by Geneva Lee
“Lovely to see you, Clara,” Philip said, seemingly unaware of our reaction to his entrance. He rambled over and grabbed the kettle from the hob, pouring some hot water for his morning tea. “I didn’t get a chance to say hello last night, although I heard you looked fabulous.”
“That’s not all he heard,” Belle said as she handed him a loaded plate.
He frowned at her, obviously not as impressed with her wit as she was. “Thank you,” he said stiffly.
“Of course.” She shrugged as if this was no big deal, but I saw the gleam as she turned around. There’d been some question as to her ability to be a proper wife, but certainly having breakfast ready proved a thing or two about that. “Should I make a plate for Alexander?”
I hesitated, torn between making certain that he felt welcome and not wanting to disturb him. There was also the fact that I had a hard time imagining Alexander sitting down to Saturday morning breakfast. It was too normal.
“Alexander is here?” Philip asked, abandoning his fork and knife to stare at us.
“Who on earth did you think was making that noise last night?” Belle asked.
“A neighbor,” Philip responded in a clipped tone. His gaze flickered over me before returning to his plate, but I caught the flash of disgust—and pity—in his eyes. I’d never been a huge fan of Sir Philip Abernathy, but this was the final straw. He had no right to look at me that way.
“Ignore him,” Belle ordered me under her breath. Out loud she said, “What does Alexander like?”
I wasn’t sure. I’d seen him eat a burger, but I had no clue how he took his eggs or if he preferred coffee or tea with his breakfast. These were the kinds of things you were supposed to know about a guy before you slept with him. At least I’d known all of them about Daniel.
“Tea. No milk,” Alexander said, coming into view. He was dressed in his undershirt and tuxedo slacks but his feet were bare. I ached to tear the clothes off him and take him back to bed where things between us actually made sense. “As for breakfast, everything. I’m starving. I worked up an appetite last night.”
Alexander flashed me a sly smile that suggested he wasn’t simply hungry for food. If he wasn’t careful, poor Philip was going to be eating eggs while watching me mount Alexander on the counter.
I expected a smart-ass comment from Belle, but none came and when I turned to goad her, she was staring at Alexander with a dreamy expression plastered to her face.
“I’ll get it,” I said, snatching the plate from her hand and filling it up before she’d even turned to see what was happening.
Alexander took a barstool next to Philip, and they sat there quietly. I’d been under the impression they knew one another, but if they did, then they certainly weren’t on friendly terms. My thoughts jumped to the bedroom. I wished I were in there with Alexander instead of watching the cold war at the counter.
Belle handed me a mug of tea and shrugged, as if to say what can you do? “What do you want, Clara?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” There was no way she’d made enough for the four of us.
“Absolutely not. What do you want?” she repeated.
“Some eggs and toast, I guess.” There was no use fighting her on it. She’d see the food got in my mouth whether she had to force it down my throat or not.
Belle shot me a what now look, glancing toward the bar, and I frowned. Philip struck me as a type who often disapproved of people and how they spent their free time. If I had to guess, Alexander’s past wasn’t something he took lightly, and if he had read half the stories that were posted about Alexander to sites like TMI, I couldn’t blame him. But he didn’t know him. They were related in some distant way, but that didn’t mean they were family.
“What are your plans today?” Belle asked me, obviously desperate to break the tension in the air.
“Not sure,” I said.
“Let’s go shopping.”
I looked to Alexander without meaning to, as if to see if this was okay. But as soon as I realized what I was doing, I shook myself. I didn’t have plans with Alexander, which made me free to make other plans.
Alexander saw the look and spoke up. “I have a family thing, and I’m certain my father will require a few hours of explanation as to why I left last night.”
I mouthed sorry to him, but he shook his head, dismissing the apology, and smiled reassuringly.
“Then let’s go!” Belle clapped her hands in excitement. “There’s a new boutique in Notting Hill.”
“Notting Hill on a Saturday will be a mad house,” Philip threw in, but we both ignored him.
“I need to shower and then we can go,” I promised her. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“I would love to, but duty calls,” Alexander said grimly.
Next to him, Philip guffawed.
“Is that funny?” Alexander asked.
“I find the idea of you and duty rather amusing,” Philip admitted.
“Philip!” Belle protested, but it was too late.
“I served in Afghanistan and Iraq for seven years,” Alexander said in a low voice, radiating with contempt. “I know more about duty than the average Englishman can fathom.”
“And what of honor?” Philip asked. “Did you manage to find some over there? Or is it too late for that?”
Belle’s shocked face mirrored mine, but neither of us spoke. We could only watch as Alexander stood and stormed to my bedroom, appearing again a moment later, carrying his jacket and shoes.
“You don’t have to go,” I said in a quiet voice.
“I have things to do,” he responded gruffly, moving past me toward the front door.
But he pivoted at the door and grabbed me around the waist, crushing his lips against mine in a possessive display that clearly wasn’t meant for me. He was marking me for Philip to see. I knew that I should stop him, but I’d already melted into him. When he broke away, he brushed a finger over my bruised lips and smiled grimly.
“Have fun today.”
I swallowed and bobbed my head, doing my best to look chipper. “We will. Notting Hill is my favorite place in London.”
Alexander paused as if he wanted to say something, but he opened the door instead. “See you soon, poppet.”
It was hardly the farewell I was hoping for. With the integrity of his phone compromised and this morning’s disaster, I had no clue when soon might be. A cold chill rippled up my spine as I considered that I might not see him again at all. We hadn’t spoken about what had happened last night in bed. Had things gotten out of control?
Belle appeared at my side as I shut the door and whispered, “It’ll be okay.”
Part of me wanted to spin around and yell at her for what Philip had said, but it wasn’t her fault. I wasn’t feeling so forgiving of Philip though.
By the time I’d showered and pinned my hair back, I was eager to get out of the house and do something normal. Just because I didn’t consider shopping a career like my mom didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate its ability to distract. Right now, I needed to shut down my overworked brain and more than that, I needed to spend some time with Belle. I needed her to make me laugh. I needed her to distract me from the mess I’d found myself in.
“You ready?” I yelled, knocking on her door.
“Five minutes!”
I plopped onto the couch and grabbed one of her magazines. Paging through it, I felt like I should take notes. I wasn’t accustomed to being trendy or fashionable, but now that I had a real job, I couldn’t get by on t-shirts and jeans.
Philip came whistling around the corner, but the tune died on his lips when he saw me. I’d assumed he’d gone after the spat, but apparently not. I stood, a scowl deepening on my face, and headed for my room.
“Clara, wait!” he called after me.
For some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I stopped. Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited. Nothing he could say to me would make up for what he’d said to Alexander.
“I
apologize for my behavior,” he began, “but you have to understand that I grew up around Alexander.”
“That’s some apology,” I hissed.
“Let me explain,” he said, ignoring my jibe. “Alexander isn’t what you think he is. He’s a dark soul and he has secrets.”
“But let me guess—you know them?” I already knew Alexander had darkness in him. Unlike Philip, I’d not only seen it, I’d experienced it.
“No. I’ve heard the rumors. The ones that get passed around at official functions.”
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to believe everything you hear?”
“I suppose she did,” Philip said, “but she also told me to be careful whom I trust. I trust the people who told me about Alexander and what he does to women. How he uses them. How twisted he can be when he gets them alone.” He took a step closer to me. “So let me ask you this, Clara, do you trust Alexander?”
This was hardly news to me, but the question of trust—that was an entirely different story. I considered it for a moment, thinking of the back and forth I’d experienced since I began seeing Alexander, but then I thought of his face as he revealed himself to me last night, of the fragile control he’d exhibited when I offered my body to him in any way he needed, and I had my answer. “I do trust him.”
“Then I hope for your sake that I’m wrong,” Philip said. “Be careful, Clara.”
He disappeared back into Belle’s room, leaving me to question my sanity. Could Philip see what I couldn’t? Had I turned a blind eye out of lust or...I shook my head. The alternative was far worse. I forced a smile as Belle appeared in the doorway.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
I grabbed my purse and gritted my teeth. “Absolutely.”

The weekend flew by without word from Alexander, and I began to feel the first tendrils of doubt rooting in me. He’d broken his rules and shown a part of himself to me that he’d sworn to keep hidden, and then I pushed him further.
It was this thought preoccupying me as I got to my desk on Monday morning. I’d purposefully headed in early so as not to deal with the swiveling heads I knew would follow my entry. Thankfully, the few people who had magically gotten there even earlier than me merely mumbled sleepy hellos as I passed.
But when I got to my desk, the answer I’d been waiting for was there already. In the form of another hand-delivered notecard. I picked it up and flipped it over, my heart thrilling as I brushed my fingers along the smooth wax seal. Plucking the flap open, I withdrew the card and read:
Poppet,
Have a less dramatic week at work. I’m tied up with family business, but I will see you soon.
X
I’d rather he was tied up with me, but I held the card to my chest, then glanced around to see if anyone noticed. It was thrilling to know his words were for my eyes only. I tucked the note into my desk drawer, but thought better of it and stuck it in my purse. Not only did I want to ward off rumors that could affect my working relationships here, but I also didn’t know if I could trust any of these people. Not when private information about Alexander was worth a premium.
Bennett’s curly head popped around the corner of my cubicle, curiosity glinting in his chocolate eyes. “You had a delivery this morning.”
“Yeah, I got it. Thanks.” It was best to leave it at that even though my new boss was a teddy bear.
“And I saw you on Entertainment Today this weekend,” he teased. “Did you feel like Cinderella?”
Yeah, I thought, especially the part where she runs away from the ball. But I didn’t tell him that, instead I shrugged, letting his good-natured ribbing roll off my back. “I came home with both of my shoes, so sadly no.”
“Fine, don’t give me the sordid details.” Bennett pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, really.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a notebook. “Don’t we have a meeting to prep for?”
“Yeah, Isaac Blue’s publicist called to confirm him for next Tuesday.”
Within seconds, he’d switched to full business mode, giving me a reprieve from the questions about my personal life. We settled into a lengthy discussion, strategizing how we’d pitch the new campaign and what responsibilities I’d have for the presentation. By the time Bennett stood to leave, it was already noon.
“I should order something up,” he said, checking his watch. “I promised the girls not to work this weekend, so now my inbox is full.”
“Actually, I’m going to go grab something to bring back to my desk. What can I get you?” I asked.
A relieved smile spread across his face. “Clara, you’re a saint. There’s a fantastic curry place around the corner, but it gets packed at lunch. You might want to call it in now.”
I found the curry counter online and placed an order. Sliding my purse onto my shoulder, I left, ready to get away from the desk.
London buzzed with Monday afternoon energy, everyone rushing to get a leg up on the week ahead. The temperature had risen, as had the humidity, announcing the near arrival of summer. I pulled my hair up off my neck, unsticking a few sweaty strands, and pinned it into a quick French twist. Despite the heat, I welcomed the sun soaking into my skin. May had been rainy up until this point, and I was ready for the change of season.
The aromatic scent of coriander wafted from the kitchen as I waited for my order, making my stomach rumble. Twenty minutes later, I was on the way to the office with two bags full of Tandoori chicken, rice, and lentil soup. I crossed the street to avoid the surge of foot traffic coming off the Tube, which is why I saw it:
My face staring at me from the cover of a magazine. More specifically, my fifteen year-old face.
Starving for His Love: Bishop’s Devastating Secret
The past I’d worked so hard to forget was splashed across every tabloid in the corner news stall.
Chapter Nineteen
The day became a checklist of things to do. Normal people wouldn’t need to be reminded to go back to work or check email or drink water, but then again, normal people weren’t on tabloid covers. I had a variety of therapeutic tools I’d been taught in counseling, many of which I hadn’t used for years. Today I used them all. I shut out the negative influence, which meant turning off the wireless on my computer and silencing my phone. I ate lunch with Bennett, who had no idea what was going on. I focused on completing important tasks. Above all of that, I tried to be kind to myself.
That proved to be the hardest. It always had been. I’d come a long way since I was fifteen, but I knew how easily I could backslide. The thing no one understood was that not eating wasn’t always a choice. Now when I was stressed out, I sometimes forgot. It became less important than all the other demands on my time. The problem was that mentality had grown from rotten roots. Simply forgetting to eat was one thing. Having a body that didn’t recognize it needed food was another.
And now, despite all the work I’d done to weed the negative beliefs from my body, this was news. Actually, it wasn’t. The headlines, the old photographs—they all accused me. No one was interested in the true story. They wanted to sell papers, and that shredded me. Alexander had lived with it his whole life, but it was new to me. My building had become a hot spot for hopeful paparazzi. I’d seen my sex life discussed on gossip blogs. I should have known it wouldn’t be long until they dug deeper. Now my past had been resurrected in the name of entertainment, and if I thought about it for too long, I was going to fall apart.
By the end of the day, I’d finished several days worth of work. The Isaac Blue presentation was complete and ready for Bennett’s approval, and I’d begun work on the new company email newsletter. But even as I drafted and edited at a mind-bending pace, my anguish smarted dully in the background. This time I couldn’t put it behind me, because as soon as I stepped out of this office, I would be reminded.
Bennett knocked on my cubicle and stuck his head in. “Hey, you okay? You seem off.”
“I’m fine.” I
forced myself to smile. “In fact, I finished the Isaac Blue presentation.”
“Even the graphics?” Bennett asked in surprise.
“I just emailed them to you.”
Bennett fist pumped the air, giving me a glimpse of what he must have been like when he was younger. The gesture, so boyish and genuine, made me like him even more. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I’m working on the newsletter now,” I continued. “I thought—”
“Clara,” Bennett stopped me. “I think you’re a bigger workaholic than me. It’s half past five.”
“No!” Spinning in my chair, I checked the time on my desktop. My pulse spiked when I saw he was right.
“Time to go home, or do you have a fancy ball this evening?”
Knowing he meant that as a joke, I forced a laugh. “I need to finish this up and then I’m out of here.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Bennett paused. “Or I can walk you out.”
I waved him off, doing my best to look casual and hide the slight shake of my hands. “Get home to the girls. I’m leaving in five minutes, I promise.”
Fifteen minutes later, I couldn’t procrastinate any longer. I got to the elevator before the panic kicked in and with it the questions. What if I couldn’t get past them? What if the photographers followed me home? I told myself these were practical concerns, but by the time I reached the lobby, the hypotheticals had shifted to more dangerous matters. What would my mother say? Could I lose my job?
What did Alexander think?
There was no doubt in my mind that he knew. Just as there was no doubt that this was a deal-breaker. No matter how much I’d overcome or where I was in my life, my past would be a liability to him. He didn’t need any more scandal or embarrassment to contend with from the press, and I was proving to be both. After today, he’d be forced to break up with me and I understood. There had been no more letters from him since lunch. He hadn’t shown up my office Alexander had already begun distancing himself from the Clara Bishop train wreck. He could have his pick of women, why choose the damaged one?
