The air is still thick with steam following Victoria’s shower. It clings to my skin, coating it with a damp sheen.
I gaze through the haze at a deep-seated sink unit secured to a wall with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A double shower cubicle with a detachable head punctuates the corner. Interesting.
A marble, free-standing crab-claw bath occupies the space in front of an enormous, open sash window overlooking the city below.
An image of Victoria naked, the hot water cascading over her curves, flashes across my mind at the same time I realise there are no blinds. Anyone could look up and see her.
I take out my phone and search for a local curtain and blind specialist, once again willing my dick to return to some level of calmness.
Drawers open, then slam closed from across the corridor. Victoria’s haughty tone sounds from across the landing. ‘You can come in now, if you must.’
‘Be there in a minute.’ Shoving my phone in my pocket, I decide to check behind the third door before visiting Victoria and her “things.”
If the house plan Ryan showed me was anything to go by, this will be my room for the foreseeable future. I can’t protect Victoria if I can’t hear her. A close proximity is mandatory, even if it risks putting my throbbing dick in a painful danger of its own.
I nudge open the door; two sets of sash windows come into view. The room is bright, airy and utterly feminine. A wrought metal bedframe houses silver embroidered sheets, a cashmere throw, and a mountain of fluffy, pink pillows.
Photos line the walls and dressing table. Victoria, Chloe and Sasha at Huxley Castle on Sasha’s wedding day.
Victoria face to face with a girl with dyed red pixie-like hair. They’re both laughing so hard I catch myself grinning back at them before I can stop myself.
Another picture reveals Victoria with her arms slung round a waif-like blonde. Victoria’s short smart dress reveals legs that go on forever. Not helpful.
Every time I close my eyes, images of her whizz by like a slideshow and now, every time I open them, I see a collage of her too.
Kill me now.
Victoria’s head pops round the door. ‘This is where my guests sleep when they stay over. Some of them anyway,’ she smirks.
My gut twists as again I wonder how many men have been ‘invited’ up here.
‘Not anymore. This is my room now.’ I straighten my spine. She’s tall, maybe five foot eight, but I still have at least five inches on her.
Her hand settles on her hip. ‘But we’ll have to share the bathroom. We’ll be able to hear each other at night. You’ll know when I bring someone home.’ It’s almost a wail.
The prospect of listening to Victoria getting banged rotten by some spotty college student, doctor or not, makes me want to wail too. ‘That’s not going to happen, sweetheart.’
‘What?’ Her lips part and form a perfect littleO. One that I’d love to ram my tongue and other body parts into.
‘You won’t be bringing anyone home for a long time. Not until I’ve vetted them thoroughly. They’ve been run through a security database and signed a whole heap of non-disclosure agreements protecting you and your family’s privacy.’ I silently congratulate myself on how impassively the words emerge from my throat.
‘You can’t waltz in here and take over. It’s my life.’ Her slim fingers fly into the air for the hundredth time since I arrived.
‘Yes, I can, and I’m going to make sure you get through your final months of college safely enough to live it.’
I fling my suitcase onto the bed and begin unpacking. Victoria continues to stare at me with genuine distress on her pretty little face.
Even without a scrap of make-up, she’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Full lips, a perfect plump Cupid’s bow, and a light smatter of freckles adorning cheekbones that would give the most sought-after models a run for their money. Silky chocolate hair, boasting golden highlights so subtle, they have to be natural.
But it’s her eyes that dazzle. Those twin hazel pools have such depth they suck me right in. They’re fucking beautiful. Good, pure, kind, sincere. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Who else in her position would give up a life of tremendous privilege and luxury to become an overworked and underpaid hospital doctor? She could cruise on the back of her family’s wealth forever. Instead she’s an absolute grafter with a heart the size of Africa.
She finally finds her tongue. ‘Look Archie, I appreciate your concern but it’s utterly unnecessary. Jared and I had an agreement…’
‘An agreement which left you unprotected in a nightclub shooting,’ I remind her.
‘Oh, come on. It could have happened anywhere. Plenty of criminals rock up to A&E begging for someone to stitch them up.’
‘I know. And that’s exactly why I’ll be sitting six feet away from you in the A&E waiting room for the remainder of your placement.’ I pause, clutching a pair of trainers, looking for a home for them. I brought them, hoping Victoria still runs regularly. She used to be a brilliant cross-country runner when she was eighteen. I’ll need to burn off my excess adrenaline somewhere.
