“You remind me of a girl I once knew,” he said. “Way back.”
“I can categorically not say the same.”
He smiled. “Lauren, her name was. Is. She was my first girlfriend in high school. Married now. I went off to pursue my acting career and she stayed behind. I suppose if I’m honest, I left her behind and didn’t turn back.”
Cheryl didn’t say anything, instead just let him talk. If he was wrong about her, he would be in deep shit and all this would be on the internet come this afternoon, but he didn’t think he’d called her wrong.
“I haven’t thought about her in years.”
“How come you left?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We got on alright. Too young, I guess, and I was full of ambition, had goals and was hell bent on achieving them. Turns out she didn’t wait and found some other guy to settle down with.”
“Were you expecting her to wait?”
“Not exactly, but maybe I was still surprised that she simply drifted away. Got all she wanted, I guess—house, kids and cars—with someone else. But I left, so I can hardly complain. She’s happy. That’s the best I can wish for, right?”
“I like to think things work out the way they’re supposed to work out. And believe me, marrying young isn’t necessarily a great idea. I’ve learned that the hard way. Marrying the wrong person is an even worse idea. You don’t really have the skills to tell when you’re young. It could have ended terribly if you’d make another choice. So you’ve lost touch with this girl?”
“Truthfully, she’s been completely out of mind. You remind me of her, though. Like you, she wore a lot of makeup.”
Cheryl looked down in her lap. Had he been rude pointing it out? “You’re gorgeous, of course,” he added and she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. Maybe he had been careless pointing it out? He was used to being direct with what he thought, and could at times be careless. In the social stratification of LA, he was expected to be direct, while others more pliable, at least in work situations, which had been ninety nine percent of his life. Maybe he needed to check that.
“I suppose it is a little like my armour,” she admitted after a while. “I feel as if nothing can touch me when I have it my face on.”
“Obviously, you’re aware that you are pretty enough without needing any of it, and I bet you’d be blushing right now without it. Which is probably a good thing?”
“Why is that a good thing?”
“I’m a sucker for a girl who takes a compliment well.” It had been some time since he’d actually flirted. It felt like an unused muscle. One didn’t, after all, have to seduce prostitutes, and Cheyenne had seduced him more than anything else—he’d just been complicit.
Cheryl smiled. Was he heading into dangerous territory by flirting a little with her? Somehow he didn’t think she was made of stalker material. What she said next would prove who she was.
“I think you, Mr. Hancock, can fully talk the hind legs off a donkey if you choose to. I am going to have to watch you.” She gave him a chiding look. “Boys,” she yelled. “It’s time to go. Enjoy your new car, Mr. Hancock.”
“Only lawyers call me Mr. Hancock.”
“Roan,” she conceded. She was probably blushing again.
Chapter 28
Back at work on Monday, Cheryl was still trying to process the compliment she’d been given by Roan Hancock. Well, maybe not the compliment, which she didn’t quite feel like taking on board, but more the comment about wearing too much makeup. She didn’t know how to take the statement. He hadn’t said it as an insult, but then he’d also pointed out that it was too much.
It was hard to dismiss it and say she shouldn’t care what other people thought. She loved makeup, but she had also been honest when saying it functioned as a bit of armour for her. Being put together was always something she had seen as strength, but how did one take a superstar appearing on her doorstep to tell her she wore her armour a little too diligently? Was the universe trying to send her a signal?
The salon was calm this time of the morning. Clients were yet to arrive and the salon was clean and fresh. Parcels usually appeared in the morning and shelves had to be refilled. Cheryl loved this time of day in the salon.
Dean walked in through the door, holding a coffee cup and placed his bag below the reception. He peeled off his sunglasses and definitely looked worse for wear.
“Went out last night?” Cheryl asked.
“Great night,” he said. “Met this German guy. But there was a thing, though.”
“What thing?”
“The strangest thing. I was talking to this woman, Shayelle someone or other, who said you’ve been sleeping with people’s husbands.”
“Me?” Cheryl said with astonishment. “I haven’t gone near a husband since having my own.”
“I know. It was the oddest thing.”
“How did this come up?”
“Well, I said I worked here and she was filling me in with glee.”
“Any clue on who I’m supposed to have slept with?”
“She didn’t say, but I thought you should be aware.”
“This is ridiculous. Who is spreading this rumour?”
“She didn’t say that either, only that everyone knew.”
Cheryl frowned. This was unbelievable. How in the world had this happened?
The phone rang and Cheryl headed to the reception to pick it up as Natasha was back in the small kitchen.
“This is Fenella Somstrom. I need to cancel my appointment today,” the woman stated.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like to re-book some other time?”
“I don’t really know my schedule at the moment, so best to leave it.”
“Alright, then. Thanks for calling to let us know.”
Cheryl hung up and looked over at Dean and saw that he thought this was the bad omen she did, that these rumours had spread. Maybe it was just a fluke, but the bad feeling in her stomach refused to relent.
*
There were more appointments cancelled before lunch, then things calmed down a bit, but they continued over the next week. It didn’t seem so bad at first, but the cumulative effect was wreaking havoc on her accounts.
This had to pass, she told herself as she sat in her office in the back and reviewed the week’s takings. They wouldn’t be covering their expenses this week and she had to make up the shortfall.
However these rumours had started, they were having a very real impact on the salon. How could she defend herself against them? Who was this married man she was supposedly involved with? If she knew that, maybe she’d have some way to address the issue, but it was like a ghost whose presence was felt but wasn’t able to be gripped.
Dean walked into the office and leaned on the door. “We’ve had another cancellation,” he said and Cheryl nodded. They were hardly a surprise now.
This storm just had to be weathered. Hopefully before it killed them.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know if there is anything we can do.”
“But the rumours aren’t true. Anyone who knows you will know that.”
“Not sure the truth is important in these things.”
Dean looked uncertain and even scared. She’d never seen him scared. “We’ll be alright,” she tried to reassure him.
“You don’t actually know the worst of it.”
Cheryl stared at him, not having any clue what he was talking about.
“There is another rumour,” he started, “saying that the local authorities are about to shut the salon down due to serious pest issues.”
Her mouth falling open, Cheryl had no idea what to say, or even what to think about this new development. “But we don’t,” she said disbelievingly.
“Two nasty rumours,” Dean said. “You’ve got to wonder if that’s a coincidence or if there is someone maliciously trying to harm you.”
Her ex sprang to mind, but he wouldn’t do somethi
ng like that. If anything, he would torch the place, but not spread gossip amongst the ladies of Marbella. Totally not his style.
“Who would harm me?” It could be a disgruntled customer, but she wasn’t aware of anyone who was particularly dissatisfied. Disgruntled customers were just part of the business. You couldn’t please everyone, particularly those who believed stylists could intuitively understand something they couldn’t articulate. Saying that, an attack of this kind was unusual, and it was devastating.
Leaning back in her chair, Cheryl felt despondent, particularly when she wondered about how bad it could get. This had to pass. It was a misfortune that had washed across her, but it would pass. The question was how much it would bite into her resources before it did.
“We’ll pull through,” she said with a smile. Still, she couldn’t help wondering who had done this and why. One rumour was enough, or simply a complaint about receiving bad service or haircut, but lies about her sleeping with men and then that her salon was being shut down—that was something else, something nasty and malicious.
The customers would come back and they would get back on track. Maybe she was due a bit of bad luck after the good fortune she’d had. Nothing ever ran smoothly and this was a hiccup along the way. All she could do was be diligent and run the very best business she could. Things would return to normal.
Chapter 29
Bianca sat across the table from him at Forté. A tumbler of whiskey sat in front of him and menus were laid to the side, waiting for the waiter to retrieve them. This wasn’t a restaurant where they were urged through the experience with speed. Things took time here. It was a place for people to talk and spend time together. Bianca had invited him out and he’d had trouble saying no. Bianca tended to have that effect when she wanted something. She wasn’t beyond manipulating people’s good manners to get what she wanted. At the time she’d invited him, he’d known what she was doing, but he was happy to play along with it.
Her brown hair was perfectly styled and she looked amazing. Colour looked good on her in general and she knew exactly how to present herself best. Women like Bianca didn’t make mistakes with fashion. They were professional at looking good, looking the part. Sophie, his wife, had been the same. There wasn’t an occasion she didn’t know how to dress or behave for—except when he’d had to go to prison for a short while. That had broken the agreement within their marriage, and Sophie had decided she wanted an altogether different lifestyle.
It would be so easy to slip into a relationship with Bianca. In fact, he was slipping into a relationship with her—perfectly engineered on her part. He knew it and she probably knew that he did. It was an alignment of interests.
Bianca wouldn’t be a poor choice in partner. She would be happy to perform any role he needed of her—hostess, confidant, lover. Nothing would be a problem with her and she’d slip in to his life with ease.
The idea of having someone had its temptations, primarily not coming home to a dark and empty house. It wasn’t as if he had any hopes for rekindling his marriage with Sophie. But then he was responsible for the long drawn out breakdown of his marriage. He was man enough to face it. His wife had been ignored and neglected as he’d focused completely on Dunbury Industries. The fear was that he would do the same again, but Bianca was probably circumspect about these things. Some jewellery would forgive just about any sin.
It was undeniable that Bianca was attractive. She had a lean body with long, tanned limbs, the kind of woman other men were envious of. Her personality suited the society in Marbella perfectly. But having her as a partner would mean more entertaining, more nights out and even holidays. Technically, none of these things were bad. He was the first to acknowledge he needed a more balanced life.
On paper, it seemed perfect and perhaps he needed to stop second guessing it. Maybe it was natural caution that slowed the progression. If he’d been younger, they would be in bed already, but being older, he knew how messy these things could become if he didn’t know his own mind. And in the case of Bianca, she would assume her plans were progressing perfectly. Before long, they would probably be sleeping together, and shortly after, her things would start appearing in his bedroom.
It would all be so easy, but there was something stopping him—something he couldn’t exactly put his finger on. It certainly wasn’t the wildly inappropriate hair dresser. That potential relationship had been laid to rest long ago. It sounded like an old-fashioned notion, but she was inappropriate. Bianca would be perfect for the roles he needed a partner to perform, while Cheryl would be a disaster. Her serving as a hostess of a society party simply wasn’t something he could picture, and it certainly wouldn’t be something Cheryl would relish. In fact, he was probably doing her a favour by labelling her as inappropriate for that kind of requirement. Then there were her boys. Did he really want two young children in the house again? Granted, he hadn’t really noticed that much first time around. A flare of discomfort shot through him. It was curious that as he aged, he became more uncomfortable with his own performance as a father. Still, the kids seemed to have turned out okay, after some bumps in the road.
Bianca could travel with him—drop things at a moment’s notice and jet off to wherever he needed to be. Cheryl had her boys, had a business she cared for with a fervour he hadn’t seen in a while. The thought made him smile.
“What do you think, darling? Wouldn’t it be lovely to jet across to Italy for a few days? Maybe a dirty weekend?” She bit her lower lip, a salacious look in her eye. “I recall a time we did sneak away.”
It was true: he and Bianca had once explored the sexual chemistry between them. It had been a while ago and since, not repeated. While Dominic had perhaps not always been entirely faithful, he had been discreet and had never done anything inappropriate with any of Sophie’s friends or acquaintances—anything that could get back to her.
Bianca smiled and the dark of her green eyes twinkled in the candle flickering gently on the table. “You truly are one of the good ones, Dom. It was an insane move for Sophie to let you go, but her loss, I say.” Bianca was flirting and Dominic smiled. There was a lightness in flirting and he’d forgotten it of late. Cheryl never flirted. Mostly there was a scowl on her face whenever he looked at her, or more like, when she knew he was observing her. There wasn’t that lightness that Bianca traded in, the idea that nothing was a problem.
“I struggle to get away at the moment,” he said, not entirely sure why he was putting the breaks on a weekend away. Perhaps he simply hadn’t made the conclusive decision yet, or given into the decision.
“You work too much. It isn’t good for you, Dom. You must enjoy your life,” she chided.
Of course she was right and he knew it. He should just accept this relationship. It wouldn’t take much, just to stop holding her at a distance. “Perhaps I will review my schedule in the office tomorrow.”
Chapter 30
Their panting and moans were interrupted by someone walking into the bathroom. Inns froze and Esme followed suit, remaining still as the person’s steps echoed off the tiled walls, struggling to keep her breath under control. He had her up against the side of the bathroom stall, a place she hadn’t expected to be doing it with him. It had just happened. That look in his eyes, the tightening inside her; it all had to find an escape. He was still buried inside her as they waited for this person to complete what they were here for.
As the faucet ran, Esme leaned down and silently kissed him. It wasn’t often she kissed him in stillness. Normally, it was straight sex between them, hurried and eager—angry even. Was this hate sex? Could be; she did hate so many things about him. Not this exactly, but everything else. Soft lips met hers. Alright, maybe not downright hateful in the scheme of things. Esme felt like laughing, but she could see the warning in Inns’ eyes. Getting caught like this would bother him a lot more than it would bother her. He cared so much about how he was perceived, she had learnt, even as he went out of his way to be an arsehole to everyone
he met.
The whooshing sound of the door closing provided relief and Inns ground into her, holding her up against the wall, slower now than the frantic coupling when they’d initially shut themselves away. Pleasure flooded her brain and her eyes swam shut. The fear of discovery still vibrated in her veins, making this all the more delicious.
She was coming, every part of her body drawing tight. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she rode the powerful pulses of sheer, exquisite pleasure. There was no doubt that Inns made her come hard. It had to be because there was a bit of hate mixed in with this. And it wasn’t just him that she despised, she even hated how much she wanted him, despite being such an awful human being. Maybe there was even something pleasurable, powerful about reducing him to such a panting, rutting mess.
Dropping her head back against the wall, she watched his face contort as he came. Him, like this, showed that there was a very human part to him, despite the cold fish attitude he slavishly adopted most of the time. Beneath that, he wanted as strongly as anyone else and when his cock was buried deep inside her, he couldn’t maintain the attitude.
Aftershocks shivered through him as he continued to hold her up, his body slumped against hers. Sex wasn’t always pretty. Sometimes it was dirty and nasty, like getting driven up against the wall in the men’s toilets.
Straightening her skirt, Esme followed as Inns unlocked the stall door. Her makeup was a mess, and an angry, purple blotch stained her neck. “A hickey? Seriously?”
“Sorry,” he said, sounding less than actually sorry.
Picking up her bag from where she’d thrown it on the floor, she pulled out a compact and tried to dab away the glaring bruise.
Inns was still breathing heavily as he leaned over the basin, his hands on either side of it. “Why are we doing this?” he asked after a while.
Esme froze. It hadn’t been a question she’d expected. “Because it feels good. Fucking generally does.”
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