Page 86 of Bring Me Home

Page List


Font:  

Three soft knocks on the bedroom door were quickly followed by Helen entering the room. I turned and smiled, like I did so often, so easily.

“You okay?” she asked. It was a general, flyaway statement. A greeting. Nothing more, not this time.

“Yeah.” Again, so easy on the outside. Inside, I wanted her to kneel in front of me, take my hands and tell me she knew the truth. I wanted her to look me in the eyes, see the pain I was in, wrap her arms around me and hold me so tightly I couldn’t feel anything but her…which was unfair. There was no way for her to know. Just say it, my mind pleaded. Scream. Shout. Beg for her help. “You?”

“Yep. Drew and Stefano have arrived. Others will be here soon. Are you ready?”

No. “Yeah.” The smile that illuminated her face made my throat swell as I wished I could be someone who didn’t need to lie to bring out that beautiful expression. “I’ll be right down.”

Helen gone, I flexed my jaw, prepared the muscles in my face for a night of fake smiles and forced emotions. The story of my life.

My anxiety rose with each passing hour, though I managed to hide it well. Apparently, Drew and I had different definitions for the word small. Throngs of people poured into my house from eight PM onwards, some of who I’d never seen before in my life. No doubt he’d tipped off the horde of paparazzi taking shots of guests entering, too.

“We need to keep your name hot in preparation for the new album,” he said as we danced in front of the fake roaring fire hogging the eighty-inch flat screen on the wall.

I wound my hands around his waist, dropped my head onto his shoulder. “You infuriate me.”

“I know,” he said.

“You moved my furniture.” I hated that. People stood where my couch should be, set drinks down where the turntable was supposed to go. It didn’t feel right. “You flew Amber over.” I had nothing against Amber Key, the up-and-coming artist I’d met once at a studio, per se, but her forwardness made me uncomfortable. Tonight, she seemed to appear behind every corner, talking to me like we were best industry buddies. “And you keep dissing my suit.”

I felt Drew chuckle against my head. “Yellow doesn’t suit you. Clashes with your eyes.”

“Bullshit.” I wasn’t about to take style advice from a man who considered unpopping his top button dressing up.

In the end, I was glad Drew had encouraged me to dance with him. By encouraged, I mean dragged by the hand so hard I would’ve dislocated my wrist if I’d persisted refusing. Drew could calm me as easily as he could make my blood simmer with rage. I felt safe in his arms, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of his favourite Tom Ford fragrance. I had nothing to prove to Drew. His wellbeing and happiness weren’t dependent on me. Our love was simple. Familial. Hurting each other only cut the skin, healed easily. I didn’t have the power to destroy him, not like I did with Helen.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, Drew,” I whispered into his shoulder. Part of me hoped he didn’t hear, another prayed this was it; the first real step. It was time. Time to summon some fucking courage and fight.

Drew’s finger appeared under my chin, lifted my face. He looked me in the eye, found the pain I’d been hiding. “No? Tell me what you need.”

I could only stare, plead with my gaze. I didn’t know what I needed. Help. I needed help…but I didn’t know what that meant. “I’ve got you, Hu. You know that.” Drew’s hand cupped my neck as he went to drop his forehead on mine…or so I thought. My body froze when his lips brushed mine. Muscles rigid, my brain couldn’t form words, my legs couldn’t take me away.

It was only when I felt the wetness of his tongue that my reflexes kicked into action. I shoved him away, scrubbed my mouth on the back of my hand. “The fuck are you doing, Drew?”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

I spun around on my heels, started walking from the room.

“Hugo, please. I’ve had too much to drink! I’m sorry!”

Even my garden had been taken over by people who were only here for themselves. I could count on my hands the number of folk who gave a shit about my birthday. They’d all brought gifts I didn’t need – fragrances, watches, jewellery - but nobody was under any illusion they were here to do anything other than network or drink free booze. I’d grabbed a bottle of vodka on my way out here. Hadn’t drunk from it yet and hadn’t decided whether I would. I should go to Helen, that’s what I kept telling myself…but I didn’t. The last time I saw her she’d been dancing with her friend Chrissie. She’d been laughing. She’d tipped her head back, letting those auburn waves spill down her back. She looked stunning. Happy. I committed that image to memory, vowing never to forget it. If I went to her now, I’d distort that image. I’d pull that smile away, make her shoulders slump, her eyes redden.


Tags: Nicola Haken Billionaire Romance