Chapter Twenty-One
Rory
‘Which partof this don’t you understand, Rory? There’s no room at the inn—no vacancies at any of the local bed and breakfast establishments and no space at the village’s sole hotel.’
Friday afternoon and having failed to book ahead, it seems I’m now just plain fucked. In ordinary circumstances I’d be relieved there are no rooms at the non-existent choices Anna’s just reeled off, but right now I’m bone tired; I just need to find somewhere to bed down for the night and I’d even consider a B&B. The nearest decent hotel is miles away and I really can’t be arsed with the trek. All I’ve done this week is drive. I feel like my arse has been glued to the seat of Kit’s monster pick-up truck for bloody months.I can’t wait to get back to my Vanquish.
‘Is there nothing else?’ Why the hell did I let Kit talk me into this?
The line crackles before she says, ‘I can suggest a camping shop.’
‘Come on, Annie, help me out.’ I pull the phone away from my ear, checking the barely-there signal but don’t miss her theatrical sigh. She was once such an obliging girl.Once upon a time, before either of us knew she was to become a permanent hire.‘You’re the one responsible for booking travel arrangements,’ I remind her. It’s part of her job, for crying out loud.
‘I’m Kit’s executive assistant, notyours. Mostly, I don’t know where you are and nor do I care. Not these days.’
Her last few words are barely muttered and I’m pleased she can’t see my unhappy grimace. Yeah, so I might’ve gone there. And in the literal sense. But she wasn’t so prickly at the time, at least, not in the flesh. No, she was more than warm. And definitely inviting; dark come to bed eyes that had been tempting me for weeks, and a rack that a man could suffocate in without one complaint.
It had begun in the office on her last Friday with the company, and ended on Sunday after a stellar weekend of hotel fucking... and a call from Kit to offer her a permanent gig. That Friday, as brazen as anything, she’d told me Kit had slipped her two hundred quid as a severance bonus before asking me if I’d like to slip her something else instead. We weren’t supposed to see each other again, never mind be based out of the same building. But guess who she blames?
‘Then you’ll have to travel further out.’ Anna’s voice breaks through the miasma of memories and, yes, regret. ‘Into one of the larger towns. There’s bound to be a motel or travel lodge somewhere. Perhaps a hostel?’ A whole twelve months now with the company and she still fails to hide the undertone of malicious delight.
‘Ah, Annie, you know how I like it when you use dirty words.’ She begins to splutter as I chuckle, striking while the iron’s hot. ‘Ring the agent from the cottage, would you, hen? Tell them I’ll double their fee.’
‘My name is Anna, Rory. I’d like you to remember that.’
‘Annie,’ I practically purr down the line. ‘So many great memories.’ I might be stretching it a bit, but she makes it pretty easy for me. ‘I’m not likely to forget anything about you, am I?’ Also not strictly true, because I rarely dwell; I’m a more in the moment guy. Fuck and fuck off is more my style. And I’ll not be going in for a repeat—I wouldn’t have gone there in the first place if I’d known I’d be seeing her face regularly. And when Kit found out—well, let’s just say he nags like an auld woman.
He didn’t care that it was heridea; that she came on to me. He wasn’t even impressed at how I’d covered off any potential sexual harassment case.
I hereby solemnly declare that, of my own volition, I am about to bend myself over Rory Tremaine’s desk,the note in Anna’s handwriting read.I am currently of sane mind but duly note that if he doesn’t fuck me soon I may not remain so. In short, he has my permission to roger me soundly. I write this un-coerced, semi-nude and as randy as all hell.
Post Scriptum, Rory has the most amazing bellend. It’s bloody huge!
He didn’t speak to me for three days after reading it, almost as though I’d dictated the thing.
I realise the line is quiet, so pull the phone away from my ear to check the signal again.Bloody countryside.
‘Y—your sweet-talking isn’t going to work,’ she splutters, her words rising in tone and volume with each word. ‘You see some people are loyal, though I’m sure it’s a strange and unusual concept to you, but some people can’t be bought off with a few vague promises—’ Her tirade halts abruptly. ‘Yes, well,’ she adds, her delivery turning brusque, her professional façade slipping back into place.
I can almost imagine her standing there in the office, straightening her blouse as she makes her point. Not a difficult thing to do given I’d seen her do that exact thing not so very long ago. My mind slips to the image of her palms smoothing the pale sheerness against her skin. Of how she’d tucked that blouse into her waistband before shimmying the dark material of her skirt downwards, stealing the sight of her bare pussy, then her toned and tanned thighs.
I shake my head to dislodge the memory. Office sex is great, but sex in your own office is not without its disadvantages.
‘Besides, I tried the agent earlier this afternoon but they’re not inclined to kick out the family who’ve rented the place two days into their stay—strange that.’
‘But it’s my house.’ Okay, it belongs to the company now. ‘How is it possible that I can’t stay in my own property for the night?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something to do with contracts and legalities. Maybe you should have made the call to the agent yourself. You seem to think you can talk a girl into anything.’
‘As I recall, it was entirely the other way around.’
As usual, she refuses to acknowledge her part. ‘And now it’s late. I’m not even supposed to be here in the office and... and I have a date, so go f—find someone else to sleep with.’ And with that, the line goes definitively dead.
‘Bastarding arsehole fuck!’
I bring my fist down on the steering wheel with a thump, chucking the offending phone into the passenger seat. At least I’d managed to take a screenshot of the causeway crossing times earlier before the signal went to hell, especially as I’m supposed to be seeing the site manager today. And the gardens, maybe. Frustrated, I run both hands through my hair at the same moment my phone chimes with a text from Anna.
I’m told the cottages adjoining the main house are habitable, former servant quarters, I believe.
