“Simone, I’m not going to freak out at you. Well, maybe not. What happened to the tiles?” He sounded choked.
“Someone had written ‘whore’ across them. I think it’s red paint. The police have given me a crime number but there’s not much else they can do – nothing was taken and there was no other damage. It’s fine. I’ve got Killian O’Hara’s security firm checking it tonight and tomorrow they’re going to look at cameras in all three restaurants.” It was a practical response because the emotional one I couldn’t deal with.
Jack rolled onto his side and thread an arm underneath me, pulling me close to him. “Come here.”
I moved towards him, lying on his chest. It felt nice to be held, his heat radiating into me. “The tiles will clean up.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the tiles right now, Sim.”
I heard him trying to keep his tone steady.
“Why the hell didn’t you phone me when you were in there? Did you call anyone to come and support you?”
“You were working. Everyone was working and Vanessa would be busy with the baby.” I remembered how lonely I’d felt and held him a little tighter.
“Okay, listen. Things like that – when things like that happen, people expect to come out of work or whatever they’re doing because they want to be there to look after you and make sure you’re alright. What would you have done if Sophie had phoned and said that something like that had happened in one of her spas?”
His hand was stroking my back, still on top of my chef whites which weren’t really that white.
“I’d have gone over. I know. I should’ve called someone…”
“I wish you’d called me. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Sim, that’s the last thing I want to do. Some things are more important that work or appointments. Answer me this: if I was stuck somewhere and something happened to Lauren, say she’d taken a fall at dancing and had to go to casualty, and I rang you, what would you do?” He pushed my hair back from my face.
“I’d go to her.”
“Would you be pissed off that I’d phoned you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d want to make sure she was okay and I wouldn’t you to be worried.”
“Even though you’d only met her once.”
I nodded.
“Because you care. And people care about you. Any idea who did it?”
“No. I’m not worrying about it. I’ll make precautions and sort out better security. If something happens again, I’ll consider it more.” I’d already thought about it and got myself exactly no further forward. I hadn’t pissed anyone off. My business plan was about my business, not someone else’s and I hadn’t had anything approaching a date since I left Eliot until Jack last night.
I doubted it was connected with Jack.
“Your ex-wife…”
He laughed. “Would be thrilled if she knew about you. Rebecca and I haven’t been together for twelve years.”
Jack turned so he was facing me, our lips centimetres away. My sub-conscious was remembering how he’d felt this morning, how he’d played my body as if he was a virtuoso and I was his instrument. He’d made me sing. We’d had the contraception talk, we were on the same line of the same page, apart from one thing.
“Why the hell would you think I’d get back together with either of my exes?”
His hand skimmed my side, lingering near my breast. I did not want our first time together to be on an unmade bed where half my employees had probably slept.
I also didn’t want to sleep with him and not spend the night together. Which wasn’t going to happen. I knew he had Lauren at home and needed to be there for her in the morning.
“Because you weren’t saying anything so I thought it was something you weren’t sure how to tell me. I think we’re all entitled to a little paranoia. Don’t hold it against me.” His words were soft, the ownership of not being perfect reassuring.
“I get it. I think. What do we do now?”
