CHAPTERFIVE
SASHA
21stNovember
I spend the entire morning getting ready for the arrival of Ryan- Runaway-Cooper and his ‘companion’.
Excuse me if I sound bitter. I’m not. It’s not in my nature. But I want to be here when they arrive, to face any potential awkwardness head-on – with a professional smile and a formal aloof welcome – before making my excuses and avoiding him, and her, for the next six weeks, or however long he actually hangs around for this time.
Curiosity burns at the prospect of seeing him in the flesh after all these years. My insecure inner eighteen-year-old lurks, desperate to prove his rapid departure didn’t affect me, even though Chloe would testify it almost killed me.
He might be living the high life in the States, but it’s imperative he knows my life here is perfectly fulfilling too. I don’t need him, and I never did. I want for nothing. I have my sisters; I have Megan; I have my staff and I have my castle. For now, at least.
My stomach flips as I sneak a discreet glance through the gleaming sash window of the large private quarters I share with Victoria.
He’s here. After all, who else would be crushing up the driveway in a brand-new lustrous black limo? The windows are noticeably tinted, obviously, but it’s him.
Even from this distance, his sheer proximity pricks something deep inside my core, sending a hit of heat crusading through my bloodstream.
With a deep breath, I take a final peek at my reflection in the vanity station. First thing this morning I visited the castle’s spa. It’s pretty mediocre compared to most and something I’d love to invest in if I ever manage to turn this place around. A prospect that’s looking less likely with each passing day. The facilities are basic, but Tara, one of the beauty therapists, worked her magic on me nevertheless. It’s a perk I never usually avail of, too busy working to worry about my appearance.
Ryan’s ageing well. The odd time I’ve glimpsed a flash of his tanned chiselled face was enough to ascertain the man is as beautiful as ever, on the outside at least. No doubt the woman he’s bringing will be equally stunning.
Precisely why I need all the help I can get today. Tara managed to create an effortlessly chic look. The scrub she used on my face has my skin gleaming with a radiance I usually only dream of. The foundation she applied provides a natural luminosity. Some sort of magic mascara renders my eyelashes a foot longer.
I should avail of Tara’s talents more often.
Ha! Where would I get the time? I almost choke on my own snort.
My hair hangs loosely in bouncing curls that fall down my back. Where Megan hates her spiralling locks, I pay good money to have mine set this way. It’s the only regular vanity I indulge in. Nothing says confidence like bouncing curls.
I turn to the side, hating that I’m wondering what he’ll think of me after all these years. If he’ll like my appearance, like he seemed to before.
It shouldn’t matter. Yet, it somehow does.
Smoothing down the black fitted pencil dress that clings to my frame, I examine my silhouette. I’m slimmer than I was back then, which can only be attributed to stress, or the fact I never stand still long enough to gain a single ounce. Every cloud, I suppose.
As the car halts outside the window below, I count to five, exhaling slowly through my nose, before descending the wide walnut staircase. White knuckles grip the intricately carved banister, my shaky legs faltering is a real possibility.
Forcing a smile, I fix my gaze on the reception desk below instead of the front door. I’d hate for him to think I’m eagerly awaiting his entrance, when, curiosity aside, it’s actually the polar opposite.
Vibrant crimson and emerald garlands adorn the reception area. A lush, bushy, shimmering sixteen-foot Christmas tree towers proudly, welcoming guests as they come through the door – no colours, simply white lights again.
I mentally repeat the same mantra I’ve been privately practicing since I learned of his impending arrival.
Be cool.
Calm.
Collected.
Indifferent.
Unaffected.
He’s just another guy.
A childhood ex.
