‘Well, there are the relentless phone calls from journalists brazen enough to ask if Ryan has a woman here. If anyone knows who the brunette he was pictured in London with is…’ Though her voice trails off, a smile is evident in her tone.
I know I can’t hide from the media forever. If Ryan and I have any chance of making it as a couple, I’ll have to embrace being in the spotlight at some point, but my plan is to stay anonymous for as long as possible.
The authorities never caught the driver who recklessly ran my parents from the road. It used to torment me day and night that he or she was still out there walking around, living life when my parents no longer have the chance to.
Even though the end result is the same, it kills me that they didn’t get justice. I know it’s not going to bring them back. I’d like answers, and I’d like the culprit behind bars, even though the harshest punishment a person could endure is the knowledge of the destruction he or she caused.
But the prospect of the whole tragic event being dragged through the media is not one I relish. Victoria wasn’t old enough to read the papers then, but she is now. I don’t want the kind of attention it might bring her, especially in her final year of school. She has her exams to focus on.
Her dream is to study medicine. I don’t doubt her drive to save people stems from her own loss. She’d make an excellent doctor. Her academic ability is out of this world; I only hope she wants to pursue it for the right reasons.
‘Say nothing. We don’t disclose private information about our guests.’
Especially not when they’re sleeping with me.
‘Absolutely. I’d never dream of repeating anything that goes on inside this castle.’ Jess’s reassurance is unwavering, both in her words and her delivery. ‘I just want you to be aware the sharks are circling.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’ For the hundredth time I thank my lucky stars for my loyal staff.
The receiver clicks as it slots back into the handset. Stretching my hands over my head, I yawn. Even though the late nights are sublimely satisfying, I’m officially wrecked. The clock overhead shows it’s five-forty-five; an acceptable time to call it a day.
Especially because Ryan is leaving for Vegas tonight on a midnight flight and I’m determined to make sure he leaves with an explosively sexy bang, literally.
Vegas. I’ve mulled it over in my head so many times but I just can’t leave Victoria, or the castle. Not for four nights anyway. It’s too much. She’s a minor after all. And this time of year her night terrors are always worse.
And though my heart aches at the thought of even a few days without Ryan, if we have any hope of sustaining a lasting relationship, I need to get used to the long distance. And the fact that there are literally millions of women lusting after my boyfriend at any given time of the day. I have to trust him.
When he’s here, it’s easy to forget the outside world. But that’s the real world. In here, we’re cocooned in an unrealistic love-filled bubble.
The niggling anxiety that once he leaves, he may never return (again), haunts me, despite my best efforts to force it away.
A shivery anxious sensation ripples across my spine, pricking the tiny fine hairs on my neck.
No, Sasha. Stop it.
He came back.
Ten years later.
If he did it again, I’d be thirty-eight next time.
Stop it, Sasha. He’s coming back. He promised he’d always come back.
I hate the irrational neediness that creeps in. The fear of losing him again. It’s as raw as it was the first time.
Stop it!
Pushing my chair back from behind my desk, I slip out of the office and along the corridor, towards the sanctuary of Ryan and the penthouse, practically sprinting up the stairs to be with him after the afternoon apart.
He wanted to practise before he left. Ten years ago he could have comfortably performed a concert with his eyes closed. I’m pretty sure he could do it in his sleep now.
The past few evenings he’s been strumming snippets of his recent compositions while I hum along, dreaming up words and phrases that suit the melody as he scribbles and nods encouragingly.
So when I open the door to the penthouse, I’m not surprised to see he’s resting on the edge of the couch in front of a blazing fire with the guitar resting on his bare, toned chest. Every inch of him oozes a blistering masculinity.
WhateverGQhave on the front cover, nothing compares to the image before me. It’s next-level sexy, not only stealing my heart, but my ability to focus on anything else.
I could stand and silently stare at him forever, drinking him in for the rest of my life without ever feeling full, but I don’t get the chance.
