A baby teenager and a 20-year-old, who never made it to university because he became my legal guardian in the same breath as the worst trauma either of us have ever lived through. I don’t underestimate the headfuck he went through trying to get me through my adolescence while trying to be an adult waybefore he needed to be. Thank God he had Luke to lean on or I’m quite sure everything would have really fallen apart for us all. Luke’s always been grounding like that.
Meeting Colin when I was 18 felt serendipitous at the time. Someone new to love, who doted on me in a way I’d never experienced. It was heady and exciting and all consuming, for both of us. But somewhere along the way, I stopped being intentional about who I was and what I was doing. I became a passenger. And I’m as guilty of that as Colin is of taking the wheel and never pushing me to be the main character in my own story.
I sigh at the thought, disappointment covering my skin like a light veil. I can’t undo what’s gone before, but I can definitely start doing life on my own terms now.
In some ways, I’m glad I caught Colin with Stacey. We could have limped along for years after the light went out, when we both stopped trying. The comfort of the familiar can suffocate you slowly, after all.
A clean break – albeit with a bruised and broken heart – is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“More wine?” Josh appears in my eyeline, bringing my awareness back to my wholesome afternoon in suburbia.
“Please,” I reply, lifting my glass for him.
“So, Luke’s a dark horse, then,” he says, topping up my sauvignon.
“So, it seems,” I muse.
“Dirty dog.” He grins. “Reckon he’d let Chloe and I in?”
“Joshua!” Chloe lobs a pillow at him which he artfully dodges.
“Put in a good word for us, yeah?”
As hot as Josh and Chloe are, I can’t quite picture them in Salt. But then, I’ve been surprised before.
“I’ll see what I can do. Let’s see if I can get my own membership first.” I smirk and he inclines his head, the gentlemanly gesture utterly ruined by his salacious grin.
Luke might not want to be my fuck buddy, but he’s going to have to get used to me being around.
Game on.
CHAPTER 17
Luke
I’ve been hidingin my office for nearly a week.
This is completely unlike me. I am the one who is always in control. This is my club, my safe haven, my little kinky paradise. I have meticulously curated an exclusive, high-end experience and now it’s been infected by Emmeline Warner.
I have pitched for investment with some of the hottest venture capitalists in the City. I have worked with artisanal creators on all of our bespoke furnishings. I went to fucking Italy to personally oversee the shipping of our hand-carved bar top. And yet my best friend’s little sister has me hiding in my office like a schoolboy with an inappropriate crush.
After she practically fled my house last weekend, I’ve been in a whirlwind of different emotions. At first, I felt immensely proud of myself for resisting the very real temptation that flared in me at her offer. The mental image of my hands on her body, the idea of being herteacher– fuck! I deserve a goddamn medal for putting all of my baser instincts aside and seeing the big picture.
She’s still reeling from her marriage imploding. Her heartbreak is still so raw. If she and I did anything physical, it would blur all the lines in my carefully constructed boundaries.It would break all of my rules. I don’t do relationships for a reason. Not after last time. One or both of us would get hurt and I can’t bear the thought of causing Emmy pain. Any more pain, I mean.
The hurt in her eyes will haunt me forever. She put herself out there, brave as hell, and I crushed her. The ache in my chest is so sharp, I don’t dare name it. Even if I did it for all the right reasons.
So, when she turned up, a few days later, dressed like a fucking knockout, it was my turn to flee. Jessie ran her membership application by me and I approved it, knowing I didn’t have a leg to stand on. At least if she’s shopping for fuck buddies at Salt, I can keep an eye on her. At least I know she’s safe.
But the sight of her for the third night in a row, propped against my bar and nursing a cocktail, has me gritting my teeth. I’m not sure how much longer I can realistically stay off the club floor.
Jessie pops her head around my office door.
“Still hiding, boss?” She grins, the cheeky fucker.
“I’m not hiding, I’m running our quarterly numbers,” I grit out.
“You’re hiding, admit it.”
