Obesssion (2 page)

I smiled broadly.
“I think I can accommodate that.”

1.4 Gabe

“
She’ll be here.” I tried to placate the anxious stylist, who in turn, tried to soothe the frustrated photographer. “I just spoke to Suki and she’s on her way. She probably got held up.”

I glanced at my watch as I spoke. Where the hell was she? She knew how important this was to me. The photographer had said they needed to bring some interior shots forward to earlier this afternoon. We’d have to take them as soon as Suki came in.

Some stressful ten minutes later, I heard her car crunching on the gravel and went to meet her. “Hey there. Did you forget they’d changed the shooting schedule? They want to do some interiors now.” I gazed at her climbing out of the car, pink faced and with not a scrap of makeup on. “Where have you been?”

Her cheeks flushed even darker.
“Spin class at the gym. I
did
tell you.”

Christ. Was she
trying
to be difficult? “I told you we’d be shooting this afternoon. I’ve been trying to keep them occupied without you.” I scanned her appearance and sighed, frustrated. “Your hair looks a mess. You’d better go and do something with it—and put some lipstick on.”

“
We’re doing them now?” Suki looked at me, her mouth dropping open. “Shit. Can you give me five minutes?”

“
You’re
supposed
to be ready.”

“
They’re
not supposed to be shooting now.”

We sniped at each other as we hurried indoors, Suki running up the stairs. I heard doors banging and sighed. I couldn’t believe her sometimes, she had zero sense of urgency. You’d think working in TV she’d have a good grasp of timing.

Suki emerged a few minutes later, her hair twisted back from her face and wearing a floaty top with her jeans.
She looks like a fucking hippy
. My blood pressure crept higher and I blew out a breath. We had no time for any more wardrobe changes; she’d have to do. As we posed for the first pictures, I slipped my arm around her waist, inviting her to look up at me adoringly.

“
Lovely,” called Maxim, mincing towards us. “Hold that right there.”

“
You do realise that blouse is see-through, don’t you?” I hissed in her ear.

Suki coloured, then seeing Maxim’s rapt expression, quickly blew me a kiss.
“It’s the first thing I picked up. Nobody will notice.”
Yeah, right. Her bra is completely visible. I bet she picked it on purpose.

The next half hour was spent in various staged poses around the house, happy, beaming smiles on our faces, and smiling gooey-eyed at each other in front of the tree. Jon Craigowan’s piece had featured seven photographs of him. I wanted at least ten.

We were on the final set, Suki hanging decorations on the tree while I passed them to her from suitably antique looking chest. As I held out a glittering angel, I caught Suki’s fingers in my own, pressing my lips to the back of her hand and smiling as she rolled her eyes.

“
What’s this mark on your hand? It looks like a burn.” I kept my voice low.  Maxim would no doubt think I was whispering sweet nothings.

“
Oh, that. I’ve no idea.” Her eyes slid away to the tree, before flicking back to me. “Where should I hang this one?” We’d been married for ten years; I knew by now when she was lying to me.

“
How about a nice kiss under the mistletoe to finish for today?” Pamela, the stylist, smiled encouragingly as she held out a sprig towards me.

“
Sure.” We obliged with a lengthy clinch. Suki’s breath smelled fresh and minty—had she just brushed her teeth? That was odd. Not enough time to find something decent to wear, but long enough to freshen her breath? Or to hide something.

I pressed the pink mark on her hand and saw her flinch slightly.
“Oops, sorry. Where did you say you got this?”

“
I didn’t. Is it important?”

I smiled at my wife.
“I don’t know, darling. You tell me.” Her anxious flush spoke volumes. I knew she was hiding something. It was just a matter of time until I found out what.

“
Lovely, love-ely,” cooed Maxim as he pranced around our lounge. “Suki, sweetie, do you think you could look just a tad more enthusiastic?”

I held back a snort.
That
would be a first.

1.5 Josh

I spent the afternoon gathering information on two more potential clients, eventually drifting back to my London apartment at 8:00 p.m. I was tired from dealing with traffic, hungry, and in need of company. Undemanding
female
company.

Danielle seemed like my best bet. She lived in the apartment directly beneath me, and if I used the stairs, I had to walk past her door. We’d been fuck buddies for the better part of a year, popping in and out of each other’s beds every month or so. Maybe it was time to move it to the next level? I paused as the thought popped in. Where had that come from? I needed a relationship like I needed a hole in the head.
 I hadn’t been laid for a few weeks; I just needed a no-strings shag. All the same, I flicked her a quick text as I parked in the basement.

Hey there. U busy? Not eaten yet if u fancy a takeout? I can be there in 5 mins.

She replied almost instantly.

Hey you. I’ll ring out for pizza. C u soon.

Danielle worked for some fancy advertising agency in the city and her hours tended to be as erratic as mine, but she rarely refused my company. Petite and dark-haired, she looked like the stereotypical Parisian that she was, right down to her exotic Lejaby lingerie. My smile broadened a fraction as I contemplated whether she might be wearing the ultra sexy red lace set tonight. Hopefully I’d find out soon enough.

She opened the door as soon as I knocked, hugging me and kissing both cheeks.
“
Mon chéri
. I’m glad you called tonight, there’s something I want to tell you.” I knew right away it was something big. No, something huge.

“
Did you win that big contract at work?” I racked my brains trying to think of what it was she actually did, covering up pretty well. Or so I thought. Danielle handed me a glass of red wine and rolled her eyes, doing one of her very Gallic shrugs. I sat down, amused. “Not that then…”

“
No.” Danielle sat carefully in the armchair opposite. Normally we’d cuddle together on the sofa. I felt a flicker of alarm. Surely not pregnant…

No. We always used condoms.

Sipping the wine—resisting the urge to slug it back in one go—I gave her an encouraging smile. “Go on then. You’ve won the lottery?”

“
No.” Damn, this was awkward. I hated playing guessing games and found Danielle particularly hard to read unless I was actually touching her.

I patted the sofa beside me.
“C’mon over here. I’ve missed you Dani, not seen you for ages.”

Uh oh
. Danielle coloured, her cheeks blooming in a very pretty fashion as she shook her head. “I’m getting married, Josh.” She pronounced it the French way, Zh-osh.

I immediately made a joke.
“Wow, when did I propose? How long have we been engaged?”

Her teasing little smile appeared, accompanied by a wagging finger.
“Naughty. It’s Dev.” I must have looked blank, for she elaborated. “Devereaux. My ex from Paris.”

“
Oh,
that
Dev.”
Who the hell was Dev?
Had she mentioned him before?

“
Yes
chéri
,
that
Dev. I’ve known him since I was a child. I think he always knew I’d go back to him.”

I leaned forward, curious.
“So why are you?” Dani passed me the wine bottle. Absently, I topped up my glass.

“
Josh, I’m thirty-two years old. I want to have the chance for a family… and Dev proposed to me again.” Her voice was gentle. I sensed no rebuke, but it felt as though I’d been slapped in the face. I thought Danielle was like me, a loner, a confirmed singleton, someone else with a pathological fear of relationships.

Obviously not.

I hastened to cover my awkwardness. I placed my glass on the side table and crossed the room to pull her to her feet. Smiling, I pulled her into my arms for a hug.

I can’t wait for you.
Her voice rang inside my head.

It shocked me. I hadn’t realised Dani wanted more than this. Everything I’d read from her up to now… Had I been so wrong? I scrambled to recover.
“Congratulations, Dani. I’m very happy for you. I guess you’re moving back home?”

When she didn’t release me straight away, I threw caution to the wind and whispered in her ear.
“One last night together?”

In reply, Dani disentangled herself and stepped back, creating a physical space between us. I could see she was already establishing an emotional space, too, and I gave up.
“I was joking.
Really
. Now, come on, tell me all about your plans.”

Her dark eyes gazed up at me.
“You don’t mind?”

I shrugged.
“I just want you to be happy. Come on, spill the beans.”

“
Such an English expression,” she murmured, but relaxed. Over pizza and a second bottle of wine, Dani dismantled all my previous ideas of her, piece by piece. It left me wondering if I could be so wrong about her, had I been wrong about all the others, as well?

Gabe spent much of the evening in his office, occasionally coming downstairs to bug me. I still couldn’t believe I’d agreed to prepare lunch for eighteen people. We held regular dinner parties, but never for more than eight at a time. This was just crazy. Gabe had been adamant we wouldn’t use caterers, as he wanted the magazine people to be impressed with my home cooking. I’d made a compromise to prepare the starter and dessert courses, but the turkey dinner would be catered.

The groceries had been delivered and mostly put away, apart from a swathe of small items strewn across the kitchen table. Before I attended to those, I needed to chop a mountain of fruit for tomorrow’s dessert course. As I tackled a bowlful of apples, Gabe came to get a drink, poking through the random groceries as he did so.

“
Do we really need all this stuff?”

I glared at him over my shoulder.
“Dinner. Tomorrow. Your idea. You know, you could give me a hand if you’re not busy?”

“
Not finished yet.”  He stared into the fridge. “Where’s my beer?”

“
There wasn’t space. Go look in your den.” Gabe had converted the basement to his man cave. Apart from his cars and motorbikes in the garage, that was his pride and joy.

“
Uh-huh. Do we have any wine?”

Sighing, I pushed back a stray lock of hair from my forehead, instantly regretting it as I realised how sticky my fingers were.
“Red or white?”

“
Either.” He was bored, I could tell by the tone of his voice. Next thing, he’d moved up behind me, fondling my bottom. “We should try some more baby-making tonight, Suzu.” I froze. This was one subject we really needed to talk about, but I could never find the right words. “This must be the right time of the month.”
His voice no more than a sensuous whisper, he nuzzled the back of my neck, already pushing up my blouse and unfastening my bra.

“
Gabe!” I wriggled, annoyed. “I’m busy right now.” I gestured towards the bowl of apples, the bag of peelings, and the other fruits awaiting my attention. “If I’m lucky, I might be finished in here by midnight at this rate.”

“
Whatever.” With one final twist of his deft fingers, my bra fell open. He dropped my blouse back into place and wandered off, gazing into the fridge again. He was being a pain in the arse tonight, probably in retaliation for my lateness earlier.

Gritting my teeth, I dropped the paring knife into the bowl before I was tempted to stab him with it. I wiped my hands and refastened the bra, watching as he poured a glass of red wine, and waited for him to look at me.

“Thanks, I’d love one.” My sarcasm was acknowledged with a raised eyebrow. The trouble with Gabe was he’s so damned cool, he almost never rose to the bait.

“
You were too busy a minute ago.”

I watched, helpless, as he sauntered out of the kitchen, humming a little tune under his breath. Turning back to the fruit mountain, I flinched when I knocked my burned hand against the tap. I examined the red mark under the bright kitchen spotlights. I should be able to hide it with concealer. It looked as though I’d been branded.