Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play

by Sydney Jamesson

  “All set?” He asks curtly.

  “Just my toiletries to pack.” He takes them from me and hands the bag to a gentleman in uniform waiting outside the door who immediately disappears down the hallway. “Where’s he taking my things?”

  “Downstairs with our bags. The car’s waiting.”

  “Oh ok.”

  He’s eager to get going. How quickly he loses his holiday spirit: it’s business as usual. And, as usual Ayden Stone is impatient and impervious to the needs of others He’s the proverbial one man band and I feel a little like an ex-band member. I can hear drawers opening and closing in each room and wardrobe doors slamming, he’s making sure nothing is left behind, either that or he’s in a foul mood.

  I slip on my blazer and wander out onto the terrace one last time, savouring the mid-morning sun on my face. “Arevedici Rome.”

  The sunlight fades as I move away from the French doors towards the elevator with Ayden a couple of paces behind me. When the door slides open, he takes my hand and we step into the lift together. He’s breathing faster than usual and there’s no doubting he’s a little tense.

  I squeeze his hand. “Is there something bothering you, only you seem bit ... off?”

  He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and plants a soft kiss on my left cheek. “No, I’m good, we’re running a little late and we need to make that flight so I can attend to a couple of things. That’s all.”

  I nod and present a sympathetic smile, suspecting he’s about to walk into a fire storm which may have been averted if he’d been paying better attention. Instead he’s been bestowing upon me the most priceless of gifts after his love: his time.

  Thankfully, we make it to Fiumincino airport with twenty minutes to spare, but the sprint to the fuelled private jet waiting on the tarmac leaves me exhausted and a little light headed.

  By the time we’re buckled in and are ready for take-off, I’m shattered: I may just sleep through the entire flight. After enduring a large dose of self-control and endurance, I survive the white knuckle take-off, aware of Ayden’s eyes upon me the whole time. I must appear very weak willed to him but I simply don’t understand the physics of the process and anticipate a miscalculation on every flight.

  Once we’re airborne, I set about making coffee, as much to steady my nerves as to fulfil some sort of function. The two guys up front are flying the plane and Ayden is conversing with God knows who on the other side of the world. Once again, I seem to have become superfluous.

  My phone makes its text received noise. Leaving the coffee to percolate I reach over to my bag and take a look.

  Thanks for delivering the package to L.A. Any chance of an early HK delivery? The shit’s hitting the fan here!! Work your magic. J.

  Not surprisingly, my face betrays my astonishment and I’m having to think quickly to throw Ayden off the scent.

  He looks up. “Bad news?”

  “Oh, the usual. Charlie’s had a bump in her car. Some buffoon reversed into her new Audi yesterday. She’s pissed. I’ll give her a call when we land.” Feigning indifference, I archive the message, throw the phone into my bag and return to my coffee making duty. For some reason Ayden has taken it upon himself to watch me closely. Does he suspect I was lying?

  “Can I help you with something Mr. Stone?” Sweetly, I tilt my head to the left.

  “No, just the coffee for now.” He returns to his iPad, and breaks off again. “I was picturing you in my kitchen.”

  What?

  “Oh, you thought you’d throw that out there did you? Ok, it’s a swerve ball but I’ll run with it. Let me serve coffee first.” I wiggle my way to the cockpit and give a gentle tap. “Can I interest you in a cup of coffee gentlemen?” They accept the beverages with thanks and I close the door behind me and prepare to be reeled in.

  “Go on, I’m listening.” I hand him his coffee and seat myself opposite on the plush leather chair.

  “I’m thinking of putting Stone Heath on the market, my house in Belgravia.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t like it.”

  “That’s not very business-like, it’s your home. Besides, I might love it? That is if I ever get an invite.” I sip my coffee and flutter my eye lashes at him, stressing the point.

  “We’ll go there today when we land. You’ve got everything you need in your case.”

  That was a very quick change of plan, but one I like the sound of. “Ok, but now you’ve got me hooked.” I kick off my flats and pull my legs up underneath me. “Why won’t I like it, is it a playboy mansion with a mirrored ceiling in the master bedroom?”

  “How did you guess?” My mouth falls open and he starts to chuckle while still focusing on his iPad.

  I roll my eyes. “Dear God, tell me you’re joking.”

  “I’m joking but it’s ... how can I put it?”

  “A bachelor pad?” I interrupt, helping him out.

  “Yes, but an up-market one, as you would expect.” Now he’s rolling his eyes.

  “Naturally.” I wouldn’t expect anything less.

  “But, it isn’t homely, not like your apartment.” A flat smile graces his lips.

  I see such an endearing warmth emanating from his eyes that it makes me want to take him in my arms. “My apartment is what an estate agent would call bijou and compact; it’s a one bedroom shoe box with a private parking spot in North London.”

  “Yes but it’s ... cosy.”

  Why the hell is he so taken with my place? The terrace we have just left had a bigger square footage than my apartment. “Cosy is a polite way of saying small, Ayden.” He’s just being kind.

  “Whatever, but I’ve enjoyed spending time there with you,” he says affectionately, reaching out to take my hand.

  My heart aches. “Thank you, I’ve enjoyed spending time there with you too, but ...

  “… Don’t start with the but’s, we’re going to need more space.”

  “We are?” Where is he going with this?

  “I want us to move in together until we get married, then ...”

  “… Whoa! Slow down.” My coffee cup rattles into position on my saucer, I’m trying to keep up, but he’s moving at the speed of light. “If you keep this up, you’ll have me dead and buried before I’m thirty.” I start to laugh. “Take a breath Ayden, think about what you’re saying, this is serious stuff.”

  “Well why wait? This is a serious relationship, isn’t it?” He waits for my reply and I actually believe if it wasn’t for the sound of the twin turbo engines, we would hear a pin drop.

  I don’t think I have ever seen him look quite so earnest about anything. He holds me in place with an unyielding stare and I feel the colour draining from my face, not out of fear but more to do with the impact of his conviction: my God this man is desperate to have me and not just in his bed but in his life, permanently.

  “Yes, it’s a serious relationship Ayden but let’s not be hasty, you have more important things to be thinking about than this: the Hong Kong merger for instance.” I reach over and kiss him softly and return to my seat.

  Whilst he continues to focus on his iPad, I watch as his mouth twitches ever so slightly, “Did you just side-step me asking if you want us to move in together, Miss Parker?”

  “You weren’t asking Mr. Stone, you were assuming. There’s a difference,” I reply astutely, playing with my platinum bracelet and keeping my eyes out of range. Now he’s smiling and I’m beginning to heat up inside, but that might only be the after effects of the coffee.

  “You’ve been doting on me and dealing with your business long distance for the past three days. You need to regroup. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Are you done?” He asks sternly.

  “No.” He gives me a ‘here we go’ face but I continue anyway. “If you keep on like this, it will be L.A. all over again.” I pause, knowing he’ll look at me. “I don’t need any more assurances. I’m good, we’re good. Do the second thing your good at.” I stand
and drape myself over his body, forcing him to hold his iPad against his chest, fearing I may break it. “Go rule the fucking world.”

  He nuzzles his face into my neck and holds me in place with his left hand at the base of my spine. His words, from my lips have hit home.

  “You didn’t wash your hair did you?” He’s inhaling deeply and rubbing his nose beneath my hairline.

  “No, I didn’t have time. Why?”

  In a steaming whisper he explains, “Because your hair smells of sex: hot, rough sex.”

  Holy shit!

  I fist his hair with my left hand and slide my other down the back of his sweater and his T-shirt, desperate to feel the heat from his skin on my palm.

  “I need this, morning, noon and night Beth. I need you.”

  I kiss his hair and lean back, taking his stunning face in my hands. “Ok, I’m a push over. We’ll think about moving in together when you get back from Hong Kong.”

  I’m rewarded with a knock your socks off smile that brings tears to my eyes. “And only because I’m looking forward to seeing your cute arse in the mirrored ceiling.” I pull away, and begin clearing coffee cups and saucers.

  “Then I’ll have to get one fitted,” he calls out after me, inspecting my backside as I saunter off.

  “Get on with your work and less of the seduction, this body is out of bounds.” I give him a ballerina swirl.

  “Then stop flaunting it.” He feigns annoyance, but I know better. Regardless of what comes out of his mouth, his eyes are glowing and I know, like me, he’s enjoying our playful banter.

  Having taken the recommended two travelsick tablets, I’m feeling no air sickness, I’m enjoying listening to my music, toes tapping and humming to Rihanna singing ‘Only girl in the world.’ I keep my happy thoughts to myself and lock them away behind a gentle smile.

  “Beth … Beth.” Ayden is calling my name and signalling for me to listen to him. “I have a business proposition for you.”

  Did I hear him right? “A what?”

  “A business proposition.”

  I pull out my ear plugs and switch off my iPod.

  This should be interesting.

  “You know when you send me songs, how do you access the music. How do you know which songs are appropriate?”

  I glance around the airplane, what a strange topic of conversation. “I don’t know, some of them are on my iPod, so I know them, others I remember hearing and get them off iTunes. Over the years they’ve made coming home to an empty house a little more bearable. Why?”

  “It’s just I think you could be onto something.” He’s so animated and enthusiastic, this isn’t chitchat. “There must be thousands of people out there like me who don’t have your knowledge of music but still want to communicate their feelings in a not verbal way. Don’t you think?”

  He’s asking me? “Yes, people who are in love of those who have broken up. The forgive-me songs you sent me were very special.” I smile appreciatively and settle my hand on his knee.

  “Yeah right, but it took me all night to find them. No-one has that much free time and that’s what I’m thinking. What if there was a website where you could punch in a type of song like, say, ‘forgive me’ or ‘I love you’ or even ‘You bastard, I hate you,’ wouldn’t you use it if it saved you time?”

  “I suppose so, it does make sense and people might get back together and fall in love more quickly if they didn’t have to trawl the internet looking for songs.”

  “Ok, then I’ll get a couple of my website designers to look into it, but you think it’s doable, right?” He seems genuinely excited at the prospect of getting it off the ground.

  “Why not? You could even call it ‘HeartBeats’©, say it, sing it, send it© … or something like that? It’s just an idea.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea. I’ll give you a million for it.” Why is he lifting his brows expectantly? “What do you say?”

  I’m happy to play along. “Make it four and you’ve got a deal.” I snigger, not giving any credence to the conversation.

  “Ok, I’ll meet you halfway. Two million and we’ve got a deal.” He’s not smiling. Instead, his eyes are intense and he’s totally focused on me.

  He can’t be serious?

  “We’ll shake on it.”

  He takes hold of my hand and grips it firmly. “We have a deal. I’ll transfer the two million pounds into your account on Monday morning.” He steps up from his seat and heads off in the direction of the wash room.

  “Pardon me?”

  When he returns, I’m still unsure of what just happened.

  “What’s the matter?” He sits himself down opposite me and returns to his iPad. He knows perfectly well what he’s doing.

  “You weren’t serious were you, about the money?” I’m trying to catch his eye but he’s being purposely evasive.

  He launches one of his rocketing stares in my direction. “Of course I was, I’m always serious when it comes to money, besides it’s a sound business proposition and I already have the skills base to launch something like that. “ He smiles gleefully. “Did you think I was messing around?”

  I nod.

  “Well, Miss Parker, you just sold me your idea for two million pounds and I think, quite frankly, you should have held out for more. I’m good for it.” He squeezes my knee affectionately. “Now we’re business partners with benefits.”

  “We are?” I smile nervously, nibbling on my thumb nail, “Does that mean you’ll want to see my Mission Statement?” I’m feeling playful.

  “That’s not usually how I operate, but in this instance I think I may be persuaded to take a look at it.” He’s sitting back in his chair, arms folded, darkening eyes, utterly adorable.

  I turn to check out the cloud formations and start to laugh. “You have more money than sense,” I reproach him, refusing to believe a single word.

  “Be that as it may, give it twelve months and you’ll be wishing you’d asked for more.” He lifts up his chin and looks confidently around the jet, before settling his gaze on me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Rich!” I answer, shrugging my shoulders and sniffing the air.

  “I’ll get my legal team to sort out paperwork and bike it over to you on Monday. Then we’ll celebrate.”

  “Why not, it will be my treat.” I grin from ear to ear. This is for real.

  “I don’t think so, I said I’d take care of you and I meant it.” He isn’t joking.

  “I thought you meant between the sheets?” All this talk of sex and money has me feeling rather needy. I think he can tell.

  “I meant take care of you in every way.” He’s eyeing me so closely it makes me wonder how this conversation will end.

  “I see, so the two million pounds finding its way into my bank account was you taking care of me?”

  “No, that’s the going rate for entrepreneurial ideas. It might make money in its own right or serve as an advertising platform, either way it won’t be a loss leader. I’ll see to that.”

  I’m not convinced. “I think you’re doing it to make me feel better about being engaged to you and bringing so little to the table, so to speak, and that’s ok. But you don’t have to dress it up for me. I know what people will say: you’re a catch and I’m a gold digger.” Saying those words saddens me, but it’s true.

  He’s shaking his head from side to side. “Oh Beth, it’s not going to be like that, you’ll see.”

  Why do I think he has something up his sleeve? I squint and tip my head on the side, “What aren’t you telling me?”

  The fact he’s simply holding up his hands like an innocent man facing a firing squad only reinforces my suspicion.

  “Will I like it?” I try a different approach.

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Undeterred, I fold back the small table between us and lean over to him, resting my knees on the floor. “And can your lips be unsealed?” I ask, tracing the outline of his perfect mouth with the fingers of my ri
ght hand.

  “That depends.”

  Here it comes …

  “On what?” I smirk, feeling his thighs tensing under my hands.

  As if I didn’t know.

  “On how persuasive you can be.” He places his hands either side of my face and slides his fingers into my hair. “I’m willing to trade your mouth for mine.”

  No way!

  “You want a BJ right here, right now?” My voice increases in pitch slightly, revealing not only my surprise but the intensity of my arousal. The idea of being caught at any moment is an enormous turn-on. Is he feeling it too?

  “What about Ben and Jerry in the cockpit?” I realise my faux pas the moment the words fly from my mouth.

  A flash of a smile appears. “They can get their own blow jobs.”

  I laugh out loud and his toothy grin sets my insides alight. “Just as well, I don’t think I could manage a hat trick.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear it.” He’s blinking and wincing at the thought, and that only makes me laugh more.

  Now I’m giggling, a blow job is completely out of the question. “If you keep cracking me up, I won’t be able to do it for laughing.” I place my hand against his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you more.” He pulls my face to his. “Forget the blow job. You’ve unsealed my lips by making me laugh.”

  He raises me off the carpet and sits me back in my chair. “Ok, here goes … I’ve had my people issue a press release, announcing our engagement. It will hit the newsstands tomorrow and the internet news services today, so don’t be surprised if you have a couple of press photographers hanging around your apartment this week.”

  It takes me a couple of seconds to process the information. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do something like that?” I’m not unhappy about it, but I would like to have been consulted.

  “Because you would have said no.”

  I throw him an indignant look.

  “See, I was right, but you have to take into account who I am Beth, my position. What happens in my life makes the news, we’re news. Better to issue a press release and hand over a photograph than wait for some arse hole to make up a story and hide away in the bushes waiting to catch us unawares.”