The Darkness Within Him: The Untwisted series (8 page)

Chapter Six

The calendar on the wall of my office told me today was Monday. Now I was single again I was obsessed with Mondays; I couldn’t wait for the painfully empty weekends to be over so I could leave my flat and get back to the bookshop. When I’d been dating Nicholas I had become obsessed with Fridays. Perhaps I should rephrase that because what we had really couldn’t be called dating, could it? OK, when I’d been sleeping with Nicholas – although technically I never slept over … Let’s just use Nicholas’ terminology, shall we? When I was fucking Nicholas, I’d been obsessed with Fridays.

As I’ve said, Friday night had been piano lesson night and so, in turn, sex night. It became all I could do to function properly and get through the day. Most weeks my mind had been far away from work, focused instead on what Nicholas might do with me, or to me, later that night.

One particular Friday, an hour before closing time, a customer walked in who made my heart sink and dragged my mind away from thoughts of Nicholas. This guy, Mr Peterson – although I’d nicknamed him “Mr Moany Pants” – had been a regular in the shop for the past three weeks. He’d ordered a book, a particularly rare first edition, which I had told him would take at least two months for me to source and obtain, and yet he’d still turned up every frigging Friday and asked about it.

Today appeared to be no different, except he looked even more pissed off than usual when I told him it still hadn’t arrived and then proceeded to give me a right earful about my customer service skills. The cheek of it! Unable to contain my annoyance, I gave as good as I got, and in the end Louise had to intervene and push me in the direction of the staff room, telling me to head home half an hour early while she placated him.

Arriving home, I took out some of my aggression by kicking the couch and shoving at my ironing pile with a frustrated grunt. Feeling marginally better, I showered and changed. Although I was supposed to be heading to Nicholas’, I couldn’t face it after my run-in with Mr Peterson.

What I really wanted was to skip the piano and just see Nicholas to take my mind off my shitty day. But seeing as he’d made it perfectly clear that I was simply his fuck buddy and not his girlfriend, I didn’t feel able to tell him that all I wanted was to go to bed with him then snuggle until I fell asleep, especially not after the other week when I’d turned up at his house unexpectedly after my night with Joanne. If I wasn’t careful, he was going to think I was getting too attached to him and end our tryst, which I didn’t want. No, far better to just have a night off to cool down.

Sighing miserably, I picked up the phone to call Nicholas. In reality, I needed to sit down and consider what to do about the situation between Nicholas and me. It really wasn’t healthy to sleep with someone you actually wanted more from, was it? Especially seeing as I didn’t even sleep with him: we fucked and then I left, I concluded dismally with a grimace, but that was a whole can of worms that my frazzled brain couldn’t begin to tackle today.

He picked up on the second ring. ‘Hi, Nicholas.’ My voice was a bit pathetic. God, I was definitely feeling sorry for myself.

‘Rebecca?’ I heard what sounded like concern in his voice.

‘Yeah, hi, I’ve had a bad day at work today so I’m going to give my lesson a miss tonight. I’m in a really lousy mood, Nicholas. It wouldn’t be fair to impose it on you,’ I explained lamely, fiddling with a loose lock of my hair.

‘Oh.’ There was a long pause on the other end. ‘Fine.’ He sounded pissed off. Great, now as well as a customer and my employee being annoyed with me, Nicholas was also in a mood with me.

I sighed again, wishing my life were easier and that Nicholas was just my boyfriend so I could vent my anger on him and then fall into bed with him. I rolled my eyes. He’s not, so deal with it, I ordered myself as he politely but speedily ended our call.

Feeling utterly miserable, I settled onto the sofa with my favourite cookery programme, hoping to distract myself from thoughts of Mr Peterson and my “going nowhere” relationship with Nicholas.

Half an hour or so later, I was vaguely considering going for a relaxing bath when the doorbell rang. Not expecting anyone, I guessed it would be Louise coming to check up on me after this afternoon’s little exchange at work. Hopefully she’d have Chinese takeaway with her too as she often did when she visited. God, I hoped she’d brought sticky spare ribs; I could really do with some ultimate comfort food right now.

It would be fair to say I was beyond astounded as I pulled open the door to find Nicholas standing in the hallway of my flat with a very peculiar look on his face. As he leant against the wall, his head was turned down but he was looking up at me from under his brows in a way that could only be described as dark, brooding, and downright desirable. Wow, I totally had not expected this tonight.

Cringing, I glanced down at my “around the house” clothing: a tatty Nirvana T-shirt and baggy tracksuit bottoms that had definitely seen better days. I literally couldn’t look more scruffy if I had tried.

‘Rebecca,’ he murmured in greeting, sending an instant shiver down my spine. Mmm, the way he did that was just so sexy.

‘Nicholas, what are you doing here?’ My tone was probably a little sharper than I’d intended, but to be honest, he looked just as confused by his presence on my doorstep as I sounded.

‘You seemed tense on the phone so I thought I’d drop by and see if you were OK.’ Again, an oddly bemused expression flickered on his face but it was gone before I could read too much into it. ‘The trouble at work, is it anything I can help with? Or is it more issues with your sister?’

OK, time out, I thought. Let me just take a moment to process this. Nicholas is here to see if I’m OK and he wants to help … That sounded very much like the type of stuff a boyfriend would do, so why the hell was Nicholas-fuck-buddy-Jackson here doing it?

Standing back in silence, I indicated for him to enter my flat, which he did with a small nod of his head. As his gorgeous spicy pine scent caught in my nostrils, I found that I was ridiculously pleased he was here.

Remembering his question, I answered, ‘No, no, Joanne’s fine.’ I’d visited her more than usual this week and was pleased that she seemed back on track. ‘It’s a guy at work, just some stupid customer giving me a hard time. He keeps coming in and getting aggravated with me when I’ve told him repeatedly that the book he wants will take me time to get.’ My tone had risen from reliving my anger but I shrugged and headed for the couch, flopping down limply, before watching as he surveyed first the room, and then me with narrowed eyes.

Thankfully, Nicholas made no comment about my scruffy clothing or the slightly messy state of my flat – the pile of washing that had borne the brunt of my anger when I’d first got home from work was now spread in an unappealing fashion across the sofa where it had tumbled.

‘He’s hassling you?’ he enquired sharply, and I may have been mistaken but I could have sworn there was a protective note to his voice, a suspicion further fuelled as I watched as his hands tense at his sides. How interesting.

Struggling to make sense of Nicholas’ reaction to my bad day, not to mention his appearance in my flat, I tried to adjust to his presence. Having him here, four feet away from me in my little front room, felt strange and not just because he’d never been here before. It was more the way his tall stature and tense, dominant posture suddenly made the place feel incredibly claustrophobic, but not in an entirely bad way.

‘Yeah, but it’s OK. I gave as good as I got,’ I said with a weak smile, which was more than true. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Peterson didn’t cancel his order and go elsewhere after the barrage of rude remarks I’d thrown at him. I believe the words “obnoxious, ill-bred, impatient pig” may have figured somewhere in my tirade.

‘I’m sorry I cancelled my lesson, Nicholas, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate and I didn’t want to be miserable around you.’ He nodded sharply, passing another gaze around my flat, which made me squirm with discomfort and immediately regret not tidying up earlier when I’d had the chance.

‘Why do you live here, Rebecca? It’s not exactly the best part of town, is it?’ he questioned, with a disapproving frown marring his brows. It was true: although trendy and a cool place to live, the areas of central London with cheaper rent were never going to be the safest of neighbourhoods.

‘I’ve lived here for years,’ I replied with a shrug.

‘But your grandfather left you quite a sum of money. It was easily enough to buy the bookshop and upgrade your housing arrangement,’ Nicholas said as he fingered a dusty bookshelf cautiously.

‘Yeah, but I got the flat way before Granddad left me the inheritance money …’ Halfway through my explanation, I froze. How the hell did Nicholas know how much money Granddad had left me?

At my pause, Nicholas’ eyes flashed to mine and a flush of guilt coloured his cheeks.

‘I …’ He winced with discomfort. ‘Once things started to get more … intimate between us I may have done a spot of background research on you,’ he confessed finally.

My eyes flew wide open as I jumped to my feet incredulously. ‘What the hell, Nicholas? You hacked into my bank accounts?’ I yelled, my arms flailing in all directions. How dare he!

‘No, I didn’t hack your accounts. I’m a pianist, not an international criminal mastermind,’ he replied dryly. ‘But thanks to your review I’m quite famous now, and as such have friends in high places who do have the skills to obtain information for me.’ Which I took to mean “hack my account”.

‘I merely asked a good acquaintance of mine to do me a favour,’ he said, as though it were an everyday occurrence, which for someone like Nicholas it more than likely was.

‘Jesus, Nicholas, this is crazy!’ My voice was high and incredulous, but I couldn’t help but find his digging slightly flattering. After all, if he was doing checks into me then he must be seeing me as more than just a casual fuck, mustn’t he?

‘I was merely curious about you, Rebecca,’ he said by way of apology, without actually uttering the word “sorry”.

‘I’m not after you for your money, if that’s what you think,’ I muttered quietly, hurt by the sudden thought that that might be how he saw me. Because being viewed as a gold-digger was so much worse than being thought of as a woman who sleeps with a guy casually once a week, I thought shamefully.

‘Clearly not; you have more than enough money of your own,’ Nicholas stated with a satisfied smirk as he took a step closer, but I countered by stepping back and dropping stubbornly onto the couch again.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I’m sorry if my actions have upset you.’ Wow, he actually said the S-word! ‘But you have no idea how many women have tried to get close to me because of my money. It’s so refreshing to know you’re different.’ Seeing my continued glower, Nicholas let out another deep breath and shook his head as if at a loss for words.

After staying silent for a long period, he apparently decided he’d had enough of that topic and, as he often did, he simply moved on to what was on his mind. ‘So, this business with this guy at your work, you’re sure you don’t need me to do anything?’

After glaring at him for several moments, it was clear that our previous discussion was over and that I wasn’t going to win this battle. Or any battle where Nicholas Jackson was concerned, I thought, almost laughing out loud at how stubborn and single-minded he was. ‘I’m fine, honestly,’ I conceded in a lighter tone. ‘Decided to distract myself from it all.’ I jerked a thumb at the television.

‘With cookery shows?’ he asked, eyeing my choice of
MasterChef
rather dubiously, an eyebrow rising in apparent amusement. It caused me to blush and nod simultaneously as a goofy smile returned to my lips.

‘You didn’t think I would be a suitable enough distraction for you?’ he asked, his voice suddenly low and dark and full of the tantalizing promise of distractions far more exciting than
MasterChef
.

Shocked, I looked up at him, my eyes widening marginally. ‘I know you would be, but I thought you might get annoyed if I couldn’t concentrate on the piano,’ I conceded weakly. God, his penetrating gaze was getting me excited already and he wasn’t even near me.

Slowly, Nicholas nodded. ‘I see. I can leave if you want to be alone.’ He paused, cocking his head to one side. ‘Or I would be more than happy to act as a distraction from your bad day, if you like? I can think of several things that would take your mind off work, Rebecca,’ he promised in a low tone.

Several things? That just sounded too tempting to pass up …

‘Take my mind off work?’ I tilted my head at him. ‘I’d like that, Nicholas,’ I whispered decidedly with a nod of my head.

Blimey, sex with Nicholas Jackson at
my
house, who’d have thought it?

With a slightly arrogant but hugely sexy smile, Nicholas stalked toward me. His eyes never left mine as he held out a hand for me. Wrapping his strong fingers around mine, he proceeded to pull me up but kept tugging so I fell against his chest and had to strain my head back to see him.

‘Lead me to your bedroom,
now
,’ he instructed quietly, but for such a soft tone it was amazing how much authority he managed to lace into his words and a shiver of anticipation ran through me.

I walked toward my bedroom on wobbly legs. As soon as we were over the threshold, Nicholas kicked off his shoes and tossed a box of condoms on the bed. He caught sight of the frown that creased my brows.

‘What it is?’ he asked, stepping toward me again.

‘Nothing, I just hate those things.’ I indicated the condom packet. ‘I know we have to use them but I think I’m slightly allergic to them.’ I had always had issues with them; in fact, the first time I’d had sex I’d thought for days that I’d caught something because I’d been so itchy, but after a very embarrassing trip to the doctors it turned out to be just a reaction to the latex.

I could see approval in Nicholas’ eyes. ‘Agreed, I dislike them too. I have tests done regularly. My last one was only three weeks ago and was all clear, I think I still have the results in my wallet,’ he said, fumbling in his trouser pocket before handing me a folded copy of his results that I ran my eyes over vaguely before returning. This interlude was getting a little more businesslike than I had anticipated.