Twenty-Eight
“Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” Elliot asks on Wednesday morning. “I could finally introduce you to the wonderful world of Indiana Jones.” He’s drinking his coffee while I sit on the bench in one of his T-shirts, pulling his tie loose and undoing his buttons. I’m not very good at helping him get ready for work.
“Do you think you can keep your hands off me for that long?” I ask him in a sultry voice.
“Probably not. I literally just fucked you and I’m already hard again.”
“I know.” I smile up at him. “It’s why I’m taking your clothes off again. Can’t let a good boner go to waste.”
He laughs, placing his mug on the bench. “You’re gonna make me late. Again.”
Pulling his belt open, I slide my hand inside his pants. “I’m trying to care about that. But I can’t.”
“My god. I need some self-control around you.”
“No, you don’t.” I lean in and run my tongue along the pulse point in his neck. “You need to fuck me until you leave for work and fuck me again when you get home. Then during our movie, before we sleep. Over and over again.”
He groans and frees himself from his pants. “You’re going to be my downfall,” he says, just before his cock and his mouth collide with me at the same time, tongue down my throat, cock in my pussy, I can barely contain myself. I feel so incredibly good being the object of this man’s desire. It was just the holiday I needed.
“OK. Now you can go to work,” I say when he’s done, helping him straighten his shirt and tie while he fixes his pants. “Think of me naked in the shower touching myself while you’re gone.”
A rumble comes out of his chest as he grabs his bag. “That is not helping me leave.”
“Isn’t it?” I give him my most innocent expression as he laughs and shakes his head.
“See you tonight.” He kisses me one last time then tears himself away. “I really love having you here, by the way.”
I grin. “Don’t forget to imagine me naked,” I call out as I watch him leave for work.
He shakes his head and laughs and then he’s gone. And I wish I didn’t have to be alone.
* * *
“Have you talked about David?” Mum asks as we sit together having coffee across from Bondi Beach. She’s worried about me since I was so upset after David left on Friday. She likes to do daily check-ins and today’s is in person.
“Not yet.” I watch the packet of sugar sink through the foam on my cappuccino until it disappears into a little brown pool.
“Don’t you think you should?”
Pressing my lips together, I bounce a shoulder as I stir the sugar through. “What’s the point? Nothing has changed since the last time we addressed David, and it’s not like anything will change either. I kind of think it’s best to just move on. Focus on the good things in life. Like Elliot.”
“He is rather lovely. Katey and I were thinking that maybe we could all get together for a BBQ at her place soon. Her husband is so lovely, and I know you haven’t met them yet so it would be a good opportunity for us all to get together. Katey is dying to meet you. She’s jealous I got to see Elliot, and she hasn’t seen you yet.”
Holding my cup between two hands, I lift it and take a bittersweet sip. “Maybe we should let Elliot decide when he wants me to meet his mum and stepdad. I don’t want to push things too fast this time. We’re still in that can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other phase. I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with him yet.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to go looking for something flawed in a person to know how you feel about them. And he talks about you to his mother, so he’s obviously serious about you.”
“That’s what he says, but please, Mum, I know you mean well. I just need this to move at its own pace. No external pushing, OK?”
She reaches across the table and pats my arm. “OK. I’ll curb my enthusiasm. I’m just so happy to see you smiling. You had me worried the other day. I thought you’d go into a depression again. And you get so reckless when you do.”
“I know. And I’m OK, mum. I promise.”
* * *
When Mum heads back home, I take a walk along the beach, watching surfers turn tricks to keep my mind distracted. It’s hard to stop my mind from turning to David. We’ve shared so much together that almost everything reminds me of him. The person coming out of the surf getting dunked by a wave reminds me of his philosophy regarding the ocean: if the waves keep pushing you back to shore, you should probably take the hint and stay out. The young kids running along the hard part of sand, splashing water at each other remind me of our water fights in summer… Pretty much every scene of laughter, every quiet slice of contemplation, every gentle look I see between two people leads me to think of him. You really did fuck us up, David. I hope you’re happy.
Maybe I should tell Elliot about the kiss? Maybe I should sit down and be as honest with him as I was with Connor? But it’s hard in this situation because I have something to lose. Why would Elliot want to be with me once he knows I’m mourning the loss of another love?
It puts me in quite a tricky situation.
As I walk back to Elliot’s flat, I ready the keys and flip them around my fingers, listening to the click of their metal with each step I take. I should be somewhat honest, I decide. I should at least tell him that David came to see me and say goodbye. I should tell him about the kiss and make it clear that I was the one who stopped it. It’s a happy-medium that will assuage my guilt and inform Elliot of the basic facts. I think I owe him that much.
When I make my way up the stairs and insert the key inside the lock, I’m surprised when the deadbolt is already open. I’m sure I locked it when I left. Positive. Is there someone here?
“Elliot?” I say as I push on the door, listening to the apartment with a hope he’s just come home early from work. But his car wasn’t parked in the street, so I’m a little on guard here. “Hello?”
“Who are you?” A tall man, striking in his manicured appearance enters the hall from the kitchen area, a stack of mail held between his fingers.
“Oh, um…who…who are you?” I close my fist, holding the keys between my fingers as weapons in case this man in a fancy suit is here with plans to harm me. I touch my scar with a shaky hand. It seems to throb along with my fear. Never again.
“Rupert Roberts,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he drags a critical gaze from my head to my toes. “Are you something my son found?”
I snap my head back slightly, my fingers pulling on the fabric of my summer skirt, my fitted tank top feeling too casual under the circumstances. I’m meeting Elliot’s father for the first time, a bigshot barrister, and I have flip-flops on my feet and I’m not even wearing a bra. Oh god. “I’m Katrina. His, um, his girlfriend.”
His thick brows shoot up and he laughs. “Is that what he told you?” He walks into the living room, flicking through the mail he was holding and opening one that seems to interest him.
“He’s at work,” I say, following him down the hallway. It seems strange that his father would come here during the day. Does Elliot know he does this? I’d think not, or he’d mention it so I wasn’t blindsided.
“I’m aware.” He glances up for a moment, his blue eyes, identical to Elliot’s, meeting mine. “You can go.”
“He’s expecting me to be here when he gets home.”
He laughs. “Isn’t he going to be surprised when he finds me?”
I take a step back, almost ready to leave before I come to my senses and shake my head. I’m not letting this guy kick me out. “I think I’ll just wait with you.”
He gestures to the couch. “Suit yourself.”
Watching him go through Elliot’s mail then move into the kitchen and rummage through drawers, I feel as though I’m witnessing a prison guard tossing an inmate’s cell. “What are you even looking for?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Do you?”
He moves into the doorway, filling it with his imposing frame. “What did you say your name was?”
“Katrina.”
“Your parents only gave you one name?”
“Katrina Mahoney.”
“Mahoney. Mahoney.” He looks up as he thinks for a moment. “Never heard of you. That means you’re irrelevant.”
“What is your deal?”
“My deal? Dear girl, I have no deal. I simply don’t have time to engage in meaningless conversation with…well, with whatever you are. I have more important things to attend to.”
“I’m your son’s girlfriend. I’m not a thing, or an incumbrance. I’m someone your son cares about, otherwise he wouldn’t have given me a key and I wouldn’t be staying here right now.” I hold the key up as evidence, exaggerating a little to drive my point home to this arrogant man. I am not second best. “You can’t just come into his place and go through his things whenever you feel like it. It’s bad enough you control his career, you shouldn’t be here trying to control his personal life too.”
“Incumbrance,” he says, picking a single word to repeat instead of responding to what I had to say. “How old would you say are, Miss Mahoney?”
“I’m twenty.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“And do you go to school?”
“I study law.”
“Law? Where?”
“Western Sydney University.”
“Western Sydney University,” he repeats, his tone tight, unimpressed. “Do you live out there?”
“I do. I live in Cranebrook.”
“I don’t even know where that is.”
“It’s near the regatta centre.”
“I see. And how long have you been dating my son? How did you meet?”
“A couple of months. We met through work.”
He narrows his eyes. Shit. “Through work?”
“I don’t work there,” I lie, trying to cover my slip. “I work in the same building. We met in the lobby.”
“How romantic.” He slips the mail he was reading back into the envelope then places the pile in the centre of the coffee table. “Do you know who pays for this apartment, Katrina Mahoney of Cranebrook, Western Sydney? Do you know who pays for Elliot’s comfortable lifestyle, manages his investments, provides his…” He pauses and gestures around. “Everything?”
I don’t even respond. I already know and that isn’t the point. It’s a power play, letting me know I don’t belong in this world.
“I do. I provide. I guide. I consent. And I did not consent to you. Nor have I heard a whisper of your name. That tells me you don’t matter.” He pulls his phone from his pocket then sits on the couch. “You can leave the keys with me. I’ll see that he gets them back.”
My mouth falls open, and I desperately want to throw the keys in his face and call him a fucker. But I know that’s not going to help anything. If I want this thing between Elliot and I to work out, I need to play nice here. So I suck it up, place the keys next to the mail and hold my chin high as I go into Elliot’s room to gather my things. Shockingly, my bag is already sitting on Elliot’s bed packed.
“What the hell?” Double-checking inside it, I find everything I brought with me stuffed in there. “You’re messed up, by the way,” I say, on the way out, brandishing my bag.
“Get home safe, Miss Mahoney,” he says, lifting a hand to shoo me out the door.
The moment it closes, I hear the deadbolt tumble shut. So I hold both my middle fingers up to the door and mouth a few expletives to make me feel better. Arsehole.
Rushing down the stairs, I pull my phone out to hail an Uber to take me to the train station. While I wait, I put a call into Elliot, wanting to warn him his dad was lying in wait and that I was heading home.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say when I get his voicemail. “I don’t want to call work in case it goes through to Beth. But I just met your dad. Real nice guy.” I scoff a little as I look back at the building. “Anyway, I’m going to spend tonight at home. I think you have some family shit to deal with when you get back here tonight. Sorry we’re going to miss movie sex like we planned.” I smile into the receiver, calming down a little as I think about our last few sex filled days. “Call me when you can, OK? And keep thinking about me naked. I’ll touch myself thinking about you.” I bite my lip a little, smiling. “Talk soon.” When I disconnect, the Uber turns up almost immediately, and I’m glad to get as far away as I can from Rupert Roberts and his stupid name.
Twenty-Nine
I’d like to say I woke up the next morning to a text from Elliot telling me the coast was clear and I could come back. Or even a cute voicemail saying he missed me in his bed last night, or that he was touching himself thinking about me too. But there was none of that. Not even a missed call.
Zilch. Zip. Zero.
The moment I walked out of that apartment, Elliot went incommunicado. I called. I texted. I even risked calling the office to see if he was in, but he was gone. Vanished off the face of the earth.
At first, I was worried, leaving messages like: “Listen, Elliot, I don’t know what happened, or what your dad might have said about me. But I didn’t do anything wrong OK. Just call me and we can sort this out.”
Then my worry dissolved into paranoia: “This is about David, isn’t it? You found out he visited me? Nothing happened. I mean, it did. He said he loved me, and he kissed me. But I pushed him away. I stopped it from going further because…shit. How do you erase voice messages?”
But after that, I was just plain angry: “Fuck you, you fucking coward. You don’t get to tell me you’re falling for me then cut me out of your life. I deserve better.” And that’s the state I’ve stayed in since then.
Five whole days. Nothing.
With my time off over, I arrive at work on Monday a ball of nerves. I had no idea if I’d see him, or if I could even trust myself to see him. But when I get there and find out he’s not coming in today either, I get Anne to find his personnel file and get me his landline number. Short of asking my mum to contact his mum, I’m not sure what else to do. I need to speak to him and find out what this is about before I crack up completely. David said that Elliot is the only guy I’ve ever dated who’s good enough for me. If this is how a guy who’s good enough treats me, then what the hell does that say about me? It says I’m garbage. It says that men will always throw me away. Fuck. I don’t wan’t to be garbage.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell Anne when she hands me the Post-It with his number.
“You didn’t get it from me, OK?”
“Promise.” I run my finger over my heart in an X. “Cross my heart.”
The moment she leaves the library, I pick up the phone, my stomach an uneasy storm as I listen to the ring. Just as I’m about to give up, the line clicks and the wrong voice fills my ear. “Rupert Roberts.”
I frown and look at the receiver in my hand. Every time I hear his name it irks me. “Is Elliot available?” I ask politely, keeping my voice professional.
“Who’s speaking?” Rupert demands.
My heart skitters across my chest nervously. I could lie. But I think I’ve proven lying doesn’t work for me. I take a deep breath. “It’s Katrina. Is he there?”
“Katrina. The Westie girl who seems set upon ruining his career? I don’t think he’s available for you.”
Closing my eyes, I feel my face burning. “Can you just tell him I called, please?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grunts and hangs up in my ear.
Fuck.
‘Westie girl’? Is that man serious? I understand that Western Sydney comes with its fair share of stereotypes. But, being from there doesn’t automatically make me classless and uncouth.
Fuming and agitated, I need to talk to someone. I pick up my phone and automatically go to call David. The ingrained habit causes a double blow to my chest when I rememb
er he’s not talking to me either. Fuck. Fuck!
Who do I talk to?
I can’t call Mum because I’ve been pretending everything’s fine so she wouldn’t panic. My brother will be at work and unable to talk, and I don’t really have many close girlfriends to talk to. Connor is a good listener, but I don’t have his number. But I do have Kayley. And I also have Carmel who’s in a similar situation to me.
Weighing my options, I decide on Carmel and go to her office.
She looks up and smiles when I tap on her door. “Are you busy right now?” I ask.
“No, not really. Come on in. Is something wrong?” she asks, reacting to the anxious look on my face.
I keep my voice low so any passers-by won’t overhear what we’re talking about. “It’s kind of relationship stuff. Is that OK? I know it’s the office, and I shouldn’t bring this here, but you’re the only one I know with experience in this stuff. And you’re dating Andrew who knows Elliot, so I’m hoping to find some clarity.”
“It’s fine, Katrina. Why don’t you shut the door and take a seat?” She gestures to the black leather chair in front of her desk. “What can I help you with?”
I tell her briefly how my relationship with Elliot has been progressing, followed by the run in I had with his father, finishing with this morning when he called me a ‘westie girl’ and the fact I can’t contact Elliot at all. “I’m more than a little confused right now. I know we were drinking last weekend, so it probably doesn’t count, but how does he go from saying he’s falling in love with me to not answering his phone? Does his father think I’m some uneducated low-life who’s set upon dragging his son down with me? What the hell difference does it make where I’m from?”
She balances her chin on her hand. “From what I know, Elliot’s family is pretty powerful. Lots of money, lots of connections. With the exception of his mother, they're all born and bred along the northern beaches and have that upper-class mentality going on. I copped it once from one of Andrew’s friends. I can’t remember what I did, but he said to me, ‘You can take the girl out of Penrith, but you can’t take the Penrith out of the girl’. I was livid, and I wanted to scratch his eyes out for being such a dickhead. But, that just would have proven him right, so I smiled and laughed like it was nothing instead.”
Struggle: Beautiful Series, book one Page 24
