THREE
EVANGELINE
Three days later, Clare asked me to deliver another parcel for her. It spoilt what had been a perfect couple of days, knowing I’d have to deal with that ridiculously arrogant man again.
I’d come home from being berated by him to find Clare asleep on the sofa. I’d fixed my bike that night which meant I got to ride out in the sun for leisurely little trips out of the city into the surrounding countryside the next morning and the day after that too. Each time I set off, I went past the empty shop at the end of the road, the daydream I knew so well washing over me and making me smile.
One day I’d have enough money to rent out that shop. I never knew where the money would come from, perhaps winning the lottery I didn’t take part in. Charlie Bucket style, I’d maybe find a ticket in the street and realise it was the missing winner and with the big fat cheque, I’d rent out the shop, hell, maybe I’d even buy it. Then I’d gut the inside, clean it up and my little bakery would go from dream to reality. It was a nice thought and it always made me happy. It might never happen but there was no harm in dreaming. Maybe Mr Millionaire would feel so guilty for snapping at me that he’d buy it for me. Yeah, and maybe I’d see flying pigs high in the sky above my head.
The sun had been out every day and I made the most of it, though my pale skin seemed oblivious to my attempts to tan, stubbornly refusing to darken. I hated it at times, feeling it made me look more like a porcelain doll than a person. No matter how long I was out on the bike, I was as pale as ever when I got home, it was infuriating.
I’d almost managed to forget Dominic Hawke. Almost. I hadn’t forgotten how hot he’d looked, nor the way he looked at me like a wolf looks at a sheep, the way that had made me shrink in front of him. It was like he could see through my dress and it was enough to make me glad to leave him with his parcel, heading back down in the lift, relieved that the experience was over. I left his building fanning my face to cool down, despite the breeze I seemed baking hot all of a sudden.
He was bad news, that was obvious, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him anyway. The rational part of me knew someone like that would not make a good partner. He would make me one more notch on his bespoke mahogany bedpost before turning me into an anecdote to laugh at with the guys at work. That deep voice of his would tell them all about me, that deep voice that had made me melt, made me call him Sir without thinking. He was bad news, I told myself again and again. You don’t get involved with someone like that.
Not that it mattered because I knew I’d never see him again. Then on Monday lunchtime, I came home from a morning ride to find Clare nowhere to be seen. There was a parcel on the coffee table, a note taped to the top.
Had to go into uni. Any chance you could deliver this to your new lover for me? Needs to be there by one. I understand if not. Love you!
I curled my fingers into fists. That was so passive aggressive of her. Just because I’d done it once, she assumed I’d happily do it again. I could refuse, of course. I could leave it on the table and tell her when she came back that I wasn’t doing her job for her. But then I reread the note, lifting it to look at the address. Dominic Hawke again.
All of a sudden, I didn’t want to refuse. If I did that, I wouldn’t get to hear that wonderfully deep voice again, I wouldn’t get to see the guy I had fantasised about for the last three nights after the lights had gone out. The guy who wouldn’t get out of my head, no matter how much I convinced myself I didn’t care about him at all. I wished I hadn’t told her what I’d thought about him though. She’d be teasing me forever about my crush on the arrogant rich stranger.
I looked at the time and then swore under my breath. I wanted to shower after my bike ride, not arrive at his red and sweaty. But if I did that, it’d be late. Why hadn’t she warned me that morning? It wasn’t like I was busy, I could have done it first thing. “This is the last time,” I said to the empty room, snatching up the parcel and shoving it into the basket on my bike. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, her or me.
I realised five minutes into the ride that I was pedalling much faster than usual. Just don’t want to be late, I told myself. It definitely wasn’t because I wanted to see him again. Okay, maybe just a little bit.
The heat of the sun combined with the fact that I’d already been out that morning meant I was pretty tired by the time I reached his building. It was the same doorman as last time and he nodded when he saw the parcel, swiping his keycard a second later.
“Hi,” I said, putting on my best smile as I gradually caught my breath. “Back again.”
“Indeed you are,” he replied, holding his hand out to take my bike. “Delivery for Hawke?”
The way he said it sounded strange, like he was quoting the word delivery. Did he know something I didn’t? “Get a lot of parcels, does he?” I asked.
“I couldn’t possibly say.”
His face was inscrutable so I gave up trying to read him, turning to the lift and making my way up for the second time. I had no idea why my heart was beating faster as I rose up through the building, nor why the air suddenly seemed so thin. Maybe it was the height.
The doors swung open and I stepped out, crossing the carpet to press his doorbell. I glanced at my phone. One minute past one. Not bad considering I’d been at home at half past twelve.
The door swung open almost at once. “You’re late,” he snarled. “Again.”
“Oh, come on,” I replied. “It’s only one minute past.”
He looked like he was about to hit me for talking back to him. “You were supposed to be here by one.”
“Right,” I said, my voice quiet all of a sudden. What the hell was it about him that made me cave in under a second? “I’m sorry, Sir.”
He took the parcel from my hand and looked down at it, raising his eyebrows for the briefest of moments. “So how does it feel?”
“Excuse me?”
“To have me as your new lover?”
“I…” I looked down. The note was still taped the parcel. God, I was such an idiot. “That wasn’t me,” I muttered, unable to look him in the eye.
“If you were my lover, you wouldn’t wear such revealing things in front of strangers. You never know what they might do.”
I looked up then, seeing his expression unchanged. Was he enjoying this? Toying with me to make me feel uncomfortable? His eyes ran down my body and I felt like he was seeing through my clothes again. I followed his gaze. My thin cotton crop top was clinging to my chest, I hadn’t realised how sweaty I’d become. Even I could see the shape of my nipples through it.
My shorts had ridden up my legs and far more thigh was on display than was decent. It might have been all right on the bike but suddenly I felt exposed and vulnerable. I wanted to tug them further down my legs but there was no way of doing it without him knowing how uncomfortable he was making me. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Here,” he said, pulling the note off the box. “I don’t need that.”
As he passed the note to me, the tip of his finger brushed over the edge of my hand and my heart suddenly pounded in my chest. Why had his touch done that to me? It was as if all the strength had left my legs and I felt shaky all of a sudden, like I might pass out.
“Don’t be late again,” he said, waving me away.
“Or what?” I asked, the words out of my mouth before I could stop them. My dizziness had apparently overridden my ability to think before speaking.
“Or you’ll be in trouble,” he said, a slight smile on his lips for the first time. He spun away from me a second later, vanishing into his penthouse and slamming the door behind him.
The way he’d said it frightened and excited me at the same time. It was a weird feeling. I almost rang his bell again. I wanted to know more. What kind of trouble did he mean? Would it involve me going over his knee? The thought made my throat dry. I hovered with my finger over the bell but then I shook my head. I wasn’t that stupid. Instead I turned for the lift and stepped into it a moment later, my heart still pounding. I would just have to tell Clare I wasn’t going to deliver any more parcels for her. She’d have to make other arrangements. It wasn’t my job anyway, it was hers.
There was no way I was coming back here because if I did, a man like that would find any excuse to get angry. And then he’d take it out on me. I knew enough about such things, there was no way I was going to be his emotional punchbag. He was bad news, I knew that. Sexy as hell, drop dead gorgeous, and oh by God, I wanted him to take me over his knee and spank me, but bad news all the same. I was never coming back here and that was final.