I would have assumed that learning all of this about him would have tempered my attraction. A cold dose of reality is a sure-fire way to snuff out any sparks. But truth be told, it’s all only adding to the magnetic pull he’s got on me. He’s rich and deep and complicated. So many mysterious layers reside within Hayden Clarke and I’m desperate to reach the centre.
But after he dropped me off at my flat last night, his demeanour shifted back to that ice-cold way again. It was the same way he acted toward me when we were dealing with drunken Benji. He’s sharing so much with me, but I can’t help but feel like he’s still full of secrets. The fear of rejection is beginning to consume me. There always seems to be something about me that just doesn’t make men climb mountains for me. I remember Leslie sharing a story with me about Finley and Brody’s love story. He flew over a bloody ocean to chase her down after she crushed his heart with no clear explanation. Why can’t I find even a fraction of that type of devotion?
Regardless, I must be glutton for punishment when it comes to Hayden because I rush home early to tidy up my flat. Not that it needs it much. I definitely have a minimalist style, so there’s not much tidying to be done. But my bedroom is an entirely different story than the rest of my flat. It is the one room where I let my personality play. Leslie calls the décor gothic glamour. It’s basically like the Addam’s Family meets Beverly Hills glamour. When I moved in, I covered the wall adjacent to my bed with a lilac and dark purple damask print wallpaper, adding to the drama of the room. My bed itself is a large king with a striking black baroque-carved headboard. The duvet is a decadent dark plum, crushed velvet fabric that Leslie found for me at some quaint fabric store in Brixton. Toss in the millions of upscale plush throw pillows and you have yourself a bed fit for a queen.
The room feels like a tribute to my upbringing, really. I fell in love with this style as a child when our dad took us on these incredible haunted house tours around London. The Jack the Ripper Ghost Tours inside old Victorian mansions sucked me in. I was hooked. I knew that when I grew up, I was going to have a room that looked just like those places. And with Leslie’s help, I more than achieved it.
Hayden said he’ll stop by after tea, so I take Bruce out for a nice long walk to tire him out so he’s not a total sod to Hayden when he arrives. When I return, I take a quick shower and dress in a pair of soft black skinny jeans with holes in the knees and a white button-down blouse. I leave my hair loose and straight, and try not to put too much effort in my makeup.
Just after eight, he buzzes and I type in the code, allowing him access to the eleventh floor. When the doors open, I’m awkwardly tugging at the buttons of my shirt, feeling like a kid on a platform at a tailor shop. Thankfully, Bruce pounces and distracts him enough for me to gain control of my fluttering heart. After paying Bruce proper attention, Hayden comes striding toward me in a pair of sexily faded jeans that are snug around his muscled thighs. He’s wearing a dark green fitted T-shirt that’s tucked into the front of his jeans, revealing a masculine brown belt that matches the sexy leather cuffs on his wrists.
“Hiya,” I say, swallowing nervously as I take note of his glowing grey eyes.
He nods. “How are you?” His gaze is wide and thoughtful, like he knows he’s asking a lot from me by doing this and he appreciates it.
“I’m well. Are you thirsty? Shall I put the kettle on?”
“I’m okay, thanks.” He clears his throat.
“I thought we could pop up to my garden to talk. It’s really pretty up there this time of night with the sun setting. Does that work for you?” God, why does this feel so bloody formal? Oh, maybe because he snogged you senseless and then looked at you like you grew two heads.
He nods and sucks the sides of his cheeks into his teeth, chewing anxiously. I head to the kitchen to grab Bruce a new meaty chew and set it on his large pillow in the corner of the living room.
“Consolation prize?” Hayden asks, smiling at Bruce.
I nod. “Yeah, there’s no way to bring him up, so I always give him something special before I go.”
Hayden follows me through the glass patio door. I flip on the light switch for the roof. Then, I grab hold of the ladder and climb. Feeling his eyes on me the entire time, I do my best to make it up without stumbling. I turn to watch his reaction when he reaches the top and takes in the area that brings me the most joy in my home. The sun is just beginning to disappear and a romantic orange dusk casts a hazy glow on everything, making the greens look even greener. A large, slatted, four-poster overhang resides right in the centre of the small roof, and hanging from that are climbing flowers and Chinese lanterns. Below the lanterns, an enormous, round, wicker sunbed rests on the fake moss flooring. A mess of colourful throw cushions match the various bushes and pots spread out all around the lush vegetation.
“Vincent wasn’t exaggerating,” Hayden says, strolling around and inspecting the climbing ivy and roses alongside a small wrought iron archway.