“That’ll be fifty nine ninety nine.” Crap I forgot to bring my purse. My prayers are answered when Mr Wilde hands over his credit card. I am blushing. I feel awful that he had to pay for me. He quickly signs the receipt and then he slides his hand onto my back as he leads me towards the machines. I look up at him as we walk.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” he says in a smug voice. I roll my eyes at him.
“Thanks I guess.” he laughs and then he halts at the treadmills. He smugly jumps onto the machine and he switches it on. He begins to walk at first and then he starts to run. I am breathless just watching him. I am never going to keep up with him.
“Are you just gonna stand and watch me? Or are you gonna join in?” I exhale and I nod at him. I jump onto the treadmill next to him and I start it up. The machine is slow. Very slow in fact. I hit the level button and I turn up the pace. I start to slowly jog and then I pick up the courage to run. My body is pulsating with sweat, and my heart is racing. But running next to him, is such a rush. Who knew that working out could be so thrilling.
We move onto the rowing machines and Mr Wilde informs me that ten minutes on one of these machines, will do wonders for my core. I don’t have any gym experience, so I am going to take his word for it. He buckles me in and he adjusts the seat for me. His hands feel good against my hot skin. Don’t Ashley. He sets the level and then he explains what I need to do.
“Okay, so you just grab onto the bar and pull back and forth. You got that?” I nod. It seems pretty straight forward. I pull on the bar and I fly backwards and the rope that’s attached to the bar pulls be back in again. My legs are sliding back and forth as I continue to pull on the bar. My stomach muscles are flexed and I can feel them turning hot. My legs start to burn after just five minutes of this torture. How am I going to survive another five? Whilst I row in pain, Mr Wilde has moved over to the weights. He is lying flat on his back on the bench press. He begins to lift the bar up and down and I am impressed by the size of the weights that he’s lifting. My body continues to ache and burn as the minutes count down. I am relieved when the clock flashes to zero. I unfasten the belt around my waist and feet and I slowly climb off of the machine. I can hardly walk and I can see that Mr Wilde is laughing at me. I scowl at him as I edge closer.
“Has Miss Harper had enough pain for one day?” he says as he stands up in front of me. I bite my lip to hold back my anger. He smirks at me and then he places his hand onto my back. “Are you hungry?” he says as he leads me over to the seating area. I take a deep breath as I dream about bacon and pancakes.
“I’m starving.” he laughs at me as he sits me down onto a plastic chair. He walks over to a water tank and he pours two little cups of water. He begins to sip his as he hands me mine. I smile at him and I thank him for the gesture. “Thanks.” I inhale the water and I toss the cup into the nearest bin. He stands in front of me with his arms folded across his chest.
“Let’s go,” he says as he holds out his hand for me. I slowly pull myself off of the chair and I take his hand. We walk out of the gym hand in hand. I quickly realise how inappropriate that is, so I let go of his hand. He looks at me as he holds open the door of his car.
“Why are you so scared of affection?” My heart starts race –he has crossed a line. I don’t want to talk about personal things with him. He is my music producer and my adviser, nothing more. I can’t allow him to think that we could ever be anything more than that.
“I think it would be best if we just talked about music from now on.” he shakes his head at my words, but he agrees with me.
“Fine,”
We arrive at a small café and we immediately get a table at the back of the room. The waitress has brought us some coffee and Mr Wilde has ordered our food. I was a little annoyed when he said that he would order for me. I felt like a child as he selected my food for me. He noticed that I was a little annoyed at his actions, so he gave me one of his smart answers. He said that he didn’t trust me to make a healthy food choice. I laughed and rolled my eyes at him. Why does he have to be so annoying? The waitress brings us our food and I smile at her politely as she places the food down in front of me. I was annoyed that he ordered for me, but I can’t deny that I don’t like his choice. He has ordered me eggs on wholemeal toast and a side platter of fruit. But he has angered me by what he has ordered for himself, pancakes and bacon. I scowl at him. Is he doing this on purpose? I try to ignore him as he scoffs his food. I focus on my own plate and I begin to tuck into the eggs on toast. We eat in silence for a while until he breaks it by talking about my music.
“So when did you first realise that you wanted to sing?” I place my fork down onto the plate as I respond.
“Music has always been my passion. I have loved music for as long as I can remember. Singing and being on stage, is what makes me who I am. I love playing live. Singing to massive a crowd and feeling their energy as they sing along, that’s what I crave.”
“Forgive me for asking this, but is fame and fortune important you?” he stares deep into my eyes for my reply.
“Being recognised for my work is important to me. But I have never had much money, so I can’t want something that I’ve never had.” he smiles. He likes my answer.
“What style of music do you see yourself recording?”
“I like to listen to all sorts of music, but I think that my voice is best suited to the pop genre. I am always open to new ideas and trying new things. I’m willing to record different styles of music. If that’s what you want me to do?” Mr Wilde takes a sip of his coffee as he takes in my words.
“We’ll go for pop and maybe … country.” he says. I laugh at him.
“Country seriously?” I state. He smirks at me.
“Yeah, I’m getting a country vibe from you. Where are you originally from?” I laugh as I take a bite of watermelon.
“I’m from Dallas.” he nods at my answer.
“Ah that explains the country vibe.” he says smugly. “So how come you don’t have an accent?” I sigh. Here he goes again with the personal questions.
“I haven’t lived in Dallas my entire life. Only for the last six or seven years. We moved around a lot when I was younger. So I guess it’s kinda hard to have an accent when you’re not really from anywhere.” he takes in my explanation and then he starts again with the personal questions.
“So how come you moved around a lot? And why did you move from Dallas?” I shift around in my seat. I am nervous talking about this. What if I slip up and confess to him about my past? I have to be extra careful when I choose my next words.
“My mom didn’t like to stay in the one place for too long. So every few months she would pack us up and move to another state. I moved from Dallas, to pursue my dreams.” he stares deep into my eyes. I fear that he knows that I am hiding something. I try to compose myself. Keep your guard up Ashley.
“I see and didn’t your father put a stop to all the moving around?”
“I have never met my Dad. It’s only ever been me and Mom.” I have a sudden reminder of my mom ringing through my head. I haven’t called to tell her my news. She will be so excited. I must remind myself to call. Mr Wilde seems very interested in my life. But how would he feel if the tables were turned? I’m going to pry into his life. “So what’s your family like? You know when I first saw you I thought that you were Italian or something. You look very European.” he runs his fingers along the surface of the table as he thinks of his reply.
“My family is perfect on the outside and your half right. My mother is Spanish.” he says in a deep tone. I am getting the feeling that he has issues and secrets of his own. I part my lips to reply, but I pause as he begins to talk again. “My Mother and Father live in Beverly Hills. They have the perfect house, perfect lifestyle and all the toys to match. But none of that makes them happy. My sister Katia had the right idea. She moved three years ago to Madrid. She is a fashion designer and she’s married to a hot-shot lawyer. Katia didn�
��t want to stick around and watch our family disintegrate. All the money in world doesn’t make you happy.” I’m stunned at how honest he’s being. He has just opened up to me about his family. I don’t know how to respond.
“Do you see much of your sister?” I instantly regret my choice of words. I could have answered with an opinion; instead I opted to answer with a question. Why am I so stupid? I begin to feel nervous; I am not used to a guy opening up to me like this. My last relationship was filled with secrets and lies. We never talked about anything. We just did crazy things to pass the time. I am not used to being around a guy who isn’t Brandon. I don’t know how to react around Mr Wilde, because Brandon has scarred me in me so many ways. I want to act cool and give him advice and talk about his family, but I just don’t know how to. And that’s exactly why I can’t get close to him. I can’t develop feelings for him. Brandon made my heart race and my temper rise all at the same time. Mr Wilde has the same effect on me. I can’t go back to my old ways. I sacrificed everything to move here. I can’t let my hardest efforts be for nothing. I have come too far to go back to being the old Ashley.
“Not really, she doesn’t visit very often.” I nod at his reply and then I start to shift around in my seat. He notices that I am nervous. So he quickly asks me what’s wrong. “Are you okay?” I smile at him.
“Yeah I’m good. Do you wanna get out of here, Mr Wilde?” he presses his eyebrows together as he takes a handful of dollars out of his pocket. He sets the money down onto the table and he offers me his hand as he stands. I politely refuse his offer and he shakes his head at me. I pretend not to notice his reaction, as I march in the direction of the exit. I step out into the hot street and I wait for him to follow me. He steps out and he instantly pulls his sunglasses down from his hair and places them onto his face. I squint my eyes at the brightness and he laughs at me.
“We gotta get you some shades.” I smile as I agree with him. He leads me to his car and as always, he holds the door open for me. I jump into his car and I feel like screaming at myself as he pulls the car out of the lot. Why did he have to be my music producer? Why does God want to punish me by forcing me to be around him? He is the one thing that could break my dreams and yet he is the one person that I need the most. I need him to guide me and help me with my music. I can’t achieve my dreams without him, but the more time that I spend with him, the more distracted I’m going to get. He is going to push me and force me to open up to him. He isn’t going to settle for just being my colleague. Every time that he looks at me, I can see that he has deeper feelings for me than he lets on. I just don’t know what to do for the best. I love music and this is a massive opportunity for me. But am I strong enough to resist him? Love has ruined me in the past. I don’t trust that it won’t do the same again. I am terrified of going to back to being the girl that I used to be. She was wild yet submissive. I let Brandon hurt me in so many ways. He was my world and he consumed me. Breaking free of him was the best thing that I ever did. But letting Mr Wilde into my life, is going to be the worst decision that I’ve ever made. He will consume me and my music won’t stand a chance. When I fall in love, I fall hard. It consumes me and that’s what I live for. I have tried to change my ways and I was doing so good. But then Mr Gucci came into my life and ruined my efforts.
Five
“Okay so we’ll drop the boxes off at your new place and then we’ll head over to the office.” Mr Wilde says as we stop at a red light.
“Fine,” I say in a cool tone. He looks down at me through his dark sunglasses. His long tanned hand is placed on the gear leaver and his gelled hair is lightly blowing in the wind. I have noticed that when he smiles, he looks really young. I haven’t even asked him how old he is. When he smiles, a cute line forms in his cheek, it’s so cute. As I stare at him, I feel that I want to know more about him. I am constantly fighting with myself. I know that he is wrong for me and that I don’t want a boyfriend. But at the same time, I can’t stop thinking about him. He dominates my every thought and I hate myself for that. I don’t want to feel things for him, but deep down I know that I do. I wish that I had never of met him. I pull my ponytail over my shoulder. It won’t hurt to ask him how old he is, will it. “Mr Wilde, may I ask how old you are?” he looks down at me and flashes me that young, crinkled smile.
“I thought that music was all that we were allowed to talk about?” he is sarcastic and I know that he has a point. I made a big deal out of not talking about personal things with him. Yet here I am breaking my own rules. I hate what he does to me.
“You have a point, but asking your age isn’t really a personal question now is it? It’s more of a wonder than anything else.” My voice is firm and very assertive.
“Okay you win. I’m twenty-seven.” My eyes bolt out of my head. I would never have thought that he was that old. I would have guessed that he was around twenty-four, but I was obviously mistaken. My heart starts to race; he is the same age as Brandon. Stop it Ashley. Don’t compare Mr Gucci to that lowlife. My subconscious is shouting at me. “How old are you?” he asks he slides the car into the lot of my new apartment building.
“Twenty-two,” he smiles at me and then he gets out of the car. I don’t give him the chance to open the door for me. I jump out of the car before he has the chance to breathe. I grab the two light boxes from the back seat of his car, and I make my way over to the front door of the building. He follows me, carrying the heavy boxes. He makes it look effortless. I set one of the boxes down onto the ground and I quickly open the front door. I grab the other box, whilst Mr Wilde holds the door open with his foot. I smile to myself. We make a good team. We climb the stairs and reach my door. I unlock the door and we rush inside. I set the boxes down onto the floor and Mr Gucci does the same. The apartment looks even more beautiful than I remember. The large open-plan living area is glamorous and sexy. The kitchen is gleaming and I can’t wait to try out the fancy coffee machines. I walk over to the kitchen and I lift two glasses from the counter. I pour two glasses of water –one for myself and one for him. He notices my actions, so he fills the space between us and he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. I hand him the glass of water and he smiles as he grabs it out of my hand. I cheers him and we sip the water.
The apartment is quiet and we haven’t said a word in over five minutes. This is so awkward. I can feel the tension starting to build as we stare at one another. His eyes are playful and scanning every part of my body. My cheeks are blushing from his constant staring and I wish that he would stop. I don’t want him to be looking at me like this, with lust oozing out of his pores. I think that it’s time we left this apartment. I move out from the kitchen and I try to walk over in the direction of the door. But Mr Wilde stands in front of me, blocking me from walking away. My heart is racing as he stares down at me. He places his hands onto both sides of my face and I begin to tingle at his touch. He leans in towards me. His eyes are deep and sinful as they lock on mine. His body moves closer to mine and I can’t breathe as I await his next move. He lightly bites his lower lip as he continues with his burning stare. I am frozen in front of him. I am his for the taking. I feel so weak. I can’t move. His face edges closer and I lose sight of what’s right and wrong. I know that he shouldn’t be holding me like this, and that I shouldn’t allow him to. But I can’t bring myself to pull away from him. Deep down I want him to hold me like this. I want to feel his strong arms around me and I want to experience his kiss. My eyes close and then they pop open when he lightly squeezes my face. My breathing is heavy as his lips hover over mine. I tilt my head back in protest and I whisper.
“Mr Wilde,” he jerks my face closer to his and he says.
“Call me Jonathon!” I lick my lips and then I whisper his name.
“Jonathon,” it feels so good to call him by his first name. That whole Mr Wilde thing was really starting to get on my nerves. He lightly presses his lips onto mine and his touch sends an electrifying current throughout my body. His lips are soft and gent
le as he presses them harder onto mine. I can’t let this happen. I use all my force to push him away from me. He stumbles backwards and I move away from him. I start to pace the room. I need to think. My mind is rushing. I can’t breathe. He kissed me and I did nothing to stop him. Why was I so weak? I have spent the last year moulding myself into the person that I am today. I am not that girl from Dallas who loved with all her heart. I am hard shell of who I used to be. I came here to pursue music, not to fall for the first guy who reminds me of Brandon. I am so stupid. Why do I keep falling into the same trap, over and over again? I run my fingers through the ends of my hair in frustration. I am so angry with myself. I continue to pace the room and I can see Jonathan out the corner of my eye. I am sensing that he wants an explanation and I have a feeling that he is about to ask for one.
“What was that about? Why are you acting like a crazy person?” His voice is sharp and very assertive. I realise that my behaviour must seem odd. I need to explain.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this.” I am defeated. I want to curl up into my bed.
“Do what, let me in. Kiss me, what can’t you do?” Crap he isn’t buying my excuse. Think Ashley.
“You and I can never happen. Our relationship can’t go beyond professional. Music means too much to me. I’m not gonna risk my dreams for a quick fumble with you.” My voice is loud. He doesn’t look happy with me. He strides over to me and he grabs me by my shoulders. He shakes me as he screams.
“Wake the fuck up. I am not asking you to marry me. I was just gonna kiss you. I don’t get you. Were you traumatised as a kid or something? Why do you act like this? One minute you’re hot and the next you’re ice cold. What is wrong with you? What are you hiding from me?” I can feel tears forming in my eyes as Jonathan stares at me. He looks sad and angry. What have I done? You’ve brought this on yourself. I have no pity for you. My subconscious shouts at me.
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