Chapter 67 It's Been A Long Night
My stomach clenches as I watch David storm toward me.
He looks tired, exhausted even, but there is no doubt that his presence still commands the room’s attention. People step back, cowering away from him. Even the thugs that had been trying to drag me out have loosened their grip on me.
“Let go of her.” David seethes.
“She’s intruding–”
“I said let go of her.” He repeats, before smashing the butt of his still-smoking gun into the nose of the guy on my left. The man’s hands drop from me as he stumbles away, clutching his bleeding face.
Immediately, the other guys surrounding me release me, and also step back.
It is only then that David finally looks me in the eyes. And steals my breath.
Then another guy walks up to me.
“You no longer run things here, Reid. When the Boss–”
“Tell him.” David interrupts, turning to the man. “Go ahead. Tell him how you had his daughter held in the air in thug restraints ready to throw her outside like a dog. Or shall I tell him for you?”
The man just breathes, staring back at David, and I can see him thinking about whether to challenge him or not.
“Let’s go.” David mutters, grabbing my arm and walking me to the door.
My body lights up the instant his fingers touch my skin, and I find myself automatically moving closer to him, aching for something more as I stagger to keep up with his long strides.
The container door slams shut behind us, and I think David will let me go, but he keeps his tight grip on me until we round a corner and I see his car there.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, but I get no answer. Just a shove into the car seat and the door shut behind me.
I am not too sure if I was even expecting a response.
I sigh, noting Marcus in the front seat looking at me in the rear-view, but I can’t quite read his expression. When David gets in next to me, the air is still silent. Still awkward.
I don’t know if I should speak first. If he is going to speak first. If this is a glorified taxi trip. If he knows why I am there. Wait… why is he there anyway?
Turning in my seat to face him, I watch him staring out of the window, his elbow resting on the door and his finger gliding across his bottom lip. I open my mouth, then close it. I have spent the last week going over and over everything I would say to David the first second we are in the same room, but now it’s like none of that matters. All I want to do is wrap my arms around him, and tell him I miss him. To feel him close to me, to have my David.
“Where are we taking you?” Marcus suddenly asks from the front seat, making me whip my head round to him.
“Uhh… Sel’s. I’m staying at Sel’s.” I reply.
Marcus nods, and I think I see David look at me out of the corner of his eye, but when I turn my head slightly, he is already back looking out of the window. Not needing to tell Marcus where to go, he arrives at Sel’s in 15 minutes. 15 agonizingly slow and uncomfortable minutes.
I mumble a thanks, not really sure who I am directing it to, and get out of the car. Swallowing a horrible-tasting lump in my throat, I start walking to the door when I hear a second car door shut.
David walks around the car and walks past me toward the door, opening it and waiting. Still not looking me directly in the eyes.
Not wanting to kick a gift horse in the mouth, I step forward. David ends up following me into the elevator, down the hallway, right up to Sel’s front door. He waits behind me as I struggle to put the key in the door, seeing my hands shaking as I try to slide it into the lock and twist it the right way. But he doesn’t intervene. He just stands, silent, his breath hitting the back of my neck. His eyes tracing the shiver down my spine as my skin erupts in goosebumps under my jumper.
I leave the door open when I finally walk inside. Whatever he decides to do next is up to him. Breathing deeply, but quietly, I wait, facing the kitchen, until I hear three footsteps, and the door clicks shut. Now the question is – which side of the door is he on?
“Where’s Sel?”
The relief floods through me when I hear his voice. Even though it is rough, croaky, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it properly in days. He is in the apartment, and he is speaking to me.
Eyes closing, tears threaten to fall down my cheeks at the idea that this could be it, this could be the moment where he and I fix all the chaos I have caused.
“She’s uh…” I say shakily, taking a big breath in to try and stabilize my voice. “At work. Won’t be home till 8.”
Slowly, I turn around to face him.
He is already looking back at me, his eyes no longer holding the harshness they had at the docks, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his body still as a statue. Drawing me under his spell. I slide my phone out of my pocket, throwing it on the counter I am next to, then take my shoes off, kicking them to the side, before I look back up at him.
“Why were you there?” I decide to ask, making him blink in confusion.
“We followed you.” His blunt answer takes me by surprise. But he looks at me as though I should have known he was following me the whole time.
“I… since when have you been following me?”
“Well, you didn’t go anywhere until tonight. So technically, only one night. Before that it was just watching.”
I breathe in, annoyed at his observation which is completely and utterly true. And I am annoyed that he has been watching me without me even knowing.
“You didn’t leave this apartment for a week, and when you finally do, you end up there. Why?” He questions.
“I thought you didn’t care about what I do anymore.” I retort, the bitterness inside my brain controlling my words now.
“You could have been killed. Why were you there?” He repeats, the annoyance clear in his words as he carefully omits the truth – that he does in fact care.
“I wanted to talk to him.”
“Your father?”
“Save me from your disappointment,” I say rolling my eyes, “At least he would have spoken to me.”
“I’m speaking to you now.” He sighs.
“Not about anything important.” I snap, then I breathe in, as though that will reel my words back in. “Did you really follow me from the car to ask me what I was doing tonight?”
“What else would I ask?” He replies, his eyes darting to the floor quickly.
“Literally anything else that you’re thinking of.” I point out.
“I’m not–”
“You’re such a coward!” I hiss, storming up to him and jabbing my finger into his chest. “I worked with you for over a year, I submitted to you in The Red Room for months, you asked me straight up about my past and I lied to you every single time! How could you have nothing to ask me?!”
He stares back at me, his jaw tense, clenching his teeth together, as though he is trying to project an anger that tells me he has nothing to say. But I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what else he could have said. What else he wants to say.
So instead of playing along with this ridiculous charade, instead of getting angry, trying to drag him into a conversation he clearly doesn’t want to have, I scoff.
“You know what, it’s been a long night. I think I should just go to bed.” I say, walking away from him, across the lounge toward my bedroom.
“Hey,” He says, jumping in front of me and putting his hand across the doorframe, blocking me from getting inside.
Staring at his arm, I don’t say anything else. I just wait for him to drop his hand, and move out of the way.
But he doesn’t.
His body shifts closer to mine, I can sense it, feel it almost grazing my arm, his scent starting to overwhelm me. The suspense is too much now, the air feels thick as I try to breathe in. Closing my eyes does nothing to help the electric tingling I have buzzing in my stomach. Neither does the fact that his lips are now grazing the shell of my ear.
“Nora…” He whispers, and the sound of my name, my real name coming from his lips is angelic. I can’t stop myself from looking up at him, his eyes darting between mine, and then, before I can properly register it, his eyes look down.
Then his hand slides round my neck, and his lips crash to mine.