by L. P. Lovell
“Goodbye, Poppy.” I take one last look at her tear stained face and walk away from her.
I wish I could say it’s the last time I’ll see her, that I can leave her the fuck alone and go on with my life, but I’ve learned with Poppy…staying away is easier said than done.
One month later
I open the door to the gallery and the bell above the door tinkles. Davina looks up from her spot behind the till and a wide smile breaks across her face.
“You’re here!” She opens her arms to hug me and kisses me on the cheek. Over the last couple of months, Davina and I have become close friends. I needed that after the whole thing with Elodie. I forgave her and we’re friends but it’s not the same and I don’t know that it ever will be.
Davina reaches into her pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper. “Here you go.” I open it and it’s a cheque for ten thousand pounds. This is the second month she’s sold out of all my paintings.
“They all went to the same buyer again.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Who? Another gallery?”
She shakes her head and I follow her back to the till. She opens a folder and traces her finger down one of the pages. “A Recherché?” I shake my head.
“Never heard of it.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Well, they were delivered to a London address.” She scribbles something on a scrap of paper and hands it to me. I look at the Hyde Park address scrawled across it.
“Okay, well, I have to shoot, but thanks.” I wave and leave, already taking my phone out of my bag on the way out. I open up the Google browser and type in Recherché London. One site pops up. I click on the link and a black page pops up with elegant white writing, displaying the one word, Recherché and beneath it, the words, elite escort services. I squeeze the phone in my hand and take a deep breath. Thor.
I don’t know what I’m thinking or why I do it, but I jump in a taxi and find myself half way across London, standing outside 42 Park Street, the delivery address for Recherché I don’t know what I was expecting, put it wasn’t the three story townhouse in front of me.
I stare at the glossy black door, brushing my fingers over the heavy silver knocker shaped in an elegant scroll. Without thinking, I rap it against the door.
My stomach twists violently and my throat tightens until each raspy breath feels like a struggle. I hear the creak of a floorboard, the sliding of a chain on the other side of the door and then it opens revealing a guy in tracksuit bottoms and a half unzipped hoody. I can’t help but glance at the v of skin that dips below his bulging chest muscles. A drop of sweat rolls down his throat and between his pecs. I force myself to look up and meet his eyes. He could be Thor’s brother they’re so similar looking. The only difference is that where Thor’s eyes are green, this guy's are dark and filled with a kind of scrutiny that makes me want to shy away from him.
“Can I help you?” He asks, his voice smooth and articulate.
I release a slow breath and squeeze my eyes shut on a frown. What am I doing here? Why does it matter? I don’t really know, but it just does. “I need to see Thor.” I open my eyes again and his expression changes.
His eyes narrow and his head tilts to the side before realisation crosses his features. “Poppy.” He says my name slowly.
Fuck. I don’t know why, but I panic. “I... just ask him to call me.” I turn away from him and am on the second step before he speaks.
“Why now?” I drag a hand through my hair and whirl around to face him. “It’s been months, so why now?”
I sigh and roll my neck to the side. “Just tell him to stop buying my work. Please.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe. “So you just found out that he’s buying your stuff and you’re annoyed.” He says it as though explaining it to himself. “Have you ever thought that he buys your paintings because he wants them? Or maybe he buys them because he cares?”
I can feel this pressure building in my chest, a tension that’s spreading through my body. “He lied to me!” I snap, taking an involuntary step forward. “He doesn’t get to care!” I thought I was over this, that I had moved on, but standing here, talking about him, the anger rises up as though it were only yesterday that I was standing in that art gallery being told that the man I’d grown to feel something for was basically a prostitute. “He doesn’t get to care.” I repeat quietly.
A small smile pulls at his lips. “Doesn’t he?” He says it so calmly, so rationally that he makes me feel as though I’m ridiculous for even being annoyed.
He stares at me, his gaze totally unwavering. I have no idea who this guy is, but when he looks at me I feel stripped bare and completely exposed. It’s as if he can see everything, every ugly scar and unwanted weakness. He’s digging through my layers, pinpointing the buried part of me that once felt something for Thor.
He finally breaks the silence. “Thor’s in the office if you want to come in.”
I scowl at him. “So the point of this conversation was…?”
His lips twitch. “We’re just talking, Poppy. I’m Xavier, Thor’s friend.” He opens the door wider and gestures for me to come inside. I oblige and he closes it behind me, leading me down a long corridor. I follow him into a living space with a seating area and a kitchen. He knocks on a door on the far side of the room and opens it.
“You have a visitor.” He mumbles and then he turns and walks away. I stand there in front of that inconspicuous looking door feeling like an idiot. Okay, this will be fine. Just tell him to stop buying the paintings and leave. Eventually, I summon the courage to push it open and step into the room. Thor looks up at me from behind a desk. The moment our eyes lock it’s like everything freezes, time physically standing still for a second. One look at those green eyes has my mind blinking like a faulty film reel, flashing with images of him, me, us together. I remember everything with crystal clarity, the way his hands feel on my skin, his lips against mine, the way he makes me feel. It all lingers right there in the air between us and neither of us says anything for long seconds. My heart thuds awkwardly in my chest as anticipation and longing rise to the surface. This is why I should have stayed away because as soon as I’m near him he makes me doubt everything. Anything that was sane and rational suddenly seems inconsequential under that emerald gaze. When I turned him away before I was hurt and angry, and that anger gave me strength. God, why did I think coming here was a good idea?
“Poppy.” He says my name and a shiver works over my skin.
“I…” I swallow heavily. “You need to stop buying my paintings.” He renders me weak, but I have to remember beneath that beautiful exterior, beneath the lust he makes me feel, he’s a liar.
He leans forward, bracing his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands together in front of him. Those eyes study me like I’m some kind of apparition. His shirt strains across his broad chest, the muscles of his arms. I’d forgotten how disarmingly beautiful he is, and the reality of him is so much more powerful than the memory.
“How have you been?” He asks, that deep voice caressing each word.
God, I didn’t come here for small talk. “Fine, apart from you buying all my paintings.” I fight with myself to maintain my front.
“And that’s a problem because…?”
“You’re not supposed to be in my life, Thor. We went our separate ways, or at least I did.” He pushes up out of his seat and the second he does I know I’m in trouble. He slowly moves around his desk, adjusting the edge of his rolled-up shirt sleeve.
“I don’t remember ever agreeing to that.” His eyes darken and something flutters in my stomach, a blend of fear and anticipation.
“You lied to me…”
“I did.” He takes slow, seemingly casual steps towards me, but nothing about him is casual. I back away from him. “And I apologised.”
“You did.” I breathe. “And it didn’t change anything.” He smiles.
My thighs bump against somethi
ng and I glance over my shoulder to find another desk. When I look back he’s barely a foot away, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. I feel intimidated and threatened by him, but not in a violent way. I simply don’t trust myself to be this close to him and he knows it. Because for all Thor’s faults, for everything that should repulse me about him, he’s still Thor. His ability to make me want him has never been in question. He stands there in silence, but I think it’s the worst thing he could do to me. The tension builds until I feel like a cornered animal, desperate and frantic.
“I shouldn’t have come.” I go to move past him but he lashes out, grabbing me around the throat and spinning me until my back hits the wall next to the door. My breath hitches violently and my heart slams against my ribs so hard it’s all I can hear. His grip isn’t tight, but I can feel each of his fingertips burning into the skin of my neck. I slam my eyes closed and try to calm my breathing, slow my rapidly rising heart rate.
His nose skims over my jaw and a broken whimper slips from my throat. The scent of his aftershave wraps around me like a warm blanket, comforting me. Even with his hand wrapped around my throat and his massive body pressing against me, I can’t feel anything but safe, because Thor has never made me feel anything else.
Fingertips trail over my cheek in a feather light caress and I find myself leaning into his touch. Fight it! “I have thought about you every fucking day, but I stayed away because I hurt you, Poppy.” His breath blows over my face. “But now you’re here…”
My eyes flash open. His face is only inches from mine, the details so painfully beautiful. “You know why I came.”
He leans in until his lips are almost brushing mine. “If that was all you wanted to say, then a phone call would have sufficed.” I open my mouth to respond. “A text, a letter, an email.” He goes on.
His mouth trails across my cheek until his lips are at my ear. I tremble in his grasp. “I bought your paintings because I care about you.” He places the lightest kiss just below my ear. “I bought them because they remind me of you.” Oh god. Heat floods my body, building into something wild and untameable.
“Thor, please...” I beg through gritted teeth. I feel like I’m hanging onto a cliff face and my fingers are losing grip, slipping one by one until I’m hanging by a single finger.
He pulls back until his eyes meet mine again. “Please what?” His hand moves away from my throat, his fingers trailing down the centre of my chest and drifting to my waist. He should disgust me, his touch should repulse me, I should hate this, but I don’t and I hate myself for it.
“Nothing’s changed.” I whisper. He still holds the same maddening pull over me and I still feel like I’m being played by a master because this is what he does remember? He’s a master of sex and women. “You’re a whore.” Escort makes it seem less than what it is, but the fact is, he has sex with people for money.
“I told you I gave it up and I meant it.” I look up at him.
“But…”
“It used to be all I wanted out of life, and then I met this ginger chick.” A small smile pulls at his lips and his thumb dances across my bottom lip leaving tingles in its wake. “The way you’re looking at me right now…I want that. I fucking need that.” I swallow hard. “I would give up everything in a heartbeat for that one look. For you.” That last clinging finger slips and I free fall off the side of the cliff, straight into the unknown. Something in me shifts and this man in front of me suddenly feels like a risk worth taking. Our romance was a whirlwind, a desperate all-consuming explosion, short but seemingly life-altering. I think some people have the ability to walk into your life and turn it on its head. Thor made me feel alive. I made him feel like he could be more than an object to be sold because he is. I can’t really judge him on that.
My gaze shifts from his eyes to his lips, and that’s all it takes. His fingers tighten on my throat and his lips slam over mine. Thor never does things by halves and within seconds I’m melting into him and gravitating towards him. He possesses and dominates, taking everything from me. My back bows forward against him and our bodies press together. “I miss the way you fucking taste.” He growls, and then his tongue pushes past my lips. I moan into his mouth as sensations flood my body until I’m drowning in him. His hand slips from my neck and cups my jaw. His touch leaves a tingle rippling over my skin. I missed him and I don’t think I ever realised how much until now.
Thor Jameson is my firework. He’ll either burn me or turn into something breathtakingly beautiful that lights up the darkness. He makes me want to take the risk, because this feeling right here, in his arms, is worth risking everything for.
One month later…
I step out of the airport and narrow my eyes at Xavier leaning against a black Maserati. His ankles are crossed casually and he’s smoking a cigarette. The suit jacket he’s wearing is open, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath. He looks like an advert for the damn car. People openly stare at him as they leave the airport terminal.
“Where’s Thor?” I ask, wheeling my suitcase towards the car. He pushes away from the sleek car and drops his cigarette on the ground, stamping it out.
“He had some meeting he couldn’t get out of.” He shrugs and takes the suitcase from me, putting it in the boot. “You’re stuck with me.” To be fair, I did come home on an earlier flight. I’ve been in Venice for five days at a classic art convention. Thor was too busy with the agency to come.
I go around to the passenger side of the car and get in. He gets in the driver’s seat and starts the engine, which sounds like an angry lion that just woke up. “Well, I like your car better.”
He smiles. “Don’t tell him that.” Xavier and I have developed an easy friendship over the last month. He lives with Thor, so naturally, I see a lot of him. He’s charming, sophisticated, very educated and mysterious in his own way. He’s made me question everything I thought about escorts, not that I’d ever overly thought about it before Thor. Xavier makes me see that it’s perhaps not as black and white as it may seem.
He lets me find an eighties station and I sing along to Madonna. He shakes his head but indulges me. “I’m glad you’re back.” He says.
I frown and glance at him. “You are?” I mean we’re friends but not good friends.
He smirks. “Yeah, Thor’s a miserable fuck when he’s left with just his hand.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re gross.”
Xavier takes me to the house and of course, all the guys are there, Cora’s working. It took me a little while to get used to the whole escort thing. It’s hard to reserve judgment, but I managed to get over it with Thor so really the rest of them were easy. I like Kaden. He’s sweet. Maddox…I don’t know what to make of him at all if I’m honest. Cora is the sort of girl who naturally puts any other females back up because she’s so sensual and beautiful. Thor made a point of informing me that she’s more into girls and more likely to crack onto me than him. Sure enough, a couple of weeks after I met her we went out one night and got drunk…she kissed me. I mean, if I swung that way I’d totally have a thing for Cora, but I don’t. Thor seemed to think it was funny.
“You’re back!” Maddox beams, as he uses the kitchen side to crack the top off his beer. “Thank fuck.” He tips the beer bottle back and chugs several gulps.
“He can’t be that bad.”
Kaden shakes his head and leaves the kitchen, taking a seat on one of the leather sofas in the living area. “He has like, PMS or some shit.”
I roll my eyes. They’re such drama queens. “Okay, well, I’m going to take my shit upstairs.”
Maddox eyes the suitcases behind me and puts his beer down on the side. “I got it.” He picks them both up as if they weigh nothing. Well, those muscles come in handy for something. I follow him up the stairs and he even takes the cases through to Thor’s room. He comes back into the living room, dragging a hand through his chin-length hair and fastening it back into a man bun. He checks his watch and lifts his gaze to mine.
“Okay, he should be back soon. Stay here and don’t come out until he’s come at least twice.”
“Maddox!” I swat at him and he laughs as he ducks out of the way.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Look, it’s not good for a man to get backed up like that.”
“It’s been five days!”
He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“Ugh! Get out.” I shoo him out the door and he laughs the entire time. I give it to him if ever there was a man suited to being an escort it’s that one. Everything about him is geared to inspire the more primal side, the hair, the massive muscles, the tattoos. Where Thor and Xavier are refined, he’s anything but. He lives and breathes sex and he’s crass enough to make even the most worldly women blush. Under it all though, he’s a decent guy. I mean, he offers to carry my suitcases.
I go to the fridge and find a bottle of white wine. I pour a glass and take a seat on the sofa, crossing my legs. I’m watching last weeks Walking Dead when the door opens and Thor walks in. He pauses in the doorway for a second. He’s wearing black suit trousers and a pale grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his forearms. His hair gelled back, but rebelling and a strand falls over his forehead. He throws his keys on the side table and practically storms across the room to me. I raise an eyebrow because he looks pissed and I’m not sure why.
“Are you okay?” I ask carefully.
His lips quirk and he holds his hand out to me, pulling me to my feet. As soon as I’m upright his lips slam over mine and it takes me a second to catch up. “I will be.” He grabs me around the waist and lifts me, throwing me over his shoulder. I struggle against him as he starts walking through the apartment and up the stairs.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask, half laughing.
