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I scuttle around the stacked boxes in my bedroom, all packed up and ready for the big move. I’m taking the first commitment plunge, and moving in with Adrien at The Shard, permanently.
Strange as it sounds, it completely escaped me that we would eventually have to live together. Being so busy at work, my mind kind of shuts down during any free time I have. I’ve settled into the routine of seeing Adrien some evenings, and staying over at The Shard on a weekend.
I’ve just about done. All five boxes of my worldly belongings are taped up, my bed has been stripped, and all my clothing packed into my suitcase.
I straighten up, blowing my hair from my face. I know I can’t avoid her forever, Cate. When I came home from work early, she was moping around the flat like her world was coming to an end. But I will be getting married, and she needs to understand I can’t stay here forever.
I swallow down as I make my way into the lounge, and see Cate, who hasn’t even took her denim jacket off yet. She’s sitting on the sofa arched over, snivelling. I don’t want to be depressed today, but I’m going to miss her, and this poky flat.
“Cate,” I call cautiously. “Do you fancy a drink?” I stay back in case she decides to pounce on me, and tells me I’m not going anywhere.
“Yes,” she whimpers.
It was an automatic reaction to nip into the off-license on the way home today. I knew she’d need a little pick me up. I take the bottle of German wine from the fridge with two glasses, and go to sit beside her.
I pour her a glass and slide it across the coffee table to her, then pour one for myself.
“A toast,” I say, hoping she lightens up. “To us Cate.” That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Now she’s lost it completely, and is sobbing on my arm.
“I’m sorry. I can’t pretend to be happy about this. Not that I’m not happy for you... it’s just that... that this is our place.”
“Cate, I’ll only be ten minutes away,” I say. “I’ll still see you all of the time.”
“It’s not the same.” She sniffles. “Who’s going to look after me when I’m hung-over? Who’s going to drag my ass out of bed for work? No more nights out. No more hair play. No girly chats while making cocktails.” She weeps. “I’m going to have to sit here on my own. Maybe I should get some cats.”
I giggle. “Cate come on. You’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.” I rub her back. “We can still do all that stuff.”
She huffs then takes a swig of her wine. “First Nathan emigrates to bloody France, living the high life. And now you’re moving in with Mr Wonderful. I’m going to have to marry Pete now aren’t I?”
God I feel so bad. Everything I say to her is only a partial tale; a smokescreen to protect what Adrien and Nathan really are. Half-truths are not good when it comes to close friends. Especially when she’s looked after me for so long, and tells me everything.
“Look, I swear we’ll be fine,” I say. “I’m only a stone’s throw away, and we’ll talk every day.”
“Promise.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Okay.” She sits up, composing herself. “A toast then, to your new life with Mr Hot Stuff.” We clink glasses and laugh.
I’ve moved all of my things next to the door so it’s easier to get down the stairs. Adrien did ask me if I needed a removal firm. It was the most peculiar conversation, and he was annoyed by my stubbornness to do it all myself. When he gets here and sees just how much I need moving, he’ll probably tell me to leave it behind, or toss it all in the bin. But there are important keepsakes and photos that mean a lot to me. Junk to some, but treasure in my eyes. My life before that charity banquet all those months ago.
Adrien knocks on the door, and right on time. Cate looks at me, sadness flowing down her cheeks. God, that’s it. I’ve held it together all afternoon, and now I’ve lost all poise as tears blur my view.
I open the door and see Adrien pressing his lips together, empathetically. I take a side step, allowing him to shuffle by me. Jeez, it’s so awkward for him. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, stuck between two over-emotional females.
“Right.” He blows out, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “I’ll make a start taking this lot to the car.”
He places one box on top of another and lifts with ease. Cate’s eyes expand, watching him disappear through the door, carrying probably mine and her body weight combined.
“Wow.” She exhales, ogling.
I nervously smile. I mean, he’s the one who is all for keeping a hidden world hidden, then he goes and does that. He probably wasn’t even thinking about it. He wanted out, and fast.
“He works out.” I smile and cringe.
“And I can tell. Right, come on missy.” Cate pulls up the handle of my suitcase. “I’ll give you a hand.” I pick up the smaller box, and follow her out into the hallway.
The back of Adrien’s Land Rover is full. Now I’m standing in this weird phase of limbo, between the past and the future. To me this is the end of an era. I know I’m doing the right thing. But hell, it’s scary starting a whole new life.
I wipe a tear from my cheek as Adrien goes to wait in the car. Cate grabs hold of me and squeezes.
“Now, I have told him, if he doesn’t look after you, I will make sure he has his bits painfully rearranged.” She pulls back and stares with wide eyes.
I chuckle. “I’m going to miss you tons.”
“Me too honey, but this is for you.” She shakes my arms. “The whole deal, so you enjoy it.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you at the engagement party. And... and thanks for everything Cate.” I peck her on the cheek and jump into the car, before I breakdown and blubber.
***
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” I ask in confusion, noticing we’ve just gone right by The Shard.
He indicates to leave the one way system and turns, fleeting a glance at me without a word. Something is going on with him. He’s fretting and behaving the same way he did when he proposed. It’s very rare to see him like this, tense and unwilling to give a bean away. He’s normally a go getter. If he has something to take care of then he does it, usually without hesitation. Austere, bold, and ruthless in business. So yes, right now, he’s making me nervous.
“Adrien?” I say in more of a demanding tone as we move by St James Park.
His jaw tightens and his lips purse to the side as he looks up to a period-style apartment block, right across from Birdcage Walk. He pulls in and stops outside a red brick building called, Queen Ann’s Gate. I eyeball him, wanting more clarity.
“Come on.” He unclips his belt.
“Where?” I ask too late, he’s out of the car, waiting for me on the street.
I expel a long grumble as I remove my seatbelt, and make sure my annoyance is known in a loud breath. I make my way around the car to where he waits for me.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” I peer up at the building as a warm breeze blows at my back.
He takes two keys out of his trouser pocket as I taper my eyes, and he dangles them right in front of my face.
“These are yours,” he says, placing the keys in my hand. “The black one is for the front door and the other, well, you’ll see.” He winks.
“Keys?”
He smiles shrewdly. “Go on then.”
I take in a breath and open the door.
We enter a great entrance hall, and I see a white limestone staircase with fancy wrote iron handrails. To my left there are two white doors with peepholes, and on my right, three more. I exhale and peer up into his covert eyes, as he stands still with his arms folded across his chest.
“Are you going to say anything, or is this like some cryptic challenge?” I smile a little, liking the cheeky glint in his eyes. “So, do I have to pick a door?”
“Look at your keys... the white fob,” he says.
I peer down at the keys. There’s a number 2 printed on the fob, which I’m presuming is the door I have to pick. With a solid determination to get the answers myself, I leave him and head to the door.
I turn the key and twist the knob. “What the!” I gasp, my eyes widening on a huge room.
Jeez, this is a stunning apartment. Warm wood floors, high ceilings, with neutral colours throughout. The lounge and dining area are in one vast space, and the furnishings are contemporary with the odd vintage touch here and there. There are even two enormous crystal chandeliers, similar to the ones that hang in The Mill. I amble in further, feeling a happy disorientation.
I run my hand along the dark grey kitchen work surface, looking at the glossy white cupboards. I rotate and see a large oak dining table, surrounded by eight white moulded chairs. My fingertips brush over the chrome faucet of a large deep rectangular sink, as my view falls by a large white sofa, and onto a floor to ceiling shelving unit that encases a huge television. I close my eyes, nod, and re-open. It’s all still here, the perfect dream home.
Adrien has a satisfied smile on show. God, I don’t know what to think right now, or what I should feel.
“This is a tad more than a car, Adrien.” I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but know I do.
“No, this is home. Your home.” He closes the door and turns to me.
“My home?”
“What seems to be the problem, Elizabeth?” He’s not getting the reaction he wants out of me, and those deep dimples in his cheeks have my skin burning.
“It’s hmm...” I’m lost for words.
“Just what did you expect. We’re to be married,” he states firmly. “This is yours.”
“Mine, not ours?”
“Well, you certainly know how to put a dampener on a perfectly good gesture.” He’s frowning, hard.
“A gesture?”
“Sorry, I should know not to use that word with you.” He’s growing more pissed-off with me by the second.
I’m being a bitch about this, but it wouldn’t bother me if we lived in a cesspit, as long as we’re together. I’m used to the poky two bedroom flat I shared with Cate in the rough district, and now I have this. Of course I’m finding it difficult to get my head around. He’s called it a gesture of all things. And for me, not us, me. I don’t get it.
“So you’re not planning on moving in here with me?”
His peeved eyes soften. I don’t want to stay here alone, and he’s coming across as though this is like his secret mistress’s place. Somewhere he can get laid and leave. Is he planning on keeping me separate from his vampire life?
“Look, of course I’m going to be here with you.” He arches over the kitchen island. “Well, most of the time.”
I’m still not buying this. We’re getting married and he wants to live two different lives.
“Most of the time?”
“Elizabeth, I don’t want you living with me at The Shard,” he says. “It’s not a proper home. It’s business to me.”
“It’s never felt that way to me,” I utter.
He smiles at me. “Is this a sentimental thing?”
“No but...” I clam up for a second. “You don’t have to go all out to impress me,” I bravely say. “I want to be a part of your life. Not hidden away in some fantastic apartment, wondering where you are all the time. You once told me that you wouldn’t hide who you are and what you do. I don’t want to be left in the dark, that’s all.”
“And you won’t.” He places his hands against the worktop, trapping me inside his arms. “I’m not doing any of this to impress you. You’re going to be my wife, and I don’t want to be with you in the place I work most days.”
I let out a lengthy sigh because he has me right where he wants me: sweetened, yielding, and desperately wanting his touch.
“You can keep your job. You can do whatever you want. I’m not going to stop you.” He sweeps his fingers down my cheek. “But if I want to purchase something for you, no matter what it is, whether you like it or not, I will.” Jeez, he’s a sweet-talking pushy sex god. I purr out slightly with a quiver in my lungs. “Later sexy.” He reads my lusting eyes. “Now, I want you to go and explore.” He moves aside to let me free.
Wow, I can’t believe this is our new place. Everything is wonderful. I strain to keep my jaw shut in amazement, as I notice every detail. The deco, the lighting, the shine on the red wood flooring throughout.
I’m standing before double glass panel doors, telling myself not to start giggling. Because that’s how I feel, feverish, like a kid in a sweet shop.
I stroll down a wide hallway. The flooring is a cream marble with a brown patterned inlay all the way around the edges. There is a suede beige chaise lounge to my left (clearly for show) and to my right there’s a Georgian tallboy.
There are three doors, one to each side of me, and one straight ahead. God, which one do I go through? Now I’m giggling to myself. I cannot contain it. I peek over my shoulder, just to make sure Adrien is not witnessing my hysteria, and open the door right ahead.
“Shit,” I utter breathlessly, walking upon the thickest cream carpet my feet have ever felt.
I’m now standing in mine and Adrien’s bedroom. It’s off the scale of anything I imagined. Magnificent and spacious are not words that do it justice. It’s individual and is exactly what I would have chosen. The walls are a dusky grey with a tone of violet, and the window is a huge bi-folding glass door, which opens out into a small contemporary garden area.
I turn to the bed and admire how elegant it has been dressed, with plump crisp white pillows and grey satin sheets.
My heart is racing with curiosity and I’m laughing to myself again, as I open a door next to the black bedside table. This has to be Adrien’s. It’s like he’s brought his entire walk in wardrobe here from The Shard. He has his suits and shirts in order like soldiers, and his tie fetish has followed too. However, he has more space dedicated to his casual attire and footwear, which tells me he wants to make this his home. He wants to be comfortable here.
I close the door and head to another door opposite the bed. I feel the wall and turn on a dimmer switch. I’m looking in our bathroom, with his and hers matching smoked glass bowl sinks beneath an unforgiving mirrored wall. There’s even a wet-room confined in opaque glass, and a large square sunken bathtub big enough for two.
I turn off the light and back up into the bedroom, dumbstruck. Places like this don’t happen to people like me. To hell with it. I drop down onto the sumptuous mattress, my legs and arms doing the starfish as I release a long sigh.
“So you like the place then?” Oh crap, he’s been watching me. “You can fill yours up when you’re ready.”
I bite on my cheek, watching his sexy silhouette in the doorway.
“Fill what?” I sit upright as he saunters over.
“Your closet.” He looks at the one door I didn’t open. “We can make a day of it. I’ll be your chauffeur. I’ll even be your official bag carrier.” He smiles flirtatiously.
“No, I’m fine. I’m not the kind of woman who loves spending countless hours shopping. You should know that. It’s easier online. Besides, you don’t have to impress me anymore. I don’t need to be impressed. This is more than enough.”
“Elizabeth,” he says in a deep disappointed tone as he angles down over me. “You know I don’t like the word no. It doesn’t suit you, and it displeases me.”
“Well it displeases me being told what to do,” I flirt, biting my lip, waiting for him to take me.
“Okay.” He crawls up over my tingling body. “I love seeing you smile.” He kisses me. “It turns me on.”
I kiss him back with happy eyes when he stops accepting my touch, and kind of immobilises to listen to something.
“What was that?” he muffles as I nibble his lips.
“Nothing.” I try to pull his head back to me.
“You’re hungry.” He stands up from the bed, quickly. “I can’t concentrate with that human noise coming from your gut.”
“Am I?” I scowl, frustrated.
“Come on, I’ll fix you some food.”
I can’t believe he’s walking away from me. I’m not hungry, well, I don’t feel hungry. I would much rather roll around in these sheets with him than eat food.
I stand in our kitchen as he pulls the doors open on the mammoth double fridge. Wow, that is one well stocked fridge, considering he doesn’t need to eat. Most of that food will go to waste. He takes out a bottle of wine and turns to me.
“Well... ideas?”
I take a good look, shelf to shelf. I don’t particularly want to eat alone. He says I’m hungry, but I’m not. That bubbling you get when you need food, was an excited bubble because I needed him in that bed.
“Elizabeth?” he huffs out.
“Okay, I’ll cook, but will you eat with me?”
“Hmm.” He’s reluctant. “Sure.”
“I’m not going to poison you. I’ve figured out beige foods or raw are okay for you.”
I look in the fridge, trying to work out what I can cook for a vampire on a staple diet of blood. There’s plenty of meat to choose from. But my god, the huge joints in here will take hours to cook, and would easily feed two dozen.
“Go get my things from the car while I figure out what’s what in this kitchen,” I say, scanning the inbuilt oven, which has way too many knobs and buttons.
“Oh, a domestic goddess.” He sniggers, walking to the door.
I resort to the basics: eggs, butter, and cheese for a simple omelette. I search each cupboard for the utensils I’m going to need, but it’s taking me an age to find stuff in here. I now have a bowl, whisk, and frying pan, but no plates to serve on.
Adrien returns. I can’t see his face because he’s hidden behind the three wide boxes he’s carrying. He plonks them onto the floor next to the glass panel doors.
“Adrien, where are the plates?”
He shrugs his strong shoulders as he strolls over. He opens every cupboard and the further he gets down the kitchen worktop, the more he slams, bangs, and mutters in frustration.
“It’s fine, I’ll find something to use.”
“No it’s not. I specifically told Sara to get everything you’d need,” he stresses.
Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. The full fridge that’s going to rot away when there are starving people out there in the world. The hundreds of herbs and spices only I can eat. And his stress levels over some missing plates, is way over the top.
“Adrien, she’s a vampire and doesn’t really need to eat off plates,” I say. “Perhaps it slipped her mind. It’s nothing to worry about.” I bend and pull out two placemats from beneath the sink. “Look, these will do.”
“Elizabeth, we’re not going to eat off those. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Yes I am, and so are you.” I put them next to the carton of eggs. “You need to relax; try to be a little more human.”
“This is as human as it gets, isn’t it?” He walks to the door to go and fetch the rest of my things.
I see a digital radio beside a small black coffeemaker. I flick on the button and see the small green lit screen on aux usb, track one. Oh yeah, this is more like it. The silence has now been drowned out by some melodic dubstep. Music that reminds me of The Mill. I turn up the volume and whisk away as Adrien goes through the glass doors with my boxes. I tilt my head to have a nosy at his strong backside. Hmm.
I’ve managed to make meal number one in our new home. Okay, I’m serving it on black placemats, and it’s a little charred around the edges, but I’m sure it’s edible.
I set the dining table, open a bottle of wine, and place Adrien’s egg only omelette down on the table while calling him. He walks through, peering down at my attempts to garnish what looks like burnt mush with a sprig of parsley, amused.
“Wine?” I ask.
“Hold on, I have a better bottle than that.” He heads into the kitchen.
“So there’s a wine cellar here?” I ask as I take a seat.
He returns in quick-time and pops the cork out of one of his vintage bottles.
“Unfortunately not. Although I may look into turning your closet into one, as soon as you don’t require it,” he says with a smile as he sits down.
He rotates the placemat, scrutinising his dinner. God, I feel bad for making him eat with me, when he clearly doesn’t want it. I try not to draw much attention to the fact I’m not so keen on eating mine either, as I move it around with my fork, noticing just how cremated it is. After all, a chef must be able to eat his own food. And just to prove that point, now I’ve got it inside my mouth, and the burnt bits are sticking to my teeth.
Adrien cuts off a small piece and reluctantly hovers it near his lips.
“It’s fine Adrien,” I say. “It’s bloody awful.” I spit it out into my napkin.
“Oh thank fuck.”
“Do you not miss it... food?”
He takes a sip of his wine. “No. It was strange at first, not eating, but it’s one less thing to worry about.”
“What about everything else?” I lean over the table. “Like the clothes and the music.”
“I definitely do not miss the uniform: itchy, smelly, damp, and dirty. And the music, well, I’ll listen to anything. Look, can we please change the subject?” He gazes under his brow, annoyed. “It’s a lost period for me. I’m with you now, and I really don’t want to think about the past.”
Oh crap, I thought it was a good conversation topic. When I was living at Cates and stayed with him, what did we talk about then? Hmm, that’s right Liz, you didn’t talk of much. You were too busy, getting busy.
“All I’m saying is, this is our time.” He takes my hand in his as he stands up from the table. “This is all I want to think of. Dance with me.” He pulls me up to my feet and coils me into his arms, fast like a yoyo.
I rest my head against his chest. Goose-pimples travel down my spine as we sway body to body to the sound of Justin Timberlake’s, Mirrors. Each beat he leads perfectly. His back slinks in time, and I can’t help but caress his supple firm curves with my fingertips.
“It never occurred to me.” He breathes into my ear. “When I came here to take over, that what I am would become irrelevant.” I brush my cheek against his chest, thinking how sublime this all is.
Suddenly, he lifts me high, spinning me around playfully before carefully placing me back down onto the floor.
“Now.” He fingers my fringe aside, and like always I swiftly sweep it back. “I think we have work to do.”
Oh my, I shouldn’t be looking, but my view has fallen down onto his groin area. It’s extremely bad of me, especially when I’m trying to be the demure dance partner. I redden and heat, gradually gazing up to his eyes. He seems to like the fact my view was drawn to his downstairs area. His jaw is doing that sexy tense grinding, which tells me he’s as horny as hell.
He lifts me up aggressively so my legs lock and link tight above his hips. He’s kissing me ferociously, animal like and primal. God, I freaking love how strong he is. He cradles my ass and carries me across the room, while avidly devouring the sensitive skin on my neck. I sigh high with delight.
My arms are wrapped behind his head, and he’s gazing into my needy frantic eyes. I swallow to try and rid the hard knot in my throat, but it doesn’t work. Right now I’m like a wound-up toy in his arms, and I need unwinding. I want to be twisted, turned, and manipulated for pleasure. I want to be unravelled from deep within and feel his power inside of me.
He stoops and lies me down on the white couch, then stands up over me as I grip the cushions above my head, gasping for him. He angles over the sofa’s arm and I splay my legs wide for him. His knees slowly land between my thighs, and his presence makes me leak painfully in my panties. His eyes are so hungry, more predatory than usual. I let out a moan as his fingers brush softly up and down my sex.
“So Elizabeth, are you prepared to make this home? You know what we must do don’t you?” Wow, he’s so unyielding tonight.
“The room christening?” I utter, all squirmy and hot.
He leans closer, wetting my lips with his, then presses his head upon mine. “And do you have the stamina?”
“Yes,” I say, nearly choking.
He’s kissing me again, greedily, and I’m too turned on right now to wait. He pulls at my waistline and my desperate fingers help him to strip me bare. There’s gasping, some grunting, and squirming by both of us, as we lose ourselves to the passion. But like always, my lover somehow calms for a moment, as his index finger runs firmly under my shirt.
Fuck, he wasn’t calm for long. He’s just ripped my shirt apart like tissue, and buttons fly like confetti. This is getting a little destructive, but I’m liking it. I’m liking it a lot.
He sweeps the scattered buttons from my bare belly, and threads his arm beneath my curved back.
“Where to start first.” He moves his hand beneath my black lace bra and flicks open the clasp. “Where Elizabeth?” He bends and kisses my nipple, making me flinch as his tongue teases.
I can’t think straight. All I want is him inside me. He’s placed the image of us fucking in every room in my mind, and we haven’t even got going yet. I shut my eyes as he stands up to pull off my boots, one at a time.
“You’re not answering me?” He pulls his sweater over his head, his expression too calm and his muscular frame taunting the hell out of me.
I use the backrest to lift my body as he removes my grey jeans and panties, dropping them onto the floor. These small things usually look clumsy. But when he does it, even if it is to simply slip a sock from his foot, it’s the damn sexiest thing you could witness.
“I have something,” he says, walking across to a wooden box on the shelving unit.
My mouth dries and I can’t close it. His back muscles, I want to tongue. He so delectable. I’m here all naked and wet, and his patience for sex is driving me crazy.
Holy shit. He’s just pulled something red out from the wooden box. He’s twirling it in his hand and is now pulling it to tease me. He turns with both hands wrapped around it, his knuckles white. I angle up further in excitement.
“Remember?” He lets a blindfold hang from his fingers.
Yes I remember. Killiecrankie. The room. The shit-hot foreplay and sex. The rest I want to forget.
“Yes,” I weakly reply.
“Well, this time, we’re going to use this right.”
He comes to stand over me. He threads his arms beneath my knees and around my back, and lifts me up into his chest. I hold in a quivered breath, as his cool body suddenly feels scorching hot to me.
“Let’s make this place ours.” He kisses my lips softly, carrying me toward the bedroom.