He’d never promised he would, she reminded herself, dashing away angry tears as the elevator hurtled to the ground floor of the hotel. In fact, she’d told him she didn’t want his number, because she wouldn’t call him. “Oh, shut up,” she groaned, pressing her fingers against her temples. This was certainly not the time to be reasonable and make excuses for him.
Hell, he’d looked good. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes suspiciously bright. She pinched her cheeks and blinked furiously, pausing a few moments before heading back to the kitchen.
The rest of the night passed, somehow, but Emily had no recollection of anything beyond that moment. She ran on autopilot, carrying out her duties, her body going through the motions while her mind was totally absorbed. She’d never been so relieved as when the end of her shift finally loomed before her.
She signed out and grabbed her coat and bag, ducking out of the service entry and into the dark, cold night.
And there he was.
Waiting for her, reclining indolently against the side of the building. He was staring straight ahead, his posture relaxed, his dress formal. A suit, and a long coat, that fell to his knees. He looked heavenly, and he looked expensive. Untouchable.
His eyes met hers, and her world tilted swiftly off its axis.
“What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She pulled her coat tighter around herself, embarrassed now at the threadbare quality of it. It was just another physical reminder of how different they were. “I have to go,” she said, her voice low and quiet against the background hum of central London. A bus hurtled past, a streak of red and orange lights.
She began to walk brusquely towards her stop. He fell into step beside her. “You’re angry with me.”
A statement, not a question. Her annoyance was evident. “No.”
“Yes,” he contradicted, looping her bag off her shoulder and clutching its weight for her.
She looked at him in consternation. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I don’t need to do anything,” he agreed with all the appearance of affability.
“What do you want?” She stopped walking and looked up at him.
His smile echoed her own sentiments. What he wanted was Emily. “I want to talk to you,” he responded earnestly, his expression intense.
“Sure you do,” she scoffed, a small laugh punctuating their conversation. She looked down the street, at the bus heading their way. “Another time,” she shrugged nonchalantly, though her heart was pounding and her pulse was racing. “This is me.” She put her hand out for her bag, but Sabato didn’t move.
“I will take you home.”
“No,” she responded angrily. “I take the bus.”
“So tonight, my driver will take you.”
“No!” She reached for her bag and he didn’t resist. Emily pulled it tight over her body then fished out her Oyster card.
The bus stopped with the sound of grinding brakes. “Goodbye, again,” she said, not able to look at him. Her heart raced as she stepped up onto the bus. She moved down the aisle, and chose a seat far from anyone else. She wanted to be alone.
She placed her bag beside her to emphasise the point then looked forward. Sabato, in his expensive suit and wool coat, was stepping onto the bus. His wallet – soft, black leather – was unfolded, and he had removed a pile of bank notes. The driver was shaking his head, and she heard his cockney accent dispute, “Correct change only, mate.”
Emily’s lips quirked in a smile despite her inner-turmoil. It was very clear that Sabato had no idea how a bus worked. He flicked open the coin compartment of his wallet. “How much?”
The driver stated the fare and Sabato compressed his lips in frustration. “Take the fifty. Think of it as a tip.” He stalked down the bus, his natural athleticism an easy match for the bumpy departure of the surprised driver. Every head in the seats was angled to watch his progress; he had that effect on people.
But Sabato didn’t notice. He only had eyes for Emily.
He lifted her bag without asking and sat beside her, his broad frame invading all of her senses. She spun around in the seat, so that she could look at him properly.
“What are you doing?” She hissed, scanning his face.
“I want to speak with you.”