by Katrina Liss
I’m hooked on him. Impossibly hooked.
I nip my lip and shake my head. “This can’t go on.”
“Had enough, huh? She can be very intrusive. I should know.”
“I'm not talking about your mother, Vic! I mean us. This.” I lift my hand bearing the ring. “I thought I could handle a fake relationship, but my heart just isn’t built for it. I’m a real person. I can only do real. If this whole experience has taught me one thing, it’s that I'm not made for escorting. For pretending and playing these types of games. I’ve had enough of the lies already. You’re going to have to call it off. I don’t care the reason why, just stop the ball rolling, okay, Stop it— right now.”
I see real concern bloom in his eyes.
“Ella, you're not thinking straight. How can I call off our engagement in the middle of our fucking engagement party.”
“I don’t know! But what I do know is this whole thing is wrong and a sham.”
He scrubs his jaw with his fingertips. "Not to me it isn't."
“You have a whole different agenda to me.”
"Maybe I do. But it's not what you think. Ella, listen to me, I know I've broken every rule and things got out of hand, but that was because you—"
“Me?" I interrupt with a snap. "No. Don't you dare throw any of this at me…"
"Let me finish…"
"Vic… do you have any idea what you’ve done? To your mother? To me? How sick I feel? How this is hurting me?”
Why did I ever say that? I don't want him to know that I'm suffering badly, that my heart is full of pain. He crosses the space and pulls me up, his arms wrapping around me. I can’t resist the urge to press against him one last time. It’s just too tempting. He’s too tempting.
But I'm in love with a fantasy, a dream.
Knowing this I still want him more than words can say.
“Sweetheart… hear me out...”
I am not his sweetheart.
“You've done and said enough.” Swallowing hard, I rub the back of my hand against my cheek, wiping away the tear which just trickled over.
He tips my chin up so that he’s gazing into my eyes. Slowly, his forehead presses against mine. The tips of our noses brush.
I must be a masochist because I can’t convince myself to pull away. If anything, I'm dying for his lips to kiss mine one more time.
“I admit this was the worst idea I ever had,” he says. "And I'm going to make it right."
"Well, good luck with that."
"Ella, believe me, I got this."
One of his hands slowly trails up my arm, over my shoulder, and up the length of my neck to cup my cheek. Goosebumps break out across my body and sweet chills swamp me.
I close my eyes, relishing what it feels like to be touched by this intoxicating guy. I want him so bad I can taste it. Every breath I take is flavored by his cologne and it makes my head spin.
How am I supposed to say goodbye forever when I can hardly imagine a world without him in it?
But I must.
I pull away.
I take off the ring, place it in his hand.
“Hope it works out.”
As for the guests waiting in the dining room. Not my problem.
I turn and walk away. Head held high.
I run down the steps and out to a waiting cab.
“NO! Come back, Ella! ” he roars after me in fury, but I’m already good as gone.
“Go!” I say to the driver as tears brim and trickle down my cheeks.
Chapter Twenty
Vic
I’ve been separated from Ella for four intolerable weeks.
But it's time I've spent getting my house in order.
Morag Jenkins was insistent I had to abide by the rules and wait the whole four weeks cooling down period. And I agreed I would.
After the dramatic end to our engagement party, I called Morag, needing to get hold of Ella urgently. To explain my motives. All of them. Morag told me Ella had just quit Sweet Something. A family emergency, she'd said. Morag was overly apologetic and trying to cover for Ella but it was clear she was very angry with her for leaving me in such a predicament. But she had no cause to be angry with her. This was my doing. I was touched Ella hadn't dumped me in the shit. She could have, and I wouldn't have blamed her if she had. But knowing her as I do, she isn't the kind of woman to wreak revenge if that means hurting people.
I came clean with Morag. Told her everything. Warts and all. She was rightly livid with me at the start, but she soon calmed down. We had a frank and very blunt discussion. I think she now understands that love sometimes chooses the strangest path.
And it is love.
I'm in love with Ella. Head over heels. I can admit it and it doesn’t alarm me like I thought it would. Because I know that Ella is a genuine woman. the real deal. She’s honest and kind hearted. As well as sexy as sin.
Despite everything, she has principles. And she’s made me see, for the first time, that my life is empty without her. And her love.
I don’t want a fake fiancée. I want a real one. I want her.
Morag told me she strongly suspected something didn't ring true with the whole fake fiancée thing I orchestrated, but she’d given me the benefit of the doubt.
Making peace with Morag was easy. I had nothing to lose. She's almost a stranger to me after all.
My mother's been another thing entirely. She’s not been speaking to me since I told her the truth. Since the day Ella ran out. I’ll win her round in the end because I have to. Hopefully the end I have in mind will be the one everyone wants.
She doesn't know Ella was a paid escort. I'd never do that to Ella. It would haunt her forever. But what Mom does know is that I asked her to play a part, purely as a favor. One she wasn't particularly happy with, but I’d hooked her in, promising to return the favor in the future. Helping her with her business start up. I hope Ella is happy with that explanation because I had no clue how to sell her part in it any better.
I haven’t seen or heard a thing from Ella. But considering I have no contact details, that’s no surprise. I found her online with no trouble, but sending a message via Facebook or LinkedIn didn't seem the best approach. What I need to say has to be said in person.
Being a man of resources I tracked her down two weeks ago at her home town of Boston.
I currently have her address plugged in my GPS and it's directing my BMW as I speed along the I95, heading north east, out of New York.
As I take the drive to her father's house, I’m damn nervous.
For the second time, I check I have the ring, my hand snaking into the contents of my holdall and finding the box. I give it a squeeze in my palm.
The GPS estimated arrival is three hours… I'm just passing Stamford now.
I settle in my seat, gripping the steering wheel, my mind playing out scenarios. I set the radio on some smooth listening channel. The DJ whitters on and music plays as I eat up the miles. I need to chill. Relax. Not that that's happening much.
My cell bleeps with an incoming call and I press the green light in my media dash going to speaker mode.
"Hey, Hils? Everything okay?"
"Just thought I'd give you an update. All your appointments are rescheduled. When you get the chance, take a look in your calendar and let me know if they don't suit?"
"Awesome, thanks. What would I do without you?"
"Get in a right mess?"
"I’d drown in it." I chuckle.
"Also… I sent your mother the flowers like you said… her favorite pink mixture with roses and bird of paradise."
"And the note?"
"Yeah, that's gone too. It was so sweet, what you wrote. Kind of lays it on the line. Hope it helps."
I pause, pursing my lips. "Me too."
"Give it time. She loves you. You're her only son…"
"I know. Thanks for everything, Hils."
Hilary knows all about my great big screw up. I swear I'd never seen her so angry. Wit
h her bright red hair and a bright red face to match, she looked ready to explode.
She called me a damn stupid fucker. I'd never heard her swear like that before, but I guess I deserved the title.
"Oh, one more thing before I go…"
"Yep?
"Don't charge in too fast and heavy, Vic. You've got a whole week to start over. Use the time wisely."
"Yes, ma'am. And you enjoy your break."
"I will."
We end the call and I puff out a long breath.
Only one woman left to do the right thing by now.
And Ella's gonna be the hardest of all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ella
I've just finished chatting to Callie from the kitchen where I'm covered in flour and butter. I'm making Dad quiche Lorraine for supper. It's one of his favorites.
I've so much to be thankful to him for. For supporting me and my decision to go to baking school. It's a three month course in New York, starting in two weeks time. He paid for it for my birthday present, the day before yesterday.
He was a lot less difficult to persuade than I thought he'd be. In fact he seemed very positive about my big decision…which is a far cry from being a doctor. ‘So you’ve found your calling, good for you,’ he’d said and given me a tight hug.
I was like… what? Is this really my dad?
I now realize I owe Dad so much. And I need him in my life. He’s stability. A source of strength. And he has a world of wisdom that I don’t. I won’t push him away like I did before.
When I go back to New York, I’m gonna miss my pops.
My cell pings. Callie has sent me a text. It’s her New York address.
She’s letting me crash there, as she has a spare room and she spends most of her nights with Baz these days. I’m looking forward to seeing my new digs. It's the perfect position, the perfect size, just perfect for me… according to Callie.
She left the agency two weeks after I did, wanting to make a go of it with her man. She’s now got a job working on reception for a graphic design company.
Everything seems to be going great. And I should be feeling great. Wonderful, even.
But I'm not.
I pop the quiche in the oven and then turn, bracing my hands on the island counter top, taking a moment's rest before I clear up.
My eyes fall on a few bottles of Italian red wine. There they are taunting me from Dad’s wine rack, in the utility area.
I swear everything I see reminds me of him. Vic. And God knows I wish I could forget. Why would I want to remember stuff like that? It wasn’t a great time in my life.
I dump all the dishes in the kitchen sink and turn on the faucet, washing my hands, when I hear the front door chime.
“Can you get that, I’m on a conference call here?” Dad yells, from his study.
“Okay."
Drying off quickly, I make my way to the front door.
I open the door, and stare.
I must be seeing things, because there on my doorstep is my dream guy.
Or should that be my nightmare guy?
My stomach flip flops.
He's dressed casual in black jeans and a thick white sweater; chunky boots at the end of his long legs. The clothes hug his body closely.
He looks gorgeous.
And sad.
Not that I'm falling for the puppy eyes. Much.
“Hey,” he says, shuffling his feet around.
Now the shock’s wearing off, I straighten my spine. “Why are you here, Vic?"
“To talk things over. You left before I had the chance.”
“How did you even find me?"
"I found your dad. Luckily there’s only one Dr York in Boston. I found his consulting rooms, and after that I had to dig a bit. Actually, dig a lot."
I fold my arms. "Christ… You have some balls. What gives you the right to just pitch up here?"
“Who is it, honey?" Dad comes up behind me.
“It’s just someone I know from New York."
"Victor Walker," he says, introducing himself with the most charming grin.
"Oh, hello,” Dad says, playing right into his hands. "Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you, too, Dr. York." Victor sticks out his hand for a manly shake.
"Aren't you going to invite this young man in?" Dad asks. "It's a little cold to be chatting with visitors on the doorstep."
Gee… thanks Dad.
"You'd better come in, then." My tone is brittle as I usher Vic in and close the door behind him.
"You wanna coffee?" I ask.
"That would be nice. It's been a long drive."
I lead him through to the kitchen.
Dad follows us in.
"What's your business in Boston, son?" Dad asks.
“I came to see your daughter, actually."
“Oh…right…" Dad looks from me to him and then back to me. I keep a serious expression plastered on my face. “Then I'll leave you two to talk, shall I? Let me know if you need me, love?"
I shoo him away. “I’ll be fine, Dad. Go on. We won't be long. Dinner will ready be soon." I wait for him to leave the kitchen. "Okay, you wanted to talk, so spill…"
"First of all, I’m sorry."
I nod. That's a start. "And?”
"I’ve come clean with Morag and told my mother the truth. A watered down version of the truth, that is.”
"I bet that went down well."
"Not so much. I left out the fact I paid you to be my escort."
“Thank you so much," I say with thick sarcasm.
"Listen, Ella—"
"No, you listen… don't presume you can come here looking all hot and handsome and expect me to melt all over you on the doorstep and for us to pick up where we left off. I don't want to or feel at all comfortable about it."
I'm aware I might be cutting off my nose to spite my face, but I've gotta speak from the head not the heart.
"I honestly don't expect you to. I was hoping we could start again. From the beginning. I’d like to take you on a date. Please?"
Half of me is thrilled he's here and begging forgiveness. But can we get past what has happened? I really don't know.
“If you're asking me to forget everything. I can't."
“Not forget... forgive. I've apologized for being a prize jerk. And I’ll do it again. How ever many times you need. I wanted you and used all the wrong tactics. You weren't any kind of done deal. I’m sorry that's how I acted. I was an asshole. A very distracted asshole."
I stare into his eyes. Genuinely sorry, worried eyes.
The eager part of me is saying... Go on girl. Do the christian thing. Forgive him. The other hesitant part wants to back away. Put Vic firmly in his place and in the past.
But I’ve been so miserable the last four weeks. Miserable without him. Despite his controlling, manipulative tactics.
He reaches out a hand and catches mine, raising it to his lips with a tender kiss on my knuckles.
I could just about resist while he wasn't touching me but the feel of him brings everything flooding back with a vengeance. I've missed his touch so bad it hurts.
"Give me another chance?"
I start to cave.
I do want him. Crave him. Maybe given time, I'll even forgive him.
"Okay, one date. And as I’m moving back to New York soon, we'll see how it goes."
"Great." His dull grey eyes come alive, lighting up with that silvery sparkle.
"I’m starting a baking school program when I get back. My birthday present from Dad."
"That's awesome news. I'm so pleased for you. Making your dream become a reality.”
He pulls me in for a hug and kisses my forehead.
Then he lifts my chin, tilting back my head for something a little more intimate.
As his lips brush mine, I break away… no… it's too soon. I need to keep a little distance.
"I'll get you that coffee."
"Thanks."
&
nbsp; “So, how long are you here for?"
"A week."
"Really?" I smile to myself as I get the coffee machine set up. A whole week… He's pretty determined to win me round. Doesn't mean I have to make things too easy for him though. "Where you staying at?”
“Holiday Inn, downtown."
“Okay. Well, if you're hungry, I’ve made quiche and it's a large one. Wanna stay for dinner? Talk some more?"
His eyes light up brightly. “I’d love that. Dying to sample your baking.”
I make my tea and his coffee, remembering exactly how he likes it, that being strong, with a splash of milk, and place the mug before him on the countertop.
We sip and stare over the top of our mugs. He breaks into a wide smile.
"What?" I ask.
He sighs. “You're beautiful. Especially in an apron, your hair a mess and with flour on your face."
I giggle. "Flattery will get you everywhere."
We pause, taking each other in.Enjoying what we see.
"I missed you, Ella."
"I missed you too. Just a tiny bit." A stupid tell tale tear trickles from my eye.
"Morag insisted I waited four weeks before contacting you."
“Good. It gave us both time to think."
He sits down on the kitchen stool, one muscular leg braced on the floor. He looks around our spacious kitchen and smiles.
"It's a lovely house. And your dad seems like a cool guy."
"Yeah, he's been so good to me since I got back. It's like we've turned a corner, thank God."
"I need to mend some big bridges with my Mom."
"Was she very upset? You know… that night I left?"
"Of course. She cried. I can't describe how bad I felt about it."
Another tear trickles down my cheek.
"I feel terrible. How can I ever face her again? Look, it wasn't all your fault, Vic. I shouldn't have let it happen. And I shouldn't have run away either. I should have considered her feelings.”
"Don't you blame yourself for how it ended. I knew exactly what I was doing. You felt you had no choice."
He pulls me to him and strokes my hair.
