Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
‘I was supposed to have lunch with Tessa.’ Stephanie’s voice gets louder too, telling me she’s following Jack towards his desk. I close my eyes even though I’m in darkness. A chair creaks. She’s sat herself down. ‘And she cancelled!’
‘And that’s awful?’ Jack breathes.
‘Well, yes,’ Stephanie snipes harshly. ‘She said she had an appointment that she forgot about, but I know she’s having lunch with her new friend from yoga.’
‘Stephanie, she’s probably cancelled because she really does have an appointment.’
‘I’m not stupid, Jack. Her new friend doesn’t like me. She wants Tessa all to herself.’
I frown, opening my eyes and scanning the blackness of my confined space. Stephanie sounds completely unreasonable.
There’s a brief silence lingering, and in that time I build a mental image of her staring at Jack across his desk. ‘So what do you want me to do?’ Jack asks simply.
‘Well, I don’t know.’ Stephanie huffs. ‘Tessa’s my friend, and I’m not going to let some interloper push me out.’
My mind twists as my wide eyes stare into the darkness. Whoever Tessa is, I feel sorry for her.
I hear Jack breathe in, clearly trying to gather some patience. ‘She’s allowed more than one friend.’
‘No she’s not, Jack. It’s always been me and her.’
‘Stephanie, I haven’t got time to babysit your friendships.’
‘No, you don’t have time for anything other than work, do you?’
‘How else am I going to pay for the life to which you’ve become accustomed, Stephanie? Get yourself a job. Something to do other than worry about who your friends are friends with.’
She gasps, truly horrified. ‘Me? Work? I don’t think so. What would people think?’ I stare at the door, flummoxed. ‘Anyway,’ she goes on, that obviously the end of that, ‘I was thinking you can finish work early. We’ll have dinner. Somewhere nice.’
She sounds hopeful. I close my eyes, and as much as I don’t want to, I let the flood of guilt wash over me and scrub at my skin relentlessly. Because no matter which way you look at this, what I’m doing is wrong. What Jack is doing is wrong. How we’re feeling is wrong. A harsh dose of reality has just been rammed down my throat. I hope it chokes me. I deserve it. I look around my prison, feeling hopeless and deplorable and immoral.
‘Sure,’ Jack answers. ‘That would be nice.’
‘Great!’ She sounds so happy despite the lack of enthusiasm in Jack’s voice.
A knife wedges itself in my chest and twists repeatedly. And I accept the agony. Because I deserve it. But I’m not delusional. Knowing you’re doing something so terribly wrong doesn’t make it easy to stop.
Chapter 15
I snuggle down on the couch under my blanket and stare at the wall. I’m in hell and I’m in heaven. I’m flying and I’m drowning. I can’t walk away from him. It’s that simple, if fucking horrendously complicated. Maybe the guilt is something I’ll just have to get used to. At least the guilt tells me I still have a conscience. It’s a small consolation, and maybe a little irrelevant, since I don’t plan on clearing it. Clearing my conscience means no Jack, and no Jack isn’t an option. I’ve tumbled hard, fast and furiously for him. Unstoppably. I’ve finally fallen for a man – a forbidden man. A man I shouldn’t have.
In an attempt to stop my mind from dwelling on my fuck-up of a situation, I grab my laptop and try to focus on work. I get into my stride, researching the area of Blackfriars where Brawler’s have bought their land and making endless notes, my vision for their new building getting clearer as I work.
When I hear a light rapping at the door, I check the time, surprised to see I’ve had my head down for nearly three hours. Pulling the door open, I find Jack looking anxious, and he visibly deflates before my eyes as he takes me in.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?’ I ask as I hold the door open.
‘Are you okay?’ There’s no umbrage lacing his tone after my reminder that he has a romantic dinner planned with his wife.
I shake my head, my bottom lip trembling. This is something else I promised myself. I told myself that I wouldn’t cry on him from now on, but I feel too fraught, hopeless and exhausted to fight it off. I was on cloud nine, being worshipped by Jack on his desk, and then I was in the deepest depths of hell, locked in a cupboard in his office wrestling with my conscience. The conflict is wearing me down already. A lone tear tumbles down my cheek and splashes my arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whimper feebly, looking away from him. He looks beaten, as exhausted and hopeless as I do.
‘God, Annie.’ He comes to me, closing the door behind him, and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. I know it shouldn’t, but his warmth and closeness eases me, makes me feel safe and untouchable. As though any trauma I endure is worth it if I get to have him holding me after. He kisses the top of my hair, breathing into it. ‘It’s me who should be sorry. I never should have risked putting you in that situation.’