The Temp (12 page)

25

Eve glanced out the window.
She sprang back a second later, forcing her back against the wall.

The van was there alright. It was white and non-descript like every other van in this city. There were no markings on the side, no telltale of a company name.

Eve’s pulse quickened and her breathing grew shallow. Every suspicious bone in her body wanted to side with Trisha. There was something not quite right about this van. If Eve weren’t so unnerved, weren’t so in the thick of danger as it were she might have held out. She might have waited and done her own research, kept tabs on the van for any signs of movement.

Trisha said she’d already watched it.

Eve had to take her word for it; she didn’t have time to do her own homework and coupled with her own gut feeling the van was a bad omen.

They were there for her. Not Trisha. Not Jack. She felt it deep within her core, amidst the sinking anchor in her stomach weighing her down like a body tied to a bag of rocks in the ocean.
Don’t Eve. Don’t go there, stupid girl.
Eve tried hard to convince herself it was a van, nothing more. A van, nothing more…

She was the victim of blackmail.

She was fighting back by saying no to
their
requests.

They had her secrets, had an investment in her.

The van was not nothing. It had to be their way to make sure she was doing her job; she didn’t want to be paranoid. She didn’t want to be naïve either. Eve stood at the window and watched the van with shallow breaths.

In the drivers seat sat a man, a shadow of a body.  Just a man…nothing more.
It’s all in your head, Eve.
The man looked up. Up. Their eyes locked. He’d singled her out in seconds.

She shot back out of view, her breathing erratic. She stood; her back against the wall in the corridor of her apartment building, where all the front doors were. It was a staircase and an aisle; there was a dingy elevator at the end, though highly unreliable. There were two doors on every level. There was hers and Mrs Partridge’s, an old woman who wouldn’t be of any use to her.

Eve had left Trisha to play with Jack. She didn’t need to scare her more by confirming her suspicions. She needed to solve the problem and fast.

She held Trisha’s phone to her jaw, the cold metal a harsh reality. Eve had been too afraid to use her own phone in case it was tabbed; a stupid idea.

She was definitely acting paranoid.

The man had definitely been looking at
her.

She dialled 911. “Yes, hello. I’d like to report a suspicious van outside my building. I think they’re doing drugs in there. It’s a white van with the number plate”-she gave them the plate digits. Eve gave her name and hung up. Her heart pounded against the dial tone.

It was a radical idea and not completely her own. She’d seen it in a movie, who knew if such a thing would work in real life?

Moments passed in agonising slowness.

Eve watched out the window for any signs of movement. She didn’t know how long it would take for the police to show up, probably forever, probably twenty minutes. 

There was movement in the van.

The headlights came to life.

Eve ducked behind the curtain, her adrenaline spiking. She had to know, to be brave,  so she turned and watched. The man shot one last look at her…The van pulled out of its spot and disappeared around the corner.

…

Sudden relief flooded followed by sheer terror. Eve sank against the wall, the phone pressing against her chest, her chest pounding like a drum.

What was that? How had they known? How had the man known? Moments later, she glanced out the window as the police car drove past at an idle pace. It didn’t stop, just kept on going.

Eve couldn’t believe it. The van had gotten away, how? There was a horrible sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d watched too many thrillers and too many cop shows.

As if the van had tabs on police activity.

26

The car will come at eight.

The text came later that day as Eve played with Jack. It had been a full on day, Trisha had left for her shift with endless assurances from Eve that she was safe to do so. Meanwhile Eve had done her own assurances of how everything was ok.

Everything was ok.
Everything.

She was alive. They hadn’t threatened physical harm, only to expose her. They might not even be capable of it. And the man,
men
in the van…

The message lit up on her phone. Her pulse surged for a second before remembering Roman’s up and out escape. He was a player, as good as they came and this was a typical response from a guy who wanted nothing more than to get into her pants. There was no
miss you
, no
can’t wait to see you
or
this morning was fun
. It was a summoning, almost like she already belonged to him. Eve let her position remind her exactly what she was here for. Get in. Get out. Get whatever the hell it was the blackmailers wanted from Roman Industries, ltd. No one would get hurt. This last bit hadn’t been one of the blackmailer’s assurances. Next time, Eve would go to Trigger and make sure it was. No one would get hurt.

Having a van stake out her place was bad enough; she didn’t want to invite anything else in. It was times like these Eve wished she had an escape plan. She should have one, in case things went wrong in the space of a second. Things could go wrong so easily. Having the van outside had rearranged her priorities. A billionaire wanting to pop her cherry suddenly didn’t feel like the worst thing in the world.

“Jack you’re not like him, are you?” Eve cuddled the boy closer to her. “You’re the only man in my life. He’s not getting between us.”

“Evee,” Jack giggled in her arms.

Eve didn’t text back. She’d make him sweat. There were two sides to Roman she’d already met, two sides to that coin and neither of them were good for her.

*

That night she waited, ready for the game to begin. She could play this game, feelings weren’t on the line, perhaps she could be exactly what Trigger wanted her to be. Be cold, be calculating and detached. It was possible Trigger was only trying to protect her from her emotions if she got too involved. Possible. Even Trigger was a coin that flipped on occasion.

She stared back at the mirror and let out a sigh, her shoulders giving in. Her make-up next to naked, a feint red tinting her lips and delicate mascara emphasizing her eyes. Her hair was mused up in a clip spilling out over the sides exposing the dip in her back, bare all the way down. The dress was a red silken thing costing more than a month’s wages and how did she come by it? It was a gift from someone she wanted nothing to do with, a part of her past come back to haunt her every now and then. It had stood over a year in her closet in a plastic lined bag waiting to be let out. Eve had never given in, until tonight. The dress came in handy as it fastened over her hips and flared out below. There was a partial slit revealing her flesh along the subtle seduction line. A bit of skin. Nothing vulgar. Everything tasteful. Everything to leave someone wanting more.

Which was exactly what she had planned. Roman had it coming. She wasn’t going to put out. Not tonight. Not ever.

She’d protect her innocence for as long as possible, especially since the way he left had been so cheap, a stark reminder of the role she had to play. “You’re anything but cheap,” Eve affirmed in the mirror. It gave her a seconds worth of comfort in a dress she could never rightfully afford. Temporary, everything about tonight had the ill feeling tainting the air. 

The intercom rang.

Summoned again.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said pushing the button. She didn’t give him the opportunity to say otherwise. Eve grabbed her clutch, a silver mesh thing so alien in her fingers; it too knew she was out of her element despite how many affirmations she made.

*

The air left her lungs in a whoosh.

There   he   was   leaning against a limousine in a black suit and white shirt open at the collar. He stepped forward, demi-god in the flesh. His hair was mused back and his eyes,
oh
his eyes pierced directly into hers.

He took her in, from head to toe, gleaming.

“Is it too much?” Eve saw the look, couldn’t decipher it. Damn it, she was meant to be strong, not insecure about her appearance.

He kissed her hand sending a shiver up her arm. “You look magnificent,” the shadows played across him, hooding in the night and her mouth parted. He held her hand, turned and opened the door to the limousine. “That dress is stunning.”

She took a tentative step. “I thought you were sending a car,” it was the dumbest thing to ever come out of her mouth and she could kick herself for it.

He blinked. “It is a car.” It was a black giant of a limousine.

Eve stepped in as he opened the door for her and went round the other side and sat next to her.

“I could lie on the floor of your car,” Eve sat on her hands feeling so helplessly out of her depth.

“Or we could lie together,” his voice was husky deep, his gaze warming in the light of the limousine. She squirmed beneath his scrutiny, her loins filling with blood. The way he said
we
. The way he said
together.
The way his eyes glowed in the soft lighting, intent on her, stealing her breath away. She fought her nerves, it was a trick. It had to be.

The limousine pulled out into the street.

“Rome,” she said. She meant to say something more, anything; the way he was looking at her was making her forget her words.

“Oh god,” he moaned and body pressed against hers. He leapt on her like a hungry lion.

Eve was caught in the frenzy, her lips pressed into a sudden fire. His mouth found hers, parted her like a damn and his tongue hunted inside for life and death. She felt his urgency, his hands, his body half on her, half on the seat. His hands gripped the silk dress.

Her hands gripped his hard chest. He was here, he was really here! There was so much material between them in that moment, so much stopping them from-

The dress, it was too tight and unyielding as she heated beneath him, growing moist. His hands tugged and found the fabric unrelenting. His fingers found the slit in the dress, the one giving her slight movement and shape. She’d all but given up on feeling his body. It was no use. She needed more of him and couldn’t get it. Both hands were at her thighs, as his lips pressed against her.

She gasped.

He tore the slit all the way up to her waist. “I’ll replace it, I swear,” he murmured in her ear, that wasn’t why she gasped. His hand cupped between her legs, between her Sex holding her there, keeping her in place as if she’d fall over the edge any second. Blood filled her in between humming beneath his touch, pulsing for him, urging him on. Her back arched into the leather seat. She wanted more, needed more. She moaned for him. She was ready to give it all to him and his hand-

His   phone   rang   shrill and harsh between their bodies. The vibrations echoed through her skin. Her eyes shot open. She shot up and out of her state.

The ringing persisted.

Why in the hell did the phone always ring when they were together? She held a sudden question in her eyes, a clear doubt. What was she doing? Would he take the call above what was going on between them? How would she feel about it?

Her nerves teetered on the brink, her hands were cold.

Roman took out the phone and switched it off.

Eve exhaled; it should have made her feel better to have been prioritised.

“There, no distractions,” Roman dipped to her again and landed another kiss. She melted beneath his touch, arching against his will. His hand found its spot again grinding against her Sex.

The phone rang again.

This time it was another phone from a different pocket with a different ringtone. Roman stilled, his face shrouded in the shadow of the light, every muscle tensing in his jaw.

“What is it?” Eve said.

“My emergency phone. I have to take this.” He rose off of her, his hand leaving her Sex so suddenly. He took out the phone on its third ring and answered it. His face was masked in darkness, a sudden tension in the air. He sat back against the leather seat and took his attention off Eve.

Their moment, only seconds ago was long gone. Her heart thumped in the silence, the traffic noise slowly coming into the background pulling her back down to Earth.

A minute later he put down the phone. He pressed a button on a nearby remote. “Henry, can you take us back to Miss Allure’s place?” Her organs plummeted out from under her. What had happened in such a short space of time? Had she done something wrong? Was she not what he wanted? “Eve, I have to go deal with something urgent,” his voice was guarded, the same one he employed for business, a distance put between them instantly.

He leaned into her. “I really want to continue this but it can’t wait.” There were lines around his eyes, a grim expression.

“Is everything alright?” she whispered. The rejection still hung thick in the air, his worry too. She couldn’t ignore the change in his demeanour. For the briefest of moments she was relieved it wasn’t her, a moment. Eve nodded in the dim glow of the limousine.

“Henry, you can drop me off here.”

Eve blanched. “What?”

“It’ll be faster if we go our separate ways.”
Our separate ways.
The limousine paused moments later.

Roman got out and walked around the car.

Eve pressed down the window button as he leaned in.

“Henry will take you back home. I’ll call you,” he stepped out onto the pavement without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance.

Eve leaned back the tears welling up in her cheeks. It wasn’t her, this wasn’t about her. She had to keep reminding herself, yet he could’ve tried to convince her of it.

Twenty minutes later she landed outside her building resembling a victim of the worst kind. Her dress was torn all the way up to her lace panties. Her hair was dishevelled, the clip lopsided. Her lipstick smudged.

And her insides…utterly bereft.

She held her strappy heels in her hand as she stepped up to her apartment.

This was like what she’d overheard from countless other women, there was a name for it; one Eve had never believed in her wildest dreams she’d be on the receiving end of. It was the walk of shame.

She heard nothing from Roman for the rest of the weekend.