by Ash Harlow
It was all I could do to stay in the room to help Darcy out of her dress as those words echoed in my head. I was behaving like an idiot. It was a common enough line and I really wanted to believe that when it came from Darcy’s mouth, it was genuine. Still, it rattled me. Minutes after I walked out I heard the bath being filled and I decided to leave her to it. Earlier I’d have joined her but I was rattled. This wasn’t how Auckland was meant to go. Darcy was the one with issues here and my role was to help her get past them.
Darcy was not Annabelle.
No matter how Luther tried to convince me Darcy was my stepfather’s new attack using old tactics, I refused to believe it. For starters, I was certain Ant Alberini understood the adage about doing the same thing and expecting different results.
No. Any little coincidence with Darcy was just that—a coincidence.
I’d requested the fridge to be stocked so I filled an ice bucket, grabbed a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes and headed toward the bathroom. Joining Darcy in the bath was out of the question now, but we might as well enjoy the Krug. If I didn’t get in there and restore things this trip to Auckland was going to be a bust.
With my hands full I had to use my elbow to open the bathroom door. Inside was a fragrant humid atmosphere of the particular bath salts I liked and, thankfully, Darcy hadn’t felt too unworthy to use them. Luther knew a woman in the Waitakere ranges who formulated them with a special blend of New Zealand bush flowers and essences. It wasn’t like either of us to be all New Age and crystals but this stuff was magic. A relaxant, energizer and aphrodisiac all rolled into one. If the producer wanted to market it she could name it Paradox.
And then there was Darcy.
She’d already washed her hair and it was pinned up on her head so that rivulets of water trickled across her temples, making me want to catch them with my tongue.
I ached to be in there soaking with her, but I still suffered from that niggling feeling about what she’d said, and if I climbed into that bath I’d be dismissing it. Since Annabelle, I’d promised myself not to dismiss anything that felt out of kilter. Anyway, if I bathed with Darcy, we’d be late. Very late.
I opened the champagne and poured two glasses. She took one and thanked me. I loved that for the moment, anyway, she took nothing for granted.
“Is everything okay?”
Her voice was soft, her skin flushed from the water.
“Sure, it is.” I tilted my glass in her direction. “Here’s to banishing your Auckland monsters.”
She almost grimaced as she acknowledged the toast. She sipped her bubbles, and smiled. “Nice choice, Sackville. You’re spoiling me.”
“Let me spoil you more. Sit forward and I’ll wash your back.” I took my time, lathering my hands and running them over the curve of her shoulders, down the ridges of her spine and finally slipping them around to glide over her delicious breasts. Her nipples were hard and I thumbed them until her breathing changed, her mouth dropping open just that little bit that told me she was becoming very turned on.
She lay back, her legs bent, knees falling open. It was a blatant invitation.
“How you going here, princess?”
She responded with a breathy voice. “Good.”
Fuck, I loved the way she breathed her words when she was aroused, however I ignored the request of her lifting hips and continued squeezing her nipples. She eased her hand across her hip, down toward the trimmed line of pubic hair.
“Don’t touch.”
“Oliver.”
“Whining doesn’t suit you. I want you as hot and bothered tonight as I’m going to be watching you in that dress. Save it. It’ll make later so much better.”
I stood and placed my drink on the vanity, and stripped off for a shower. “The car will be here in half an hour.”
“Hell, I better get moving.”
I held up a bath towel for her, and she stepped toward me. We were both naked with only the towel between us and continuing to resist her calmed me in that I was back in control. I wrapped her tight in the towel, tucking the end in between her breasts before turning her and sending her from the bathroom “No touching, remember?”
She turned her head and poked her tongue out and somehow I resisted stealing a kiss. Self-control would do us both good.
The function was at an events center on the Viaduct not too far from the apartment. The taxi ride was short, and when Darcy complained that we could have walked rather than wasting money on a cab fare, I had to remind her of the color of her dress, the length, the heels she wore and the state she’d be in after a fifteen-minute stroll along the waterfront pavements. Her habits were certainly frugal—especially when compared with Annabelle who always had to keep pace with her entertainment industry buddies—and I hoped it wasn’t an act. I was tired of questioning her motives because she was special. The only thing I wanted propelling our relationship was our mutual attraction.
At the venue we were whisked to the less-crowded award nominees’ entranceway. I hadn’t been entirely honest with Darcy about the evening and she had no idea that we were attending the Trade and Enterprise Business Awards. I didn’t enjoy these functions and was worried Darcy might hate them more. Having her with me was intended to make the evening more than bearable.
We didn’t make it far through the entrance before we were stopped by people wanting to congratulate me on being nominated. It was a pretty big deal being from a small town and beating out some of the Auckland boatyards. Darcy, thankfully, waited until we reached our table before she questioned me.
“Business Awards, Oliver? Not exactly some dull T&E schmoozing function now, is it?”
“Forgive me. I didn’t think you’d agree to come if you knew what it was really about.”
“I’d go with you to the opening of a parking lot if it meant I was allowed to wear this dress.”
Her move, leaning close to my ear was innocent enough. She looked as though she was making herself heard over the background noise. But I’d make her pay for sticking her tongue in my ear before she backed off. I pulled at my mouth with my hand to stop myself grabbing her for a kiss.
“I love you in that dress, Darcy, but I intend to love you even more out of it.”
Our table was filling with other boating industry people. Being such a small country we simultaneously competed with each other, and helped each other out. Sometimes one boatyard was awarded a contract, the scale of which meant other boatyards contracted various skills to help. In the end, any time a large boat left the country after a successful and quality build did the entire industry a favor.
Darcy shone among the other women, not only because of her beauty but her ease in these situations. She understood perfectly how to handle the men, even the sleazy ones I’d have preferred to handle with a right hook. And she was perfect with the women, complimenting them, never trying to outclass them or worse, appear bored the way Annabelle used to.
Every day there were more things I discovered about Darcy that drove her closer to ideal in my eyes. In that sense, she terrified me.
“Darcy! What a surprise to see you here.”
Darcy spun to look at the woman who’d spoken from behind me and I turned, too. This was my first opportunity to see her in action with somebody from her past. I’d never seen anyone’s face turn to stone before but when Darcy offered a fake smile, the mortar holding her expression together almost cracked apart.
Fifteen
Darcy
Auckland was a pinprick on a global scale and I knew it would be all but impossible to attend a business function of this type and not run into someone I knew. If it happened, my hope was that it wouldn’t be someone who had taken any interest in me once I’d left for Australia. When we arrived I’d been nervous, sneaking glances around the room but seeing nobody I knew, I’d begun to relax and enjoy myself.
Until Deidre.
Of all people, it had to be Deidre—the very last person whose world I wanted to be the center
of.
I spun in my chair and tried to stand in the hope that if we had to talk I could carefully steer her away from our table. Unfortunately, Oliver turned too and when I glanced at him I could see he was waiting for an introduction.
I stood.
Oliver stood.
Shit.
I introduced them, then body-blocked Oliver and set about maneuvering Deidre across the room.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your awful bad luck in Australia, Darcy. Losing a position like that at Prism must have been heartbreaking.”
What a liar. The sympathy was so fake I was surprised a thunderbolt hadn’t struck her where she stood in that stunning dress with perfect accessories and killer shoes. I would have been envious had I not for once been better attired myself. When it came to Deidre, my playground anxieties always rose to the forefront.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad.” I flicked my hand dismissively.
“Really? Because I heard Rob—”
I grabbed her elbow in a way that would encourage her to start walking or suffer a dislocated shoulder. “Whatever you heard about me, Deidre, will contain as much truth as what I heard about you. Now, it’s just a matter of who tells their story first.”
My bluff was a winning call because she blanched, turned her back on me and headed for an empty seat three tables away.
For a moment I wondered what Deidre had been up to before I returned to Oliver, hoping that would be my only encounter with my previous life. Unfortunately, the look on Oliver’s face suggested none of that exchange had slipped by him.
“Is everything okay, Darcy?” His voice was measured.
“Sure,” I said, desperate to grab a sip of wine but fully aware of how that would appear.
“Tell me what your friend alluded to that got you so rattled.”
I wasn’t going to lie. I liked Oliver too much for that, and liked what we had going together even more. Dangerously more. I took that sip of wine as I gathered my wits, trying to work out how much information to give him.
I placed my glass down, twirling it by the stem. “It wasn’t what she alluded to that rattled me, more the fact that she’s the most gossipy bitch in town and I’m not setting myself up to be the hot topic in a Viaduct bar tonight. Add to that, her closest friend writes what could loosely be called the society column for a certain trashy Sunday paper. Neither of them let the truth get in the way of their work.”
“Fine, and what was she alluding to?”
I took another sip of wine. “She must have heard about the fire when I lived in Sydney, with my ex-boyfriend. The house we were renting caught fire and it was razed; everything gone. He’d told me he had paid the insurance, but he hadn’t. So, I lost everything, including our relationship which didn’t survive the aftermath.”
Oliver shook his head. “That’s fucking horrendous. I’m sorry, that must have been devastating.”
I shrugged. “It’s only possessions, but it’s taking a bit to get back on my feet. I’ll be fine.” I wouldn’t be fine. The landlord’s insurance company was about to sue me for the cost of rebuilding the house. I’d probably be bankrupt before I was fine. More shame for me. Thank you, Rob.
“Deidre would be a supreme bitch if she intended to gossip about your misfortune.”
The intensity of the concern in his gaze unnerved me because I didn’t deserve it. There was so much about me he didn’t know and above all else, I didn’t want to hurt him. I should have kept our relationship professional from the start, but his allure held me like a hungry addict. I promised myself just one more inhale, one more lick, one more taste of him, and then I’d let him go.
I could have hugged the guy who was our waiter for the evening for turning up with our meals right while I was chasing down an appropriate response within the myriad of knee-jerk and brush-off ideas pounding through my head. I hated lying, whether intentionally misleading, or by omission. I’d lived on the receiving end of that for too long. Oliver deserved my honesty but already I was leaving stuff out and loathing myself for it.
I struggled to eat. Like at most large events the meal suffered from mass production and although the menu appeared appetizing, the result was tired and dry. I poked the food around my plate, unable to shake off my anxiety. The room was too full and I was still sneaking glances at the other tables, recognizing people but so far, nobody more alarming than Deidre.
Oliver leaned over to whisper in my ear that we could forget the food and get a meal later, taking the opportunity to tongue that sweet spot right behind my lobe and send a shiver through me.
He noticed my shiver. “If you’re cold I have a few ideas on how I can warm you.”
“I’m freezing, do it now,” I told him, lightly raking the nails of the hand I’d sneaked beneath the table, along the broad muscle of his thigh.
Oliver snatched my wrist, trapping my hand between his legs. “You’re killing me, Darcy, and you’ll pay for it.”
“I hope so.” Forget dinner, I was ready for bed.
The Minister for Trade and Enterprise took the stage and the award ceremony began. Tech companies seemed to dominate the first few categories and I wondered how a company like Oliver’s would compete but was thrilled when he won Exporter of the Year. He looked magnificent in his tuxedo as he stood on the stage to accept his award. His speech was typical Oliver, smooth and confident. When he returned to his seat he pulled me in for a kiss.
“Not bad for a guy who builds big dinghies,” I teased.
“Oh, you are in so much trouble,” he replied, tweaking my hair.
His was the last award for the night before the supreme winner would be announced from among all the category winners.
Tradewind Super Yachts won again and as we all stood to applaud. Oliver enveloped me in his arms and gave me a kiss that had others at our table cheering. I returned to my seat with flushed cheeks and bursting with pride. Oliver wasn’t one to brag and although I understood he had a very successful company, from what I’d learned this evening he won contracts over other companies around the world that were many times the size of his, and supported heavily by their own governments. His yachts, too, were winners in excellence of build and quality, and the yard’s turnover and ability to bring in export dollars was tremendous not only for Waitapu, but for New Zealand.
Somebody delivered champagne to the table and Oliver was accosted by a throng of people wanting to congratulate him and interview him. It looked as though it would be a longer night than we’d anticipated.
He pulled me with him to go through for interviews and held me close as we were photographed. I knew most of the press photographers, and was neither pleased nor surprised to see Deidre’s gossip-column friend, Monica, and her sidekick photographer among them. I pushed aside the chill that trickled along my spine. It was completely expected for them to be at events like this and I could only hope that Deidre wouldn’t add any heat to whatever story they chose to run.
It was after one in the morning by the time we got out of there. During the short cab ride back I was still buzzing and I rambled excitedly about the way Oliver could maximize the awards, what it could do for his business, and Waitapu, if he wanted to dive into some strategies. All the way he played with my hair and the strap of my dress. As the car pulled up to the apartment building he nuzzled my neck and told me in the filthiest language possible what he wanted to do to me the moment the door was closed.
But when the door closed the thing that had bothered me at the start of the evening launched itself into the forefront of my mind. Something I’d said before we’d left for the function had made him uptight, offhand, unbalanced. Everything I’d pulled together when I’d landed back in New Zealand gave me courage to speak up because if there was one thing I’d learned it was that leaving an itch unscratched created a huge fucking welt that would fester until lanced. Better to scratch the irritation right off.
Inside the door Oliver shoved his awards on a table that held a stunning sculpture, turnin
g quickly to capture me.
I held up a hand to stop him as he leaned in for a kiss. “Wait.”
Oliver stepped back.
“Before we left here you were annoyed with me. What was that?” I watched his face trying to read what he might attempt to hide.
He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t recall.”
He did recall, I could tell by the tension around his eyes. “It seemed I either did something that troubled you, or said something.”
Oliver passed me and went to the liquor cabinet pulling out a bottle of scotch. He held it up. “Nightcap?”
Jesus.
I was not going to be blown off. Oliver had one chance. If he continued to stray along this road of avoidance, I was ending whatever it was we’d started, immediately, because I had no intention of repeating behaviors of a past relationship.
I sighed and followed him into the living room.
“A drink, sure, why not,” I said. My question hung between us and I sensed he hoped that during the time it took him to pour drinks, my need for an answer would evaporate along with the strain between us.
I was wrong.
Sixteen
Darcy
He carried our drinks and placed them on a coffee table before pulling me beside him on the sofa. “You said something that resurrected some Annabelle shit. Little things I thought I’d dealt with, but there you go. One random phrase and I found a new trigger.”
“Tell me what it was,” I said, taking the heavy crystal tumbler in which he’d poured a generous two fingers of scotch. I wasn’t a big spirits drinker and that amount would probably put me into a coma.
