Love Resisted (Entwined Hearts #2) (10 page)

I glanced down at my hand which seemed to be swelling while tiptoeing down the stairs and past the front room door. When I reached the kitchen, I picked up a grubby tea towel off the side because I didn’t want to spend time rummaging around for a clean one…especially while the activities were still in full swing. I gently prised the freezer open and found a tray of ice. I shut the door and turned around ready to make my dash upstairs, but was met by a man. I looked up at him. He was probably mid-thirties, had a pop belly, a scruffy beard, and was balding. He smelt bad too. I wasn’t sure what of, but he had beads of sweat on his forehead. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst thing, the worst thing was the beads of sweat he had on his chest, the same chest that had no shirt on.

He looked at me and must have seen the fear in my eyes as he smirked and grabbed my arm. He leant down and sniffed my hair. I shivered. This guy was creeping me out, and now I needed another shower. He, however, mistook my shiver.

“You smell good, pretty girl. Do you like me close to you?” His breath stunk and I thought I was going to be sick.

“No, I…I…hurt m…my hand and n…needed some ice,” I stuttered gesturing to the ice.

“Ahh, let me have a look at that.” He didn’t give me a chance to protest, taking my hand and kissing it all over. I felt the bile rise in my throat and I wanted to scream. I knew my mother had other people in the house and that someone would hear me.

“Let me g…go. I’m on…only fourteen,” I said hoping it would make him stop. He didn’t. He completely ignored me.

“Here let me see if I can make it all better,” he said with a smug smile. He brought my hand down to his groin and started rubbing my hand up and down on what I assumed was an erect penis. My hand throbbed, but I wouldn’t unclench it. I was too scared that he would wrap my hand around him if I did. The bile rose again and I couldn’t stop it this time. I threw up all over his trousers and his feet.

“You little bitch,” he shouted and backhanded me catching my cheek and ear. I dropped to the floor and the noise must have alerted the rest of the house as my mother was there in the next instance, along with some other creepy guys.

“I’ll deal with this,” she said to the others who all walked back into the other room. “What the fuck are you doing down here?” she snapped at me. The put-on posh accent that she usually adorned completely gone.

“I…my…I,” I stuttered holding out my swollen hand.

“She wanted me. I’ll have her, I’ll even give you something extra for her,” he said to mother. She swung her head from me to him obviously contemplating it.

Until finally she said, “No Patrick, not tonight.”

He looked back over at me again. “Shame,” he said before walking away.

“Clean this up,” my mother hissed while pointing at my mess.

“Keep your slutty little hands to yourself,” she added and spun around to re-join her party.

I cleaned up and ran back to my bedroom, the ice and tea towel forgotten while sobbing myself to sleep.

Creeping out in the morning and going over to Pea’s house, her gran fixed my hand and didn’t push me when I wouldn’t tell her what had happened, even though my eye was purple. I told her that I fell out of bed.

The song has finished and I didn’t even feel myself really moving. But I must’ve been as Saul is beaming at me. He has no idea what I’d been thinking about or what I’ve lived through. One day I’ll tell him. One day I will share everything. One day when I am healed. It’s going to take one step at a time.

I’m not scared.

I’m brave.

I need to fight for myself. I need to fight to be whole.

I look over to Saul. “Thank you for doing this for me.” Getting up he walks over, wrapping his arms around me.

“Just in case there is any confusion I want to lay this shit out straight.”

I stare at him wondering where he’s going with this.

“From now on it’s me and you babe.”

I stop breathing.

“For too long I’ve pushed you away, thinking I’m not good enough for you. But fuck Soph, it doesn’t matter whether I am or I’m not, I can’t fight it anymore. Just know that I’ll always fight for
us
and
I’ll try to be a better man. I will always try to make you happy, and most of all, it will always be you. Whether you’re with me or not, it will
always
be you. Only you.”

I close my eyes and breathe out laying my head on his chest. I feel one of the broken pieces of my heart slide back into place.

He stroked his hand down my face, my neck and then followed down to brush over my breast. "I want you little girl, and I'll have you, one way or another. Oh, I'll have you all right, don't you worry about that."

I sit up panting, my eyes dart to every inch of the bedroom trying to make sense of where I am, and whether I'm alone.

I am.

I breathe a sigh of relief and try to calm my heartbeat. Closing my eyes, I can still see his face so I immediately open them again. Ever since I danced to that song and my memories assaulted me, I haven't been able to escape again. Seems I’ve opened a box that doesn't want to close. I know I should deal with the past, and that it's not healthy to lock it away, but I've never felt strong enough. Life doesn't slow down though or stop for you to take a minute when you need one. I've worked that out. Especially this last year.

Looking at my hands, they still tremble slightly, but I'm now able to grab my phone from my bedside table without fear of dropping it.

It's 9.30 a.m. and I have twelve missed calls. My eyes bug out and then I freak slightly as I realise that nine of them are from Con. I call him straight back.

"Soph!" he answers on the first ring.

"What…What is it?" I shout, fear making my heartbeat pick up once again.

"I've been trying to get hold of you. I need your help," he answers.

I rub my hand down my face and take a second.

"So, let me get this straight. Nobody is dead, nobody is injured, and aliens haven't landed and threatened you with an anal probing?" I ask.

Con snorts. "What? Soph have you finally lost the plot?" he questions me half joking.

"Possibly," I murmur. "So where's the fire?" I ask confused.

"Okay, so you know next month Pea will visit her mum and Gran's grave? Specifically on her mum's birthday."

"Yeah?" I reply in question.

"Well, I want to know if you could go with her?"

"You aren't going?" I'm even more confused now.

"No, listen Soph. I need you to concentrate for a moment," he tells me. I cross my arms over my chest while holding the phone between my cheek and shoulder in protest of him telling me off like an errant child. Although he can't see me so it's pretty pointless, but it makes me feel better.

"Right, I need you to take her. I want you to get her there at lunchtime. 12 o'clock to be precise. That’s all you need to do. Can you handle that?"

"Yes, dipshit, I can handle that," I respond and he huffs down the line.

"Why? What are you planning?"

"You'll see," he says and hangs up.

Cheeky fucker.

I quickly type out a text to him.

Me:
You're a cheeky fucker. Don't hang up on me again!

Con:
Sorry Soph, things to do. Plus, you forgive me ‘cause you love me.

I smile even though I don't want to.

Me:
Still a dipshit though.

Con:
True, but I love ya!

I shake my head smiling and look at the other missed calls. Saul, Eric and work. I groan. Work first, I guess. Finding my agent Sharon’s number, it’s answered on the second ring, unfortunately by her assistant Carlie.

Carlie doesn’t like me. Carlie, actually, hates me. I think she’d be happy if I were to be attacked and eaten by rabid seagulls.

Carlie had a thing for Dane.

Dane didn’t have a thing for Carlie.

Then Dane
had
a thing with me…hence why Carlie doesn’t like me.

“Sophia, sweetie, how are you?” she says in a fake voice. I pull the phone away from my ear and give it a dirty look.
Like she cares how I am.
When I put it back to my ear, she proves she doesn’t really care as she’s already onto her next sentence.

“…And it starts at nine,” she finishes.

“Errrm, can you repeat that I missed it.”

“Sophia, you need to pay attention. I’m busy, we all have things to do to make sure
beautiful
models like you have work coming in.” I roll my eyes. Everything she says makes me want to tell her to shove it up her whizz-wazz. It doesn’t help that she like them all in this industry also insists on calling me Sophia.

“Just repeat what you said,” I return bluntly. I’m not in the mood to deal with her tantrums today especially as the dream is still clinging to my chest.

She huffs then slowly repeats what she had said. “There’s a fashion show next Friday night. It’s a new designer and it’s short notice. I know you don’t usually like runway stuff, but as it’s in London and you have nothing else on, I thought I’d sign you up. The venue is The Design Museum. Next Friday at nine!”

I roll my eyes at her comment about me having nothing else to do. That’s so typical of her, she assumes if I have no work then I have nothing. Still, I could do with a distraction at the moment and runway stuff takes more of my concentration, because it’s not something I usually do. Avoiding it normally, because I don’t like everyone staring at me.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder why I’m still a model.

I shake my head and answer, “Okay Carlie, I’ll do it.”

“Well, I should think so. You haven’t been offered any work for a week now, and you don’t seem interested in going to casting calls anymore either. You’re not getting any younger and new models are climbing the ranks all the time, you know?” she chides.

I laugh out loud.

“Why are you laughing? I wasn’t joking,” she splutters. “Don’t think for a second that I couldn’t talk to Sharon and get your arse fired. There are hundreds of girls willing to take your place, skinnier and younger.” I can hear the smirk in her voice.

I close my eyes and take a long breath through my nose, trying to compose myself. “I’m laughing because you talk shit. And before you get all excited and do something that may cause that stick to blow out of your arse, let me just say that it’s a good thing you talk shit. You’re supposed to. I mean, you basically sell a commodity. Unfortunately, that commodity happens to be people. I personally think you’d be better with something that doesn’t answer back, like maybe vibrators? You could sell vibrators, right Carlie? I mean you must have worn out a fair few over the years. I can’t imagine you’ve had time to fit in a real man, assuming there is one who would want to screw your stiff vajayjay.” I smirk to myself.

“Fuck you!” she shouts and puts the phone down. I smile.

My work here is done.

I probably shouldn’t be so nasty, but fuck, she antagonises me!

Which means I need to call Eric next.

“Missy, where have you been? It’s practically night time again,” he moans.

“Errrm, hate to break it to you, Eric, but it's 9.45 a.m. I don’t know what clock you’re using, but it’s lying to you,” I snicker.

He ignores me and carries on. “Listen, I want to see you today. Eric wants to know all that is going on with Mr. Broody Knickers,” he tells me.

“No can do, Eric. I’m seeing Mr. Broody Knickers today actually. Can we plan for tomorrow instead?”

“Ooo, of course, Missy. I want all the dirty details tomorrow then.”

I can imagine him bouncing up and down at my news and it brings a smile back to my face.

I love Eric.

“Okay, tomorrow works. But I need you to meet me at a dance studio if that’s okay?” I tell him tentatively.

“Dancing again? That’s fabulous, sweetie.”

“Well, I have been for a few months, but I’ve had trouble finding space. Then Saul took me to my old dance school. I’ve been too scared to visit as Dad used to take me there, but Saul walked me through it. I called the teacher later that evening, and as it turned out she was my old dance teacher. We talked for over an hour and I asked whether I could use her studio. She gave me the times when it was free and the code to get in, and that was that,” I explain in brief.

“She just gave you the code? Just like that? It’s been years since you saw her, right?” he questions.

“Yeah, I was really close to her back then. I think she was sweet on my dad. She’s lovely and she said I should have always been dancing.”

“Well, that’s great, Missy. So this means I get to see you dance finally, right?” he asks.

“Yeah Eric, I guess you do. I’ll text you the address and times to be there, and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah, you will! I wouldn’t miss watching you dance. I’ve been waiting to see it for years.”

“Okay Eric. Just remember, I’m not great, I’m still rusty.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pop some lube on you, spin you around and watch you go.” He laughs and cuts the phone off.

I stare at it.

That’s the third fucking person to put the phone down on me this morning and it’s only 10:00 a.m. Maybe I should roll over and go back to sleep!

Me:
Don’t put the phone down on me, Eric Purdoe!

Eric:
Do not second name me, Missy. I will come over there and pull the heels off your favourite pair of Louboutins!

I gasp at his threat.

Me:
You wouldn’t.

Eric:
No, probably not. But I would steal them.

I smile.

Me:
No more putting the phone down without saying goodbye.

Before I get a reply my phone rings and I accidentally answer it by pressing the button as I was about to text again.

“Hello,” I say.

“Goodbye, Missy!” I hear and the phone cuts off again.

I look up to the ceiling and whisper, “Deliver me!”

Right. Now, I need to call Saul. I’ve been putting it off and I don’t know why. I always think that something will go wrong. I mean we’ve never made it before, so what makes now any different?

Still, I’m not letting a chance to see what could develop between us pass me by.

Not now.

Not ever.

I press the dial button next to his number.

“Babe,” Saul answers, his voice all sleepy. And fuck me, I can feel the heat between my legs.

“Hey. I thought I’d call you today, but it sounds like I’ve woken you up?”

“Sweetest sound to wake up to,” he drawls.

Fuck. Me.

“So what do you want to do today?” Saul asks.

“Well, whatever it is it needs to be gossip-worthy as I’m seeing Eric tomorrow and he wants to know everything,” I reply giggling.

Saul chuckles then says, “Don’t worry, babe, pretty sure I can give you something to talk about.”

Can I orgasm without being touched?

“Okay, well, I’d like to go somewhere, away from here,” I tell him.

“Sounds good. I’ll come over in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

“Later babe,” he replies and this time I get a chance to respond before the call is disconnected.