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365daysofsasuhina · 4 years

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[ @sasuhinabigflash2020 || Day Twenty-Six: Starry Nights ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Fugaku ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ AO3 Link ]

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One thing he’s noticed since this all started...is just how many stars there are in the sky. For most of his life, Sasuke lived in the big city. Sure, a bit out in the suburbs and a more residential area, but there was still enough light pollution to leave little to no starlight. He knew far more about the glow of street lamps, windows, and signs than constellations.

But that changed when the rumors began, and his family acted quicker than most. Though, in all honesty, they were more prepared than most, too.

People started getting...sick. At first, the ever-logical and practical nation of Japan kept everyone calm. But even with their careful management and focus in science...they could not stop the plague that had begun sneaking its way through humanity.

Within weeks, a full-blown zombie outbreak had consumed the island nation...as well as all others. Cities were overrun, panicked people swallowed up in waves. Tiny pockets of survivors were all that was left, facing a new, horrendously hostile world.

But the Uchiha had taken the warning and run with it. Fugaku’s parents, though passed, had left him their rural home in some foothills. Though no longer fully functioning, it had been a farm at one point. And at the first sign of trouble, the head of the family had packed up his family, and his wife’s, and moved the lot of them out into the country.

It was an..adjustment for them all, but the man insisted on taking no chances. His sons and nephew alongside him, he started fixing the place up and reclaiming it from the growth that had tried to consume it. It wasn’t easy, and beyond a few long-past Summers spent at the farm when they were young, none of them had much practice in the art.

But they kept on, only fueled on as the radio (there was no television there) kept relaying more and more worrying tales from the city they’d left behind.

There was no going back.

And then...the radio waves went dead. The cars that had been fleeing past the property stopped coming. And an eerie silence seemed to fall over the world.

That was about a month ago. And so far?

Nothing.

It’s almost...peaceful. And yet all of them realize just how isolating it all is. How...unnatural. Unnerving. But so far, they’re doing all right. The weather has been mild, the work difficult but rewarding. Things are just about up to snuff, now.

But there’s no telling what time will bring. Winter isn’t far off, and they won’t go unnoticed forever, no matter how well-hidden they feel they are.

Which is why gardening and home repair isn’t all Fugaku has been teaching them.

Being a relic from a time long past, the house is full of secrets. Shisui is given an old tantō. Itachi takes a katana. And Sasuke?

“...a bow?”

“Silent, and at a distance,” his father replies sagely, ignoring the boy’s look of disappointment. “A blade means being close enough to be in danger from an enemy like what you will face. But this? This will leave you unheard, and unseen. Your cousin and brother will not have that advantage.”

But Sasuke is still discouraged. It seems so much less...cool to have a bow than a sword. He’s not scared of the undead ones! Practicing nonetheless, he still can’t help but begrudge every shot he makes, even the good ones.

Once he’s good enough? He decides to give himself a little test.

There haven’t been any undead spotted near the farm, yet. But the further out you go, the better your odds of finding one...or many. Packing up for a journey, Sasuke decides it’s high time he killed his first undead one.

Then maybe he can have a blade, too.

He slips away when scheduled to be doing a solo chore, no one around to spot him. Armed and supplied, he heads east toward town. Hours pass with nothing to show for, and by the time Sasuke’s frustration level gets high enough, it’s getting late.

Later than he planned.

Sun sinking as he swears at the empty expanse around him, Sasuke realizes that it’s going to be dark by the time he gets back. Not only will he have to make his way home at night, but he’s going to be in an unholy amount of trouble.

But before his frustration can rise any higher, a cry sounds to his left that chills his bones. It sounds like...a woman? A shrill, panicked screech that makes it abundantly clear that she’s in danger.

Exactly what he’s been waiting for.

The first stars begin to peek through the sky as he tears through the undergrowth, clinging to his drawn and strung bow. The cries have been intermittent, but enough to follow. Hopefully he gets there in time…

Breaking through a treeline to a road, he skids to a stop. Seems his path was off - he wasn’t expecting to hit it so fast. Puffing for air, he scans the darkening environment.

...there!

As he watches, a woman wrenches open the door of an abandoned car, pulling it shut just as a gang of zombies descends upon it. Moans and shrieks sound alongside thumps against the metal frame.

This is it…! Ducking behind another car, Sasuke squints in the twilight. He better make this quick, or it’ll be too dark to see. Nocking an arrow, he stands long enough to line up his shot and let it fly.

With a dull thwack, it lands its mark, and one of them falls. The rest pay it no mind, too focused on the prey trapped in the car.

Another shot, another downed zombie. Then a miss as the bolt instead buries in a shoulder, followed by a kill shot.

In the car, the woman seems to finally notice the thinning of her pursuers, struggling to see where the heroism is coming from.

And by then, Sasuke manages one last shot...and the now-empty street goes unnervingly quiet until the creak of the car door sounds. Shaking like a leaf, a young woman steps out, looking all manner of rough. “H...hello…?”

Sure the coast is clear, Sasuke steps out. “...hey.”

She gawks at him as though he’s some kind of ghost. “You…? How did you -?”

Approaching to grab any arrows left undamaged, Sasuke starts retrieving them and cleaning them off on the undead’s clothes. “Bow and arrows. Silent, and distant.”

...maybe his father had a point.

“That’s amazing…! Oh...f-forgive me, I -. My name is...is Hyūga Hinata. Thank you, for...for saving my life.”

“Uchiha Sasuke,” he replies bluntly. “Are you alone?”

“I -?” At that, she wilts. “...yes. My family and I, we...we fled a few weeks ago. Tried to outrun them, but...we were overrun by a hoard a f-few miles from here. We scattered, I…” Tears build in her eyes. “I d-don’t know if...if anyone else s-survived.”

Sasuke can’t help a small wilt of sympathy. “...well...we can’t look for them in the dark. You’re welcome to come back with me - I know someplace safe. Are you sure there’s no more of those things?”

“I have n-no idea. I just...I just ran…”

“...well, I don’t hear any. Let’s go.” Hefting his things, Sasuke leads the way back down the road - it’ll be faster than fighting through the trees in the dark. Stars shimmer overhead, a nearly-full moon helping to light their way.

Neither of them attempt any small talk. Hinata, clearly too shaken, has no intention of bothering the one person currently keeping her alive.

It’s only once they reach the farm that things get...loud.

Fugaku stalks along the front of the house, looking up as they approach. “...where have you been?”

“I didn’t -!”

“I asked...where. Have. You. Been?” There’s venom in his voice, clearly furious but trying to bite it down.

So, Sasuke tries the truth.

“...practicing.”

“Without telling anyone where you were going or why?”

“I knew you’d stop me.”

“And for good reason!” His tone jumps in volume. “You could have been killed, and we would be none the wiser!”

“If I hadn’t gone out, she would have been!” Sasuke counters, gesturing to Hinata.

Fugaku glances to her as though only just noticing her. “...who are you?”

“H...Hyūga Hinata, sir.”

A harsh breath exhales through the man’s nose. “...what happened?”

“My...my family was on the run. We stopped to camp, and...were ambushed. We fled, got s-separated. I was being chased, and...Uchiha-san saved me. He -? He must be your...your son?”

“...my fool of a son, yes,” Fugaku mutters in reply. “...it was truly him who saved you?”

“Yes...he k-killed the group of undead chasing me. They never even saw him. It was like...those old tales of a ninja. If it weren’t for him...I’d be trapped in that car until I…”

Fugaku watches her, and then sighs. “...both of you, get inside. We can search for your family come morning. But until then, no one leaves the house.” He gives a pointed look to Sasuke before turning and retreating inside.

Sasuke’s head bows before glancing to Hinata, who looks to him in turn. “...my father, Fugaku,” he then offers flatly.

“You...have family here?”

“Mm. Mother, brother, cousin, and aunt. We all fled together over a month ago. This land was my grandfather’s. Never thought we’d need it, let alone like...this.”

“...I’m glad you have it,” is her soft reply, following as he moves through the door and leads her to a spare room. “I...I owe you my life.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sasuke insists. “Just...get some rest. We’ll look for the others once it’s light out.”

She hugs herself. “...I doubt I’ll sleep.”

“Then just lie down. Any bit will help. Until then, there’s nothing else we can do.”

Expression sobering, Hinata merely nods, letting him close the door with a soft, “Goodnight…”

Once it clicks shut, Sasuke stands for a moment, thinking...before retreating to his own room.

Maybe he should break the rules more often.

This is...really random, but it’s the first thing that came to mind. Also far longer (and later OTL) than I intended. Not gonna get these done any faster if I keep making them too long kjdfhgjfg ANYWAY, random zombie verse stuff. I dunno. Feels kinda flat to me but I’m worn out from a long couple of days. Hopefully it’s better than I feel it is :’D Either way though, thanks for reading! Just five more to go until I finally catch up and finish this thing, lol

#sasuhinabigflash2020 #shbf2020 #sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uchiha fugaku #when dead walk [ au ]

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randommuffinyt · 5 years

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Gaurdian Angel part 2

Warnings: Mentions of abuse to animals, alluding to injuries, mentions of blood, broken bones, and sad bois being sad???

Part 1

Gently pruning the multi-colored rose bushes in front of The Slice of Heaven Sanctuary was one of Patton's favorite tasks to undertake every week. Watching the blossoms grow and slowly open on the thornless bushes gave the kind-hearted man more pleasure than filling out paperwork inside ever could. It wasn't that he didn't like to help, he would keep helping until he collapsed, but filling out paperwork with long complicated language took a toll on his mental engery. So when Friday rolled around and the rose bushes around the front of the house turned Sanctuary needed a trim to stay in their perfect round shape, Patton jumped at the chance to hand trim the beautiful bushes and use the extra roses as a bouquet for the front desk.

However, fate had a different plan.

Halfway through the second bush, the screech tires against the cold pavement and a motor being pushed to go far faster than was allowed in the small residential area such as this, the cheery sounds of birds chirping were lost to Patton and caused his sky blue eyes to glance up towards the one lane road. Instead of seeing a couple of local teens screaming and racing one another down the empty street, he watched a dark black SUV with tinted windows devour the road mercilessly under its tires. He hoped the driver would slow down and realize that this wasn't a race track, only to see a small rusty white cage get thrown from the passenger window and tumble through the soft grass, leaving deep muddy gouges in the lawn behind it as the driver peeled off without looking back. The battered old cage had paint peeling off the corners and had the sides twisted and mangled by the abuse of the delivery, but the worse thing of all, was a small figure that groaned in pain laying on the side of the cage where it seemed to be trapped. Small white feathers that littered the scene of the crime, the source of the stuff feather sticking out from under the cage at an angle that was far from natural.

"Oh my gosh! Hold on little buddy!!!" Horror snapped Patton out of his shock and race over to the cage's side, leaving his clippers by the rose bush. Carefully kneeling down next to the cage his heart broke at the scene that lay before him.

Looking closer, the feathers were scattered around the tiny winged creature were actually only half white, although it looked like his wings were pure white under the mud stains. The rags he was wearing were at least a size too small, stained with dirt and... Patton shivered at the thought of what the dark small liquid stains by the kiddo's back may be. His eyes, although closed, looked sunken into his face and he looked so pale and thin, it seemed like his body was more delicate than the morning frost on the grass. His right wing was twisted at an odd angle and pinned under the cage through the bars on the side, the white feathers standing out against the bright green grass as if they were strips of paper. It was clear to see that who ever had thrown this poor kiddo, hadn't cared about him at all.

"Logan!! We have an emergency!" Patton yelled towards the open front door as he kneeled gently beside the old cage. His hands hovered over the side of the old metal trap as if it would spring to life and sink its rusty fangs into him.

Tag list: @hiddendreamer67 @enby-phoenix @too-precious-to-process @ilikestuffproductions @logicalityforlifefightmeiswear @lemon-is-my-name @yourfreindlyneighborhoodnerd @hcrystal02 @kaytikitty

#ts virgil #ts patton #ts sides #animal abuse #physical abuse #emotional abuse #abuse #abuse tw #tw: blood #winged virgil #gaurdian angel #its sad #but maybe it'll get better???#but angst first #ansgt

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pippastrelle · 4 years

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“A Not-So-Simple Story in Deapriffe”

I’m posting the first 3 chapters of my WIP book! I’d love it if anyone could give it a read.

It is the story of a factory worker in a city that has spent decades under the thumb of a gang, as well as the daughter of the gang’s boss. When their perfectly typical days lead to their lives colliding, they are left with an opportunity to fight back once and for all.

This is a project with taking a bad bad film and making it good. DM me with the original film and if you’re correct, I’ll do a free drawing of whatever character you want!

CHAPTER ONE | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

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Chapter One: A Not-So-Unusual Morning

[4k words]

Deapriffe was a city that knew when to die. It was just past nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning and the lines of freshly-opened shops around Lord Way were shuttered. The contents of one deli’s food delivery lay half-scattered across the damp pavement. Bars had locked over every home’s door. Windows hid behind plates of steel and wood. On the roads, every car had careened to the side, their engines cut and their drivers huddled under the dashboards. The blue sky was crisp and pals, yet shadows dirtied every corner. The lampposts were unlit, the shops’ neon signs had dulled, and the billboard stretching over the face of the area’s central high-rise glowed black.

Above the usual litter skittering in the breeze, a distinct rattling chimed through the wide, barren roads and through every thin residential alleyway. Tucked around the corner from the main road, in front of a line of terraced flat buildings, was a skinny, pink-coated parent, called Mx. Jenkins by most. They wrestled with the bars on their front door. Their shopping bags lay half-a-street behind them in a gutter.

The last person to get inside Mx. Jenkins’ flat building had, in their hurry, slammed the iron gate shut onto the padlock, bending it around the bars. Even as Mx. Jenkins wormed their trembling fingers into the gap, they couldn’t wrench it free. Tears stung their eyes. Their breathing becoming harder and harder to steady, they gritted their teeth and gave a great tug on the bars. The hinges screeched. Mx. Jenkins slapped a hand over their shriek and leapt back against the brick. Their eyes darted. They watched. They waited. Then, they edged back to their jammed gate once more. The rattling began again and, a road over, a woman followed it closer: a burly, well-suited woman, known in her line of work as ‘Thresher’.

Thresher’s black and white suit cut a clean line through the vast, emptied roads: its signature pattern only one of the reasons she and the rest of her organisation had earnt the name ‘Sharks’, as well as where Thresher had acquired hers. She reached the corner behind Mx. Jenkins and her tread slowed. Her thick silver watch and encrusted cufflinks glinted in the chance light while a large fist steadied the gun holster on her belt. She peered around the corner as their back was turned to her, their eyes boring into the broken padlock as their fingers wriggled around the metal. Thresher didn’t waste time.

She darted out from past the corner, rushing them. Mx. Jenkins snapped around at the footsteps. They couldn’t scream before Thresher clamped her broad hand over their mouth and grabbed their arm to drag them against the wall. Mx. Jenkin’s elbow snapped back, yet it hit a wall of fat and muscle. They bucked away. They cried out. Still, they remained muffled and immovable in Thresher’s grip. Thresher glanced around, gritting her teeth.

“Ssh! Ssh! Don’t worry! Don’t worry!” she told them, her voice hushed, high, and quick. “You’ve got to calm down or you’re going to be caught. The other Shark’s just on Lord Way.”

Mx. Jenkin’s faltered for one half-second. Then, they kicked back at Thresher with their boot’s heel. Wincing, she kept her hands pressed around their arm and mouth as she turned them around. Their eyes bulged, quivering at her. She attempted a comforting smile.

“No need to worry! I’m going to get you out of here. But it’s really important you don’t run or scream. Please! We can’t risk the other Shark finding you. We’ll…” Thresher’s eyes landed on the padlock. “Oh! I can get you inside. Quick! I’ll shoot the lock off. Don’t run. Just- Just cover your ears. You’ll be fine in a moment!”

Thresher released her hand from Mx. Jenkin’s mouth and, mercifully, they did not make a sound. Rather, their face had gone completely slack, all attempts at comprehension failing.

Thresher spared a glance at the main road. She kept hold of their arm. It took more effort to do with one hand but she took out her pistol, cocked it, and aimed. Mx. Jenkins slapped their hands over their ears just in time. Thresher blasted the padlock off the shutter. The gunshot cracked through every inch of the emptied road as the bullet splintered the lock and doorframe. Mx. Jenkins leapt back, barely kept on their shaking legs by Thresher. Thresher ripped the barred gate open off the door and hauled them up to the door’s keypad.

“Go! Go! You can get a new lock later,” she whispered, her voice pitching. “We’re leaving soon anyway. You’ve got to be safer next time! You can’t trust I’ll be there to save you.”

Mx. Jenkins fumbled with the code. The second the keypad blinked green, Thresher shoved them through their flat door.

“THRESHER!”

Thresher threw the gate closed after Mx. Jenkins. She darted away from the flat and holstered her pistol. Now, it was one out of a hundred.

“THRESHER, COME ON, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”

She allowed herself a single sigh. “FINLEY?” she called back, deeper.

A large young man appeared on the junction at the end of the pavement: Thresher’s twin brother. Finley Vaughan scowled and rolled his eyes, a bag from Regent’s Wine hiked over his shoulder. He wore the same style of suit as Thresher: the colours as crisp as the tailoring with distinct white panels running down the blazer’s front. Even though Thresher and Finley weren’t identical, with matching suits, matching bulk, and their father’s prominent nose, she was a clear reflection of her brother. Although, a reflection as seen through a puddle: more squashed, with splashes of freckles, and with muddier hair.

Finley marched down the pavement. “Thanks for ditching me at the shop. What were you doing, leaving me like that?”

Thresher shrugged. “You and Mum always complain about the wine I pick.”

“That’s because you always go for the cheap crap!”

“So, you know why I ditched you.”

He smacked her in the back of the head.

“I heard a gunshot. Who’d you see?” Finley said, looking around and grinning.

“Don’t get excited. I was just bored. Doing some target practice.” Thresher waved her hand at a random florist’s down the road. Its mottled green and pink hanging sign creaked, unlit, above the door. “I missed.”

“Of course you did. Try aiming for that car over there. Maybe then you’ll hit it,” he said.

As Thresher looked for the car in question, Finley grabbed his own gun and fired.

“AH!” Thresher didn’t get to cover her ears. Even after over twenty years surrounded by them, she could only get so used to gunshots going off unprompted right in front of her. She rapped the heel of her palm against her ear, trying to get the high whining to go away. Meanwhile, Finley squinted at the florist’s.

“Did I get it?”

She glanced up. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Finley went to load his gun a second time but Thresher pulled his hand down. “Come on. Mum’s going to be pissed if we waste bullets,” she said.

“The only person she’s getting pissed off at is you, Dolphin,” he replied, matter-of-factly. He slotted his gun back onto his belt then grabbed the back of Thresher’s blazer, dragging her with him to their pick-up point.

“GRRK-! Finley!” Thresher turned her choking into a laugh as she tried to ease herself out of her brother’s grip.

Finley returned the challenge: his smile the warning all younger siblings knew. Even with one hand holding the wine bag, he wrangled his thick arm around Thresher’s neck and got her stumbling around at his chest level.

“Hey, we can get Mum some flowers,” he said. “Maybe that’ll make her forget you made us late.”

He stepped towards the florist’s shuttered doors and Thresher wrenched herself out of his hold, cutting across him towards the florist’s. She grabbed a bouquet from the display outside and thrust them at Finley before he made it a third step nearer.

“Mum loves lilies!”

Her imploring eyes grated against Finley’s. The mirth in his expression melted. “You’re lucky we’re late…”

He resumed a fast pace down the road. Thresher stopped first to neaten her suit. Then, when she followed, she kept herself just behind.

CCTV cameras watched the two Sharks leave, just as they had watched them arrive. Thresher and Finley piled into a shining white car waiting for them on the main road and any remaining traffic parted for them as they started away, out of the shadow of Lord Way’s billboard.

Perched atop every street corner, the cameras in the area whirred inside their bowls of reinforced glass, searching the streets a final time. The roads remained empty. So, the billboard flickered and an advert for spring fashion blew up the high-rise’s face, dousing the roads in bright blues, greens, yellows, and pinks. The time blinked back into its typical place at the bottom-right corner. A thin news crawl appeared next to it.

SHARK SIGHTING: 2 GUNSHOTS – 1 ATTACK – 0 CASUALTIES.

The screen’s light dawned onto Lord Way. Drivers poked their heads out past the dashboards. They glanced around before pulling themselves back into their seats. Down every road, engines sputtered to a start and the clattering of opening window shutters and squeaking barred gates joined them. Cautious whispers began to return to the streets, then with gossip, then with complaints as Deapriffe’s people rushed back to their schedules.

From his third-floor flat window, Ahmed Al-Faisal watched the rabble reform and his easy smile returned to him. He sat back against the wall, cross-legged on his bed as he finished off his cereal. He supposed it was about time he leave for his work at nine.

Much to the withering stare of his partner Kalyani, Ahmed considered his morning routine an art. In less than ten minutes, he’d changed into his day clothes, neatened his hair and beard, pulled on his prosthetic right foot, collected both his black pride ring and work lanyard, and waltzed out of his flat building’s lift onto the pavement outside. His taped-up headphones blasting, he bobbed along his way to the local bus stop.

Even with the delays on everyone’s face and tongue, the usual sights remained. The morning breeze was cool against Ahmed’s face. Roadside puddles caught the sun whenever it peeked out from behind the clouds. Vivid adverts relit in the shop windows to invite the fresh stream of customers trickling inside from the main pavement. Meanwhile, the ever-present flock of pigeons waddled around all of their feet. As a multiracial person with a distinct gait from his prosthetic foot, Ahmed could rely on catching a few eyes on his way and he liked to count the number of smiles the crowd shot him back. He considered it a personal victory when he got one from a bodyguard shadowing a brisk businesswoman. Ahmed stopped once to pop inside a nearby coffee shop and, after he had the breakfast bagged and in hand, he jumped onto the bus for his commute proper to the factory on Deapriffe’s edge.

Clarke’s Motors was small for a car factory. Still, the main factory still stretched out across an expanse of trees several football pitches big, with the employee car park in front and a test track behind. The air was thick with the smell of grinding metal and oil – the same smell had stuck to Ahmed’s hair and clothes for as long as he could remember. Lines of buildings with peaked roofs packed between a ring of tall, brick offices and steel windows. Every window and door around the back of the offices remained locked, as they had been for years – the brick around them only just supported by scaffolding. Nonetheless, it had succeeded over two decades of steady business in Deapriffe: a feat the Sharks didn’t allow everyone.

The workers’ entrance around the side opened with an electronic lock. Ahmed pulled a playful grimace as he took his key card from his lanyard, anticipating the angry red timestamp. Instead, the automatic door opened with a simple click. A knowing smirk travelled up his face. Kalyani had signed him in already.

Everyone had left the men’s changing room by the time Ahmed arrived so he didn’t waste much time there. He hopped into the break room in the uniform navy t-shirt and cargo trousers with the springy shoes still in his hand, bumping into one other person: a round-faced, bespectacled woman called Debora. The break room was a lounge cluttered with sunken sofas and noise from the assembly shop on the other side of the thick door. The appliances on the kitchenette rattled a permanent tune for the lounge.

Debora turned from the kitchenette’s sink, her hands black with spilled oil. Her thick eyebrows gave her a near cartoon image of surprise before she burst into laughter. “God, Ahmed! Did you just get here?”

Ahmed raised his loaded hands in his defence. “This time, I have an excuse!” He dropped the shoes and coffee shop bag onto one of the sofas. “My whole area was shut down this morning for a Shark sighting.”

Debora’s eyes shot wide. “What!?”

“It was just a trip into town. No-one got hurt,” Ahmed assured her. “’Round my area, they’re pretty common.”

Debora edged back to the sink. Shaking her head, she knocked the tap on with her elbow. “You’ve got to wonder what on earth the world is coming to…You know, the kids gave Marcus and me a heart attack the other week. They left the entrance to our cellar escape wide open!” She scrubbed her hands with an increasing fervour. “We keep telling them it’s for emergencies only, but you try stop a six- and an eight-year-old from playing with a trapdoor.”

“You’ve got a good area, don’t forget,” Ahmed said, leaning to catch Debora’s averted eye. “You’ve had, like, zero Shark sightings total. You’re not near any major shops. It’s not like the Sharks have any reason to go near you. Heck, Kalyani and I are in the centre and even we’ve never–”

The door to the assembly shop slammed open. Debora jumped. Two security guards walked in: the two most notorious security guards in the whole factory.

Barry and Ari – a pair who rhymed their names at random – worked for the boss Clarke directly. They demonstrated the one downside of a company renowned for never having a Shark attack: the security guards had nothing to do. Barry and Ari had the builds of people who’d long since given up on rugby. They wore the standard button-up shirts, protective vests, and heavy belts of the company’s security guards, but neither had bothered with half the required equipment and both had left enough buttons open to expose their casual shirts underneath. Barry, a shorter, blonder man, twirled his baton around, glancing around with bored eyes while Ari, his features dark and cutting, strutted into the main room.

“What’s the all the chatter about?” Ari asked.

Barry leant back against the doorframe, smirking. “Sharks, right?”

Debora glued her eyes to the floor.

“Reminds me of a story…” Ari pulled a face of exaggerated recollection. “You guys all hear about Woodville? A suburb on the east side of Deapriffe? Whole place, completely shot-up, not even three months ago. Could’ve been payback against one. Most are betting it was just target practice.”

Ahmed laughed. The light roll of his eyes drew the attention away from Debora’s shudder. “Everyone’s got a friend who’s got a cousin who’s got a Shark story. I swear I haven’t met anyone who’s actually seen them.” Ahmed looked past Ari and raised a shoe at Debora. “I’ll join you guys in assembly in a minute. This won’t take me long.”

Debora nodded hurriedly. Flashing him a look torn both ways between gratitude and concern, she scrambled past Barry out of the break room. He stepped out of the doorframe to let her pass. Ari started forwards too, strolling closer to Ahmed to stop with his heavy boot on Ahmed’s bare prosthetic foot.

“Easy, easy,” Ahmed said, keeping his tone amicable as he tried to ease his creaking foot out from under Ari’s.

“Why? It’s not like you can feel it.”

“True, but I’d hate to have to go bugging Clarke for a new one.”

Barry sneered. “Clarke’s not here.”

“What?” Ahmed looked up from his laces. “Where’d he go without you two?”

“None of your business,” Barry snapped.

Ari crossed his arms, glaring down at Ahmed. “’Bout time you got here, Al-Faisal. If you keep coming in at a time like this, the company’s going to have to do something about it.”

Ahmed met the glare with his unflappable smile. “Haven’t technically been late yet,” he said. He grabbed his coffee shop bag and got to his feet. “But you’re right. It’s time for me to get to it. Have a good day, guys. Give your feet some rest sometime.” He slipped around Ari and entered the assembly shop proper.

The first thing that hit anyone who visited was the wall of noise: a floor of machines grinding, heavy metal clanking into place, buzzers keeping everything on track, and the chatter of navy-clad workers pushing the whole system along. Wire fencing partitioned the shop, separating stations from stations and humans from machines while rattling furiously under the din. Rising higher still then were the rows of scaffolding. Workers manned the suspended hydraulics from whatever weren’t supporting the crumbling brick at the back of the factory.

Ahmed waved through the fencing at his passing crewmates. When he’d been younger, he’d waved to the mechanical arms making car parts too, the fluidity of their movements convincing him they were alive. That day, one of the human colleagues Ahmed passed was a spiky-haired young man in the conveyance team. He ferried parts from area to area with a pair of large, turquoise headphones locked over his ears, which had earnt him the uncreative nickname of ‘Headphone Guy’.

“Good morning so far?” Ahmed signed.

Headphone Guy’s face flicked with surprise at seeing Ahmed. Then, he mimed a gun against his head and played dead against his trolley. A nearby woman frowned at the sight. She followed Headphone Guy’s eyeline to Ahmed and jabbed her hand back at the assembly line. “HEY, AHMED! READY TO TAKE THIS LOAD OFF ME?” she hollered.

Ahmed laughed – a loud, hearty laugh that boomed through even the clamour; no-one at the factory could have worked there without recognising it. “ONE SEC! GOTTA SEE KALYANI!” He raised the coffee shop bag and waited for the woman to give the conceding jerk of her head before starting towards the company offices.

Ahmed entered a grand foyer through a large, reinforced door that joined the offices to the factory. The doorframe masterfully cut off all the assembly shop’s noise. It transported him into a more elegant world. The ceilings, windows, and doors around him all stretched high while the hanging lights and artwork glowed in warm colours, complementing the elaborate woven carpet and the wooden panelling. Ahmed swung the coffee shop bag behind his back and crossed the empty foyer towards the cosier secretary’s office opposite, poking his head inside with a, “Gooood morning!”

Sitting at the polished desk, as detailed by the brass nameplate by her computer, was Kalyani Venkayya. She was a small, fat Telugu woman who had grown up around the same community as Ahmed’s dad. She had short hair and her lavender shirt cut perfectly smart as always but she’d pulled her legs up onto her chair while she worked. She almost fell off in her hurry to correct herself. She straightened as if sticking an iron rod down her back and slapped on a welcoming smile before she finally recognised Ahmed on the threshold.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She sank into her chair. She set the motheaten jumper in her hand to the side. Kalyani preferred buying her clothes from the men’s sections of shops and she’d readjusted all of them herself. On her breaks or in the absence of any phone calls or meetings to arrange, she usually carried on with whatever extra sewing she, Ahmed, or their neighbours had. “So! You avoided Ari and Barry!”

“Not avoided, but not beat up by! Thanks to you.” Ahmed reached over her desk to give her a one-armed hug.

Kalyani returned it but her face fell in exasperation. “I’m begging you. If you’re late again tomorrow, they’re not going to listen to what the official sign-in sheet says.”

“Yep, I got that impression.” Ahmed gave a melodramatic sigh. “And on today of all days when there was an actual Shark sighting outside our road.”

Kalyani nodded. She kept a sideways glance up at him. “Yes. I’m sure that would been quite the issue for the enby who was sleeping until eight forty.”

“Eh, I’ll give you that.” Ahmed reclined against her desk. “But I got my eight hours sleep! And I’ll end up doing the same amount of work as everyone else anyway so I don’t see the point in stressing about it. Plus…” He flashed her a grin and took the coffee shop bag out from under her desk. “It gave me time to get you breakfast!”

Kalyani’s face lit up. “Pain au chocolat?”

“Your favourite.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! That’s…” She turned away. Suddenly, the trees outside the window had become very important.

“Got something to tell me?” Ahmed asked in an innocent, sing-song voice.

Kalyani met his eyes and pressed a hand to her heart. “Ahmed, I’ve been in deep, romantic love with you since the moment we met.”

He laughed. He prodded her in the shoulder, rising a smile from her as well. “Fine, keep your secrets!”

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence around Clarke’s Motors for Ahmed and Kalyani to pronounce their undying, romantic love for each other, particularly whenever one of them wanted to change the topic. Early in their relationship, most people had assumed they were serious. That had led to a few colleagues approaching Ahmed with grave faces as they informed him Kalyani had kissed a man in the conveyance team, to which Ahmed had responded cheerily with the guy’s name, as well as what he and Kalyani had had for breakfast the next morning. Neither Ahmed nor Kalyani blamed people for assuming they were dating; it was an easy mistake to make, just like thinking Ahmed was a man, but a mistake all the same.

Ahmed recognised that most people didn’t know what it meant but the black pride ring on his middle finger was his way of expressing he was asexual – he wasn’t physically attracted to anyone of any gender. Kalyani’s pride ring, meanwhile, was white for her aromantic – she’d had to realise later in life that romantic relationships weren’t supposed to be entirely performative and that most people genuinely wanted one. She and Ahmed wanted different things in that department. Still, they’d lived together as life partners for three years and they didn’t intend on breaking apart.

“How about this?” Kalyani said. “I made sure I have breakfast tomorrow and you come into work early with me.”

“Perfect! We can have breakfast together.”

“Yeah.” Her face glowed. She tapped her fingers against the coffee shop bag. “Thanks for getting this for me. You’re the best. Now, get working before you get us both fired.”

Ahmed laughed. Kalyani pretended to bat him away from her desk. “Kalyani, there’s no way Clarke’s gonna fire me. I grew up here! And trust me, the only way he’d ever fire you is if he wanted this place to go under.” He glanced back at her as he drifted towards the door. “Do you know where he’s gone? He left without Ari or Barry.”

Kalyani frowned. She consulted her computer. “Hm…It looks like I can’t tell you, sorry. It’s not down as a company matter. Maybe he thought he didn’t need them.”

“Good point…I guess he doesn’t go home with them.”

Kalayni’s eyes widened as an email popped up on her screen. “Oh! Got to get back to it!”

“Alright. See you! Love you!” Ahmed called as he left.

“Love you too.” Even Kalyani couldn’t hide her smile beneath the chiding look as she shooed him away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two | Chapter Three

#my writing #wip #writing #story #chapter #original fiction

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

Text

This man chapter 8

It’s a usual Monday morning again, but most unusual is that everyone is here. There’s always at least one of us out of the office on site visits or appointments. I’m in the kitchen with Patrick, filling him in on Mrs Kent’s new house.

‘Have you ever asked her if she would change the theme? It may influence whether it feels like home. It would potentially save Mr K a fortune,’ Patrick laughs. ‘Not that I’m complaining, of course. She can move every year for the rest of her life, for all I care, as long as she keeps contracting you to jazz the place up.’

I frown. ‘Jazz? I do more than jazz the place up, Patrick. I don’t know. She insists on modern everything, but I’m not sure it’s really her thing. I think she gets bored. That or she loves having the workmen around.’ I raise my eyebrows on a laugh.

‘Now, there’s a thought,’ Patrick laughs with me. ‘The old goat is seventy, if a day. Maybe she should get a toy-boy. God knows, Mr K has plenty on young scrumpet scattered around the globe. I have that straight from a very reliable source.’ He winks at me, and I smile fondly at him.

I know Patrick’s referring to his wife, Irene. If it’s happening in this town, Irene knows about it. She’s a self-confessed busy body, know-it-all and gossip. If she doesn’t know about it, then it isn’t worth knowing about. I don’t know how Patrick puts up with her. It must be exhausting to be subjected to her oral cavity on a daily basis. Luckily, she only swings by the office once a week before her wash and set. Nodding and concurring is manageable for the half hour she spends bringing us up to date on her hectic social life, and that of others. I try my very hardest to arrange appointments for a Wednesday around noon, when I know she’ll be in. Patrick is friendly and jolly; I love him. Irene is terrifying; she scares the crap out of me.

‘How is Irene?’ I ask politely. I really don’t care.

He throws his hands up in despair. ‘She drives me insane. The woman has the attention span of a toddler. She’s ditched playing bridge and has now informed me that she’s enrolled in some Kumba dancing nonsense. I can’t keep up with her.’

‘You mean Zumba?’

‘That’s the one,’ He points his chocolate digestive at me. ‘It’s all the rage, apparently.’

I chuckle at the thought of Irene in a leopard print leotard, jigging her over generous rump all over the place.

‘Oh, Van Der Haus wants to meet you on Wednesday,’ Patrick winks. ‘They really want you, flower.’

‘Really?’

He laughs. ‘You’re too modest, my girl. I checked your diary and pencilled in twelve thirty. He’s at the Royal Park. Is that okay?’

‘Absolutely,’ I don’t need to check because Patrick’s already took the liberty of doing that for me. And damn if it isn’t going to get me out of enduring this week’s update from Irene. I push myself away from the kitchen worktop by my bum and head for my desk. ‘I’m going to finalise some drawings and email some contractors.’

His mobile starts ringing. ‘What does she want now?’ I hear him grumble.

As I’m getting ready to run over to the deli to grab some lunch, Tom prances up to my desk. ‘Delivery for Selena!’ he screeches at me, placing a box on my desk.

What’s this? I’m not expecting any catalogues. ‘Thanks, Tom. Did you have a good night on Friday?’

He gasps on a grin. ‘I met the scientist. Oh my, but the man is divine!’

Not as divine as mine! I shake my head in shock at my own wayward thoughts. Where did that come from?

‘So, that would be a yes?’ I confirm.

‘Yes. Tell me who that man was?’ He plants his hands on my desk, leaning in towards me.

‘What man?’ I blurt, far too quickly. I retreat in my chair to get some distance from the interrogating presence of my nosey, g*y friend.

‘Your reaction speaks volumes.’ His eyes narrow on me as my face burns up.

‘He’s just a client.’ I shrug.

Tom’s scrutinising stare moves to my fingers that are currently playing with a lock of my hair. I release it, quickly picking up a pen. I need to work on this lying business. I’m truly rubbish at it. His tongue moves into his cheek as he straightens himself and walks away from my desk.

What’s wrong with me? So what! I’ve been f**king a handsome, thirty-something man. Or is it forty-something? He’s my rebound f**k. I yank the box open, finding a single calla lily on top of a book that’s wrapped in tissue paper.

‘Giuseppe Cavalli. 1936-1961’

Oh? I open the cover. A note slips out.

Selena,

To me, you are a book I have opened.

I can’t put it down. I need to know more.

Holy shit! What does he want to know? There’s absolutely nothing to know. I’m just a normal mid-twenties girl. He could start with telling me a few things, like how old he is, for a start. Is it normal to send gifts to someone you’re f**king? Maybe it is for a mature man. I don’t have time to think about this at the moment. I’ve got a heap of emails to respond to and furniture deliveries to chase. I throw the book in my bag, pop the lily in my top drawer and dart over to the deli for lunch, before cracking on.

At six o’clock, Margo hisses and bangs up to the pavement to pick me up. I battle with the rusty handle and finally climb in, pushing a dozen cake magazines and empty Starbucks cups to the floor before I can settle myself on the seat.

‘You need a new delivery van.’ I grumble. Considering how crazy tidy Kate is at home, Margo is the pits.

‘Shhhh, you’ll hurt her feelings.’ She grins. ‘Good day?’ She eyes me warily.

My shoulders slump spectacularly. I got zero work done. Instead, I spent all day thinking about a certain stunning creature of an age I don’t know. I get the book and note out of my bag and hand it to her across the van. She takes it from me, uncertainty marring her pretty, pale features, as she opens the front sleeve and the note slips onto her lap. She picks it up, scans the words and gapes at me.

‘I know.’ I say in agreement to her stunned face.

She reads the note again, her gaped mouth closing and turning into a grin. ‘Yikes! The Lord is deep.’ She thrusts the book back at me and pulls into the traffic.

‘He is.’ I start thinking about pillow talk, but just as fast, I stop thinking about pillow talk.

‘Just how good in bed are we talking here?’ Kate asks casually, keeping her eyes on the road.

My head snaps to the side to look at her, but she won’t return my stare. ‘Very.’ I reply. The best, amazing, mind blowing! I want to do it again and again and again!

‘Will this be a pin-ball rebound?’

I sigh. ‘Yes, I think it will. And not just because of the sex.’

She reaches over and squeezes my knee, smiling thoughtfully. She knows what’s happening here.

We slow at the entrance of a residential street, and Kate brings Margo to a stop.

‘Right, get in the back.’ she orders.

‘What?’

‘Get in the back, Selena!’ She reinforces her instructions with a batting of my knee.

‘Why?’ I know I’m frowning heavily. Why on earth does she want me in the back?

She points down the street and realisation dawns on me. I look at her, completely wide eyed.

She has the decency to look a little apologetic. ‘I’ve strapped, padded and cushioned, but this street is a f**king nightmare. That cake took me two weeks to finish. If it goes over, I’m f**ked.’

I turn my gaped mouth away from Kate and look down the tree lined street, with parked cars on both sides and room for one line of traffic down the middle. That’s not what’s bothering me, though. It’s the vicious, black, rubber speed humps dotted every twenty yards that have my attention. Oh God, I’m going to be tossed about like a penny in a tumble dryer.

‘Can’t we carry it?’ I ask desperately.

‘It’s five tiers and it weighs a ton. Just hold onto the box. It’ll be fine.’

I exhale, unclipping my seatbelt. ‘I can’t believe you’ve got me doing this,’ I grumble, climbing into the back of the van and wrapping my arms around the tall cake box. ‘Couldn’t you assemble it on site?’

‘Nope,’

‘Why?’

‘I just couldn’t. Hold the f**king cake!’ she yells impatiently.

I tighten my grip, spreading my legs to keep my balance, and lay my cheek against the box. We’re positioned at the mouth of the road, engine revving and looking like something out of a comedy sketch.

‘Ready?’ she calls back.

I hear Margo crunch into gear. ‘Just bloody get on with it, will you?’ I snap. She’s giggling as she slowly starts creeping forward. A car horn starts honking impatiently from behind.

‘Fuck off, you tosser!’ Kate yells as we hit our first speed hump.

I’m propelled into the air, my face squishing against the box, my heels sliding from under me. ‘Kate!’ I screech, landing on my arse.

‘Don’t let go of that box!’

I scramble back to my feet, grabbing the box, just as the back wheels jolt down the other side of the hump. ‘Will you take it easy?’

‘I need a run up, else she won’t make it over!’ she exclaims, hitting another hump.

‘Bloody hell!’ I’m catapulted into the air, landing with an almighty thud. ‘Kate!’

She’s laughing hard now, only serving to piss me off more. ‘Sorry!’ she gasps.

‘No, you’re not.’ I grate, pulling myself up again. I kick my heels off to try and get a better balance.

‘Oh, no,’

I blow my hair out of my face. ‘What?’

‘I’m not reversing mister!’ she hisses.

I spot a Jaguar driving at us and with only enough width for one vehicle and no space to pull in, it’s a standoff. A string of loud car horns start singing out around us as Kate proceeds forward, knocking me all over the place in the back of Margo.

‘I’ll ram you,’ she warns Mr Jaguar, smacking her horn repeatedly. ‘Is the cake okay?’

‘Yes! Don’t you dare let him win,’ I yell, landing on my backside again. ‘Shit!’

‘Hang on, only two more to go.’

‘Oh God!’

Two jolts later and probably another two more bruises on my behind, we’re double parked and unloading the stupid five tier cake. Mr Jaguar is honking, cursing and throwing hand gestures all over the place, but we ignore him. My feet are still bare as I help Kate out with the cake, delivering it into the massive kitchen of Mrs Link, who’s throwing a sweet sixteen for her daughter. I leave Kate to sort the rest and go back to Margo to wait for her, ignoring the car horns as I look for my shoes in the back. They could be anywhere.

Noel Gallagher invades my eardrums, singing Sunday Morning Call from the front seat and my heart – which is currently hammering through exhaustion – starts hammering an excited drum in my chest. I abandon shoe searching to scramble to the front and answer, ignoring the reasons for my keenness to speak to him.

‘Hey,’ I puff down the phone, jumping out and slumping against the side of Margo. I’m f**king knackered!

‘Okay. Now, I know it’s not me that’s worn you out, so do you mind telling me who has you puffing and panting like you’ve been f**ked into next week?’

I smile. Oh, his voice is a welcome distraction from the fiasco of the last twenty minutes.

‘What’s with all the car horns?’ he asks.

‘I’m delivering a cake with Kate, we’re blocking the road.’ I explain, but I’m distracted by an overweight, balding, middle aged businessman approaching with a face like thunder.

‘Move the van, you stupid f**king cow!’ he bellows at me, waving his arms about.

Oh shit. Kate, hurry up!

‘Who the FUCK is that?’ Justin yells down the phone.

‘No one,’ I blurt.

Big baldy kicks Margo’s tyre. ‘Move it, bitch!’ Oh hell, he’s a mad middle aged, balding man.

I hear Justin growl. ‘Tell me he didn’t just say that.’ His voice is sadistic.

‘It’s fine. Kate’s coming now.’ I lie on a squeak.

‘Where are you?’

‘I don’t know, somewhere in Belgravia.’ I didn’t really take much notice. I was too busy being flung around in the back of Margo to take notes of street names.

Big baldy shoves me. ‘Are you f**king deaf, you stupid bitch?’

Oh shit, he’s going to crack me one. I can hear Justin hyperventilating down the phone, but then he’s gone. I glance at my screen and see the call has ended. Snapping my head up, I look towards the steps that lead to Mrs Link’s house, but the front door is still firmly closed. I’m shoved in the back again by Baldy.

‘Please, give me five minutes.’ I plead with the irate twat. If Kate was here, he would be on his arse by now.

‘Just move the f**king shed, you dopey cow!’ he roars in my face, making me recoil.

I run onto the pavement, stepping on every stray stone on my way, and up the steps to Mrs Link’s front door.

‘Kate!’ I knock frantically, turning and smiling sweetly at Mr Baldy Jag, earning myself another torrent of abuse. This guy needs anger management. ‘Kate!’ I shout, banging again. Car horns are blaring all around, I’ve got the angriest man I’ve ever encountered hurling abuse at me, my arse is sore and my feet are being stabbed by f**king stones! ‘KATE!!!’ My throat is bloody sore now too. But then I have a thought. Has she left the keys in Margo? I gingerly run down the steps, back onto the street to check Margo’s ignition, going around the back to avoid baldy.

It would seem that he’s not so willing to let me evade him, though, and I collide with his fat, sweaty body as I reach the driver’s door. ‘Oh!’ I cry, getting a waft of stale body odour.

He grabs the top of my arm, squeezing hard. ‘If you don’t move that f**king thing now, I’ll slap your skinny arse all over this street.’

I lean back against the van as he tightens his hold on my arm to a point, so painful, I want to cry out. He’s a f**king psycho! I’m going to be bludgeoned on a posh, leafy residential street in posh Belgravia and be plastered all over tomorrow morning’s news. I’m never going to talk to Kate again. I feel my eyes welling up with panicky tears as I’m pinned to the side of Margo with not a clue what to do. This is an aggressive type – a wife beater, for sure.

‘Get your f**king hands off her!’

The roar that pierces the air around me, blocking out all car horns and London traffic, makes my knees buckle with relief. I turn towards the direction of the most welcome voice I’ve ever heard and see Justin running down the middle of the road, in his suit, looking murderous.

Oh, thank God! I don’t know where he’s come from, and I couldn’t care less. The relief that washes over me is overwhelming. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life, and the fact that it’s a man I’ve known barely a week should be telling me something.

Mr Baldy Jag’s fat, ugly head snaps up in Justin’s direction, a deep look of panic instantly invading his sweaty features. I feel his grip ease up. Letting go of me and stepping back from Margo, he starts weighing up the mountain of lean tallness that’s running at full pelt towards us. The intention to scarper is clear on his ugly face. He doesn’t get the chance to, though. Justin charges him before he sets his short legs to work, taking him clean from his feet and sending him crashing to the tarmac.

My God! I was wrong. Baldy isn’t the angriest man I’ve ever seen. I watch as Justin’s fist collides with Baldies face before he kicks him in the gut, causing him to cry out.

‘Get off your fat arse and apologise,’ Justin yanks him up from the road, presenting him to me. ‘Apologise!’ he roars.

I look at Baldy, who’s huffing and puffing, his nose clearly broken, blood dripping down his slimy suit. I would feel sorry for him, if he wasn’t such a nasty bastard. What sort of man does that to a woman?

‘I…I’m s…sorry.’ he stutters, looking completely dazed.

Justin’s fisted hand in Baldies jacket shakes him. ‘Lay a finger of her again, I’ll rip your f**king head off,’ His voice is menacing. ‘Now, f**k off.’ He shoves the crumpled heap of a man out of his hands and grabs me, yanking me into his chest.

I fall apart. I’m a stupid blubbering wreck as I sob all over Justin’s expensive suit, while he holds me in his hard, warm chest.

‘I should have finished the bastard off,’ he grumbles. ‘Hey, stop the tears, I’ll get crazy mad.’ He spreads his palm over the back of my head and sighs in my hair.

‘Where did you come from?’ I mumble into his chest. I don’t care, I’m just glad he’s here.

‘I wasn’t far, and you weren’t hard to find. It’s anarchy back there. Where’s Kate?’

Yes, where is Kate? Mayhem has broken out and she’s still nowhere to be seen. I’m going to kill her! After I’ve had my fix of Justin, I’m going to kill her.

‘Hey, what’s going on?’

I emerge from Justin’s chest and see Kate stood at the front of Margo, looking rather bewildered.

‘I think you need to move your van, Kate.’ Justin advises diplomatically. He’s not even broke a sweat.

‘Oh, okay.’ She shrugs, completely oblivious.

Justin pulls back, running his eyes down my body. ‘Where are your shoes?’ he asks on a frown, his eyes darkening with rage again, clearly thinking I lost them in the ruckus with baldy.

‘They’re in the back of Margo,’ I sniffle. ‘The van,’ I elaborate, when his brow knits in confusion.

He picks me up and carries me around to the pavement, sitting me on a wall outside Mrs Link’s house. ‘I’m not even going to ask how they got there.’

‘I’ll get them,’ Kate shouts. She bloody should as well. She comes running over with my heels. ‘What happened?’

‘Where were you?’ I ask shortly.

She rolls her eyes. ‘I got dragged upstairs for a showing of the party dress. It was way too small and pretty painful to watch. It took them ten minutes to stuff her in the thing.’ She glances over at Justin, who’s grabbing my bag from the front seat of Margo. ‘What happened?’ she asks again on a whisper. ‘He looks fuming.’

‘I got roughed up by Mr Jaguar,’ I brush the gravel from the bottom of my sore soles and put my heels on. ‘Justin called as it kicked off. I don’t know where he came from.’

‘Selena, I’m sorry.’ She sits on the wall and puts an arm around me. ‘Thank God for the Lord, ah?’ I can detect the suggestion in her tone.

‘Kate, you need to shift that van before war breaks out.’ He strolls over with my bag, and I get to my feet. Damn, they hurt. I rest my bum back down on the wall again. I wince. Oh, my arse hurts too. Justin frowns when he catches me flinching. ‘I’m taking Selena with me.’ He watches me shift my aching backside on the wall.

‘You are?’ I blurt.

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Yes, I am,’ he retorts in a tone that dares me to object.

‘It’s fine. I can go with Kate.’ I suggest, anyway. I’ve probably disrupted whatever he was doing, with my Monday evening drama.

‘No, you’re coming with me.’ He spells the words out, his lips pressing into a straight line. Yeah, I’m not arguing with him on this.

Kate does a tennis spectator impression, looking to and fro between us, eventually getting up.

‘I’ll see you at home.’ She kisses my temple and plants a big kiss on Justin’s cheek, making his eyes bulge and my jaw drop.

What’s that all about? As she strolls off towards Margo, with absolutely no urgency, she looks back, grins and winks. I flick a warning stare that she completely ignores.

I look up at the tall, handsome beast in front of me – looking edible in his grey suit and crisp white shirt – and find sludgy green eyes narrowed on me.

‘Why are you flinching?’ he asks.

I stand up, wincing again when my feet take my full weight. ‘My backside hurts,’ I rub my battered bum and reach to take my bag from him. ‘I was holding Kate’s cake up in the back of Margo.’

‘You didn’t have a seatbelt on?’

‘No, you don’t get seatbelts in the back of vans, Justin.’

He shakes his head and picks me up, cradling me in his strong arms, before striding off down the street. I sigh heavily and let him do his thing, resting my head against his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his neck.

‘You didn’t call me. I told you to call.’ he grumbles accusingly.

I sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I.’ he says quietly.

‘What are you sorry for?’

‘For not being here sooner,’

‘You weren’t to know.’

‘Well, if you had of called, then I would have of known you planned on doing something so stupid. I would have stopped you. Do what you’re told next time.’

I frown into his shoulder and he looks down at me, as if sensing my response to his scold. He grins, brushing his lips on my forehead. My eyes close. I can’t ignore it. There’s definitely something here. And it’s knocked the wind right out of my singleton sails.

When we reach the end of the street, I look up and see Justin’s Aston Martin abandoned at an angle, from where he clearly couldn’t get through the traffic. A few passersby are floating around, admiring the deserted car. He drops me in the passenger seat and shuts the door before striding around to the front, sliding in behind the wheel and razzing off, leaving the chaos behind us. I sit happily admiring his profile as he dips and weaves through the traffic. He’s just dropped everything and come running to rescue me. I’d be lying if I said his actions were unwelcome.

He glances over and places his hand on my knee. ‘You okay, baby?’

I smile. I can feel myself slipping more with every minute I spend with him. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. Damn you, Justin Ward, of an age I don’t know.

He pulls up outside Kate’s. I’m not surprised that Margo’s not arrived home yet. The man drives like a loon. I let myself out of the car, but I’m soon scooped up and carried up the path to the front door.

‘I can walk.’ I complain, but he ignores me, taking my keys from my hand when we reach the door and opening it himself before kicking it shut behind us. I wriggle and he places me on my feet, his hand wrapping around my waist, pulling me into him.

I’m lifted so my feet leave the ground and my lips meet his. I sigh, linking my arms around his neck, letting his tongue roll around my mouth slowly and calmly. I’m screwed if I even think I can resist him. I’m totally f**king screwed.

‘Thank you for the book.’ I say against his lips.

He leans back, gazing at me, his green eyes twinkling with pleasure. ‘You’re more than welcome.’ He drops a chaste kiss on my lips.

‘Thank you for saving me.’

He smiles that cheeky, roguish smile. ‘Anytime, baby.’

The front door flies open and Kate bowls in, larger than life, clocking us in our embrace.

‘Sorry.’ she mouths, hastily retreating upstairs to the flat.

Justin laughs lightly and rolls his h*ps into me, unearthing a delightful drum deep in my stomach. My breath hitches as his forehead meets mine. He sighs long and hard, his minty breath invading my nose.

‘If we were alone, you would be against that wall and I would be f**king you stupid.’ He rolls again, dragging a whimper from me as the drumming moves into my core. I mentally curse Kate to Hell.

‘I can be quiet,’ I whisper. ‘Gag me if you must.’

He smirks. ‘Trust me, you’ll be screaming. No gag will stifle it.’ My body convulses. ‘Now, tomorrow,’ he says assertively. ‘I’d like to make an appointment.’

Huh? An appointment to f**k me? Hey, no appointment necessary!

He must catch my confusion because he starts laughing. ‘I want you back at The Manor so you can take the details you really need to start working on some designs.’

My mouth forms an O and he leans down, plunging his tongue in, attacking me with passion. I let him take me with everything he has, my knees buckling when he rolls those damn, delectable h*ps again.

He breaks away panting, his eyes clenched shut. ‘I don’t make appointments to f**k you, Selena. I’ll be doing that when I please.’

Oh, okay.

He seems to summon some sort of strength from somewhere before releasing me, leaving me to stand on my own. I feel abandoned and weak. He removes his hooded eyes from mine and glances up the stairs, and I know he’s cursing Kate for being home too. I can’t believe he’s just teased me with a few delicious thrusts, and now he’s going. I’ve gone from playing it cool, to mentally begging for it.

‘The Manor at noon.’ he states, reaching up and running his finger down my cheek. I nod. ‘Good girl.’ He smiles, pushes his lips against my forehead, turns and strides out.

I sag against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

‘Hey, has the Lord gone?’

I look up to see Kate hanging over the banister waving a bottle of wine. Oh, yes. That I need.

Chapter 15

The next morning, I land in the office with an almighty crash – quite literally. I’m sprawled across the wooden floor, surrounded by boxes, with Tom’s running towards me, horror plastered all over his baby face.

‘Oh God. Are you okay?’ He reaches down to help me up, brushing down my black, fitted skirt before beginning on my sleeveless blouse. ‘I’m so sorry. I was just moving them into storage.’ He flaps around me like a mother hen, babbling about health and safety and accident books.

‘Tom, I’m fine. Now, get your hands off my tits!’

He quickly withdraws his flapping hands from my br**sts, giggling. ‘Oh, and what lovely br**sts they are, Red Riding Hood!’

‘If you weren’t gay, I would have slapped you by now.’ I warn him.

‘Ah, but I am gay.’ he says proudly as he starts shifting boxes around.

‘What’s in the boxes?’

‘Samples, Sally took delivery of them. You would’ve thought she’d have put them in the cupboard. The girl’s useless.’ Tom moans. I scan the office and see Sally fighting with the photocopier. She really is in a world of her own.

‘Morning,’ I hear Victoria before I see her. ‘Tom, I’m never going out with you again.’ she hisses at him, perching herself on her chair.

I look to each of them in turn, waiting for an explanation, but it’s not forthcoming from either of them. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask. Tom shrugs guiltily as Victoria takes a long breath, ready to launch into an inch by inch account of her grievance.

‘He dumped me again!’ She narrows her eyes on Tom accusingly. I drop my bag by my desk and watch as Victoria fires all sorts of accusations at a very guilty looking Tom. ‘Don’t ask me to come out with you ever again,’ she spits, pointing her pen at him. ‘Friday, you cleared off with the scientist, and last night you didn’t even have the decency to go home with the same man!’

‘Tom!’ I gasp sarcastically. ‘I thought the scientist was your soul mate?’

‘He still might be,’ Tom defends himself in a high pitched voice. ‘I’m just sampling what’s on offer before I decide on what to invest in.’

Victoria scoffs and swivels her chair around, effectively blanking him out. I sit gingerly, wincing as my butt comes to rest on the soft, padded seat that feels more like iron. I get my phone from my bag and find a text from Kate.

Left early, didn’t want to wake u in case u were dreaming of all things Lord like ;-)

Baroque at 1? Have to be back for 2:30 xxx

Yes. And daydreams too. I start to text back a big, resounding NO to Kate’s lunch offer – I’m seeing a God – but then freeze mid-type. I’m supposed to be meeting Matt for lunch. I slump in my chair. My mind’s all over the place at the moment, and I’m not going to try and kid myself as to why that is. I sit drumming my nail on my front tooth, trying to work out how I can get around this. My conclusion? I can’t, so I text Kate first.

Sorry, busy busy busy. C u at home. Ax

I can’t believe I’m sat twiddling my hair as I text a lie. She would go loopy if she knew I had arranged to meet Matt. I recommence the drumming of my tooth, struggling to decide which man I’m going to be letting down. Matt sounded really low and said he wasn’t okay. Justin wants me back at The Manor to commence design, with the possibility of some added extras. My thighs squeeze together at the prospect. I pick my phone up to call Matt.

‘Hey,’ he greets me, sounding happier than I thought he would. Probably not for long, though.

‘Hey, listen, something’s come up. Can we rearrange?’ I hold my breath, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as I wait for his response, and yes, I’m twiddling my hair. I’m not even really lying. Something has come up.

‘Selena, please!’ he begs. I drop my lock of hair immediately. The sure, arrogant Matt’s gone again, being replaced with an uncertain, timid stranger. ‘I really need to see you.’

I slump back in my chair, completely defeated. How can I not go when he hits me with that? There must be something seriously wrong. ‘Sure,’ I sigh. ‘I’ll see you at Baroque.’

‘Brill, see you then.’ His self-assured tone has returned.

I busy myself with emails and checking up on contractor progress. At the same time, I’m thinking of all sorts of excuses I can feed Justin. Thank God I don’t have to face him, because with me and my twiddling fingers, I’d be rumbled instantly.

Patrick comes rolling in at eleven with Starbucks. I could kiss him.

‘Cappuccino, extra shot, no sugar or chocolate for you, flower.’ He clucks my cheek, placing my coffee on my desk. ‘Don’t forget your appointment with Mikael tomorrow.’ he perches on my desk, and I hold my breath as it creaks.

‘No, I haven’t.’ I push my diary across my desk for Patrick to see the big, bold print.

‘Good girl. How did you get on at The Manor?’

I blush instantly. I didn’t tell Patrick about my second appointment, but he only has to flick through my diary to see – which he obviously has.

‘Fine,’ I squeak, my voice a few notes higher than my normal tone, my face burning up. I will him to accept my one word, abrupt answer and leave me alone.

‘Jolly good. Keep me posted.’ He lifts himself up from my desk and goes about handing out the rest of the coffees. I instinctively check underneath for splintered wood or loose screws, puffing my cheeks out in relief for both his lack of interrogation and for my desk’s wellbeing. With all of my distractions, I hadn’t considered the possibility of Patrick finding out about my extracurricular activities with Mr Ward. This could be tricky.

My phone alerts me of a text. I snatch it up quickly, finding a reply from Kate.

Get the wine xxx

I look at the clock on my computer. Eleven fifteen. I would be leaving for my noon appointment with Mr Ward about now. I bite the bullet and pull his number up, but instead of calling him, I’m a complete shit bag and I text him.

Something important has come up. We’ll re-arrange. Ring u later Ax

No sooner have I placed my phone back on my desk and untangled my finger from my hair, the office door opens and a spray of calla lilies are carted in. It’s the delivery girl from Lusso. I see Tom point to my desk, and I’m instantly flooded with guilt. I re-slump in my chair. I’ve just stood him up and he’s sent me flowers. Well, I’ve not technically stood him up. I’m rearranging a business meeting. He’ll understand. I accept the flowers, signing the delivery girl’s paperwork before finding the card.

I’m looking very forward to my appointment.

You should be too.

I drop my arms on the desk and bury my head in them, feeling like a hundred tons of shit. He went to all that trouble yesterday, pounding on Mr Baldy Jag, rescuing me from certain assault, and what do I do? I’m a complete loser and ditch him for my ex. I need help. Good Lord, if Kate finds out, I’m a goner. I need to tell him to lay off on the flower deliveries to my office, though. It won’t be long before Patrick starts asking questions.

I leave at twelve forty five to go and meet Matt, after being even more of a shit bag and ignoring ten missed calls from Justin. I know I’ve made things worse for myself, but I gathered, after I missed his first call due to a genuine toilet break, his second because I was on the landline and then it proceeded to persistently ring thereafter, that he’s not very happy. And now I’m also thoroughly fed up with one of my all-time favourite tracks.

When I arrive, the bar is busy, but I spot Matt in the corner with drinks already on the table.

He jumps up when he spots me, smiling brightly. ‘Selena!’ He grabs me, squeezing me to his chest, throwing me out completely. He’s never hugged me like this, even when we were together. He pulls away and plants a kiss on my cheek, lingering longer than is necessary. ‘Thanks for coming. I got you a wine, your favourite. Is that okay?’

‘Sure,’ I smile. A small one won’t hurt. I break away from him and settle on a chair opposite. ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask nervously, my voice laced with all of the apprehension I really feel.

‘You look nice,’ he says cheerfully on a smile. ‘Did you want something to eat?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I frown at him. ‘Matt, what have you got to tell me? You said you weren’t okay.’ He’s acting shifty and nervous, and it’s making me incredibly uncomfortable. I take a sip of my wine, watching him over my glass as he fidgets and plays with the rim of his pint. What’s eating him? He eventually draws a deep breath and leans across the table, placing his hand over mine. I halt mid-sip, looking down at his hand.

Realisation hits. Oh, no! I widen my eyes on him and prey he’s going to tell me that Henry, the goldfish, is dead. Please be that, instead of what I think’s coming.

‘Selena, I want you back.’ he says, firmly and concisely.

Well, I didn’t see that coming – not until about ten seconds ago. What the hell is wrong with him?

My glass is still hovering at my lips as he continues. ‘I was a total twat. I don’t deserve any second chances...’

I scoff. ‘Second chance?’

He drops his head in defeat. ‘Yeah, okay. I take your point.’ He lifts his head, his face all genuine and soppy. ‘It would never happen again, I promise you.’

Is he having me on? How many times have I heard the same old bullshit? He’s a serial cheater. ‘Matt, I’m sorry, but it’s never going to happen.’ I tell him evenly and calmly. His eyes widen with surprise. I shake my head lightly to re-affirm my statement.

In the space of three seconds, his face turns from all sorrowful and hurt, to black and suspicious.

‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ he spits across the table. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who her is. ‘She opens her fat trap and you listen. When are you going to start thinking for yourself?’

I’m stunned. In actual fact, Kate kept her trap shut for four years. She made it clear that she didn’t like Matt, but it never interfered with our friendship. I just kept them apart. She never tried to influence me. She was just there, like a true friend, when things went tits up. And they did…often. I pull my hand from under his and take another calming sip of my wine. He doesn’t deserve my time. He’s wasted four years of it already, and I’m damned if he’s robbing me of any more. I cannot believe I’ve dropped Justin for this.

‘Are you not going to say anything?’ he hisses, his eyes beady and harbouring all sorts of contempt. It makes me boil a little on the inside.

I manage to retain my temper. ‘Matt, I’ve said all I’ve got to say. Was that all you dragged me here for?’

He recoils, his eyebrows hitting his hairline. ‘You’re not prepared to give it another try?’

‘No.’ I reply simply. I’ve never made such an easy decision.

He jumps up from the table in a temper, knocking his drink over in the process. ‘You’ll need me before I need you.’

I laugh in his face. ‘I’ll need you?’ I gather my hysteria. ‘Yeah, that’s why you’re here begging me to come back, and I’ve told you where to go. What’s the matter, Matt? Ran out of birds to shag?’ I watch as he rearranges his cheap, black suit and straightens his brown, floppy hair. Funny, I don’t find him attractive anymore. Actually, he makes my skin crawl. What did I ever see in him? He was a habit, that’s all he was – a very bad habit.

‘I knew it!’ Kate’s high pitched screech makes my shoulders tense. ‘I knew you were seeing him!’ I turn and see her pretty, pale face is bright red with anger.

‘Oh, she’s come to join the party,’ Matt shoots over my head. ‘You just can’t keep your f**king nose out, can you?’

I glance around the bar and notice that people are starting to stare at the little exchange going on, their attention drawn by Matt’s flying pint glass. If I get the opportunity, I’ll save Kate the wasted breath and tell her exactly what just happened. But I suppose, after four years of keeping her fat trap shut, I should let her have her moment.

She strolls up to him, all confident and cocky, Matt’s lips curling into a snarl as she gets up close and personal with him. ‘She doesn’t want you, you useless sack of shit.’ Her tone is controlled and penetrating. ‘She’s got someone else, so go and crawl back into the hole you came from.’

Oh shit! Why did she have to say that for? I watch as Matt flicks his eyes to me for confirmation, but I don’t offer any. He hisses and spits a few times before stomping out of the bar.

Kate plonks herself in the chair opposite me, narrowing her bright blue eyes on me. I’m immediately on the defense.

‘He said he wasn’t okay. I thought someone had died!’

She shakes her head. ‘I’m really mad with you.’

I scoff and grab my wine for a welcome slurp. ‘I’m mad at myself. I didn’t need you to say that. Why did you say that?’

She grins. ‘Because it was funny. Did you see his face?’

Yes, it was a classic. But still, she’s throwing around statements that are simply not true. I haven’t got anyone else; I’m f**king someone else. There’s a big difference. My phone starts ringing, and I fish it from my bag, finding call number eleven from Justin.

‘Who’s that?’ Kate asks, cocking her head up so she can get a glimpse of the screen.

‘Justin.’

She frowns. ‘Aren’t you going to answer?’

I lean back in my chair, letting it ring off. ‘I cancelled him to meet Matt.’ I grumble.

Kate’s jaw drops open. ‘Selena, you really are very dim at times. And don’t take this personally, but when you were with Matt, you dialed down the fun factor so much, I was considering breaking up with you.’

I recoil at her speech. ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’

She laughs. ‘The truth hurts, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘You’ve been dragged through the mill good and proper, so I’m willing to let it go.’ She leans forward. ‘Have some fun. And anyway, I like him.’

Well, she made that pretty obvious, and he is fun. But I know this can only end in tears. A member of staff approaches with a dust pan and brush, and I offer a small apologetic smile, but I’m distracted when my phone starts to shout. I ignore it…again. I need time to think about this. I was so overwhelmed yesterday, I let a firm chest, hypnotising voice and soft lush lips derail my cognitive thinking. Who am I kidding? Every time I’m with this man, I’m derailed and distracted. He overwhelms me with his intensity, knocking all rationality right out of me.

‘Hello, hotty at three o’clock! Oh, and he’s looking. How’s my hair? Have I got any icing on my face?’ Kate starts frantically brushing her cheeks with her palms.

I turn to three o’clock and see the guy from the bar at The Manor. Which one was it? Drew? No, Sam. He has a big smile on his cheeky face as he raises his bottle of beer to me. I raise my hand and turn back to Kate.

‘You know him?’ she asks incredulously.

‘Sam, he was at The Manor. He’s a friend of Justin’s.’

‘Fucking hell! Justin’s a member of the hot gang.’ She giggles, her eyes widening with excitement. ‘Why have I never heard of this place?’ she asks. ‘I’m coming to your next site visit.’ she’s says determinedly, and I know she’s not joking. ‘Hey, he’s coming over. Introduce me, please!’

I shake my head at her. It’s one more first date for her to get her teeth into. Wait…I suddenly panic. Did he see me with Matt? Hang on…why am I worried about that?

‘Hi, Selena, how are you?’ Sam reaches the table, still smiling and flashing that dimple. He really is very cute, with his unkempt hair and twinkling eyes. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt again. Casual must be his thing.

‘I’m good, Sam, you?’ I finish my wine off. I could do with another, but Patrick won’t appreciate me returning to the office half pissed. ‘Been here long?’ I ask casually.

‘No, just got here. How’s Justin?’ he enquires on a grin.

Why would he think I know that? Has Justin told him? I feel my face blush, even though I’ve reached the swift conclusion that he’s playing with me. He’s Justin’s mate, he should know how he is. I shrug, because I really don’t know what to say. And, in actual fact, I have no idea how Justin is because I didn’t turn up for our appointment. When I left him yesterday, he was firing on all sexual cylinders, and I was panting like a desperate, wanton loser. Now, I expect, he’s slightly irate that I’ve cancelled our meeting. Ha! What’s he going to do? Sack me? He probably should. It will save me all of this brain ache and turmoil. I feel a sharp crack on my shin and look up to see Kate scowling at me.

‘Oh, Sam, this is Kate. Kate, meet Sam.’ I wave my hand between the two of them, watching as Kate turns all angelic, putting her hand out to Sam, who grins before clasping it.

‘Nice to meet you, Kate.’ he says smoothly, maintaining his grin and running his free hand through his mousey waves.

‘You too.’ She arches a brow.

She’s a brazen hussy! She’s flirting with him. She giggles as Sam compliments her on her wild, red hair, their hands still linked. My phone declares a text. To escape the blatant flirting exchange going on in front of me, I pick it up and open the message with one eye closed.

There better be a GOOD f**king reason for you standing me up. Someone had better be dying. I’m going out of my f**king mind, lady. NO KISS

Ah, he’s worried! My heart does an unexpected skip of approval, but then I snap myself out of my pathetic bubble of contentment, reminding myself that I’m not answerable to him. He certainly likes compliance. Besides, I didn’t stand him up; I delayed a business meeting. My poor bloody brain feels like it could explode. What’s happening to me? I put my phone on the table and look up to see Kate performing the best flirting act I’ve ever witnessed. She’s such a tart, and their hands are still clasped.

She drags her attention away from Sam to look at me. ‘Justin?’ she asks unashamedly. I kick her under the table, feeling Sam’s eyes on me. I’ll kill her.

‘Justin?’ Sam asks. ‘He just called. He’ll be here in a minute.’

What?

Kate starts laughing like a hyena, earning her another boot under the table. Did Sam tell him I was here?

‘I’d better be off,’ I go to stand. ‘Kate,’ I smile sweetly as she gets her laughter under control. ‘Haven’t you got a two thirty appointment?’

‘Nope.’ She smiles back, trumping my sweetness level. She’s a pain in the f**king arse.

I narrow my eyes on her, picking up my bag and phone. ‘Well, I’ll see you later then. It was nice to see you again, Sam.’

He releases Kate’s hand and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Yeah, and you, Selena. Keep it real.’

I turn to leave, but swing back around, all straight faced and cool. ‘Oh, Kate. Dan’s back next week.’ I toss it into the air like a grenade and wait for the explosion. It takes just a nanosecond for her jaw to drop, like a huge lump of lead, to the table.

Ha! I fling her a don’t-mess-with-me look and turn on my heels with immense satisfaction. My smugness is short lived, though. Justin is stood behind me, glaring at me like a rabid dog. I shrink on the spot

‘Who’s dead?’ he barks.

He’s really mad. ‘I was at work.’ I defend myself nervously.

He scowls at me, good and proper. ‘And that renders you incapable of answering your phone, does it?’ His voice is dripping with displeasure.

Oh yes, me not answering his calls might be a contributing factor to his annoyance. I turn and find Kate and Sam silently observing our little altercation. Kate starts looking anywhere and everywhere but our direction, and Sam struggles to regain control of his raised eyebrows, doing a really rubbish job of looking uninterested. I sigh, turning back to Justin, who still looks like he’s about to hit something.

‘I have to get back to work.’ I say, sidestepping him and leaving the bar. This is beyond an over-reaction and dangerously in the realms of controlling and manipulating. Neither of which I want.

I walk out onto Piccadilly and into the lunchtime crowd. I know he’s following me. I can feel his penetrating green eyes stabbing at my back.

As I turn into Berkeley Street, the crowd thins out, and I glance back, finding him stalking behind me, his eyes full of fury. He does look delicious in his charcoal suit and pale blue shirt, though. I huff to myself and increase my pace. If I can make it to my office, I’ll be safe from his wrath. There’s no way he would cause a scene at my office, would he? He didn’t seem to give two hoots about scolding me in front of Kate and Sam. Can I risk it? The man’s so volatile. Why is he behaving like this, anyway? I’ve only had sex with the guy, not married him.

I quicken my pace, making it through the office door, but no sooner have I got to my desk, I’m hauled from my feet on a squeal, and I’m on my way back out.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ I shout at him, but he ignores me, carrying on with his long, even strides out of my office. I brace my hands at the bottom of his back and look up to see Tom, Victoria and Sally, all gawping at me being manhandled into the street. Oh God, please let Patrick be out of the office. ‘Justin, f**king hell! Put me down now!’

He lets me slide down his front – purposely slow so I feel every hard muscle of his delicious chest – stopping me before my feet hit the ground. He holds me around my waist so my lips are level with his, his blatant erection rubbing me in just the right spot. He’s mad and turned on?

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