“The Bahamas?” she echoed, her stomach churning with a mixture of excitement and fear. Could she do that, could she move away from Manhattan and leave everything behind?
“Yes, Ma’am, is that a problem?” Her gaze shifted back to the photos still littering the work surface. She shook her head.
Maybe leaving everything behind was the right choice. What other option was there? She was jobless and soon to be homeless. Maybe a fresh start was what she needed, and if it didn’t work out, she was certain she could last three months until her father’s policy paid out. In fact, some time away would do her the world of good.
“No, no problem at all. When shall I come?”
“As you can imagine, we’re eager to fill the position as soon as possible. We have already determined you’re the ideal candidate, and it is just a matter of completing the paperwork. We could have you on a flight Tuesday afternoon. You can interview in person, stay for the week, and let us know your decision.
“We offer a relocation fee so you can place your things in storage or have them shipped over, but the apartments are fully furnished.” Ivy glanced around her modest home. There wasn’t really anything she would need to take with her. She was sure Becca wouldn’t mind her dumping a few boxes at her place temporarily, until she knew if things were going to work out. She checked the calendar on her fridge, Becca wouldn’t be back for a while yet, but she had her spare key and could leave a note to explain the situation.
“Tuesday will be fine, do I need a work visa?” Miles came back tomorrow, she could avoid him for a day, he’d probably need to rest after all that—her eyes journeyed back to the peaches and cream complexion of Streetwalker Barbie’s perfect, naked body—work.
“If you accept the position, we will address all the required documentation, but you can work for ninety days before you’d need a long-term work permit. I will send you an e-ticket for Tuesday, can I confirm your email address.” The call continued a while longer while she supplied her details and passport information. Then she got packing.
Ivy wasn’t like most women she’d met; she didn’t have a walk-in closet filled with clothes and shoes. She had a few items she loved, a few nice dresses, and five pairs of shoes, running shoes, smart shoes, comfy shoes, everyday sandals, and one pair of strappy sandals.
Even with all her favourite things packed, her case was only half full, although she could blame her father for that. He always told her she should pack clothes and emergency money into her hand luggage just in case something went wrong, or there was an unexpected delay.
In her case were a few things she couldn’t bear to be without; some old family photographs, her favourite paperback books signed by the authors, a few of her handheld consoles, and her boxed Playstation. The only thing missing was her laptop and the comforter her father had brought her one Christmas, but she would pack those later.
She packed away her X-box and games, and wrapped a few special items in paper, placing them in a box for storage at Becca’s. She had absolutely no intention of taking some of her more personal items on a plane with her.
Sex toys and restraints were not exactly something she would enjoy explaining if she was stopped at customs or for a luggage search, well maybe she could risk just the innocent looking one. She still remembered one time when she’d had a short vacation in Miami and one of her vibrators had turned on and they’d had to open her case. She swore, as the burley security guards stood watching her, she had almost died from humiliation.
She looked at the two boxes and the half-filled case with a sigh. Was her life really so pathetic it could be boxed up so cleanly? Her hands grasped the pictures she had, just days ago, removed from her work desk and, after much consideration, she placed them in the box for Becca’s. For a few months it was better if she wasn’t haunted by ghosts.
With that done, there was only one more thing left, and it was already three am. On her laptop, she logged onto the flight she had been booked into. Her stomach turned somersaults as she pushed all logic and rational thought aside and purchased an extra ticket for the seat next to hers. She’d needed to pay a little extra, but it was worth it.
Clutching her pen between her trembling fingers, she drew up the lavender scented ink, and she began to write a letter, starting it in the same formal manner she always did, and agonised over every word.
Dear Tails,
I hope this letter finds you well.
Your mother visited me and told me of your recent engagement. Congratulations. I thought she may want the pictures back—see enclosed.
I am flying out to the Bahamas Tuesday afternoon to interview for a live in position. The hotel has comped me a week vacation to see if I feel it would be a good fit for me before I make my decision and … I was hoping you would consider joining me. I don’t know what is going on between you and Streetwalker Barbie, but before I go, I owe it to myself to let you know how I feel.
I love you, Miles Taylor. I’ve loved you since you dragged me to Central Park and made me what you thought was British picnic because I was missing my mum. Even now I still can’t look at your American biscuits with a straight face. I loved you when I ran away blushing after you said you liked my new pants and I rushed off to make sure my underwear wasn’t showing, and I knew the first time you snatched the controller from my hand and forced me to eat something while you took over battling the hordes of evil that I’d never find anyone as perfect for me as you.
You accept me despite my flaws and imperfections. You see all of me and instead of thinking I’m weird, you throw yourself right into my madness.
I was so scared when you left for the army that I nearly risked ruining our friendship there and then, but I knew you didn’t feel the same and our friendship was the thing I treasured most. I knew I couldn’t mess with your head like that, not with where you were going. I prayed for your safety every night. They’re probably the only prayers ever to leave my lips.
Recently it has felt as if it isn’t just me wanting something more. That almost kiss we shared was the best kiss of my life. I know I shouldn’t even send you this, but if I get this job, then I won’t be living here anymore. I need to know if I have a reason to stay.
I’ve brought an extra ticket to my flight. I’d like to find out if there can be anything more between us. If you want to give whatever this is between us a chance be on the plane, but if you’re happy with Streetwalker Barbie, then I will know your answer and we can continue as friends and I’ll never speak of this again.
This job sounds like an amazing opportunity, my only opportunity given the stream of rejections letters that have flooded my inbox. I can’t wait around for a job, and I can’t stay with you if you’re committed to someone else. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
Whatever you choose, know that I will respect your decision and I hope we will remain best friends.
Yours always,
Sin.
She read it through several times before slipping the photographs inside along with the e-ticket and sealing the envelope. Glancing to the clock saw it was now seven am and booked a same day, afternoon delivery, with the courier she had once used in her old job and took a brisk walk to drop it into their office. He’d have almost twenty-four hours to think things through. She hoped he wouldn’t need them. With everything done, her mind finally calmed enough for her to sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Ivy finally crawled out of bed on Monday afternoon, her stomach was churning. She had overlooked a message from Miles in the early hours saying he’d landed safely but his squad were hopping mad as the pope had thwarted his bunny assassins and lived to preach another day, and he’d gone on to ask when he could stop by. Staring at the message she wondered, for the first time, if his job was actually his fiancé, and he’d just not found a way to tell her of their relationship.
He flew a lot, always jetting off somewhere, and it pained her to think that all this time he could have been with Streetwalker Barbie. No matter
how she tried to convince herself otherwise, the picture of him with her lips on his told her all she needed to know.
Pushing such thoughts from her mind, she had sent a smiley face saying she hoped to see him Tuesday afternoon. Because, despite everything, she still wanted him. And while she wasn’t as beautiful, slender, or vibrant as the glamorous woman he’d pinned against the wall, maybe, just maybe, looks weren’t everything. They’d almost kissed, after all. Surely that had to mean something to him, especially when even the memory made her chest ache with yearning.
When the email notification came through to say the letter had been signed for her heart was thundering, disturbing the butterflies in her stomach that wouldn’t rest, but she had too many things to do to dwell on it too long.
She took a slow walk through her apartment, checking drawers and gathering the final bits and pieces together. She had dropped off food for the old veteran and his dog, and put other food items up for her neighbour Mrs Williams. By the time she had cleaned the place top to bottom, her limbs were burning and a quick lie down on top of the bed became a deep slumber.
The blaring of an alarm pierced through her dreamless sleep like a siren, screaming its warning that the day was starting. Change was coming. It was time to drag herself out of this bed for the last time. Her stomach lurched at the thought.
Rolling over, she slapped the top of the alarm, considering hitting the snooze, stealing just ten more minutes of a life soon to be left behind. Ten more minutes. But the slight tremble of her body as her adrenaline rose told her seeking such refuge was pointless. She was wide awake, dreading and anticipating the day to come in equal measure.
Fighting with the comforter, she dragged herself up, her hand wrapping around the cord of the alarm clock, tugging it from the wall. She wouldn’t be needing it again now, not until her flight had landed. Oh God, the flight. Her stomach did a back flip as she bundled the small LED clock into her awaiting case before adding her comforter, which was now a safe cushioned nest for her laptop.
She stood regarding her hand luggage case dubiously. It had seen better days. The pale purple case was scuffed, worn, and well-loved, with a slightly bent handle that had a tendency to pull free. The sight made her cringe, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
There were no words to describe how she felt in that moment. Her day was filled with lasts instead of firsts, and each one, each small goodbye, chipped away at the growing hole in her heart.
With her boxes at the door, and the food taken to Mrs Williams, she took a slow walk through her apartment, memories haunting her every step. Visions of her father lying in her bed, gaunt and pale, growing weaker even as she sat reading his favourite books, battled with memories of late night study sessions sitting cross-legged, with her material spread around her as she typed up her notes. They merged with visions of her first boyfriend, and the way Miles had stepped from her bathroom straight into her room wearing nothing more than a towel after sleeping on her sofa following a late night gaming session. She bit her lip as that image assailed her mind.
That man made scars sexy. She’d fantasised endlessly about running her fingers down each of his wounds, her heart aching at the thought each one was a chance she could have lost him. Scars were his badges of honour, and they only made him more attractive in her eyes. Hell, the man could make a bin liner look seductive.
She closed the door to that room, to that part of her life, as she entered the main living area. Miles was everywhere here, sleeping on the sofa, fighting her for the controller and tickling her into submission, cooking in the kitchen, making the world’s worst cups of tea in the history of … well, ever.
This room was a tapestry of their time together. His presence consumed every inch. He’d been such a large part of her life she wasn’t sure how much of her would remain without him, and that thought was more than a little overwhelming. She wiped a rogue tear from her cheek, placing the call to the cab. No more tears.
After that, everything happened so quickly, before she knew it she was leaving Becca’s having left her a note covering everything that had happened, including about Mrs Taylor’s visit and her proposition to Miles, and she was at the airport.
She was there ridiculously early, giving her all the time in the world to agonise over the fact she’d not heard from him yet. She checked her phone, sighing as she saw she still had no signal.
No matter what she did to occupy herself, her mind kept returning to one thing. Miles wasn’t here. She tried losing herself in a book only to find herself re-reading the same paragraph time and time again as her attention wandered over the top of her kindle to scan the faces of the passing crowd.
The airport was busy, and since she couldn’t check her luggage for a while, she’d chosen seats as close to her baggage check area as possible in a bid to avoid the crush when the terminal finally opened.
Miles had always told her British people were meant to enjoy queueing. She had no idea where he got that notion from, but she knew for a fact there were a million other things she would prefer to do than wait in a crowded line. Especially those curvy kind, where people stood a little too close at the corner, causing her heart to race uncomfortably, hoping they won’t try to cut in front of her, as they took the inside part of the bend. She never enjoyed queueing, she always felt as if someone thought she was in their place, or she was taking up too much room.
Even moving as soon as the baggage check opened she found herself trying to avoid the rush, stepping back, allowing others in front, all because she didn’t want someone to think she’d pushed her way in.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she stood uncomfortably in the line, trying not to look at the people waiting, while wanting to check the faces again in case Miles had joined the queue. But she knew him better than that. He was never on time. She was certain he was one of those passengers whose names were always called over the PA systems at final boarding.
She didn’t know how he could be so nonchalant about the whole ordeal. While she positively panicked, checking and rechecking her tickets, gate numbers, times, he just ambled slowly, taking it all in his stride, and somehow still made his flights.
By the time she had boarded the plane, her grey cardigan had more wrinkles than the knees of an African elephant. She had wrung it so many times she had to wonder how the thin fabric remained in one piece. She tugged on the belt around her waist before securing her seatbelt. It had been easy to convince herself he was still coming when she had been waiting in the huge departure lounge. But not so much now.
He always cut his flights short, boarding at the last minute. It was something she’d never understood. She remembered one time, when she had been leaving a four-day vacation, courtesy of her father, she’d turned up for the return flight eight hours early because the hotel check-out time had been ten am, and although she knew it was fine to stay until the appropriate time she felt awkward just hanging around.
Miles had mocked her for months when he found out, saying that this was one of the reasons she would always be British, no matter what her passport said.
Now, as she sat in her seat, looking at the empty space beside her, it was getting harder to believe he would make it. Since she’d got no signal, she’d turned her phone off to save her battery and sat now wondering if he’d tried to contact her and, if he had, what that would message say.
She clutched her handbag close, her hands giving the soft material the same twisting attention her cardigan had received just moments before. Her mind was racing. She tried to focus on something else, anything else but the space beside her.
Hand luggage in the overhead compartment, check.
Passport and papers in her bag, check.
Bag in hand, check.
She did this mental list several times, just to distract herself every time she imagined seeing him walking down the aisle with that breathtaking smile that told her he was there, that he wanted her too. But the seat to her right remained empty, and only stran
gers passed, and damn, if it didn’t just tear her up inside.
Hand luggage, passport, bag.
Hand luggage, passport, bag.
As the cabin crew began closing the compartments, she pushed her bag, which held her overly worn, read and reread travel papers, hotel details, passport, phone, and some sweets for the flight, under her seat, since she was by one of the emergency exits and there was no one in front of her.
Shifting in her seat she slipped her kindle from her leggings pocket, and tried to focus on the library of books she’d downloaded to keep her occupied, but the only thing she could lose herself in at the moment was the void by her side, the cold chill coming from the empty seat beside her. But he could still make it right? People were still boarding. She scanned the faces of the passengers, whispering a silent plea.
There was still time.
There was still time.
She held on to this hope right until the aeroplane began its slow taxi down towards the runway. Her hands balled in her lap. It was fine. Really, it was.
He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t her.
Miles unlocked door to Ivy’s apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been exhausted beyond belief after three days of babysitting Hollywood heartthrob Bay Legends, a twenty-four-year-old diva who rocked the pop scene while making a name for herself as one of Hollywood’s rising stars.
His father’s business had only picked up the contract recently, after she had inadvertently shown her agent that her event security team would let her do anything for a fuck, suck, or easy buck.
The last show before his father took the over the contract had been an utter disaster, winding up with someone trying to shove her drugged up body into the back of a car. Fortunately, he had been there as protection detail for another big name and was returning to his own car after handing his client over to the relief when he witnessed the event go down.
After becoming her personal hero, she asked for his presence at every gig. Luckily her acting career kept her busy, so he only had to make nice and smile a few days a month.
Breaking Sin: A kidnap abduction story (Addicted to Sin Book 1) Page 6
