The Casanova (The Miles High Club) Page 33

  Was that his plan, to just disappear on a business trip and ghost me . . . let me down easy? Push me to end it with him?

  Maybe I’ll never hear from him again . . . nothing would surprise me any more.

  It’s like I’m grieving a death all over again.

  I still haven’t told my flatmates . . . I can’t.

  I don’t feel strong enough to talk about it . . . so I avoid going home.

  I’ve been going to the movies, loitering in restaurants. Spending five hours in the gym. I’ll do anything rather than bring this up and show everyone how weak I really am.

  I hate myself for being so weak, I thought I was stronger than this.

  Wednesday.

  “Knock, knock.” A soft tap sounds on my office door. I glance up to see Christopher and I instantly get a lump in my throat.

  Go away.

  “Got a minute?” he asks softly.

  No.

  I force a smile and gesture to the seat at my desk. “Sure.”

  He sits down and leans back and crosses his legs; his eyes hold mine.

  He knows something.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Have you heard from Elliot?” he asks, his voice soft, cajoling.

  I press my lips together hard. “No.”

  He narrows his eyes.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “We haven’t been able to reach him.”

  I frown.

  “I’m a little worried, to be honest.”

  I turn back to my computer and act busy. “You don’t need to worry, he’s in France with his artist.”

  He stays silent, so silent that I look back.

  His eyes hold mine, and I know that he knows just how broken I am.

  My eyes well with tears. “I’m sorry. I just . . .”

  “It’s okay—”

  “It’s not,” I cut him off; this is the most degrading moment of my life. My boyfriend’s brother coming to comfort me after he ran off with another woman.

  I just want to be out of here, away from all these . . . snakes.

  “I’m giving you my notice.”

  His face falls. “Kate, no.”

  “I can’t be here, Chris.”

  His haunted eyes hold mine.

  “I just . . .” Words fail me, because there are none. None that will make sense anyway. “Today is my last day, I’ll be out by close of business.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers. “Elliot wouldn’t want you to leave.”

  “Elliot is not here, is he?” I snap sharply. “I’m sorry.” I shrug. “I don’t mean to snap at you but . . .”

  “It’s okay.” He watches me for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh. “Get the hell out of London for a while.”

  He leans his face on his hand as he watches me. “Mom’s upset.”

  That makes two of us.

  I nod, unable to push out words in fear of a full-on meltdown.

  “Can I help you pack up?” he asks as he looks around my office.

  I smile sadly, Christopher is so kind. “No, I’m okay.”

  “Are you?” His eyes hold mine.

  “Not really.” I smile through tears. “But . . . I will be.”

  We stare at each other for a while. “Kate, for what it’s worth . . . I know he’ll—” He cuts himself off as if reconsidering what he was going to say.

  “What?”

  “He’ll regret this.”

  “I know. I do.”

  He frowns. “Do you?”

  I puff air into my cheeks. “Actually, that’s not fair, I can’t say that. Elliot showed me what it was like to feel again. I’ve been numb since my parents died, so in a way”—I shrug—“I have to be grateful for that.”

  He smiles sadly. “You’re a pretty cool chick, Landon.”

  “Ha.” I smirk. “You should probably leave now then, before you get the jilted-lover-psycho-smashing-up-the-office version.”

  He holds his hands up and laughs as he stands. “Yeah, I’m leaving her well alone.”

  He puts his hands in his expensive suit pockets, and his eyes hold mine.

  I reach up onto my toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For the record.” He twists his lips. “He’s a fucking idiot.”

  I smile, grateful for his kindness. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  I lie in the darkness in my bed; the world is a dark and lonely place.

  I feel like this hurt is just going on and on.

  I opened up and told Daniel and Rebecca everything tonight and it’s torn down the last of my defenses.

  Now that I don’t have to act brave, I’m falling apart. I can’t stop crying.

  Howling-to-the-moon heartbreak, where he’s not coming back and I feel like my whole future has been snatched from my grasp. The life I saw us having, living at Enchanted, his animals, the laughing and loving, his family . . . all gone.

  My eyes are red and swollen and I’ve taken three showers tonight to try and make me feel better.

  I’m sobbing, my chest wracked, and for the life of me, I can’t stop it. To the point that I think I’m going to have to take a sleeping tablet or something to calm myself down.

  I remember this kind of grief all too well.

  I feel the bed dip and Daniel crawls in behind me; he’s wearing boxer shorts and is bare-chested. “Baby,” he whispers as he pulls me close.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

  He tightens his grip and I close my eyes, grateful for the warmth.

  For a long time, he holds me as I cry, and every now and then he pushes the hair back from my forehead as he looks down at me. “Tell me how to make this better?” he whispers, his body snug up against mine.

  “You can’t.”

  He wipes my tears and holds me. He’s warm and big and a closeness runs between us. My head is on his chest and his arms are tight around me; he kisses my temple and I feel something move down below.

  I frown.

  He holds me closer and I feel it again.

  What?

  He’s hard.

  “Let me make you better, baby,” he whispers.

  I stare up at him in the darkness.

  “Let me take away your pain for a little while.”

  I frown again and he takes my hand and runs it down over his rippled abs, and lower into his shorts.

  We stare at each other, my breath catches, and I feel his pubic hair and then hard cock; my hand closes around it instinctively.

  “Let me love you,” he whispers. He kisses me softly and I screw up my face against his.

  He kisses me again and rolls me onto my back as he leans over me, and I feel his body up against mine. “Stop,” I whisper. “Daniel, stop.” I sit up in a rush and pull away from him.

  What the hell?

  “I don’t want this; my body isn’t even mine to give to you,” I stammer in a panic. “It’s Elliot’s.”

  “He’s with another woman, Kate, he’s not coming back for you. They’re probably making love right now.”

  I wince as I get a visual.

  “I’m trying to help you,” he whispers.

  “You’re trying to sleep with me.”

  “To make you forget him.”

  “Please . . . don’t.”

  He gets out of my bed and puts his hands on his hips. “I was trying to help you.”

  I turn my back to him and stare at the wall. “I know.”

  He sits on the chair in the corner. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  I nod, grateful that he isn’t leaving but he’s out of my bed. I would have never forgiven myself . . . not that it matters to anyone anyway, I guess.

  But I would know.

  I wasn’t lying—my body belongs to Elliot, whether he wants it or not.

  I sip my coffee in a crowded café on a Sunday morning. I got up early and went to the gym; I have a chocolate muffin in front of me and I�
�m feeling a little better today. I had a talk with Daniel and I believe him, he was just trying to be of comfort.

  And maybe on some level I should have done it, maybe it would have helped me to move on and forget him.

  I hear the familiar ding of my phone and my blood runs cold.

  Ed.

  I ignore it for a moment, and it dings again.

  I don’t want to talk to Ed, because I know he’s going to tell me about her.

  I’m cutting ties with him too.

  I’m sick of all the fucking lies. No more charades, it’s obvious I can’t handle this game.

  It dings again and I close my eyes.

  Go away.

  With a shaky hand I lift my coffee to my mouth. It dings again.

  Fuck it.

  May as well get this over with . . .

  I take out my phone and click on his message.

  Hi Pinkie,

  Sorry I haven’t been in touch, I’ve been busy.

  I’ve missed you.

  His sweet words open it all back up, emotion overwhelms me, and the tears I so gallantly told myself that I no longer had, appear once more.

  I go to type but everything is blurred so I put my phone down on the table and angrily swipe them away.

  No, I have to know.

  I type:

  How is your artist?

  A reply bounces back.

  I don’t care.

  I frown and write:

  Why?

  Because, she’s not you.

  What?

  What are you talking about?

  I love you . . . Pinkie . . . or should I say, Kate.

  My eyes widen and I sit back in my chair—what the hell is going on here?

  Are you going to eat that chocolate muffin, or will I?

  I look up and Elliot is sitting at a table across the café; his eyes search mine as he gives me a soft smile.

  And something snaps inside of me and I’m furious and I hate him, so I stand and march out of the café and down the street.

  “Kate,” he calls as he runs after me. “Kate, come back here.”

  I don’t want to hear his lies, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

  I walk quickly across the road to the park, needing to get as far away from him as I possibly can.

  “Kate.” I can hear his voice getting closer.

  I get to the park and I run.

  “Kate,” he cries as he takes chase. “Kathryn, stop.” He grabs my arm and I turn and take a swing at him.

  “Get away from me,” I scream like a maniac through tears.

  He pants as he tries to catch his breath; his eyes are wide. “I love you.”

  “Don’t you dare say that to me!” I cry.

  “I had to go,” he whispers. “I had to know.”

  “And now you do.”

  “It’s you.”

  “It took you a week in her bed to find that out?” I hiss.

  “No.” He pauses as if choosing his words carefully. “There was no chemistry.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel special . . . you fucking asshole?” I cry.

  His chest rises and falls as he gasps for breath.

  “Should I feel flattered that you didn’t feel something?”

  His shoulders slump.

  “You are always going to be this person, Elliot,” I whisper through tears as I take a step back. “You are always going to want the fairy tale . . . the artist or the dancer . . . the singer.” I screw up my face in tears. “You want extraordinary.”

  “You are,” he whispers.

  “No, I’m not,” I cry. “I’m just a hot piece of ass that you happened to like in a netball dress.”

  He shakes his head as if lost for words. “We can get past this.”

  “No.”

  He dives for me and holds me against my will as I struggle to get away from him. “I love you,” he says. “I fucking love you, don’t do this.” We struggle as he tries to hold me. “Don’t do this.”

  “It is done,” I cry as I break away from his grip. “You did it, the moment you got on that fucking plane. It is over. I’m nobody’s second prize, Elliot.”

  He stares at me.

  “Least of all yours,” I sneer. “You think I could honestly be with someone who I know will throw me to the side every time he finds something shiny and new?”

  We stare at each other, me in full-blown tears and him with flared nostrils as he battles for control.

  “I swear to you . . .”

  We hear the click of a camera and we both turn to see a photographer taking photos of the whole thing.

  “Give me that,” Elliot growls.

  Oh no.

  The guy with the camera begins to run and Elliot chases him.

  He wrestles him to the ground and people around them scream. Elliot snatches the camera from him and smashes it into a million pieces.

  The photographer gives him a mouthful and goes to stand and Elliot punches him hard in the face.

  He punches him again, and again.

  What the hell is going on?

  I turn, and I run.

  Chapter 24

  ELLIOT

  “Your brother and solicitor are downstairs, they’ve posted your bail,” the police officer says as he writes something on his pad.

  I clench my jaw as I stare at him. “I did nothing wrong.”

  He exhales heavily, clearly frustrated. “We’ve been through this, ten times today already, Mr. Miles. You cannot smash someone’s private property. Nor can you assault them. Now stop wasting my time with your blatant disregard for the law.”

  “What about my rights? Where is my protection? I don’t want my photo taken, are you telling me that he has a right to do something against my will and I’m unable to react? I was protecting myself and my loved ones. It’s my rights that have been compromised today.”

  “Look.” He sighs. “Stop playing dumb. You know how this works, you own a media company, for Christ’s sake.” He hands me a ticket. “You’ve been charged with assault and vandalism, get your solicitor to fight the arguments in court. I don’t make the laws.”

  I snatch it out of his hand. “What you do is protect criminals.” I stand.

  He rolls his eyes.

  “And don’t roll your fucking eyes at me,” I snap.

  “Do you want to go back to the lockup? Is that it?” He gestures to the door. “Just go, before you overstep the line for the tenth time today.”

  I’m led downstairs and into the reception area, where I see Christopher and our lawyer sitting and waiting. I glare at them and turn to the police officer. “I want my possessions returned.”

  “Your phone, belt, and keys are in the tray over on the counter.”

  I take them and put them in my pockets. “Let’s go.”

  “Thank you, officer,” Christopher says.

  “Don’t fucking thank him,” I snap. “It’s a joke that I was even arrested.” I storm out of the front door of the police station.

  “Will you stop being such a fucking prick?” Christopher calls from behind me. “It’s not his fault you had a brain snap.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I whisper angrily as I march down the steps. I turn toward them. “Thank you both for coming. Go home, now.”

  “You go home too, Mr. Miles,” Edward, our solicitor, says. “You are in no state to be in public.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine. Go straight home before you make your situation worse.”

  “It can’t get any fucking worse,” I snap.

  “Believe me, it can. Christopher, drive him home and stay with him tonight.”

  “I will, don’t worry.”

  “Fuck off the both of you.” I turn away in disgust. “Actually, drive me back to my car.”

  “I had Andrew pick your car up earlier,” Christopher says. “I’m driving you home.”

  I stare at him. “Fine.” I shake Edward’s hand. “Thank you.”

>   “I’ll be in touch. Stay home, Elliot. I can’t stress to you how important it is that you don’t get into any more trouble.”

  “I won’t let him out of my sight,” Christopher says.

  I exhale heavily and we walk over to his car. I slam the door shut. “Take me to Kate’s.”

  “I am not taking you to Kate’s.”

  “Fine.” I open the car door to get back out. “I’ll fucking walk.” I march down the street in the direction of her house.

  “She doesn’t want to see you,” he calls.

  I carry on walking and he drives the car up alongside me and winds down the window. “Stop being an idiot.”

  I keep walking.

  “Elliot, you are all over the news right now. They’ll be camped out the front of her house.”

  I stop on the spot and my shoulders slump. “I’ve fucked it.”

  “I know.” He sighs. “But you can’t be acting like a lunatic. Go home and call her. I’ll go pick her up myself, I promise. You cannot just turn up there unannounced.”

  I stare at him.

  “What if she won’t let you in?” he asks.

  “She will.”

  “Will she?” he says. “Because I saw the footage of her on the news taking a swing at you and she didn’t look like she was too happy to see you.”

  My heart drops. “You saw that?”

  “Everyone’s seen it, it was filmed from a phone.” His eyes hold mine. “Just get in the fucking car, man.” He sighs sadly.

  I look up the street.

  Fuck.

  I get in the car and slam the door and we drive in silence.

  Eventually he turns on to the motorway and we head to Enchanted.

  I stare out of the window with my phone in my hand. What do I do?

  I close my eyes in regret.

  I fucked up . . . bad.

  “She’s not going to forgive me,” I say as I get a vision of Kate from today, the look in her eyes. “I know her, she’s too stubborn . . . if you saw how hurt and angry she was.”

  “Do you blame her?” Christopher says as his eyes flick over to me.

  I clench my jaw as anger surges.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Christopher snaps. “You had it. For the first time, you actually had it in your hand. A woman who made you happy . . . and you go off on some stupid fucking tangent chasing an artist.”

  “It’s not stupid to me,” I cry. “I’d only been with Kate for a month.” I kick the dashboard.