Find Me Alastar

by T L Swan

  He nods and scratches his head in frustration. “Let me take it to management first. They will know what to do.”

  “Okay.” Shit, this is hectic.

  He looks up and gives me the first smile for the day. “Thank you. Good work.”

  I smile back and stand, hesitating as his eyes hold mine. “I hope we can get past this and remain friends, Mark?”

  He gives me a stiff smile and nods. I turn and leave the office, finally feeling a little better.

  * * *

  I walk down the street on a mission. It’s my lunch break and I am going to Heirloom to see Beverly to find out more about my ring. I have been reading my love letters and I’m officially beyond intrigued. I want to know if they have any names or dates or… anything—anything that gives me more information so I can research. I smile to myself as I walk. It’s ironic, really. I came to London to soak up the history and I somehow find myself as the owner of a beautiful antique ring and a box of precious love letters between a princess and her guard. Who would have thought? I’m not actually sure where Heirloom is, though. I have been here twice but the place I thought that it was looks like it’s now a travel agency? I must be in the wrong laneway or something. I look back to where I came from. Gosh, these cobble streets all look the same. It’s here somewhere. I search aimlessly until I run out of time and have to be back at work.

  Damn it, where is it? Maybe I should ring Mr. Twinkle and ask him where it is. My heart jumps at just the thought. Should I ring him? I haven’t even let myself contemplate it before now.

  What would I say? I think about this from his point of view. He said he didn’t share and then we spent three dreamy nights together. I smile at the memory. God, he’s damn delicious. Then he asked to see me again on the Friday night and I said I had something on. Hmm. Then if he was walking across the road and saw me with Mark, I suppose I would have investigated, too. Bloody Mark was all over me, which didn’t help. I was jealous of him just talking to a girl at the bar. I can’t imagine if she had had her lips all over his hand or he had been holding her hand under the table. Oh shit. Maybe he is right and this is partly my fault? I just expected him to know I didn’t want Mark.

  But how would he know that I’m not just stringing him along? He doesn’t know my character. He doesn’t know I don’t have the energy or morals to betray and cheat on anyone.

  This is definitely something to think about.

  * * *

  4pm on the longest day in history and I am in the kitchen devouring every damn biscuit I can find.

  Screw the diet. I don’t have the stamina for this shit.

  I hold my phone in my hand and stare at it, urging myself to just ring Alastar.

  I want to see him, and the more I have dissected this situation all afternoon, the more I can see his point.

  Text. I will text him. What will I text him? Something undramatic. I make my coffee as I think. I’m not apologizing because he was totally out of line to behave the way he did. I’m not sucking up, either. I don’t want to appear pathetic and needy. What was the last thing he said to me?

  Take your freedom.

  I smirk and text.

  I don’t want your freedom.

  I stare at my phone. Reply, please, reply. I pour my milk into my coffee and wait.

  Damn it, he’s not going to reply.

  I head back to my desk and sit down when my phone beeps?

  Does Wham know that you’re are using their lyrics?

  Huh? I quickly Google Wham and type in freedom. What is he talking about?

  The lyrics of a song come up and I smile broadly. Trust him to know this.

  I text back the next lines of the song.

  I don’t want to play around.

  I wait for his reply and then I immediately text again.

  Part time love just brings me down.

  I wait for his reply and I know he’s probably smirking. My phone beeps.

  I scramble to read it. The others aren’t at their desks and will be back any moment, it reads.

  And?

  Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out? He’s not going to make this easy. I text back.

  Can I see you tonight?

  I wait, and I wait. My eyes guiltily scan around the office as I tap my pencil against my desk. Damn, I am slacking today. I have hardly done a thing. Maybe Stephanie really should tattle on me? A text bounces back.

  That depends.

  I frown and text back.

  On what?

  A text fires back.

  On whether you are going to go all praying mantis on me.

  Chapter 12

  I laugh out loud and then remember where I am, quickly regaining some composure as my eyes dart around again. I quickly reply. Shit, I am going to get caught. Without a doubt, I am the world’s worst employee.

  No.

  I don’t plan on killing you after mating.

  Although, pull another stunt like Friday and you should definitely watch your back

  I hold my breath as I wait for his reply.

  Seven?

  I smile broadly and reply.

  Pick me up?

  My mind goes into overdrive and a text bounces back.

  XX

  I pace around in my bedroom as I wait for my Irish Fiasco. I’m nervous and it’s an all to familiar feeling since I met him. With full, loose hair and minimal makeup, I am wearing my woolen white dress which I wore when I saw him at the club. He told me that night that he wanted my ring, and I’m hoping I can entice him again. I don’t think I have ever looked forward to seeing someone so much before. It’s Monday and I haven’t seen him since our fight on Friday night. It feels like a lifetime ago since he held me.

  Vanessa and Hank are at the movies and I’m kind of glad to be honest. I want him all to myself.

  Knock, knock.

  My erratic heart beats against the wall of my chest, and I place my hand over it to try and slow it down. This is ridiculous. I open the door in a rush.

  And there he stands, tall, dark, and beautiful. He’s wearing blue jeans, his navy blazer and a white shirt. His almost black hair is long and unruly at the top. I just want to run my fingers through it.

  His intense eyes hold mine. “Hello, Emmaline.”

  I smile an over the top smile and I want to throw myself into his arms, but I try to remain cool. Although I’m sure he can feel how excited I am to see him.

  “Hello, Twinkle,” I breathe.

  He raises a brow in question. “Twinkle?” He smirks sexily.

  I grin. “If you want to call me Emmaline, I am going to call you Twinkle.”

  “My name is Star.” His eyes are alight with mischief and I know he likes his new nickname.

  “But you twinkle to me.”

  We stand still, gazing at each other as the electricity zaps between us.

  The physical attraction is so strong it’s palpable.

  I nervously stand still, awaiting his instruction, I don’t think I should kiss him first, although I desperately want to.

  Kiss me.

  “I thought we could go back to my place,” he says casually.

  “Oh.”

  “I could make us dinner.”

  I smirk. “You can cook?”

  “Very well,” he replies confidently.

  I smile cheekily, I really want to say if you can cook in the kitchen and the bedroom you must be a god, but I hold my tongue. I don’t need to inflate his ego any further.

  I nervously walk across my bedroom to retrieve my handbag and he follows. He stands at the door and his eyes linger on the window seat. I know he is thinking of the first night we were together, when we made love on that seat. I frown as I correct myself. Sorry… when we fucked on that seat. There was no lovemaking that night. My eyes fall to my bed, knowing that’s where we made love two nights later. That’s where he inhaled every inch of my body and utterly ruined me for any other man.

  I’ve never been touched like that, never been love
d like that. It felt like we would die if we didn’t get closer. Even when he was deep inside my body, it wasn’t close enough. Physically, we couldn’t be any closer, and yet we just couldn’t extinguish the fire between us—that feeling between us. I have never experienced anything like it and it’s no wonder I am totally addicted to this… whatever this is.

  “Shall we go?” he asks.

  My heart drops a little. I was hoping he would kiss me.

  “Yes.”

  I follow him down the stairs and out onto the road. “Where is your car?” I ask.

  “Down here.” He points ahead, and we walk down the street, making our way around a corner until we get to a bottle green antique sports car. He opens it with the key.

  I put my hands on my hips and frown. “This is your car?”

  He raises a sexy brow.

  I raise my eyebrows back at him. “What happened to the flashy new thing you had the other night?”

  “The Audi is at home in the garage.”

  My eyes hold his. “Oh,” I mutter as my brain misfires. How many cars does he have? He opens the door and I fall into the low car. It’s immaculate and smells like leather polish. He slides in beside me and pulls away from the curb. I bite my lip to stifle the stupid over-the-top smile on my face.

  “Where do you live?” I ask.

  “Not far. Ten minutes away.”

  I frown. I thought he would have lived out of town.

  “Why are you frowning?” His eyes alternate between looking at me and the road.

  “I just thought you lived out in the suburbs.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I live in town.”

  I smile as I keep watching the road until we pull into the large driveway of a grand house. A huge oak tree sits in center of the front yard and a large circular driveway surrounds it. Garden lights are around the perimeter of the property, giving it a glamorous feel.

  I swallow the nervous lump in my throat as my eyes glance around at the sandstone mansion in front of me.

  “This is your house?” I ask.

  His eyes fall to me. “Yes.”

  “Who do you live here with?”

  “Just me.” I frown. “And Fraidy,” he adds.

  “Who’s Fraidy?”

  “A cat.” He smirks.

  I giggle. “You own a Fraidy cat?” That’s unexpected.

  His smile mirrors mine. “Sort of.”

  I laugh out loud in shock.

  “He was a stray that decided to move in. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

  We get out of the car and I follow him up the steps where he opens the huge, black double doors. He stands to the side to let me walk in front of him. My eyes widen. Holy crap, you are joking me.

  I look all around the luxurious room. “You rent this place?”

  “No.”

  I frown. “You have a mortgage on this house?” How could he possibly afford this mansion?

  “No.”

  I frown again. “It’s your parents house?”

  He shakes his head in amusement. “I own this house, Emmaline.”

  I bite my bottom lip. This is bullshit and so unexpected. Why did I ask those damn questions out loud?

  His eyes hold mine and he smiles the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks.

  “I just… I mean.” I can’t stop looking around at the luxurious house. Oh jeez, I am so far out of my comfort zone. I had no idea he had this much money. Although the price he got for his art should have given me an indication, I suppose.

  He grabs my hand and drags me into the kitchen, and I stop dead in my tracks.

  What?

  A huge, white, marble kitchen, complete with every device known to man sits in front of me. My eyes meet his. “Alastar,” I whisper. “You have the most beautiful house I have ever seen”

  He smiles a very proud smile. “I’m happy here.”

  I pull out of his grip and clasp my hands in front of me as I walk around, looking at everything. The back wall of the huge lounge room is covered in black and white photographs. The floors are all dark, wide, timber floorboards, and the decorating has an antique sort of minimalistic vibe. The four-piece huge lounge is dark leather, and a fireplace is in the center of the room, complete with a mantle. Large palm trees in huge pots give it an old Hollywood feel.

  My eyes meet his. I’m in absolute shock. This is stupid rich and it looks like it belongs on a movie set, not the house of someone I know.

  He sits still, watching me. “You can look around if you like.”

  I walk over to a door in between the kitchen and lounge room, and turn the knob. It’s locked.

  “What’s in there?”

  “The cellar.”

  I frown. “Why is it locked?”

  “I keep all of my photography equipment down there. I keep it locked in case I ever get broken into to.”

  “Oh. What’s upstairs?”

  He smiles broadly and I can tell he’s loving my reaction to his home. “Upstairs is upstairs.” He smirks. He stands and grabs my hand, leading me upstairs as I look around in awe. We walk slowly up the wide staircase and down the hall. My eyes stare up at the ornate ceilings that are all at least twelve feet high. “This is my room.” He holds his hand out and lets me enter the room first.

  My eyes widen. “Oh,” I whisper. “It’s...” I hesitate. I have no words for this. “It’s like a movie.”

  A large four-poster, dark timber bed with different chocolate shades of velvet bed coverings sits in the middle of a rich antique tapestry carpet. A large, black leather wingback chair sits in the corner. And against the back wall is a doorway though to a modern large bathroom and walk-in wardrobe. This is luxury—sheer luxury—and straight out of a magazine. There isn’t a thing out of place in here and my eyes seek him out. “It’s so neat.” I smirk.

  He smiles cheekily and raises a brow. “I like neat.”

  A huge smile covers my face. “I like messy.”

  What must he think when he comes to my bedroom?

  He smirks. “I know.”

  There is a huge painting above the bed of a naked woman.

  My eyes are drawn to the picture. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper in awe. The sun is shining down on her from above, through a window, and she has long, wavy, chocolate hair that covers her breasts. She is lying down naked on a bed similar to the one she lays above. Her cream knitted blankets are strategically placed to be draping around her. She is staring at the artist sexily.

  Alastar’s eyes linger on the painting and he smiles softly. “Aye, that she is.”

  I look between him and the painting as he gazes at it adoringly. Oh no, does he know this woman? “Do you know her?” I frown.

  He shakes his head. “No, this picture is very, very old.”

  I smile a grateful smile. Thank frigging God he doesn’t know her. I can’t compete with that shit. That woman is sex on legs. I put my hand on my chest in relief.

  “Do you know who she is?” he asks as he gazes up at her.

  I look up to the painting. “Is she someone famous?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  Hmm, should I know her? Am I going to sound dumb if I say no? I try my hardest to think who she might be. Damn, I got nothing.

  “No, I don’t know who she is.”

  His eyes hold mine and with a soft smile he seemingly changes the subject. “It’s very nice to have you in my bedroom, Emmaline.”

  It’s there again, the electric current running between us, whispering in my ear how badly I want this man—how badly my body wants to please him.

  Once again, I wait for instruction as my chest constricts. I desperately want to kiss him. But I wait, unsure what it is he wants from this date of ours tonight. He hasn’t touched me yet. Maybe he’s over his infatuation already?

  “What would you like to do?” he asks seductively.

  Oh, I know what I want to do. “I want to do whatever you want to
do.” I breathe as, once again, my stupid heart nearly fails me.

  He smirks. “You want to do whatever I want to do?” He raises a sexy brow in question.

  I nod, unable to peel my eyes away from his.

  “I would like to watch you take a shower.”

  My eyes widen. What?

  Dear, God, not that.

  “Ahh…” I hesitate. He has never really seen me naked before. I mean, we are naked at my house, but it is always in the dark or in a semi-lit room. Watching me take a shower seems way more intimate than having sex.

  “What’s the problem?” he breathes in his velvety, seductive voice.

  “Are you going to get in with me?” I nervously ask.

  His eyes hold mine and he softly shakes his head. “No. I just want to watch you.”

  Holy fuck, I’m totally screwed. When he really sees my body, he will probably run for the hills.

  “That’s a weird request,” I whisper.

  A trace of a smile crosses his face. “I’m a weird man.”

  “Seems so,” I mutter under my breath.

  He walks to the door that leads into the bathroom. Shit, he’s serious.

  “Bathroom is this way.” His sexy eyes drop down my body and he licks his lips.

  I close my eyes. God, help me. If this is his thing, then I want to do it. It just seems so out of place when we haven’t even kissed or anything. But maybe that’s why he wants to do it?

  The sound of my blood is pumping through my head as my fear escalates. Just do it.

  I nervously walk into the bathroom, and he leans in to turn the shower on.

  He disappears into his bedroom and then reappears with a chair. He sits it in the middle of the bathroom, facing the shower, and takes a seat.

  The blood drains from my face. Can’t you dim the freaking lights or something?

  Kiss him, distract him, make him forget all about seeing me naked. I walk over to him and bend to kiss him but he turns his head.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  I frown.