Page 44 of Worth Every Risk

12

ARIES

The next couple of weeks pass in a flurry of activity. Lucie and I spend a lot of time at various parks—Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, the Princess Diana Memorial playground. It’s non-stop. Mondays and Tuesdays are rest days for me, but I’m exhausted by the time they roll around.

I speak to Mum every few days. I’m trying not to worry too much, but she sounds weaker, as though it takes more effort to maintain a conversation.

Alec and I have settled into a decent friendship, especially after our Friday night out, where he took me to a loud and sweaty club just off Leicester Square. And then the eggs…

Egg-gate. Maybe that’s what I’ll call it. Even though I was drunk, I can still remember smearing those raw eggs all over Mr Hawkston’s chest. And then the reiki afterwards.Eek. Maybe it should be reiki-gate. I can’t decide which part of the encounter was worse; all of it was bad. Not at the time, of course. Then, I was enjoying myself. Or rather, I was enjoyinghim. But now, in the cold, sober light of day, I’m embarrassed. Not because I think I did anything wrong, per se, but because it’s all soweird.How can we have a normal working relationship going forward?Maybe we can’t… we never did, really, now I think of it. It’s just as well I’ve barely seen him since then.

Until now. He sent me a message earlier, asking me to pop into his office, and here I am, standing outside, heart thudding.Nervous.

I knock on the door and his low, deep voice responds, “Come in.”

The familiar buzz of attraction fizzes in my veins as I step into the room, catching sight of him behind that huge desk.

“Aries.” His eyes flick up to me from the periodical he’s reading. He lays it on the desktop and fully focuses on me. I stand awkwardly. He gives no indication he wants me to sit down, so I don’t. My hands begin to tingle and I try my best to ignore it. “How are you?”

“Good.”

“Excellent. I wanted to speak to you about Saturday.” Momentary confusion must show on my face because he adds, “Charlie’s Speech Day at Marsden College.”

I recognise the name of the school. It’s world famous, mostly because extended members of the Royal family and previous Prime Ministers were educated there. “It’s a whole day event. There’s the picnic, the boat race, and then the speeches and prize-giving.”Wow, this sounds fancy.“You’ll be in charge of Lucie all day. We’ll take the car. Alec will prepare the picnic in the morning.”

“Right.” This is all new to me, but I go along with it in case it has been mentioned and I’ve forgotten.

Mr Hawkston goes quiet and a warning prickle crawls up my spine. Whatever he’s going to say next, he’s not happy about it. “Gemma will be there.” It takes me a second to register who he’s talking about, which he must notice because he adds, “My ex-wife.”

Of course. The beautiful blonde woman from the internet photos. “Will she be picnicking with us?”

“No. She has a new partner, and he has kids at the school too. She’ll be with them.”

“Oh.”That sounds awkward.“Is Charlie friends with her partner’s kids?”

Mr Hawkston pins me with a stare, his gaze dropping from my face down the full length of me, then back to my face. “I don’t know. They’re older. Charlie hasn’t mentioned them.”

Something about this conversation strikes me wrong, but I have no idea what it is. Why didn’t he ask me to sit down? And why does he keep looking at me like that? Maybe the awkwardness isn’t about Gemma or the boys. Maybe it’s about me. Or what happened with the eggs and the reiki. Before I can stop myself, I start talking.

“About that night, in the kitchen—”

“No.” I take a step back from his desk, surprised by the vehemence in his voice as he cuts me off. “Don’t say a word.” He breaks eye contact to dip his head, and I wait, thewhoosh-whooshof my pulse pounding in my ears as he takes a few breaths. Finally, he looks at me again. “No,” he repeats, softer this time. “Just no, Aries. Don’t do this to me.”

He sounds tormented, as though he’s approaching some kind of breaking point, and he thinks I’m the one who’s pushing him there. But that’s not all I hear in his voice. There’s a hopeless resignation there too, suggesting that he doesn’t believe he has the power to stop me. That whatever it is I’m doing to him, it’s inevitable…

My brain must be crumbling, because I can’t work out exactly what he’s referring to, and worse, I feel like I can’t question him on it. I press my lips together to stop myself from asking, but it doesn’t work.

“Do what?” I mutter, but even as I say the words, arousal swirls between my legs and I know that whatever he’s agonising over, it has something to do with this weird feeling that keeps sneaking up between us. Thisattraction. “What did I do?”

He props his elbow on the desk and drops his forehead into his hand, rubbing it agitatedly back and forth. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “I cannot keep having these conversations with you.”He’s changed his tune.What shifted?He drags his eyes to mine where they lock on. “I’m your boss. Go and do your job. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s enough. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He waves the back of his hand at the door to dismiss me, and I clench my fists to restrain the urge to retort. If he won’t talk about what’s happening between us, then that’s fine by me. I’ll do my best to ignore it too.

But as I let myself out, I’m aware of an inner knowing thatsomethingis going to break soon, and there’s nothing either one of us can do about it.

Saturday comes around faster than I can believe. Despite Mr Hawkston’s odd behaviour at our last meeting, I’m having such a good time working here—hanging out with Lucie—that time is flying.

I’m wearing my smartest clothes—a white cotton blouse and a full length floral skirt. Definitely more tourist-in-Tuscany than Speech Day at England’s most prestigious boarding school, but it’s the best I can do. Apparently, people wear hats to this event, like a proper English wedding. I don’t have one, but Lucie has been telling me all morning how beautiful my hair is, so I’m feeling pretty good. There’s nothing like compliments from afour-year-old. And who needs a hat when you have actual red hair that’s so thick I need super strong hair bands just to wrestle it into a ponytail?

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