Page 66 of Handle Me

I waited for her to dig. That’s what Madeline Bishop was good at, slowly wriggling deeper and deeper until you confessed everything just to get her to stop. Instead, she sank into a linen wingback across from mine. Silence stretched through the sitting room.

Usually, I felt safe coming home. It was home, after all. I’d never fancied the idea of living alone in a flat. I much preferred the comforts of my parents’ townhome in Kensington.

“I wish Clara hadn’t married Alexander,” she finally whispered.

She might as well have dropped a bomb. I jumped to my feet. “What are you talking about?”

I couldn’t believe this was coming out of her mouth. My parents were wealthy. My father had made a fortune selling one of the first internet dating websites. But even with millions of pounds at their disposal, neither was happy. Dad was always chasing his next big idea, while my mother sought validation for her new station in life. My sister marrying Alexander had given her that.

At least, I’d thought it had.

“She’s never safe,” she murmured, her eyes distant. “My grandchildren are never safe. They can’t have normal lives. They belong to the people of this country. I know that. I don’t want that for you, too. I know how hard you’ve worked to make something of your own.”

I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. She’d never shown much ability to think beyond herself, and yet, here she was, saying the exact thing I’d been thinking.

I didn’t want that for myself, either. There was a time when I’d thought I might, but I’d watched Clara struggle with her role. My sister was the sweet one, and her strength lay in her composure and quiet resolve. Those weren’t traits I was blessed with. I could handle things. I could spin things. But I had worked hard to build a career and make a name for myself that felt like it belonged to me.

“I don’t know what happened,” I confessed to Mom. “He’s infuriating. He doesn’t listen to a thing I say. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him. He is the last guy I should be with.”

But just saying that made my chest ache. It was all true. I believed every word, but none of it stopped me from wanting him.

My mother laughed quietly, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It isn’t. I just needed to get him out of my system.”

“Some men don’t ever get out of your system,” she told me. There was a twinge of sadness in her words.

I hoped she was talking about my father, but I didn’t dare to ask. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if I found out she wasn’t. Not after years of watching him patiently put up with her mood swings.

“It’s not like that,” I lied.

My mother pulled a face and waved her hand like it didn’t matter. “No, you’re right. It’s too soon to know. I just want you to be careful.”

That’s exactly what I needed to be, and I’d known it the entire time. There was only one way to be sure it happened, though. “I’m ending it with him.”

“Really?” Her lips twitched.

“Is that so hard to believe?” I shrugged. Clara could find someone else to whip her bastard brother-in-law into shape. “I barely know him.”

“That’s a relief.” Now she was full-on smiling, but it was oddly smug and self-satisfied. “Because I was worried you were falling in love with him.”

“In love?” I sputtered. Maybe the last few years had warped her brain entirely. “I don’t know him, remember? I can’t be in love with him.”

“I suppose you don’t believe in love at first sight. That doesn’t surprise me. You’re so like your father.”

“Of course I don’t. Do you?”

Love at first sight? That shit belonged in fairytales. It didn’t happen in the real world, and there was no way I’d fallen for Anders at first sight. He’d been a sweaty, cocky, swaggering jackass. Not some knight in shining armor. Not someone I could ever fall in love with.

Who cared if my heart raced faster than his stupid car when he looked at me? It meant nothing that even now, part of me ached for him to walk through that door and kiss me. The same part that hoped he would take me upstairs and do far dirtier things to me in the dark. That was my real problem.

“It was lust,” I announced. “Lust at first sight. He’s hot.”

“He is very attractive.” She nodded.

“But even if there was something more,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “we have completely different lives. He races cars and lives in the middle of nowhere. I’ve got Bless and London and friends. We lead completely separate lives.”

Except for when he was moving inside me. Then we were connected in a way I’d never experienced before. But that was just sex. Great sex. Mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that makes you think crazy things like you want to fall asleep in his arms or go dancing with him.