5. Five

Five

" F ucking hell." I complain under my breath as I finish pinning my hair into a messy up-do and give myself a quick once-over in the mirror. I've barely had time to come home from work and change before Magda is knocking at the front door. She's clearly on a mission.

"Hello, darling." Her shrill voice calls from out on the landing. I've pulled on the summeriest clothing that I own, faded light-blue denim shorts and an off-the-shoulder baggy grey t-shirt. I hurry barefoot out of the bedroom and along the laminate hallway, opening the door with a ready smile.

A green and yellow floral print kaftan swamps Magda's short plump figure. Her wavy silvery grey hair is pulled up on top of her head in a haphazard bun and her coral-pink lips are smiling.

"Darling!" she enthuses as she bustles past me and begins pacing up and down the hall, pausing every now and then .

She's always been a little eccentric, but I'm genuinely confused. "Magda, are you okay?"

"Yes, yes dear." She waggles the index finger of her right hand in the air and peers down at the floor. "I'm just trying to find it."

I have no idea what she's talking about and I'm almost frightened to ask. "Trying to find what?"

Magda pauses halfway between the bathroom doorway and my bedroom doorway. "I think it's round about here."

"What is?"

"The spot where the electrician found the asbestos in my ceiling, so it could be underneath your floor." Her coral lips purse together and her grey eyes shine with sadness. "I'm sorry, darling. Have you found anywhere else to stay yet?"

I rub the bare sole of my right foot over the laminate floor and heave a defeated sigh. "I've looked, but I can't find anywhere I can afford that isn't a dump."

"Oh, darling." Her lips stretch into a tight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I don't mean to rush you, but this asbestos thing is dangerous and you need to get out as soon as you can."

I jump as a rap sounds at the front door directly behind me. I didn't hear anyone climb up the stairs from the street but then again, Magda is loud.

Her dark pencilled eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I wouldn't have invited friends over with the asbestos thing in here," she says disapprovingly.

"I haven't." In fact, I have no bloody idea who it is.

I swing the front door open wide in annoyance to find Art standing outside on the landing. My mouth drops in surprise and my heart starts to hammer ten to the dozen at the sight of him.

What the fuck is he doing here?

His dark eyes sparkle as they take in my stunned reaction, and he smiles, looking very pleased with himself. Without waiting to be invited in, he side-steps round me into the hall.

Cheeky git !

"You must be Magda. It's lovely to meet you," I hear him say as I slowly close the door and recalibrate my brain to try and work out what the hell he's doing in my flat.

A tight grey round-neck t-shirt shows off the lean cut of his body to perfection over faded blue denim jeans. God, he's huge! He makes the place feel about half the size. It's like some effortlessly sexy giant has just barged in.

Magda, who I think is in her late sixties, grabs his outstretched hand and shakes it. "Sophie, who is this?" She gives a tinkly little laugh, which I've never heard before. Jeez! Is no woman free from his charms?

Magda finally lets go of his hand, and he props himself against the hall wall, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

"This is Art, he's my bo—"

"Friend," he cuts in and I frown at him. Is he really? "Sophie told me about the situation with the asbestos, and I just so happen to have a friend who owns an apartment that's in need of a tenant."

He's watching me carefully and Magda smiles with relief.

"Oh, darling, that's fantastic news," she cries. "I'm glad you have somewhere to go because it's really not safe for you to stay here any longer, and it could take forever to sort out." She gives an over-exaggerated shrug. "It's got to go through the insurance, so it could be Christmas."

So, wherever I move, I'm going to be there indefinitely.

He and Magda are both waiting for me to say something and I know I should be jumping for joy, but something seems off.

"Why didn't you mention the apartment this morning?" I ask him.

"I didn't know about it then."

"How much is the rent? You said "apartment," which tells me it's already out of my price range."

He lifts a shoulder as if it isn't a problem. "We can work something out."

"With your friend?"

He nods .

I fold my arms, not completely sold on the idea. Something still seems a little off. Maybe it's because I already know that I won't be able to afford it.

Magda claps her hands in excitement. "Oh, I'm so glad darling, now I'll be leaving you to it." She begins to walk towards the front door but slows as she passes Art and places a hand on his chest and gives it a gentle pat. "Such a lovely man." She smiles, then she seems to snap out it and opens the front door. "Oh, when do you think you'll be moving out darling because I need to let the workmen know so they can start the work?"

"I don't know, I haven't even seen the apartment yet. Then I've got to pack my stuff…"

"I'll take Sophie to view it now, and she can move out tomorrow," he announces, as if the decision has already been made.

"Oh, excellent!" Magda enthuses, clearly pleased that I'll be out sooner rather than later.

"Erm, sorry, but don't I get a say in all this?" I say, annoyed that they're talking about my situation as if I'm not there.

"You can't stay here," he reminds me.

"Wonderful, wonderful," Magda chimes in, clearly sold on the idea. "You take care darling and let me know when you've moved out. See you, darlings." She walks down the stairs and I hear the street door bang below.

I close the front door and give myself a few seconds to collect the thoughts that are whizzing round my head. We're completely alone. I know that we've been alone around the hotel before, but not like this and the thought has me feeling nervous.

"How did you know where I live?" I don't try to hide the irritation in my voice as I turn to face him.

The oxygen is disappearing from the air and it's getting harder to breathe as he flicks me a grin and advances towards me. "I looked in your personnel file," he replies, completely unashamedly. His dark eyes slide down my body, all the way down to my bare feet. "Now, go and put some shoes on because I'm taking you to view your new apartment."

"But—" I begin, but I'm interrupted instantly.

His dark brows draw together. "No arguments."

"No." I fold my arms. "You can't walk in here and start taking over my life."

"I'm helping you out."

"But why? You landed in my life yesterday. You don't know me."

"No, but I'm working on that, and I fail to see how me knowing you has anything to do with me helping you out of a difficult situation." There's a twitch in his jaw and I know he's irritated by the fact I'm not falling into line with his plans.

"Why are you helping me?" I narrow my eyes. "Is this all because you want me to go to dinner with you?"

He draws his head back slightly and frowns. "You think I'm helping you, so you'll somehow feel indebted to me and then feel as if you've got to accept my dinner invitation?" He solemnly shakes his head and I almost feel bad for saying it. "When you come to dinner with me, I want you to be there of your own free will. I'm helping you because from what I overheard yesterday and from Magda just now, it seems that you don't have anywhere else to go."

He's right. I don't.

"Now, will you please stop being so bloody difficult and go and put some shoes on?"

My options are zero.

"Okay," I agree. "But I'm only doing this because I've no other choice."

The Aston Martin is parked outside. By the time I get out onto the street, Art is already in the driver's seat wearing his black Ray-Bans and the engine is ticking over.

The sun-kissed black leather warms the back of my thighs as I slide onto the passenger seat and close the door .

"Is the flat far away?"

"Pimlico."

Now I know for certain it's out of my league.

He turns to me. "Fasten your seatbelt."

I do as I'm told, pulling the seat belt around me while he watches. Once it's clicked into place, he gives a satisfied nod and pulls away.

He snakes his way through the busy evening traffic. After a short while, he pulls into a side road then swings to the right and stops at a metal barrier at the entrance to an underground car park. He stretches his arm out of the window and punches a code into a keypad in the wall. The metal barrier buzzes then lifts up, and he accelerates with a screech of tyres. The roar of the engine bounces off the walls as he climbs up the first ramp onto the next level, and then the next, climbing higher and higher. At the tenth level, we stop climbing, and he steers the car sharply into a marked parking bay and cuts the engine.

I unfasten my seat belt, breathe a sigh of relief that the ride is over and climb out of the car. He gets out, locks the car with a beep of the key fob, and walks up to me.

"Does the apartment come with a parking space?" I ask, knowing that it's just another reason why I won't be able to afford living here.

His large hand takes up residence at the base of my spine again, and this time I don't jump as I let him guide me towards a doorway in the wall.

"Of course," he replies as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

We head down a flight of stairs then come to another door. He punches in a key code, removes his hand from my back and opens the door, stepping backwards to let me past with a smile. "Ladies first."

I smile politely even though I know he's playing with me and walk into a corridor. It's bright and airy with dark-grey woodwork and sumptuous silver-grey carpet underfoot. Even the corridor carpet is better quality than any of the carpets in my poky little flat. His long legs overtake me, then he comes to a stop outside apartment number 101. He fishes out a key from his back pocket, slides it into the lock and pushes open the door. He flicks me a grin. "After you. "

I take a step into the apartment and come to a standstill as I take in the luxury of my surroundings. White polished marble floors stretch as far as I can see across the open-plan apartment. Grey doors lead off the short hallway in either direction but I don't take a look at what's behind them because my attention is pulled to the floor-to-ceiling windows, which stretch all the way round from the left to the right of the apartment affording me a stunning view of the Thames.

The early evening sunshine pours through the windows and bounces off the floor making it gleam as I walk through into the lounge and kitchen. I think I'm dreaming.

A modern low-backed, charcoal grey, L-shaped sofa sits to the left pointed towards a huge plasma TV. A six-seater glass table with trendy high-backed chairs stands between the living area and the kitchen, and a huge crystal chandelier hangs overhead, glittering in the sunlight. I run my hand across the black marble kitchen counter and scan the white, shiny, ultra-modern integrated units.

The apartment is exactly what I feared it would be. Perfect.

I wander up to the floor-to-ceiling windows and gaze down at the setting sun bouncing off the water. What a view.

"What do you think?" His deep voice rumbles from somewhere behind me.

I fold my arms and sigh wistfully. "I think it's amazing and totally out of my price range."

"The rent's not an issue."

"Money's never an issue if you have it," I counter, turning to find him sitting on the end of the sofa. "I'm not stupid. Look at that view." I fling my arm in the direction of the Thames behind me. "And it's beautifully finished. The rent will be a premium. I can't expect your friend to do me a deal. If you looked in my file, then you'll know what you're paying me."

He climbs to his feet and pushes his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "The rent isn't a concern for him, he'd rather the place be in use than empty. He's happy to take the same rent as you pay now."

Hope bubbles in my chest. "Really? But why would he be willing to do that? "

"Like I said, he's not bothered about the rent, he just wants the place occupied. He trusts me and therefore trusts you to live here without trashing the place."

My eyes widen as I glance around the apartment and for the time consider the possibility of living here. "Will I get to meet your friend? Because I owe him one, big time."

His broad shoulders roll into a dismissive shrug. "It's just a guy from work." He smiles. "Now, why don't you take a proper look around?"

I practically skip around the rest of the apartment still unable to believe my luck. The bedroom is lovely and large with a cream and white colour scheme and huge bed. The black tiled bathroom is absolutely massive with a walk-in shower and Jacuzzi bath. I feel as though I need to pinch myself.

"This is the security system." He taps a box on the wall in the hall next to the kitchen. "You can see whoever buzzes your door from downstairs, so it's very secure. There's also a concierge who monitors visitors and whom you can contact if you have any problems, and the parking is totally secure."

Why is he suddenly so concerned about my safety?

I wander into the kitchen admiring the shiny white cupboards and glistening stainless steel hob and smile. I know I'm beaming, and I just can't help it. I jump up onto the black marble kitchen counter and admire my new apartment. My new apartment!

He leans against the kitchen cupboard opposite. "You're happy?"

"Happy? I'm ecstatic. It's just such a relief to have somewhere to move into and this place is so lovely." I shake my head as I glance around because I'm still in a state of shock.

He breaks into one of his easy smiles. He seems happy that I'm happy. If he were anyone else I'd be hugging him right now for helping me out massively, but there is absolutely no way I can trust myself to be that close to him.

"Tomorrow we can pick up your stuff and move you in. I know a guy with a van."

"You don't have to do that."

"I insist."

I chew my thumbnail anxiously, aware that he's swiftly turning into my white knight in shining armour. "Thanks. I've barely anything to move, so it shouldn't take long."

"How come?"

I look out at the river through the window and see the sun disappearing below the horizon leaving a burnished amber afterglow. "My ex kept most of the furniture."

He's slowly edging towards me and I realise with a stab of nerves that I won't be able to get down quick enough before he reaches me. Sure enough, he's already standing in front of me, and he raises his hands to my knees as if he's going to touch me but stops. His palms hover a few tantalising centimetres away from my kneecaps, and a crease line appears on his forehead as he stares down at his hands. It's as if he's got some internal battle going on. My breathing becomes short, and every fibre of my being is on high alert as my eyes remain glued to him. After a few moments, he flexes his fingers then retracts his hands and pushes them into the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes sweep up my body, and he looks like a man defeated. I have no idea what the hell just happened.

"You're my Kryptonite, Sophie Ward."

What does that mean?

His phone begins to ring, and he pulls it from his pocket with a scowl. "What?" he barks, clearly not happy at the interruption. "Okay. I'll be there in five." He blows out a long breath and shoves his phone back in his pocket, the crease on his forehead returning.

"Is everything okay?"

"Something's cropped up which I've got to go and sort."

I frown. "At the gym?"

He pushes a hand through his hair and gives me a long look. "Yes. Now, come on," he urges before I can ask any more questions. "I'll drop you back home and you can make a start on your packing."

The sunrise peeks through the high-rise buildings on a new day as I stand staring out of the tiny window onto the high street below. A light breeze blows an empty chip wrapper along the pavement and all is quiet before the chaos of the traffic starts and the shops open.

Two suitcases of clothes and five cardboard boxes containing all my earthly belongings stand in the hallway and I feel a stab of sadness that this is all I have to show for my ten years of adulthood. The mismatching pieces of second-hand furniture are being left behind because there's no place for those in my shiny new apartment.

The sound of engines outside pulls my attention back to the street below. A white transit van is parked outside, and Art's car pulls up behind it seconds later. Eight o'clock on the dot as promised. I've left the front door ajar.

He appears in the doorway and steps into the flat breaking into a broad smile when he sees me. An army green t-shirt fits snug against his upper body and shows off his tanned skin and dark features to perfection, and black denim jeans hang from his slim waist. His hair is sticking up haphazardly on top and isn't swept back in its usual coiffured style. How can he make jeans and a t-shirt look hot? My hormones are being swept into a frenzy. It's too early for this.

"Sophie, this is Big Steve."

I take a few steps back at the sight of him because I'm not sure we're all going to fit in the tiny hall. He's a touch shorter than Art but is a wall of solid dense muscle. He's pretty much bald but I reckon he was once a redhead. There's a faint smattering of freckles on his cheekbones from too much sun and the top of his nose is slightly crooked. He could easily be a boxer or a bouncer, or both.

"Alright? Good to meet you." He's got a strong East End accent and when he smiles a gold tooth glistens somewhere in his upper jaw. He holds his hand out for me to shake .

"And you, thanks for helping me move." I note what a gentle handshake he has for such a burly guy.

"No bother," he assures me, his bright blue eyes giving me the once over. "So, you work up at that posh old hotel this one's taken on, I hear?"

My eyes dart to Art who looks at me impassively. He's been talking about me. "Yes, I'm the wedding planner there."

Big Steve lets out a deep laugh. "When we heard he'd taken that on, me and the boys didn't half have a laugh. It's just what he's been after."

Art shoots him a look and gives a short sharp shake of his head as if telling him to shut up. Big Steve's smile dissolves, and he rubs his hands together. "That the lot then?" He nods towards the boxes at the other end of the hall.

"Yes, just those."

"We'll make short work of this." He strides over to one of the boxes, picks it up, and passes it to Art, and then he picks up another.

As Art's hands grip the base of the box, I notice the knuckles of his right hand are covered in cuts and bruises.

I frown. "What happened to your hand?"

"Nothing. I just got a little overzealous with the punch bag in the gym this morning." I notice the exchange of looks between him and Big Steve and before I can ask any more questions, Big Steve is already trudging down the hall.

I bend down to pick up a suitcase, but Art shakes his head in protest. "Leave it. That's what I've hired the muscle for."

I feel like a spare part. "Is there anything I can do to help?

"You just make sure there's a brew at the end, and we'll call it even," Big Steve calls back over his shoulder as he disappears down the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later the boxes and suitcases have been loaded into the van, and we're good to go. I give the flat one last quick look-over to make sure I've got everything, then lock up and make my way down the staircase one last time. As I get to the bottom, I can see Art leant against the side of the van .

"You need to be careful," Big Steve warns, and my curiosity is instantly pricked. "She seems like a nice girl, mate, but you need to be careful."

I slam the front door closed to signal my presence and their conversation predictably grinds to a halt.

I turn round and force a smile to see Art watching me over his shoulder. He cocks an eyebrow and grins. "You ready to go?"

I pull up outside the apartment block, behind the Aston Martin and get out of the car. He rests his hand on my back and ushers me through the glass doors into the foyer.

The polished cream floor shines beneath spot lighting and two lifts take up the left-hand wall. Directly in front of us is a curved, polished marble reception desk. A middle-aged guy, with short, spiked hair and a navy suit acknowledges me with a bob of the head.

"Good afternoon, Mr Black."

"David. This is Miss Ward. She's moving into 101 today." Art's hand moves up my back in between my shoulder blades. I smile politely at the concierge.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Ward. If I can be of service in any way at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you."

He begins to move us towards the lift. "Thank you, David. I'll see you later."

We walk into the already waiting lift, and he pushes the button for floor ten. The doors slide shut and I'm suddenly nervous because I'm aware we're alone again, in a small space.

"Are you okay?" he asks .

"Yes, I can't still quite believe I'm going to be living here," I say, fiddling with the edge of my black t-shirt.

"Believe it. The other place wasn't good enough for you."

I frown at his snobbery. "Some of us haven't got the luxury of wealth. It's what I could afford. Feel free to give me a pay rise."

His lips quirk into a smile at my quip but then it's gone. "You deserved better than your old place."

The lift comes to a halt and as the doors ping open, he walks out, cutting the conversation dead. The door to the apartment is open, and I can see the boxes and suitcases are in the hall waiting to be unpacked.

"Steve's already brought all the stuff up from the van." My eyes widen in astonishment. That guy has got Trojan speed and strength. I glance around the empty apartment as a thought hits me. "Has he gone already? I thought he wanted a cup of tea."

He rubs a hand through his hair, making it look even more tousled. "Yeah."

"Was he okay?" I ask cautiously. "It's just… I thought I overheard you two arguing when I came down to the van earlier?"

"He's fine." A muscle twitches in his jaw as he looks over into the kitchen. "He just worries."

Now I'm worried. Big Steve was warning him to be careful about me. But why? I glance around the apartment when an unsavoury thought hits me. Money. He must have loads of girls making a beeline for him because of his money. I've got to admit, it does look a bit suss when I think about it. He's a successful, wealthy businessman and within a few days of meeting me he's helped find me a gorgeous new apartment to move into. Big Steve probably thinks I'm a gold digger who's spied an opportunity and is exploiting it. He's so far from the truth it's laughable. I know that's not the case and so does Art.

My gaze falls to the cardboard box with "Living Room" scrawled on the side in marker pen and I'm immediately distracted. I rush over to the box in a fit of semi-panic and peel back the Sellotape holding the lid down with my nails, pushing back the flaps and grappling the wooden edge of the frame. I slide it out of the box and swiftly give it a once-over, sighing with relief when it appears the painting has made the journey without getting damaged. Satisfied, I place it gently on the marble floor and lean it up against the white wall.

"You paint?" he asks. "That's very good."

The oil painting shows a fishing boat in the middle of a churning grey sea at night with moonlight dancing off the crests of the waves. I always thought it looked magical and mysterious because the painting was set at night and there's a glow from the lamp of the boat amidst the darkness, like a beacon of hope.

"No. Dad painted it. He adored Turner, and we used to have loads of his prints all over the house. He used to hang his pieces up as well when he was in the mood. After he died Mum took them all down and I kept this one. It was my favourite." He's watching me intently, listening to my story. "Anyway, I would have been really upset if it got damaged, but it's fine."

"You should hang it here." He nods at the bare wall in front of us. "Give your dad pride of place in the hallway. He'd like that."

I smile, touched at the thought, because he's right, Dad would like that.

My phone beeps, signalling the arrival of a text. I pull it out of my pocket. It's Lucy.

Don't forget drinky poos tonight. I'll come to yours for 7 and we'll go from there. x

"Shit."

He looks at the phone in my hand. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I forgot I'm going out with Lucy for drinks tonight." She knows nothing about my new apartment, and I know she's going to freak out when I tell her.

A crease line appears on his forehead. "Where?"

"Oh, I'm not sure yet. A few bars I'm guessing. It's up to Lucy. It's her pre-hen-do, and we're running out of weekends for us to go out just the two of us before her big day, so we've had to opt for a school night."

He nods slowly as if digesting the information. "Which bars?" he asks after an age .

"Don't know. Why?" I'm curious to know why he's taken such an active interest in my social life.

"You should be careful. There are some dangerous guys out there," he replies staring at the blank wall in front of us. "And some clubs are plain dodgy."

"I'll just make sure we go to the okay ones," I reply feeling as if I need to assure him without quite knowing why. We'll end up wherever Lucy wants.

He doesn't look convinced but changes the subject. "Do you need any help unpacking your stuff?"

"No, thanks. I'll be fine. You've helped me enough. I'm sorry if I was a bit off yesterday when you turned up at mine. It was just… a surprise, that's all." I suddenly feel awkward and I don't want to take up any more of his time. "You've helped me get this place. Thank you." I look down at Dad's painting and smile at the weird twist of fate. "This time last week I hadn't even met you."

His eyes sparkle as he holds my gaze. "People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Which do you think applies to us?"

My mind spins at the depth of the question. Before I can answer, my phone begins to ring again; "Lucy calling" flashes on the screen.

He looks at the phone. "I've got a bit of business I need to attend to. I'll leave you to your phone call and your unpacking." He bobs his head and retreats down the hall.