30. Delilah

Chapter 30

Delilah

I grab another cocktail from the complimentary bar to steady my residual nerves, feeling the alcohol warm up my stomach and drip into my bloodstream. I'm on the pleasant side of tipsy after the speeches are wrapped up and the instrumental band perks up to play a popular pop song from a decade or so ago.

Grey urges me onto the makeshift dance floor, twirling me around until the room spins and I have to latch onto his upper arms, fingernails digging into his toned biceps to stop myself from toppling over.

He laughs warmly in the shell of my ear, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

"Are you drunk, Mr Millen?" I attempt to whisper in his ear, but my legs are too wobbly to stand on my tip toes and I'm not sure I'm being as quiet as I think I am.

"Tipsy," he answers, flashing me a smirk. "And so are you."

It must be the alcohol in our systems, or perhaps it's the fact I'm actually enjoying myself at one of these work functions rather than just standing off to the side, quietly waiting until the respective time I'm allowed to leave without looking rude, but the evening swims past me in a blur.

"It's lovely to see you enjoying yourself, Delilah," Kate, one of my favourite bosses, says to me in passing. She gives me a side hug, and I squeeze her back tightly, feeling less aware of my actions and just going with the flow, before she stalks away.

The band picks up another song I'm not so familiar with, but Grey sings along to the words while I lean against him, my cheek practically smushed into his chest as I register the ache beginning in the balls of my feet. Even the sides of my toes are being pinched from the heels I'm wearing and—

Grey's voice rumbles through me. "We can go home if they're hurting."

Realising I must have voiced my pain out loud I shake my head. "No, you're enjoying yourself! It's fine, I'll—"

"Seriously, I don't mind. I'm ready to go home if you are."

"Okay," I agree. "Give me a minute to pop to the loo and we can get going."

Trying not to let the pain show on my face, I limp off to the toilets, emptying my bladder with a sigh. I wash and dry my hands and return to Grey's side, silently waiting for him to look up from his phone.

"The car is just around the corner." He powers the device off and shoves it deep into the depths of his trouser pockets. "Do you want to get some fresh air and wait outside?"

I nod. "Let me just do the rounds and say goodbye before we leave."

A lot of tonight's crowd have left already, but I still make it my mission to congratulate the author once more, giving her a tight hug.

"Thank you so much for coming!"

I smile, her joy infectious. "I wouldn't have missed it."

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow for the nine thirty meeting to discuss how everything went?"

Shit.

I feel my smile turn to wax. "Of course! See you bright and early!"

"The nine thirty meeting?" Grey asks as we walk away hand in hand, heading for the exit.

I wave goodnight to my favourite assistant and her date, hoping they can't see the displeasure written all over my facial features, which are quickly bitten by the cold autumn air whipping about outside.

"I completely forgot…" I hear myself moan, cuddling into Grey for warmth. He tucks me inside of his suit jacket and I melt; he smells so fucking good, all minty, and I wish I could climb inside his pocket right now and close my eyes.

"A meeting on a Saturday!?" Grey says it like it should be illegal. I agree.

"The book gets released at midnight tonight, so the meeting will be to discuss the first overnight sales and our strategy from here on out."

"The strategy for what?"

"Book sales," I grumble.

"On a Saturday!?" Grey repeats, disbelief still etched tightly into his tone.

"I know…"

"I guess it probably makes more sense to stay over at yours tonight then. Since it's closer to the office for you."

I really do close my eyes then, trying to soak in every inch of this moment, every inch of this evening. Prepared or unprepared, it's been perfect, even more than I could possibly have imagined, with my favourite person by my side.

When the private car pulls up, Grey directs the driver to my apartment, while I lay my head on his shoulder.

"Delilah," I hear Grey call my name, his hand gently shaking my arm. "Gorgeous. We're at your apartment."

Blinking, I peel open my eyes, registering the familiar sight of my tall apartment block towering above us in the back of the now still car.

"Did I—"

"You fell asleep," says Grey. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

I'm still in my half-asleep state by the time Grey and I make it into my apartment, locking the front door behind us. I slip my feet out of my dreaded heels, hissing through gritted teeth as I stretch out my cramped toes and flatten my feet to the hard wood floor, while Grey turns on the thermostat to warm us up.

I limp down the hallway to my bedroom, yanking at the pull tab zipper on my evening dress as I go without succeeding to free myself. The soft sound of Grey's laughter kisses my ears, as he follows me into the bedroom, hands gripping the curve of my waist to halt me.

Gently, he gathers my hair, draping it over my right shoulder and leans down to press a quick kiss to the nape of my neck, making the fine hairs there stand up.

The zipper tab of my dress gives away easily under Grey's skilled fingertips causing my dress to pool at my feet, his whispered "I love you" sinking into my naked skin.

I turn and capture his lips with mine, feeling a silly little lovesick smile grace my mouth when we break apart and I pull back the covers to crawl into bed, tugging Grey with me.

B eep! Beep!

Gasping, I jolt awake at the loud noise cutting through my dream.

It takes me a second to recall where I am and where the grating noise is coming from, feeling my heart pick up speed in my chest at the thought of imminent danger, before consciousness settles in and I realize what the hell is going on.

Beside me, Grey groans something unintelligible into his pillow, tightening his arm around my waist.

"It's my alarm," I whisper, licking my dry lips and reaching an arm out of my very warm bed to hit the stop button on my phone. "I've got to start getting ready for the work meeting. I'm sorry."

Grey mutters something else, but I don't catch that either.

I peer over at him – brow smoothed in relaxation, lips ever so slightly parted, the soft curve of his hands.

Oh, so carefully, as to not wake Grey, I lift his arm from my body, kiss the top of his hand and slide out from under the covers.

The floor in the kitchen is freezing beneath the soles of my feet, so I brew my cup of well needed coffee quickly, pushing past the slight pounding in my head – the consequences of one too many cocktails from the complimentary bar last night. Showering at a rapid speed, I sip my coffee in between coats of mascara, hoping to make myself appear more awake than I feel.

What I wouldn't give to crawl back into bed with Grey for just a few more hours and then…

I highly doubt he'll still be sleeping when I return home from the office, but maybe I can persuade him to still come back to bed with me for something a little more satisfying than sleep.

That thought keeps me going while I dress into a pair of trousers, tuck a light blue blouse into the waistband and secure the topmost section of my hair into a messy braid, leaving the rest of my curls to sweep down my back.

Downing the rest of my coffee, paired with a painkiller to stop the stomping rattling through my skull, I swill out my cup in the sink and then return to the bedside. Grey is still fast asleep on his back, the covers pooling around his waist to reveal the steady rise and fall of his chest with each steady breath.

"Grey?" I pat the space above his heart gently. "Grey?"

"Mm?"

"I'm off to work. I'll be back in about an hour, okay?"

"Okay. Love you." He smacks his lips, eyes fluttering beneath his lids but never fully opening.

I wait half a second for his breathing to return to the deep pattern of a restful slumber before I head out, locking the door as quietly as I can behind myself.

My usual tube line is packed to the rafters, unsurprising seeing as it's a Saturday, but I manage to secure myself a seat by the doors and keep my head down, engrossing myself on the latest novel I've just downloaded on my e-reader.

Somebody unfolds the morning newspaper right beside me, the scent of old-fashioned ink and parchment heavy in my nose. I spot the weekly sports results on the back of the paper and turn away in my seat, unbothered by the contents of the paper, and wishing it wasn't so far into my personal space.

Although even I should know by now, there's no such thing as personal space on public transport. I should be used to it.

Tuning out the people around me, I return to my book, the noise of the overhead Tannoy announcing which line we're on and what the next stop will be, diving in one of my ears and swimming right out of the other side.

"This is the… line to… our next stop will be…"

When the carriage begins to slow down, swaying from side to side, I peer out of the rather grimy windows, spotting the name of my stop, highlighted under the awful florescent lights and embossed into the soot-stained white tiles on the platform.

I jump up from my seat before the automatic doors can open, hoping to beat the crowd up the steps to London above to make it to my meeting on time and not have to be stuck behind a bunch of chattering tourists.

"Doors opening. Please mind the gap," says the monotone voice of the Tannoy lady. I swear sometimes I can hear her standard British voice in my sleep.

"Excuse me?"

Politeness has me turning around to see who's calling, stopping short of stepping out of the now open tube doors and onto the platform, when I see I'm the one the young girl is calling for.

"Yes?" I look at her and then back at my now occupied seat, wondering if I've accidentally left something behind. My keys or my phone? But my handbag sits, as it always does, on my shoulder, containing all my items. I know I haven't left anything behind, so why—

"Doors closing. Our next stop will be…"

I feel both of my eyebrows raise in a silent question to the girl, but she shies away suddenly.

"I—" I watch as she licks her lips nervously. "Never mind."

I don't say anything else, there's nothing for me to say, I have no clue who the girl is, was , or what she wanted, but I can't be late for my meeting, so I turn swiftly on my heel, bolting from the platform.

Those extra few seconds mean there's been time for a crowd to grow, and so I'm stuck behind groups of friends and families, couples and even a tour guide, who is speaking rapid French into the mini microphone clipped to his collar, allowing the people in the tour guide to hear him clearly through their earpieces.

None of whom are in a rush because it's a Saturday and most people don't have an important meeting to attend.

Except for lucky old me.

By the time I emerge onto the busy streets of London, I have minutes to spare unless I want to be late. Something I don't think I've ever done in the entirety of my career working at my current publishing firm.

My calves are burning, my heart is racing and I'm thoroughly out of breath by the time I see the familiar tall building up ahead. I put on an extra burst of speed, thankful I put my trainers on today instead of my heels, making it through the foyer with a minute to spare.

"Good morning, Miss Clark," chimes the receptionist, looking up from her computer with rather wide eyes. She looks different… she's looking at me differently, but I chalk it up to the way I'm panting for oxygen. And my lack of timing skills.

"Morn…ing!"

"Everybody is already in board room number two. Would you like something to drink while you're in there? Tea? Coffee? Water?"

I wet my dry lips and crack a smile.

"Water, please," I croak, quickly heading along the corridor to the board room.

There's no way I can hide my late entry, well, not late, but certainly not my usual early arrival, seeing as the board room is full and the door clicks loudly announcing my entry.

I stare back at the ten or so faces staring at me, feeling heat rise to my cheeks and the base of my throat.

"Morning," I say, swallowing dryly. "Sorry I'm late… got stuck behind a big crowd in the tube station."

Nobody offers me an answer, but I pull out the only empty chair regardless, setting my handbag at my feet and glance down at the papers, covered in statistics, in front of me.

"Okay." Kate, my boss stands to address us. "Now, that everyone is here, I'd like to say thank you for coming in on your Saturday, it's very much appreciated. In front of you, you each have papers detailing the statistical review of the book sales, starting early hours of this morning at midnight. So far, we're on the up with increases, which is what we like to see, but that's to be expected seeing as the book is new. In today's meeting, we need to discuss how we're going to keep up the sales, without declining. Any ideas?"

Ideas fly around the room, but before I can even voice mine, my phone interrupts the important train of conversation, ringing insistently from in the depths of my bag.

"Sorry," I cringe at the noise, ducking down to reach the damned thing and turn it off.

My mobile phone stops echoing around the now silent board room as soon as I turn it over in my palm. But it starts up again not a beat later, an unknown number flashing on the screen, before Aurelia's name pops up.

Worry flashes through me poker hot.

She knows I'm in a work meeting. I text her last night, before Grey and I fell asleep, to let her know the work party went well, but I was needed in a work meeting bright and early in the morning and then Sunday I'd be heading on the train to meet Grey's parents out in the countryside. I promised I'd give her a call on Sunday night so we could chit chat properly… except, she's ringing me right now, which can only mean something is wrong and she needs me.

"It's my little sister," I say out loud, my free hand reaching upwards to tug at the small gold hoop sitting in my pierced lobes. "She'd only ring me at work if it was something important."

"You can have two minutes, Miss Clark. Please make it quick."

With a nod of thanks, I duck out into the deserted corridor, accepting Aurelia's incoming call with a swipe of my thumb.

"Aurelia? What's wrong? It better be important because I've just had to leave my work meeting, so—"

"Have you seen the news?"

"The news?" I furrow my brow. "No, I haven't. Why are you ringing to ask me if I've—"

"The news… on your phone or-or have you seen a newspaper? The front cover of today's newspaper?"

There's something in the tone of Aurelia's voice I don't like. Something unsettling my stomach.

"Seriously, Aura, I don't have a clue what you're on about. I'm at work—"

Aurelia takes a sharp, audible inhale. "You're on the front cover of today's newspaper, Delilah. You and Grey."

The ground moves beneath me.

"I'm…What?"

"On the front cover," Aurelia repeats, and this time I can hear a distinct rustle of paper in the background. "It popped up on my newsfeed this morning and I couldn't believe it, so I went out and bought a paper from the corner shop and…"

I flatten my hand against the wall to keep myself upright. "What does it say?"

I'm flashing red hot and clammy cold, my mouth dry, my stomach flipping.

"The headline reads: ‘Dive into the relationship between swimmer Grey Millen and his secret girlfriend. Pages 8-9'."

This is my worst nightmare come to life. Every fear I felt in my heart, every fear I revealed to Grey about us, about the press finding out… it's happening.

"I—"

"Are you still at the office?"

"Y-yes."

"I'll be outside your building in ten minutes."

"But, Grey—"

"Miss Clark?" I turn to find my boss peering at me from the doorway. "Can you please wrap up your phone call?"

"Of course." My voice sounds warbled and watery even to my own ears. "Aura? I'll-I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Is everything okay, Miss Clark?" asks the older woman once I turn my phone off. She doesn't have a hair out of place and is dressed in a full pant suit even on a Saturday, completely put together, while I feel like my whole world is spinning out of my control.

I can't speak, settling for an unconvincing nod instead.

"I'm glad to hear it. You know we don't usually allow phone calls, but I thought with the most recent headline this morning, it maybe be something you might need to handle. Is everything handled, Miss Clark?"

Blood rushes loudly through my ears.

Fuck, fuck, fu—

I feel sick.

My boss knows. She's seen his headline about me, about my relationship. What if my job is going to be impacted? God, I—

"Everything is handled," I lie, not wanting to show how I really feel.

" She might think less of you, " my brain, unhelpfully, chirps.

In my mind's eye I can see my imaginary mental downward spiral in front of me. It looks rather like a spiral staircase, and I stand at the top, one foot still planted to the solid floor, the other foot raised.

Am I going to step down and allow myself to spiral?

Or am I going to hold on tight and stand tall at the top?

I grip the edges of my phone tight, until it digs into the flesh of my palm.

Breathe, Delilah. It's okay.

Stand tall.

I swallow down the nausea threatening to bubble up.

"Will this–will my relationship effect my job? It's come as a bit of a shock to see myself in the paper, you see, and I—"

"Your personal relationships outside of the office do not affect your job, Miss Clark."

"Good…" I let out an unsteady breath. "Thank you."

I follow her back inside of board room number two, retaking my seat and grabbing the glass of water waiting beside my stack of papers. I gulp down a third of the glass, the liquid slipping down my throat and cooling my insides but doing nothing to stop the heat of my flamed cheeks as the rest of my colleagues watch me.

They've seen the article. They must have. They know.

Everybody does.

The rest of the meeting floats past me, none of it sinking in to my consciousness. My mind is elsewhere…

What does the article say exactly? How much of it will be the truth? Does Grey know? Did he know it was going to be printed? Why hasn't he rang me? Or texted?

I don't even realise the meeting is over until everyone around me starts to pack up and leave.

Standing, I pick up my handbag, down the rest of my water and power my phone back to life. I have a number of text messages from Aura, the most recent only a couple of minutes ago promising to be outside of my office in a few minutes so we could talk but nothing from Grey.

My legs feel like jelly beneath me, but I force them to move towards the exit. I'll wait for Aura on the street so as to not draw any more attention to myself at work. Plus, some fresh air right now sounds glorious. My thumb keys in the passcode to my phone with a mind of its own, hovering above the small news folder sitting oh-so-nonchalantly in the bottom navigation bar.

I'm a hairsbreadth from tapping on it when I hear the receptionist squeak, "Excuse me! You can't come in here!"

I look up, staring straight into the bright lens of a long camera which is attached to an elated looking man.

"Delilah! Over here! Smile for the camera, darling!"