check.
Toothbrush. Check. There’s nothing worse than not cleaning your teeth before bed, and there’s no way I want any morning breath coming between me and Lucas.
I fiddle with my hair and flex my toes in my new peep-toe sandals that are already giving me grief. At least I’ll be sitting down for most of the evening.
Seriously, was I this edgy for my first date with Geoff?
A car pulls up into the driveway, and even though I don’t hear the throaty purr of Lucas’s sports engine, it can’t be anyone else. I take a quick breath, which doesn’t help with the hyperventilation, and squash the urge to put my cardigan on. I didn’t pay a fortune for the dress just to cover the skimpy parts.
I wait until he raps on the door before I open it, and the air whooshes from my lungs at the sight of him in a casual designer suit and navy shirt. His usual gold ear hoop is gone, replaced with a black diamond stud, and his warm smile is a lethal weapon.
“Hi, Violet. You look amazing.” His voice is low and sexy, and he leans in and kisses my cheek, which gives me a chance to catch my breath. Except his cologne is different to his usual one, subtle and spicy, and doesn’t help with the whole stay cool thing at all.
“Hi.” I sound as though there’s an asthmatic frog in my throat. Why did he give me such a platonic kiss? Although, on second thought, if he’d done anything else, I’d be a puddle of goo at his feet. “You look pretty amazing yourself.”
He offers me his arm like we’re at a red-carpet event. “I’ve been counting the hours until I saw you again.”
He’s such a charmer, not that I’m complaining. It’s been way too long since I’ve been on the receiving end of compliments, and I’m going to relish every one. Even though it’s probably part of his seduction technique. And it’s working.
“I missed not seeing you, too.” Oh, wait. Does that make me sound needy? I double lock the front door and try not to analyze my stupid comment. He didn’t say he’d missed me, after all.
He pulls me close, his arm around my waist. His hand brands me through the thin material of my dress, and it’s insanely arousing. I forget about my foot-in-mouth comment, slide my fingers beneath the lapel of his jacket, and risk inhaling his addictive scent.
We definitely won’t make it as far as the restaurant at this rate.
Although I’ve seen him wearing impeccable suits countless times in magazines and on the TV, there’s no comparison when it comes to real life. It doesn’t matter what he wears, he’s the sexiest guy alive, but there’s something extra irresistible about Lucas in a suit, and my palm slides slowly from his shoulder to his chest.
“Good.” There’s an undercurrent of possession in the word, which shouldn’t thrill me so much. But tonight is all about the fantasy, as one night together may be all we ever have.
This isn’t going to be a one-night stand.
Except it might be, and I’m big enough to face that.
Riiight…
And then I catch sight of the car. It’s a black sedan, nothing like I’d ever expect him to drive. A middle-aged guy gets out from the driver’s seat and opens the rear door.
A chauffeur?
“Thanks, Chad,” Lucas says, before looking at me. “Parking’s a nightmare. I asked Chad to drive tonight. Plus, this car’s less conspicuous.”
“Where are we going, then?” Even if I wouldn’t say no to going straight back to his place, I want this night to last for as long as possible, just in case we don’t get another.
“Overton’s, at the Eagle Tower.”
“Nice.” I thank Chad as I get in the car and am relieved Lucas can’t see my ridiculous grin. Eagle Tower is one of the tallest buildings in London, and Overton’s is located on the thirty-ninth floor. Not only is the food meant to be out of this world, with starred catering for special dietary requirements, it’s practically impossible to get a reservation, as Dad’s been trying to book for ages. Obviously, if you’re a world-famous footballer, the usual rules don’t apply.
The inside of the car is nothing like any sedan I’ve been in before. It has a mini-bar, the windows are tinted, and there’s even a glass partition between us and Chad for privacy. Lucas sure knows how to spoil a girl.
He slides in beside me, and Chad reverses off the drive. “I’ve not been there before.” Lucas links his fingers through mine, and delicious shivers dance up my arm. “Have you?”
“Hardly. I thought you had to be foreign royalty to get a table.”
“I don’t think it’s that bad.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” I don’t want him thinking I’m not completely stoked at the notion of going somewhere so lavish. “I’ve seen it reviewed in magazines. It looks fabulous.”
“Hope so. I wanted to take you somewhere different.”
Warmth floods through me, and I’m sure I’m glowing again, but this time I don’t care. Lucas goes to all the best places, and the fact he picked an A-list venue for our date—a restaurant he’s never been to before—is somehow significant.
So much for pretending I’m fine if this is nothing but a one-night stand.
Something occurs to me that isn’t quite so great. “If lots of celebrities go there, won’t there be heaps of photographers?” I might’ve got over myself enough to start dating again, and a player at that, but when Lucas and I part ways the potential for it going public is a million times huger than anything that happened with Geoff.
This is nothing like the thing I had with Geoff. For a start, I’m not expecting this to last forever, and for another…
Lucas has way too much class to ever treat me the way my spineless, sucker-upper, arse-kissing ex did.
Lucas’s fingers tighten around mine. “Is that a problem? Sooner or later someone’s going to see us together and publish a photo. We don’t even have to be anywhere high profile. Could be as low-key as walking in the park.”
The horror of my privacy being ripped apart, leaving me vulnerable for the world to laugh at, topples off my radar as his words penetrate.
Sooner or later? That’s not a comment you make if all you’re looking for is a one-night stand.
It’s just a common phrase. Not something to get so excited about. Not that I am.
Much.
I hitch in a breath. I totally missed what he just said. “Sorry?”
His expression turns wary. “I said, crazy as it sounds, we’re less likely to be noticed at Overton’s than somewhere else. They’ve got great security.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” I give a little dismissive wave of my hand, as though I wasn’t on the verge of freaking out a few seconds ago. “What’re the chances, anyway? You must go out heaps of times when you’re not stalked by the press.”
He sighs. “Not as often as I’d like.”
My smile slowly fades as I gaze at the brooding expression on his face and realize he’s not joking. He first hit the headlines eight years ago, as a ridiculously hot seventeen-year-old, and although it was a couple of years before I fangirled over his posters, he literally starred in every online teen site, every week, for years. And then he graduated to the adult gossip channels.
It’s a good job he loves all the attention.
I sneak another peek at him. He does love it, doesn’t he? He always looks as though he’s having the time of his life when cameras catch him in action off the pitch.
But tension ripples from him, and I catch him touching his earring for a brief second. His gesture is strangely familiar, but how can it be? He’s never done that before. Wait, yes, he has. The night I met his brother. It’s as though Lucas isn’t always as super confident as he appears. As though his self-assured, professional face is just a mask.
That’s crazy. But even if it’s true, why would he feel that way with his own brother?
From the time we’ve spent together, I already know there’s a lot more to him than Mediterranean blue eyes, dimples, and headline-grabbing sound bites. Before I can stop myself, I lean toward him and gently bump my arm against his.
“Do you sometimes wish it’d all just go away?”
He switches on his famous smile, and an odd little pain drives through my chest. He’s going to laugh at me, tell me of course he doesn’t, that he lives for the limelight.
And then he hesitates, and although he’s still smiling, it’s different to his camera-ready beam. “It comes with the job. I didn’t realize it’d be so full-on, but…” he shrugs, “that’s the price, I guess.”
I totally melt. This is something he’s not shared in interviews before. It’s special and private, just between the two of us.
Geoff used to crave the limelight and was always insanely jealous of any of his teammates that he believed were getting more attention than him, whether that was a better sponsorship deal, face time on TV, or minutes on the pitch.
Not that he needs to worry about getting enough minutes on the pitch anymore, and why am I even thinking about him? Lucas is a million times better than Geoff could ever hope to be, and I’m not talking about their prowess with a football.
…
Lucas
I’ve never told a girl I dated that before, and Violet doesn’t laugh or make a flippant response along the lines of the benefits are worth it. Because sure, the benefits are great, the lifestyle’s fantastic, but after eight years, I’d love to have the career without the intense scrutiny into my personal life.
But that’s not going to happen until I give up playing professional football, and after the bloody wonderful news I got today, that’s not going to happen any time soon.
Thank you, universe.
“It must be hard, always having a camera shoved in your face. And you’re always so…” She exhales as though she’s trying to come up with the right word, and I grin because she is so fucking gorgeous and isn’t out with me tonight because she wants to get her face on the internet. “Polite.”
I laugh. “You should be inside my head. On second thought, maybe not.”
“Well, it just proves you have the self-control not to let what you’re really thinking show. I mean, look at some of them. So far up themselves they think the world revolves around them. Some of them really need a good kick up the backside.”
“And I’m not in this category, right?”
“You definitely aren’t. You couldn’t be, even if you tried.”
“You give the weirdest compliments.”
“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”
I snort with laughter, and she gives me the wickedest smile ever. Christ, I want to kiss her, but I know better than to mess up a girl’s perfectly applied makeup at the start of the evening.
I doubt I’ll get the chance to mess it up later, either, since Violet didn’t hint she wanted to stay the night with me when I asked her out. Ironic that the one girl I’ve really wanted in years wants to keep me at arm’s length.
No strings.
That’s what I promised her, and I’ll keep it if it kills me.
Chad pulls up outside Eagle Tower, and Violet leans over me, craning her neck to see the glittering building.
Don’t ogle her cleavage. Although it’s hard not to when she’s halfway across my lap. I drag in a martyred breath and shift my mesmerized gaze from her beautiful breasts, although there’s nothing I can do about her scent, which is playing havoc with my dick.
I keep hold of Violet’s hand as we get out of the car and make our way toward the entrance for Overton’s. It doesn’t take long for the security to check our reservation and let us through the red velvet rope.
She lets out a soft gasp as we enter the glass lift on the outside of the building and clutches my hand tight as we shoot up thirty-nine floors within seconds. “Wow,” she mouths at me, so the attendant can’t hear. “Epic.”
The doors open to the bar area, which is grand and spacious like a thousand other bars, except for the spectacular views of the city skyline and the iconic Gherkin through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Violet appears impressed as she glances around, so if the food lives up to the views, tonight should be good.
“Cocktail?”
“I’d love one.”
I grab a drinks menu, and we scrutinize it together. Over the years I’ve tried just about every alcoholic combination known to humankind and have the scars to prove it. Now when I’m out with the lads, I tend to go back to my roots and stick with beer, unless it’s a special occasion when I break out the champagne.
Tonight is not a beer night.
“Champagne cocktail?” I suggest.
“That sounds good.”
I order our drinks, and we stroll to the outside terrace. The tables are all taken, so we stand by the glass wall, and Violet rests her hand against the safety rail. “This view is amazing.”
“Sure is.” Not that I’m admiring the London skyline. Violet’s gorgeous hair falls over her shoulders, and tiny glittery flowers are twisted through her curls. Her lashes are longer than usual, her eyes are smoky, and her lips…
Her lips are going to haunt my dreams tonight.
Our cocktails arrive, and we clink glasses. Violet downs half of hers in one long gulp. I stare, entranced, as her lashes sweep over her eyes. She’s clearly relishing every bubble. Her tongue slides over her bright, glossy lips, collecting any stray drop, and my no strings vow mocks me from afar.
Strings, like rules, are meant to be broken…