Unravel Me (7 page)

I scrunched my toes into the cool grass. “No, you don’t.”

“Listen,” he snapped, “do you want my help or not? If you do, we’re doing this my way.”

“I don’t take orders from you. We don’t ever need to be in the same space.”

“Dammit Lia, stop being so difficult.”

My anger at him and with myself for reopening this door flooded my body. “I’m not say—”

The phone was ripped from my hand. I spun around, coming face to face with one pissed off Englishman. Alastair put the phone to his ear and said in a deadly calm tone, “Leave. Her. Alone.”

Moonlight cast a silver glow on his stony expression, accentuating the unfiltered animosity in his eyes. He remained still as a statue, holding my phone in a death grip. Seconds passed by with slow torture.

“Call or talk to her again and it will be one of the last things you do.” Ending the call, he lowered his hand and stared at me. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

I couldn’t answer. I just pulled the blanket tighter. Reaching out as though he was going to touch my cheek, Alastair stopped and scowled. Vulnerability hovered behind his eyes like smoke before disappearing, wrenching my heart.

“I—”

“Tell me why you were on the phone with
him
, in my front garden, at two in the morning.”

This wasn’t a request. Gone was the relaxed, playful man I’d spent the day with. I was now presented with his public persona, the one so guarded and locked it gave weight to the reputation that he was standoffish and didn’t want to be bothered. I hated knowing I caused this side of him to materialize.

“He’s been after me all week about some exclusive interview.” The words flowed out of my mouth with little effort. I had no idea my brain could even work let alone react with such logic. “He won’t tell me what it’s about and already,” I raked a hand through my tangled hair, “finagled a dinner meeting out of me this week.”

A raised eyebrow was his only response.

“I hated every second of it,” I blurted. “He kept apologizing for everything and wanted to make amends. I didn’t—”

“Do you want to be with him?” he interrupted with strained agony in his voice.

Air rushed out of my lungs forcing me to bend forward and clutch my thighs. “No. Jesus, Alastair, why would you even think that?”

“You know his demons. You don’t know all of mine. Familiarity can be comforting even in the most undesirable circumstances.”

“That’s crazy talk and you know it.” I moved closer to him. “This is all on me. I fucked up and should have told you but I wanted this weekend to be about us. No drama. No stress. Just you. And me.”

Dropping the blanket, I put my hands on his bare chest. I felt the ferocious vibrations of his heart beating and waited for him to push me away or shrink further into his shell. How could I expect him to see me as his safe place if I treated him this way? A hot, gritty lump forced its way up my throat.

“Look at me.” He wrapped both hands around my neck, pushing his thumbs into my jaw and compelling me to look up. Passion and determination blazed from his eyes. “I’ve never worked harder at anything in my life. Every instinct I have tells me not to get attached to you, not to let you in. But you are my clarity. I’ve never felt as strongly for someone as I do for you and it scares the shit out of me. I will move heaven and earth for you but if I am not what you want—”

“You are the only thing I want,” I yelled, my voice echoing through the darkness.

“—I will step aside.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, dulling the stars and muting the moon’s glow. I couldn’t breathe. I could only stand and shiver. Letting go of my neck, he bent down and picked up the blanket, draping it over my shoulders. I wilted under the heaviness, feeling it more as a burden than comfort.

“I’m sorry.” Thick tears rolled down my cheeks. Wiping them away with his thumb, he considered saying something. Instead, he kissed the corner of my mouth. I grabbed the back of his head, pulling his lips to mine, desperate to show him how much I loved him. He held me tightly, kissing down my neck, whispering words of affection.
You are my world…my everything…always…always…always.

Scooping me in his arms, he carried me back into the cottage.

* * *

Buchanan Street was apparently
the
place to be on Sunday afternoon. Scores of high-end retail stores lined both sides of the pedestrian friendly street. For someone as well-versed in shopping as me, this was heaven. Warm sunlight shone down as Alastair and I walked hand in hand on the strikingly beautiful granite stonework. I drank in the intricate mix of Victorian architecture and urban design. Glasgow had quickly become one of my favorite places on earth.

“This way.” Alastair tugged gently at my hand, guiding me down another street lined with shops. We stopped in front of a jewelry store. My pulse skyrocketed when he reached for the door.

“Are we going in there?”

“Yes, love.”

Either I swayed or a rare earthquake shook the sidewalk.

“Relax, Lia. It’s not what you think. Not yet.”

He led me to a display case filled with glittering diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and every other precious stone imaginable. Bypassing those, he stopped at the far end of the display. Inside sat the most unique, beautiful ring I’d ever seen. A gorgeously polished cognac amber nugget was nestled beneath a swirling setting of white gold encrusted with small diamonds. The nugget was huge and oval within its imperfect shape. The setting was wrapped around the amber, almost mimicking a hug.

“Mr. Holden. Welcome back,” a well-dressed man from behind the counter greeted him. I glanced at the lapel of his dark suit and noticed a nametag.
Alright, Robert. What do the two of you have in store for me?

Alastair squeezed my hand and grinned. “Been getting many inquires about this?” he gestured toward the ring.

“Several. It’s not often we keep a custom designed ring on display when it’s already spoken for.”

I swallowed. Hard. Robert opened the display case, removed the ring and laid it on a piece of velvet in front of me. My free hand flew to my neck, grasping the necklace Alastair had given me only a few weeks ago at the beach. I ran my thumb over the platinum ‘A.’

“Try it on,” he encouraged, letting go of my hand.

I picked it up and slid it onto the middle finger of my left hand, immediately feeling its weight. Holding up my hand, I admired the way the amber glowed and the diamonds sparkled under the soft light.

“The stone’s color reminded me of your eyes,” Alastair said, brushing his thumb over the ring. “I hope you—”

I silenced him with a kiss. Feeling the firm pressure of his lips moving with mine negated any reservations I had about public displays of affection.

“I love you. So much,” I declared, tightening my grip on his shirt. “Always.”

Little by little, fragments of the impenetrable outer shell were breaking away, revealing the man I adored. It wasn’t a complete shedding of the barrier. He kept enough in place to let me know there were still some issues we had to work through. “I want everyone to know you're mine. Off the market, so to speak.”

By
everyone
, I knew he meant only one specific person. His penetrating stare was sultry but it made me nervous.

“I only have eyes for you, Alastair Holden.”

The slightly arched eyebrow did nothing to quell the undeniable disdain he held for my ex. “Good.”

Grinning, I pulled him close for a soft kiss.

Two women took it upon themselves to pick this moment to stand next to us and peruse the jewelry in the case. It was clear they knew exactly who he was. They shot sideways glances at me while pretending to coo over the rings. He probably didn’t appreciate these people being so intrusive. Much to my surprise, he fisted his hand in my hair and kissed me with such force I almost fell backwards. Sliding his tongue around mine in long slow strokes, he kept us locked in this heated embrace far longer than I would have expected. Not that I minded.

“My Lia,” he breathed. “Let’s get out of here.”

I swear I saw the two women fanning themselves as we left.

* * *

The level of concentration on his face was staggering as he flipped through a large cookbook. I stood on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, not hiding the amused smile growing on my lips.

“You’re staring.”

“So are you. I’m hungry. Get started, chief.”

He flicked those bright emerald irises at me, making my heart race. “I’d rather not have this go pear shaped if you don’t mind.”

“C’mon. It’s only dinner. Don’t be so…” I paused, looking for the right word, “British.”

He smirked. “You don’t know what pear shaped means, do you?”

Tapping my nails on the counter, I shrugged. I knew what it meant but was more interested in the stare being leveled at me than his use of slang. Those eyes could stop time. Oh, and that mouth. Even twisted in a wry grin it made my insides quiver.
Mine.
Every inch of him was mine.

“What are you thinking about?” The rich, velvet tenor of his voice curled my toes.

“You. Duh.”

“Very articulate.”

“What can I say? You’re, like, totally hot and I wanna see you naked.” I twirled my hair in an exaggerated manner and winked.

He smiled slightly. Since we returned to his house in Bearsden after the jewelry store I’d been trying to draw out his playful side. The emotional roller coaster from last night had a strong hold on both of us. I’d hoped it would have weakened by now. Strumming his fingers on the counter, Alastair sighed.

“How about we order food instead and do…couple-y things?”

“Couple-y things?” I scrunched my nose. “Who’s being articulate now?”

He shrugged. “I have this big living room that I never use. I thought maybe we could watch a movie or listen to music or…have a snog or two.”

“Oh,
those
couple-y things. You mean, what normal people do?” I teased.

“Cheeky.” His pretty eyes dropped their shield sending a rush of happiness through me. “What do you prefer? Chinese, Indian or Italian?”

“Keep it simple. You can’t go wrong with pizza.”

Shooting me an exaggerated eye roll, he rifled through one of the drawers and pulled out a menu. Judging by the name of the restaurant, it was something Italian and most certainly not pizza. He disappeared to his office without asking me what I wanted. I made myself comfortable in the museum-like living room. The couch cushions were so puffy I had a feeling I was the only one to ever sit on them. I was afraid to touch anything. Even the remote control for the flat screen television looked unused. The only thing in here that had any personal feel to it was the photo he’d taken of Big Ben with a red bus driving past it.

I smiled to myself, wondering what he was going to do with the pictures he’d taken of me last night. It wasn’t too big of a stretch to think he’d display them somewhere in the house. Preferably the bedroom. Although from my understanding nobody ever came here so he could blow the pictures up poster sized and hang them all over the house if he wanted.
Silly, silly thoughts
.

“You look like the cat that got the cream,” he remarked, striding through the room. “I’m going to pick up the food. It’s just down the street so I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.”

I grabbed the remote and stretched out on the couch, saluting him. “Yes, sir.”

His gaze darkened as he hovered over me. “Be careful, kitten. I could get used to you saying that.”

Spurred on by the heated stare leveled at me, I ran a finger down his shirt. “Is that so, Mr. Holden?”

“Vixen,” he muttered, nipping at my earlobe. “I’ll deal with you when I come back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Wow.” The throaty laugh I loved so much filled the room. “Someone is extra feisty tonight.”

I heard him chuckling all the way to the door. Once he was gone, I decided to take another self-guided tour of his house. Strolling past the master bedroom and home office, I noticed a closed door at the far end of the hallway. I twisted the doorknob and was surprised to find it locked. My curiosity shot off the charts. I figured it was a second bedroom but why keep it under lock and key?
What is he hiding now?
Scolding myself for always assuming the worst, I went to his bedroom. The camera sat on his bureau. I grabbed it, turned on the preview screen and almost dropped it.

A picture of me sleeping popped up. Thank goodness I wasn’t slack jawed or drooling in the photo. I actually looked quite peaceful with one hand curled under my chin. Taking a deep breath, I scrolled through more photos. They were all of me. He must have taken a dozen while I was sleeping. The rest were from when he’d been lurking by the door.

His aunt once told me he had a soft spot for fragile beauty. She’d mentioned he was drawn to how delicate and unexpected it was. I guess that was how he saw me. I thought back to last night when we were standing outside.

I’ve never worked harder at anything in my life.

Underneath all the expensive clothes and rigid exterior, there was a broken man who yearned to love. I knew he didn’t trust his emotions. I knew he retreated to a dark place when he felt overwhelmed. Inadequateness surged from the pit of my stomach to the tips of my fingers and toes. My own insecurities could be just as crippling.

Stretching out on the bed, I held the camera on my stomach and closed my eyes. A frisson of electricity jolted me. My hairs stood on end. I knew he was in the room. I could feel him.

“Do you always take pictures of sleeping, unsuspecting women?” I asked with a grin.

The mattress jostled when he sat down.

“Only ones who find themselves in my bed.”

The tone of his response suggested there was a cocky grin crossing his lips. I confirmed my suspicions as soon as I looked at him.

“You must have quite the collection.”

He hesitated, uncertain if he wanted to continue. The uneasiness was brief. “I do now. And I think I want to add more.”

The sultry timbre in his voice, coupled with those hooded bedroom eyes, roused all the right parts of my body. I sat up, nuzzling my nose to his. “After you feed me.”