Chapter 20

The day after the club, Nix and I spent eighteen hours travelling from Japan back to England. He’d kept his promise, buying the plane tickets in the taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The first leg of the journey had been awful. There was no privacy, I could only hold his hand as we departed and landed. I sucked super hard on my hard-boiled Japanese candy.

For the second flight, we had our own section. Two twin beds were pushed together, and a recliner was on either side. That was fine when I could cuddle into him, bury my head in a pillow or sleep.

I was done with pretending not to feel anything. We weren’t in a relationship, but we were exclusive. Semantics.

After travelling for nearly a full day, we picked up a takeaway on the way back to mine and clambered into my double bed.

It wasn’t until the morning that I saw the absolute state of my home.

Nix was already up and in my little kitchen. Nearly the whole flat was open-plan, save the bathroom and the bedroom. With the doors open, the smell of bacon and sausages wafted through, beckoning me back to Nix. Something always did.

Last night, I’d only taken off my bottoms and slept in my bra without cleaning my teeth.

And Nixon Armas was in my kitchen.

I tore off the bra and pulled on some pyjamas before dashing to the bathroom sink.

Somewhat refreshed, I put on my slippers and joined him at the stove. He was cooking in just his jogging bottoms and an apron.

I hated that I pictured waking up to this more often.

Like every day.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking at the pan with sausages and bacon in it.

“You kept on saying in the taxi you missed English breakfast,” he said and tilted the pan so the sausages rolled over. “So, here is an English breakfast. Made by a French man.”

“It smells great,” I complimented and stepped back towards the sofa to start clearing away my mess. “How long were we asleep?”

“It’s nearly 1 pm. But you people have this for breakfast-lunch sometimes, don’t you?”

“Brunch,” I laughed. On the odd occasion his English slipped, he was absolutely adorable. “Where did you get this stuff?”

“A shop over the road,” he said and nodded to the plastic bag on the counter as I managed to discretely shove some discarded magazines onto the shelf of the coffee table. “Milk is in the fridge for your precious tea. You already had tea bags.”

A couple of weeks ago, while in my hotel room, he had found my English breakfast tea bags that I restocked in my suitcase with every visit home. He’d laughed so hard and loud, I had got dressed, sure that it was going to expose us .

“Thank God,” I sighed, giving up my quick tidy and going to boil the kettle.

He pulled at the collar of my silk nightshirt. “This is cute. This is very cute.”

He’d seen me inloungewear, but never pyjamas. This was actually domestic.

“You are so cute.”

I frowned as I got two mugs out of my cupboard. “When you call me cute, it makes me feel unworthy.”

He blinked and turned to me with the most appalled look. “You feel unworthy ?”

“You shouldn’t be with someone cute . You should be with the sexiest woman alive.”

He shook his head in small motions, dismissive. “Who said I’m not?”

My swallow was harsh in my throat.

He tried to bite back a teasing grin. “Clara.”

The way he fell about laughing told me he thought it was a hilarious joke, but I only stood there, mouth slightly open.

“Hey, hey,” he said and cupped my face in his palms. “Obviously you. I thought it the second I saw you. Why do you think I was so adamant about you wearing the baggiestCiclatitop I could find?”

I shrugged.

“One, to cover you up—”

“I was in a blouse and blazer!”

“And, two, to see you in my colours. Sorry, that was theshittestjoke ever, wasn’t it? I promise you, I truly believe there is no one better.”

He kissed my forehead, and the clicking of the kettle made me jump, almost hitting him in the chin. He steadied me, trying not to laugh and went back to the food as I made us both a cup of tea. My one goal for our two-week stay was to convert him from coffee to tea.

“What are your plans for the week?”

“There are a couple of times I need to do some stuff,” I admitted, feeling awkward that I had dragged him to England and would have to leave him on occasions. “I need to meet with the lawyers again and then I have to sell all my stuff.” I looked away as I said it, over to the living room. I’d put so much time, energy and money into this place. Now, it was tainted.

We were seven floors up with a view of busy Stratford. The windows to the balcony were floor to ceiling and, being south-facing, the room was alive with sunlight. At the height of the media storm againstVinny, he had stayed here for a while and he’d helped me install new flooring.

It was the first change I’d made to the flat since my dad died.

“Hold off on selling your things,” he said.

I waited, expecting more, but he didn’t clarify. I retrieved two plates and stared at him expectantly for the rest of his sentence.

“Why?”

“I mean, obviously, have a clear out if you want to, but anything you want to keep, keep.” He opened the oven and pulled out the hash browns.

My mind couldn’t compute what he was saying. “Nix, I’m moving out. There’s nowhere for me to put my stuff, so I need to get rid of them.”

Dishing up and avoiding eye contact, he said, “I found somewhere you can store your things. ”

“Yeah, but it’s really expensive—”

“For free.”

I put my hand on his, pouring the beans on the plate. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “But anything you want to keep, you keep. Now, mind your hand, these are hot.”

I pulled away but continued to watch him suspiciously as we ate, as we watched TV, as we went to get food. We spent the rest of the day eating and napping, cuddling and starting a series on Netflix.

Falling into a routine, like a couple.

The next day, I spent my morning compiling all the newspaper articles onVinnyGarvsonto an internet file for the lawyers to use. A lot of them had been taken down onceVinnypassed, but I still had them. I had all of them.

I didn’t go through their contents, but even seeing the headlines turned my stomach and tightened my chest with guilt.

Nix was on the phone with his mother in the living room, and I closed the door, lying in bed on my laptop.

Now that things were different between us, I didn’t want to eavesdrop. I’d already heard more than I should have.

But once he was off the phone with her, he was on the phone with someone else, his tone angry and demanding.

When I slipped out of my room to the kitchen to get a drink, his voice softened. He gave me a smile before telling the person to sort it out and hanging up.

“You look like you’re planning to fuck up someone’s life, dressed like that,” he said and nodded at my clothes.

I rolled my eyes, gathering my things to go into my work bag. I may have dressed up a little more than usual for the office, wearing my long white pleated trousers, black blouse, and gold clasped belt. My hair was up in a ponytail, and I kind of got what he meant; I wasn’t going to take any shit today.

My followers had commented with similar remarks.

“You’re going to have to see Adam?”

I nodded and groaned. “Unfortunately.”

“Want me to come with you?”

Yes.

But he couldn’t.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It would probably be odd to bring my client to a confidential meeting about another.”

He nodded and returned to texting on his phone. “Guess so.”

“Talking of clients…” I started.

He slid his phone in his pocket.

“EmericGormanasked me if I wanted to join them next year,” I told him, looking up at him through my fringe. “They offered me a good deal as well.”

“Of course they did,” he grunted and leaned back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms. “Everyone wants you, but not everyone gets to have you.”

“Just you,” I said and stepped forward into his space.

He twirled my ponytail around his finger. “Just me.”

“Which is why I’m considering saying yes,” I admitted.

He stopped. “You are what?”

“I know part of the fun is the hiding, but… we could still do this and it would give my heart a rest.”

“Your heart? ” His eyes roved my face, and I hoped I wasn’t blushing, even though my face heated.

“Because my heart is anxious,” I said quickly. “It’s always racing. ”

“You want to work with Frank,” he stated.

“It would mean I didn’t work with you.”

“Because you don’t fuck your clients?” he asked, brows high.

“I don’t,” I confirmed with force. “You happen to be the exception.”

His fingers skimmed my silk blouse down my chest. “Because I’m just so irresistible?”

“Something like that,” I teased, my mouth a whisper away from his.

“Mmm,” he mumbled and glanced down at my lips.

“Duty calls,” I said, pushing away from him, my hand on his bare chest.

He caught me, holding my hand to him. “You’re such a tease,” he moaned and kissed me quickly. “I’ve got plans for us this evening, so I’ll meet you at the office.”

“When?” I asked.

“Just text me half an hour before you’re done.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “This doesn’t sound very planned.”

He kissed me on the mouth. “Don’t be too late.”