Page 31 of Crush

I had beensoyoung. A girl, blossoming into a woman, feeling out of her depth, and confused by her emotions. Especially the oneshebrought to the surface. Alexander Harker.

With Zander, I had learnedeverythingI knew about my body; my sexual preferences, my likes, and dislikes. I became a slave to passion. And yes, Zander had been cruel at times and harsh, but he had neverforcedme to have sex. The counsellors suggested coercion or encouragement as being the same thing. But there wasneverany rape.

Meeting that one man’s demands had been the main source of my satisfaction.

Zander had helped me to embrace a dark, hidden part of myself and I had enjoyed being mastered and surrendering control. Apart from that one time when it got out of hand. As I said, Zander had beenso sorryafterwards, to the point where he broke down in tears,beggingforgiveness. How could a girl not forgive a grown man who showed his emotions in such a raw way? I had taken him in my arms believing it was a mistake, one that wouldneverbe repeated. And I was wrong.

Now, in my everyday life, I coated myself in armour, careful not to let anyone in. Hiding behind a sharp tongue and anI don’t careattitude.

My sex life was now my own and I decided how and when. I didn’t sleep around but I had needs like any other woman, butno onehad made me feel like Zander did; my forbidden indulgence.

Until now.

What worried me about Max Hunter was the realisation that hedidstir something inside me that was both dark and forbidden,justlike before. But I couldn’t feed into that level of feeling again,notwhen losing it had almost destroyed me the last time.

I couldneverlet anyone think they could manipulate me; make me feel something so intense when it wasn’t real.

Did I still think of Zander? Yes. He had introduced me to a world of excitement I had never known existed. And that world held darker elements but I accepted that nothing and no one was perfect. Those bad times didn’t smother the good times back then so I’d let them go.

Looking back, I knew that Zander’s feelings had been an obsession with me and to those looking in from the outside, itwassordid andtwisted. There it was, that word again. Twisted. He had wanted to own my body and soul and for that short time, I had let him.

Now I realised, I had been naive and cruelly manipulated. What we did, whathedid was wrong.

So, I now turned my back on that girl. I had to. If I let her out with the wrong person, I was at risk of that surface crack in my heart going deeper.

And that wasnotgoing to happen.

Zander had been given six years for his involvement in the kidnapping as well as being charged with sex with a minor. I’d read that he’d been transferred a few times but was no longer aware of which prison held him. I’d even written to him in the beginning, still totally clueless as to what had happened.

For the first few months of his incarceration, I had searched on the internet, trying to keep track of what was going on, and where he was. Until I had eventually stopped; my therapist and friendship with Mia had forced me to accept the truth.

And now I had been introduced to sexual chemistry with another man as extreme as I’d experienced with the man who had initially kidnapped me as part of acontract.

The question was, did I allow it in or continue to run from it? I was no longer inexperienced and easy to manipulate. I knew what I wanted, I said when and how. Until I decided not to.

A sharp knock on my bedroom door drew me out of the chaos of my thoughts. With a dry smile, I walked away from the window.

Part of the reason it had been suggested I work was so I didn’t have too much thinking time.

“Come in,” I shouted and in walked Hannah with a catalogue in her hand.

As usual, she didn’t come up for air, “You need to choose the colour scheme for the balloon welcome arch. The caterers are also asking for your choice of the main course for dinner. Oh, and you need to confirm the guest list. Jonny has added a few last-minute names and I don’t know where to seat them,” she chirped, her usual breezy self. “Plus, all the guest rooms have been allocated now so everyone else will have to book into a hotel. I have put together a list of good ones in the area to make it easier for the guests.”

Hannah was the creative type. Her shoulder-length hair was ombre; black at the root, purple at the tip and her clothing was zany. She was nice though, always smiling and she wasn’t your typical kiss-ass and believe me, I knew plenty of those.

As she recommenced her enthusiastic ramblings about Daddy’s party, I motioned for her to join me on the soft leather sofa in my suite.

My bedroom washuge.

Our house, Winterberry Manor sat on six acres of land and was a traditional stone-built mansion with ten bedrooms and five bathrooms. The house was in Great Warley in Brentwood on the outskirts of London, way out of the hustle and bustle of the city. It was surrounded by rolling gardens on all sides which were masked by a large crumbling wall which secured the land from the countryside beyond.

Although remote, it was only a fifty-five-minute commute by train if you craved the noise of the capital. The drive was longer if you travelled by car but that didn’t bother me as Dexter usually took me into London. I had never been a good traveller and was more of a housebound hermit, but working for Max had extracted me from my norm.

The Manor was also privately situated behind a bank of mature trees and hedgerows and so wascompletelyprivate.

Large iron electric gates secured the entrance and the driveway to the mansion was a long wrap-around one lined with rhododendrons. They projected a beautiful purple glow on the driveway in summer and were stunning.

Triple garages held a variety of prestige cars on one side of the mansion and the opposite side housed a set of tennis courts and the stables. I had a few horses and Daddy owned two retired Epsom Derby champions that were stabled elsewhere. The level of their care went way beyond the experience of the groomsman we employed.

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