Thirty Days: Part One

by Belle Brooks

  “Black heels?”

  “Yes, they are in the shoe box on the seat.”

  “Yep. Okay, found them.”

  Opening the door, I’m scared, mainly because I peaked at the price tag and this one dress alone costs nearly six hundred dollars. As beautiful as it is, it will remain on the shelf for someone else to purchase.

  “Ta-da…hey, where are you?” I say when nobody is there.

  “In here,” Katherine calls, and I follow the direction of her voice into the store. Marcus looks relaxed, sunken into a sofa, one I hadn’t even noticed was there. He has his arms outstretched along the top. Katherine stands like a trophy behind him.

  “Well, that is stunning, Abigail.” She smiles. “What do you think, Marcus?”

  “Breathtaking.”

  “That green is brilliant against her eyes. I knew it was perfect when I saw her. Grady didn’t exaggerate on how unique her eyes were.”

  “Umm. What?” Shock has my mouth go slack.

  “Never mind. Run along, Abigail, we have plenty to get through before you leave.”

  “I can’t have this dress.” My head shakes. “It’s beautiful, but way too expensive. Can we maybe look at something a bit cheaper?”

  Katherine’s mouth drops open, and her head rears back as if I’d just informed her that I’d been diagnosed with the black plague. “Cheaper. This dress was made for you,” she scolds.

  Marcus stands, signalling for me to come closer.

  I do.

  “Katherine, give us a minute,” he commands, and she lets out a small huff before making herself scarce.

  Marcus wraps his arms around my waist, leaving a minuscule gap between us. “What did I say about not looking at price tags?”

  My head drops, but is quickly lifted by Marcus, who is holding my chin. He gazes with all seriousness into my eyes.

  “It’s too much. I seriously do not need clothing this expensive. Please, let’s just go somewhere cheaper.”

  “I don’t care how much the dress is. I told you no looking at price tags. I should put you over my knee for the humiliation you continue to cause me.”

  “Pardon.”

  “You heard me. That dress, on that arse, is perfect. That dress on those breasts makes me hard. You worrying about the cost makes me want to throw you over my knee and caress your arse before smacking it hard with my hand.”

  Instantly, I begin to pant as I clasp my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says, sexy as hell before his finger removes the hard bite hold I have on my lip.

  “No,” I reply breathlessly.

  He chuckles. “Be a good girl and go try on something else before you make me mad. You’re getting this dress and that’s that. Do not look at another price tag, understand?”

  “Umm. Okay.” He’s so bossy.

  Turning back towards the dressing room, I can’t resist a glance over my shoulder to take in that look of power once more. My mouth forms an oversized ‘O’ when I see him adjusting himself inside his pants.

  “Oh my word,” I say under my breath.

  Before long, bags are overflowing. I don’t dare look at another price tag. I just try the selections on, twirl for my audience of two, and move on to the next department. The last items I need are lingerie, and I’ll be fucked if Marcus thinks he’s getting a peek at any of that.

  Katherine helps me out of a stunning navy cocktail gown—apparently there is a dinner we will be attending this week and this is the type of dress required.

  “Katherine.”

  “Yes, Abigail.”

  “I just need lingerie now, yes?”

  “Yes, we have not made any selections for you there. That’s your preference.”

  “Umm. Will Marcus be there?”

  “Not if you don’t want him to,” she says, hanging the delicate straps back onto a coat hanger.

  “I don’t.”

  “Then he won’t be. Leave it to me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s my job. However, I must say, I’ve never seen Marcus like this before.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t exactly know. This happy, content maybe. He definitely has a soft spot for you. It’s nice to see him smile. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Let me go talk to him.”

  I’m left standing there dumbfounded as she leaves. She’s known Marcus a long time by the sound of that. Why hasn’t he been happy?

  But a Dream

  “Thank you for everything, Katherine.”

  “It was my pleasure. So lovely to meet you.”

  “Ditto,” I reply.

  “Abigail, who says ditto nowadays?” Her eyebrows furrow.

  “Apparently me.”

  “I better be locking up. Be kind to Marcus. He’s a good man.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Nevertheless, be kind.” And with that she closes the door.

  The shop darkens just as quickly as it lit up. I turn in a circle when I realise I’ve walked out without any bags.

  “Just fucking great.”

  “Miss McMillian. Are you coming?”

  “Huh.” I twist around to find Grady standing a metre away. When did he arrive? Shit, he’s sneaky.

  “Have you forgotten something?”

  “Well, yes, my bags.”

  “They’ve already been put in the boot. Mr. Klein is waiting inside the car for you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Please allow me to help.” The door is opened and again I’m helped into the back seat.

  “Did you get everything you needed?” a voice from a shadowed darkness asks calmly.

  “Yes, thank you. You really didn’t need to do that. I promise I’ll return the items back to you when my luggage arrives.”

  “It’s yours. I don’t wear ladies’ clothing, so thank you, but no thank you.” He chuckles.

  “Oh.”

  A dim light turns on above us. Marcus has a bag in his lap.

  “So you’re rich, huh?”

  He smirks. “I’m comfortable. Rich, no.”

  “You just had a whole shopping complex opened for us. I’m going to go with insanely loaded.”

  “You definitely tell things how you see them, don’t you?”

  “It’s pretty obvious you’re Mr. Money Bags.”

  “I know Katherine well. She did me a favour. It had no price tag attached.”

  “How well do you know her? Was she another one of your beautiful opportunities?” I feel guilty the moment the words leave my mouth.

  “No.” He’s uncomfortable with my question, but why I’m not sure.

  “I see.” There’s a moment of quiet.

  “Katherine is my sister’s best friend. Well, was my sister’s best friend. I’ve known her most of my life.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I see why you would have made such an assumption.”

  Nervously I begin twisting my fingers together.

  “Abigail, it’s okay. Victoria, my sister, had a happy life. Katherine was a big part of that. I guess sometimes she is a reminder of what we lost. It’s hard to see her, but I’m glad I did.”

  Abigail, why did you have to open your big mouth?

  The car becomes quiet once more. The gloom and doom look in his eyes is heartbreaking. I need to think of a diversion. Eyeing the bag in his lap, I think of the perfect way.

  “Been doing a little shopping for yourself, I see. Anything fun in there?” I try the act of playfulness.

  “If women’s perfume, toothbrushes, and other feminine products are fun, then yes.”

  I swallow hard. “Excuse me?”

  “I went to the chemist down the street and grabbed a few things you might need. I’m guessing you didn’t pack toiletries in your carryon?”

  How did he know that I hadn’t? “Well…no. Thank you,” I
reply shyly as he passes the bag over.

  “Look inside before we go, in case I forgot something.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  He cocks his eyebrow.

  “Okay, I’ll look.” The handles branch outwards—the bag is filled with many items. A hairbrush, travel nail kit, toothbrush and paste, hair ties, and a few different hair fasteners. There are two bottles of deodorant and a box that must house some sort of perfume. A makeup pallet and lipstick fall under my rifling fingers.

  “Cherry Blossom?” I ask after reading the colour name.

  “Yes, it will look good on you.”

  “Makeup expert?”

  “Yes.”

  I smile. “Okay.” Placing it back in the bag, I have no clue of the actual colour of cherry blossom. However, I assume it to be a shade of red. As the lipstick drops I spy a packet of tampons. “You bought me tampons!” I shriek in embarrassment.

  He grins, displaying zero embarrassment on his part. “Just in case.”

  “I’m blushing, aren’t I?”

  His grin turns into a smile. “That you are, Miss McMillian. That you are.”

  ***

  “Abigail, we’re here. Wake up.”

  “Huh. What?”

  “We’re here. You fell asleep.”

  “I did?” I’m greeted by eyes that promise tomorrow will be even better than today and every day after will top the one before. These are eyes I need to stay clear of. “What hotel are we staying at?” Wiping drool from my cheek, I see Marcus’ mouth curl upwards as he continues his gaze.

  “We’re not staying at a hotel. Come on, it’s rather late.”

  “Can I smell Chinese food?” I’m still dazed.

  “Yes, I got some on the way. Are you hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “Good.”

  The car door is opened from the outside, and I’m completely overcome by the sight in front of me. A large pond with a statue sits in front of a three-storey manor. Pixie lights shine from treetops and the glow is mesmerising. I’m not sure of the colour of the building or much detail, only that this place is gigantic and whimsical.

  “Do you own this, Marcus?”

  Warmth fills my fingers as he wraps his hand within mine. “No, I don’t.” His tone is subdued.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Does anyone know we are staying here?”

  He chuckles. “Of course. Why do you insist I’m a law breaker? Is it because I told you about my night in the lock-up? It is, isn’t it?” His eyes sparkle under the lights. “The property belongs to Mr. Sims. I always stay here when in town.”

  “So I’m staying here with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  “Well, yes, but there are people who maintain the property, and they come and go. Mr. and Mrs. Frost live here in a quarters at the rear of the property. They’re lovely and you’ll meet them. Grady will also be staying here. What’s wrong, Abigail?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re biting that damn lip of yours again.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.” His throat goes hoarse on the word.

  “Sorry,” I say, releasing it from between my teeth. “Oh shit, my carryon.”

  “Grady will bring them in. Come,” he says as we stand by the front door. “The code is five, four, seven, and three, to turn the alarm off. Grady or I should be with you most times, but if not that is the number you’ll need to remember.”

  “Okay.”

  He pushes one side of the double doors open, releasing his grasp on my hand. The house begins to fill with light.

  “Martha, Adam, it’s Marcus.” There’s no reply. “They must have turned in for the night. You’ll meet them in the morning. That’s the Frosts I was telling you about.”

  I nod.

  “I’ll be back.” He disappears down the beginning of a hallway.

  I stand there gawking at the many fine furnishings and the open space this house offers. It’s exquisite and formal, so fancy. I’ve never been in a place like this. A broad staircase made out of dark wood leads to a second level. The staircase is like one that you only see in movies. It’s very grand.

  Marcus reappears shirtless, with his jeans hanging from his hips, and they appear soaked through. Holy shit. My thighs press together at the sight.

  “The sprinklers were on.” He smiles with a youthful innocence.

  “Oh.”

  His dark hair glistens with beads of water before his fingers brush them away, messing the strands. “I’m going to have a shower. Grady will have dinner plated in about ten minutes.”

  “Where will I sleep and get freshened up?”

  “This way.” He points before walking bow-legged towards the staircase.

  I’m finding it hard not to moan at the sight of his sculptured back and his shirt hanging from his pants back pocket. I close my eyes.

  “Fuck!” I yell as my body lands in a heap on the polished wood floor.

  “Are you okay?” He tries so hard not to laugh, lifting me from the ground with ease.

  My chest now presses against his wet chest, and my breasts heave as I stare into his eyes. “I tripped.”

  “The curse,” he whispers.

  “I think so.” I don’t tell him I was walking with my eyes closed, and as I pull myself away, he slides his fingers between mine.

  “I better hold on to you. Thin air is dangerous when you’re near.”

  “Apparently so.” We slowly take each step up the stairs. I believe he’s worried I’ll trip down them, or that he will…wet feet will do that. This thought causes me to giggle.

  “Something amusing?”

  “No.”

  Turning left at the top of the staircase, our feet meet plush carpet. At the end of the hallway we stop at a door. He turns the crystal doorknob.

  “You’ll be staying in this room.” As he flicks a switch, light quickly fills the space.

  “Wow. It’s beautiful.” My mouth drops open. “This room—” I don’t continue speaking outwardly because I’m not sure how to explain it. Maybe it’s like it’s been stolen from an olden day movie. There’s a large timber bed with a slatted bedhead, four posts, and netting over the top sitting against the back wall. Cupboards that have handcrafted feet on the bottom and delicate sculptured woodwork reside along an adjacent wall. A dresser with a heart-shaped mirror makes me smile. It’s so 1800s and completely out of this world.

  “They kept the property similar to the original look when it was renovated.”

  “Back in the dinosaur ages.” I giggle.

  “You could say that.”

  “Where do you sleep?” I ask before thinking.

  “Down the other end of the hall.”

  “Bet your room is not as fancy as this, now, is it?”

  “Fit for a king,” he replies with a cocky grin.

  I’m about to say let me see, but just before I do, I clench my lips to avoid an awkward sexually fuelled situation.

  “The bathroom is just past the staircase to the right.”

  “No en suite?”

  “No.”

  “So shared space.”

  “It is…I’m going to freshen up. I’ll meet you downstairs for dinner shortly.” He turns, leaving quickly.

  Right now I think this is the best for both of us.

  “Holy shit!” I squeal before searching the room for hidden treasures. Apart from amazing craftsmanship, none were to be found.

  Sitting down on the bed, I can’t help thinking about everything that has happened, from the madness I felt on the plane, to this moment right now. It seems like a dream, one that I’m bound to wake up from any minute. I hope I remain asleep for a little while longer, though. This is probably the best dream I’ve had, and I’m guessing it’s because Mike’s not destroying it.

  Reality

  Stepping out of my vintage room, the door closes softly behind me. Strolli
ng towards the stairs, my belly rumbles from starvation. I’m startled when Marcus appears from behind a closed door, with little but a towel tucked around his waist. Fuck me now.

  He smiles in my direction as he notices me looking at the V that leads to the one place I need to stay away from. It is so defined that my jaw drops open.

  “Enjoying the show?” He smirks.

  Quickly I turn my head, covering my embarrassed face. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I like that you were looking at me with eyes like that. I’ll just get changed and I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Every part of me wants to jump into those ripped arms and let him fuck me any which way he wants. Thoughts of our night together on the Coast only make it harder to stop myself, that is until I remember how it ended and how incredibly dirty I felt.

  “Yes. Good. Changed. All right.” Rushing down to the lower level, my legs instantly shake. Throbbing in the delicate area that makes me all woman is so overwhelming it begs for relief. I’m distracted from these thoughts of filth when I see Grady placing boxes onto the end of a long table just off the main entry. I can see him through an archway.

  “Can I help you with anything, Grady?” I approach him with relief, realising that Marcus and I will not be alone.

  “Miss McMillian.” He twists his head over his shoulder. “Thank you, but I’m finished. Mr. Klein has ordered your new clothes to be dry-cleaned and returned by morning. However, he did leave this one bag for you and your carryon. May I take it up to your room now?”

  “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Please, I insist.”

  “Well, if you insist.”

  He smiles and it’s then I notice a sweet dimple in his chin. He seems so young to be a driver. “Before I take them up, your bag was ringing a moment ago. I’m guessing your phone is in there?”

  “Oh shit. Umm, sorry. I mean, yes, Grady. I’ll just take that out first.”

  “Of course.”

  Unzipping the side pocket, I see the blue sparkly case that protects my phone from falls. God knows I have enough of them. I pluck it out before taking a step backwards.

  “Have a good evening,” he says, continuing his work.

  The screen lights up and as expected there are many missed calls and messages from not only Mum, but Sammy. No surprises there. As I approach a grand dark wooden dining room table, one that bears the same handcrafted marks as the bedroom furniture, I see that two plates, some chopsticks, and many takeaway containers filled with dinner have been laid out for us. I’m so hungry, but I decide to wait, taking a seat at one of the settings closest to what must be a window as it has a long and heavy looking curtain pulled across. The generic ringtone of my phone begins playing. I answer.