Page 101 of Never Tell Lies

“I love. I want to eat you.” He nipped at my neck and I giggled. “Maybe later. You need to get dressed, we’re having dinner.” He eased himself out of me and I missed his warmth as he got off the bed. I rolled over to face him.

“We’re going out?” I asked as he straightened his clothes, smoothing himself back into sex-god-businessman mode.

“No, I don’t want to share you with anyone tonight. I’ve arranged dinner at the hotel. Open your legs for me.” My body complied before my mind had a chance to catch up and I spread my legs wide for him. The look on his face as he took in my seed-soaked folds was purely primal. He needed to see evidence of his claim.

“You wanna take a picture or something?” He arched an eyebrow and pulled out his phone. I shot up the bed, grabbing a pillow to cover myself. “Oh my god, I wasn’t serious!” I screeched, but the corner of his mouth lifted, amused.

“Baby, you’re so fucking cute.”

When we arrived back at The Carlton I felt proud that I was arriving in a dignified fashion for once. I wasn’t drunk, it wasn’t the middle of the night, I wasn’t wearing paint splattered clothes. Today was a good day. I even gave the owl-faced receptionist a small wave as we passed her.

As soon as we entered the suite, my eyes widened at the sight on the foyer table. The vase of deep pink bleeding hearts was huge and breathtaking. I looked up at Alfie.

“Are those for me?” I rushed to them, breathing them in.

“Actually they’re for me. They remind me of you.”

Alfie…

He turned away, uncomfortable with the vulnerable moment. “Are you hungry?”

I was starving. A delicious aroma hit me then and I followed Alfie to the dining table where succulent pork chops and cubed vegetables awaited me.

We talked a little but mostly ate in a comfortable silence. My day had been turbulent, and judging by the storm behind Alfie’s eyes, he wasn’t as at ease as he tried to appear either. I finished the last of my wine and eyed Alfie over the top of my glass as he ate with precise, controlled motions. We were so very different. On the surface he blended so well into his environment, but underneath I wasn’t so sure. I imagined his life spent in soulless hotel suites and it made me sad. I was coming to understand how alienating extreme wealth could be. All it had done for him was place him on a pedestal above everyone else, superior but alone. He hadn’t helped himself, the man was an arrogant snob, but somewhere inside was a man that wanted laughter and adventure. I wanted those things too. His brow creased as if an unpleasant thought had crossed his mind and I decided he’d been in his own head for long enough.

I pushed my chair back and rounded the table, holding my hand out to him. He looked at me with surprise and suspicion.

“Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance, Lola.” His face was so serious I had to laugh. He looked as if I’d just asked him to hold a gun to his head.

“Don’t be such a grump, Alfie. Come on.” I yanked him out of his seat and pulled him towards the open space by the balcony doors where the moonlight illuminated part of the room that was otherwise only lit by candles. I took one of his hands in mine and placed the other on his shoulder like I’d seen in films. Hewrapped a strong arm around me and pulled my body into his. I moved us gently to the rhythm of the slow jazz.

“See? It’s not so bad,” I teased. His scarred brow twitched and suddenly he spun us into a waltz. I gasped, and after a minute of spinning me, he stopped, a small smile playing on his lips that he was desperately trying to hide.

“You liar!”

“I never said I couldn’t dance, O’Connell, just that I don’t. Although, as usual, you are the exception to that rule.” There was something in his eyes as he looked at me, something I couldn’t quite decipher. He had this way of looking at me sometimes as if I wasn’t real, and in those moments he handled me carefully, as if I might disappear in a cloud of smoke if he made any sudden movements. He bent and pressed his lips to mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss, a new kind of kiss for him. “You’re the exception to all of my rules.”

We spent the rest of the week as something resembling a normal couple. When the weekend came, we spent Sunday holed up in the office of his hotel suite—him working at his desk, mostly silent apart from the occasional video call. Feeling stifled, I went outside to work on the balcony and by the end of the day, I knew I had a pretty solid design together.

I sat back in my chair with a contented sigh and surveyed my work. I’d begun with the steps leading down to the garden, I would have them mended first and then a series of freestanding flower circles installed. The flower circles would be tall, 8 feet high, although what I would grow on them I wasn’t sure. Roses seemed like the obvious choice, but maybe too obvious. I could imagine myself descending the steps, passing throughthe circles, each of them working together to create a dappled pathway of summer-scented sunlight. They would take me into the garden, my feet finding a grass path.

The garden to my eyes would be separated into four sections with a centre piece and a path marking out each section. What I would put in these I wasn’t yet sure. I wanted to plant my heart all over this garden. I would follow the path around the centre piece and carry on, a plant bed either side of me, and beyond us, where the garden began to taper off, there would be a pond. A curved bridge leading to the other side where a swing seat would sit, hidden in the arms of a cherry blossom tree.

“Lola?” Alfie’s voice echoed to me through my fantasies, I looked up and found him leaning against the door frame. The sun was just beginning to set and a shirtless Alfie, tinged in flame coloured light, was a sight to see. He approached and took a seat next to me before pulling me into his lap and studying my sketches.

“What do you think?” I asked warily. He was the boss after all.

“It’s simpler than I thought it would be.”

“You don’t like it? It isn’t finished yet.”

“I like this here,” his fingers traced over the pond, “and these,” his fingers moved to the flower circle stairs, “though they might be too cute.”

“They’ll look different once they’re covered in climbers. I’ll choose something with a white flower, or maybe an evergreen. That’ll give them a cleaner, less ‘cute’ look.”

“Fine.” Alfie had his business head on. It was a little jarring to be sat in his lap and be spoken to like an employee.

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