Whoa. Tony Gilbert. Former US soap opera star who left me because he felt stifled. Kinky fucker, absolute prick with a booty to die for.
He misses me?
So what? We’d ended because he felt stifled. And I think he’d found someone else.
I thought we were going somewhere. Longed for him to tell me he loved me, to be chosen by the smoldering, delicious star ofTheSands of Love.
Take two coming up?
Could we try again? Could I call him back right now and arrange some sort of?—
“Absolutely not,” I chided myself. That was a can of chaotic worms I wouldn’t be touching. Ever.
Only, thateverstood on shaky ground, right at the heart of an earthquake. Anyway, I wasn’t in any position to go frolicking off to London right now.
Or The Coral!
Tony. The boyfriend with the nipple clamps and a penchant for being tied up and blindfolded. We’d had some fun with it, me dominating him in the bedroom as he liked, using my hands and various toys to tease before I fucked him. He loved being at my mercy.
And then it all fell apart.
Being called stifling left enough bruises on my ego. So he could stay in the past.
Maybe. I wouldn’t mind a final round of sex to get the last traces of him out of my system. Hecate knew I seriously needed to get laid.
Another text came through from Helen, breaking me out of my Tony stupor.
Block him and move on.
I called my agent.
“Well, well, well,”she drawled in her posh English accent, taking a puff of the cigarette she always seemed to have lit.“Look who’s stuck his head above the parapet.”
“Helen, I?—”
“If the next thing out of your mouth is an argument, I’ll scream. Don’t you dare tell me no.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Listen, things are complicated and?—”
“Remember when my husband died, and I showed up to your runway debut anyway?”
Oh, I remembered. What a horrible time, poor Ross got killed by a shade near the River Thames. But nothing stopped Helen from doing her job, and she’d come to see me model for Yves Saint Laurent on my maiden catwalk voyage, working the afterparty and the whole of Paris Fashion Week as if she hadn’t suffered a major loss.
“Helen, I?—”
“Whatever’s going on, there is no excuse I’ll accept.”
What could I say to that?
“Are you in Coldharbour already?” I asked.
“I am, darling. And I want you to meet me in The Coral’s restaurant at seven tonight. We’ll have dinner. We’ll discuss the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“You’ll see when you arrive. Or I can come to you.”She coughed lightly.“Where are you if not The Coral?”
Come here? Absolutely not! “I’m not sure?—”
