Текст книги "The Story of Me "

Автор книги: Lesley Jones

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

The driver opens the door of the car and Jackson steps out first; the flash from the photographer’s cameras lights up the night, and I suddenly don’t want to get out. I’ve talked this over and over with Jax, and I know I shouldn’t care, but I do, and I know that by me coming out tonight, of all nights, the press are going to rip me to shreds. I sit completely still. I don’t want to cry. I want to throw up and I want to run, but I know I can’t just keep running. Brooke squeezes my hand as she sits silently next to me. Jax bends down and puts his head back inside, and he holds his hand out to me.

“Come on, Georgia. We’ve got this. They’ve no idea who’s in here, and the last person they’re expecting is you. And if they do work out it’s you, fuck ‘em; you can’t keep hiding away like this. C’mon, let’s go.” I reach out for his hand. I keep my head well down and buried in Jackson’s chest as Brooke covers me from the other side, and we make it inside the club to whispers of, “Who is that?” “No idea.” “It’s no one famous, I don’t think.”

Brooke and I head straight into the first lot of bathrooms and straighten out our ruffled hair. There’re a few people in there and when they start to whisper, nudge and stare, I realise I should have waited and gone to the bathrooms up in the VIP area. My heart is pounding as I grab Brooke’s hand while she’s still putting on her lipstick.

“Let’s use the bathrooms upstairs.” She doesn’t say anything and just follows behind me.

There’s a lift dedicated to delivering guests to the top floor, and we have to give our names before we can get in. A few heads turn as I give mine, and I spend the next five minutes staring at my shoes as we wait for and then ride in the glass capsule.

Once up on the roof, we are greeted by waiters and waitresses; beer, wine, champagne and vodka shots are being offered. I take a flute of champagne and a vodka shot, I throw back the vodka and take another before the waiter is out of reach. We find a spot to stand and people watch quietly for a few minutes while we all let the alcohol calm us down.

“Fuck knows how you deal with that all the time, George. I’d end up punching someone,” Jax eventually says.

“I know; I’m still shaking.” Brooke holds up her shaking hand as to prove her point.

“I don’t deal with it. That’s why I came here, to get away from all that shit.”

“But you’ve had to deal with it most of your life,” Jax says.

“Yeah, and to think I used to be jealous of you. Fuck, that’s just madness! They were all pushing and shoving and they didn’t even know who you were.” I don’t want to tell them that what happened outside was nothing compared to some of the situations I’d been in; the worst was in Japan. The Carnage fans and the press were just insane and broke through the security barriers that had been set up. Sean and I were separated; I tried to get out of the way, but I was pushed all over the place and knocked to the ground. I remember Milo appearing from nowhere, then Marley, both of them holding people back so I didn’t get trampled on. Then Sean appeared and lifted me off the floor, and the three of them surrounded me as they pushed through the crowd. Sean and Marley had gone absolutely ballistic at the organisers and threatened to pull out of the live appearance if security wasn’t stepped up before they went on stage.

“Bet that was nothing. Bet you have better stories than that to tell, eh, George?” I shake my head at the memories.

“You have no idea, Jax. Seriously, anywhere I went with Sean or the band, the fans and the press would just go crazy; some of them are certifiable. I’ve seen fans climb through windows to get to them and the press hanging off roofs and balconies trying to get a shot.” I’m quiet for a few seconds; I forget sometimes the crazy, mad life that I’ve lived. Brooke brings me back into the now as she squeals; she’s recognised someone, but I’ve no idea who they are. An Australian-rules footballer apparently. I don’t even know what that is, so I take her word for it.

We’re on our second round of drinks and our third shot of vodka. I’m feeling considerably more relaxed now that there’re no photographers in sight; no one has approached me, and I don’t seem to be drawing anyone’s attention. Jackson told me that nobody here will probably know who I am, and if they do, they will probably just think I am someone who just happens to look like me. They will never actually expect the real me to be here. I laugh at the thought of lying and just making out I am someone else.

I see Jodie approaching us through the crowd; she’s looking right at me until I look at her then she looks at her brother and sister instead. I know it’s deliberate. She gives each of us a kiss and we talk about how the night’s going. It’s only nine-thirty and the place is already almost packed to capacity.

The dance floor is filling up, and Jackson and Brooke go off to dance. I turn straight to Jodie, saying, “We need to talk.” She raises her eyebrows as she turns and looks at me.

“How could you? Of all the people in Byron, in Australia. You can have your pick, Georgia, anyone you want and you went after Roman.” Well, fuck this.

“Hang on a minute. I never went after anyone, and I had no idea you and Roman were involved until Monday; not one person, including him and your family, told me anything.” I can’t believe I’m getting the blame for this. A waitress goes by and I grab two shots off the tray; I drink them both as Jodie watches me.

“And then what, what did you do Monday when you found out?” What’s she getting at?

“I bollocked him. I told him he was out of order; what d’ya expect me to do?”

“Brooke said you were in bed with him most of Monday, after you had found out.” That little cow! My mouth drops open, and I narrow my eyes at Brooke on the dance floor, now wrapped around the footballer she had her eye on earlier. Jax is all over someone I actually recognise. She’s a model from somewhere or other; she’s tall and gorgeous and currently has her tongue down Jackson’s throat, and he seems to be loving every minute of it. I turn back to Jodie, feeling a little betrayed by Brooke.

“We were on my bed, not in it. Nothing went on between Roman and I once I found out he had been involved with you. And nothing would have gone on ever if someone had just let me know about it. I’m sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t realise he was important to you. Even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten involved knowing he was your ex.” She doesn’t say anything, just stares out at the dance floor.

“I loved him, and I got pregnant. He had already made plans to go to England, so I let him go and then got rid of the baby. He has no idea.” My head spins, a combination of her words, champagne and vodka.

“Fuck, Jode; I’m so sorry. I really had no idea.” She shrugs and lets out a long breath. Another waiter passes by and I grab us both a shot; we clink our glasses together and knock back the drinks.

“So I hear you have a new man; what’s he like?” She shakes her head.

“A complete wanker. That was all over before it ever even got going. He took me out a couple of times, and that was it. I thought it was gonna go somewhere, but he told me today that he’s just found out his ex-girlfriend is pregnant with his baby, and he needs to focus on that right now. Apparently, she’s got a few mental health issues, and he needs to be there for her. He’s not getting back with her, but he needs to be on hand for the baby.”

“Aww, Jode, that sucks balls. He actually sounds like a decent bloke; that must’ve been a tough call for him.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah, he is; hot as fucking sin, too, but oh, well. Obviously wasn’t meant to be, and I’m off to Singapore for work in January anyway.” Her mobile phone she’s had gripped in her hand goes off and she answers. Listening carefully to whatever’s being said, she replies with, “No worries, I’ll be down there in five.” She looks across at me. “I’ve gotta go. Enjoy the rest of your night.” She kisses my cheek and walks away, and I just know she’s still pissed off with me.

I wander over to the alfresco area and look out at the lights of Sydney. Jackson appears at my side, pulls me in for a cuddle and passes me a glass of champagne.

“I have a flight to catch tomorrow morning, and I’m gonna be a mess.”

“Stop whinging. It’s your last night here. You’ll be all tucked up in first class anyway, no doubt, so you can sleep off your hangover.” I suddenly get goose bumps up my spine as I sniff Jackson’s neck.

“Have you changed your aftershave?” He frowns as he looks down at me.

“No, why?”

“I thought I could smell Givenchy.” That fucking Cameron King is in my head again; I take a sip of my drink.

“That’d be me, Kitten. The Givenchy, I mean.”

My stomach hits the floor, catapults back through my body, bounces off my rib cage, travels up to my throat and plummets back down to my toes before settling somewhere around my pelvis. I actually feel myself sway, so I close my eyes and open them twice before I turn around and look behind me. He’s wearing a grey suit, a grey tie and a white shirt. He’s here, right here, in Australia, in this club. He’s right here, standing in front of me, just as tall, dark and handsome as ever, only with a few more flecks of grey in the stubble around his jaw.

“Fuck, Tiger, what are you doing here?”

“Kitten, really? That’s so not ladylike.”

“We gonna go there? We really gonna fuckin’ go there, Tiger?” He gives a little headshake and looks down at the ground. His eyes hit my shoes and travel up my body, lingering over my chest. He licks his lips as his eyes meet mine, and this little high-pitched sound, sort of like “uhh,” escapes from somewhere inside me. Our eyes lock, and we both just stare silently for a long moment. He reaches out and brushes his fingertips gently over my cheek

“You look stunning, Kitten.”

Without thinking, I reply, “You look totally fuckable, Tiger.” He closes his eyes and drops his hand to his side. His eyes suddenly open and move to land on Jackson, who’s shifting beside me. He puts his hand out.

“Cameron King. I’m an old friend of Georgia’s.”

“Jackson Bell, and I know exactly who you are.” I turn and look at Jax with a frown; why so hostile, I wonder.

“Cam, this is my cousin Jackson who I’ve been staying with.” I watch his reaction; his shoulders relax slightly and his frown lessens. His eyes move back to mine.

“Can we talk, Georgia, please?”

I nod. “Of course.” I look around and spot some seats over by a water feature.

Cam follows my gaze, looks back between Jax and myself, and says, “I’ll meet you over there. Nice to meet you, Jackson.” Jax says nothing.

“What’s your problem?” I hiss at him.

“He’s here for you. He’s come all this way for you, George. You haven’t seen him for a couple of years, you speak to him on the phone last weekend, and suddenly he’s here?” Okay, so that’s probably true, but I don’t see why that’s a problem. Should I?

“And your point is?”

“And my point is, he’s come for a reason, and he’s not leaving here without what he came for. Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.” I lean in and kiss Jax on the cheek.

“This is Cam. I trust him with my life; he would never hurt me.” Shoot other people, yeah, but he would never hurt me; that I’m sure of. Jax nods.

“As long as you’re sure, but if you leave, let me know. I’m gonna go and find my sisters.” I nod and watch him walk away before I turn and head towards Cam. He stands as I approach and reaches out for my hand.

“Let’s get out of here. I feel like we’re being watched.”

“We probably are, but there’s loads of paps out the front. How am I gonna get past them?” He pulls out his phone and makes a call, giving directions to whoever’s on the other end to go around to a back set of doors. He grabs my hand and leads me through the club. Spillers Groove Jet is playing, and I giggle as I start singing “If This Ain’t Love” to myself. Why I’m finding this song amusing, I have no idea.

He leads me through a set of emergency exit doors after swiping some sort of card through a gadget on the wall to get them to open. We then get in a goods lift, along with three bar staff. We remain silent the whole time, then the doors to the elevator open and we are in a service area. He leads me to another set of doors and we are outside, a dark car waiting with the engine running. The driver jumps out and has the doors open before we reach it; we both slide into the back seat.

“Mine or yours?”

I look up at him. “Excuse me?”

His eyes meet mine. “Hotel, Kitten, we going to mine or yours?”

I stare at our joined hands for a moment. My whole body tingling and covered in goose bumps.

“We’re going to talk. Just to talk, Kitten.”

I nod. “Mine, please, I’m leaving early in the morning.”

“Where?”

“Australia.”

“Where are you staying, not where are you leaving. Fuck, Kitten, how much have you had to drink?”

I giggle at my mistake. “A lot, actually.” I’d assumed the last ten minutes my head was spinning because of Cam’s presence, but I think the vodka shots also had something to do with it. He shakes his head as I keep my eyes on him. “Am I frustrating you?”

He frowns as he looks at me. “What makes you ask that?”

I smile at the memory. “I asked you once why you are always shaking your head at me, and you told me it was because I frustrate you.” He brushes his thumb over my knuckles, then brings my hand up and kisses the back of it.

“I told you a lot of things back then.”

“You did.” I hear him let out a long breath, and he leans back into the seat of the car and looks over my face.

“And I meant every word. Now, where are you staying?” He meant every word? He told me he loved me back then; I wonder if he still does. I wonder if I should tell him about the conclusions I have come to regarding my feelings for him. My eyes feel heavy, my head woozy, and for some reason, that horrible lump is back in my throat. “Georgia, hotel? What’s the fucking name of the hotel you’re staying at?”

“The Pitt on Marriorriott… The street, The Marriott.” I know what I mean; I just don’t seem to be able to make any sense.

“The Marriott on Pitt Street?” he asks. I nod. “You’re fucking wasted; you need some water. Did you eat dinner?” I shake my head. “You’re skin and bone, Georgia; we need to fatten you up. Sober you up and fatten you up.” All these years, and it’s like nothing’s changed. Cam has, for some reason, always made me feel safe and tears sting my eyes; the alcohol is obviously making me feel emotional. “What’s wrong, Kitten; what you thinking?” He smiles, ever so slightly. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

I shrug. “They’re all wonky. My thoughts are fuzzy, mixed-up and wonky,” I tell him sincerely.

“That’s because you’re so fucking pissed, Kitten.”

“I am not pissed and don’t swear, Tiger; it’s not gentlemany. It’s not geltemenly… It’s not fucking nice.” He throws his head back, gives that big Cam laugh, and I burst into tears.

“Fuck, Kitten. Fuck, please don’t cry; I hate it when you cry.” He undoes his seatbelt, pulls me into his lap, and it’s instant. I feel safe and cherished. He feels like home and all of this just makes all the guilt feel so much fucking worse. I’m here, with him, being held, by him, on the first anniversary of my husband’s death, and it’s so many kinds of wrong that there’s probably not a number big enough to count them all.

* * *

We arrive at my hotel after a completely silent journey. I get myself together enough to stop crying, and Cam helps me out of the car. He holds my hand as we walk through the lobby and head for the elevators. Despite being the only ones inside, we ride in silence, but as soon as we walk through the doors of my room, Cam speaks.

“I don’t want any bullshit from you, Kitten. What’s going on? What happened last weekend, and what were all the tears about in the car?” I turn around and meet his gaze the best I can. He’s only just inside the room and he leans back against the door, folds his arms across his chest and crosses his long legs. I can see his jaw move as he either grinds his teeth or chews on the inside of his cheek; I’m not sure which. “Talk to me, Kitten. I need to know you’re doing okay.”

I shake my head. “It’s one year,” I say quietly. He narrows his eyes.

“I don’t understand; what’s one year?”

I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to say the words out loud. I don’t want to make it real. I want it all to just go away. I want it to fuck off and not be my life. It can be anyone’s, I don’t care whose, just not mine. But then who would I choose? Is there anyone in this world I would wish this pain on? I don’t think there is. I think I would rather just kill them, kill them so they didn’t have to feel like this. I was doing okay, tucked away in Byron, away from any reminders of my past life. I was getting my shit together, but now, with a few drinks in my belly and this man standing in front of me, the man who for some reason, I can’t get out of my head—or my heart, if I’m being really honest—now, I’m back to being a mess. I don’t know what I want. Nights like tonight make me think that I do want to live. I do want to move on. But I don’t want this pain, this ache in my chest, and it’s not just caused by the loss of Sean and Beau. It’s guilt, as well; guilt for my past indiscretions and guilt because I’m even thinking about moving on. Guilt, because on the one-year anniversary of my husband’s death, I’m in a hotel room with another man. And not just any other man. This man, Cameron fucking King, is the only other man outside of Sean and my family who I’ve ever loved, and that realisation is crushing me right now, suffocating me. Not tonight, I shouldn’t be thinking this, feeling any of this. Any other night, on any other date, I might be able to wrap my head around it all, but to finally accept this as absolute fact on December the first just goes to show what a bad person I am.

“What’s one year, Kitten?” I raise my eyes to his and study his face for a few seconds. He’s not perfect, not beautiful like Sean. His nose is probably too big, his eyes a little too small, he has flecks of grey in the stubble on his chin; so, why the draw, why the pull? Whenever we’re together, it’s like there’s a charge, a current that runs between us; it feels right but I know it’s wrong. It feels bad, but it feels so fucking good at the same time. He shrugs, letting me know he’s waiting on a reply.

“Sean died one year ago today. My baby died one year ago today, and here I am, one year on, alive and being the adulterous whore of a wife that I am. I’m here, in a hotel room with you, of all people. I’m with you.”

He steps towards me. “Oh, Georgia, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Baby, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” He picks me up with no effort whatsoever and walks us over to the bedroom. He goes to the bed and sits me down on it, takes off his jacket, loosens his tie and toes off his shoes then removes mine. He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard and the pillows, then pulls me into his lap. I rest my head against his chest and just enjoy his presence. I don’t cry, I just sit quietly with my thoughts and my guilt, trying to sober up my drunk-again brain.

“Why are you here?” I ask after a while. “Why are you here in Australia?” His thumb is brushing up and down over the ridges of my spine, and I’m acutely aware of it. His other hand is splayed over my belly, and as usual when I’m with him, I feel protected. Funny how nothing’s changed. It would be around twelve years now since I first met him, and he has always made me feel safe, despite what I know about him and his ‘business’ dealings.

“I’m an investor in the club. I’m the biggest shareholder, as it happens.”

I’d only found out tonight that the club was called KLUB, and I now wonder if the K had anything to do with him.

“Is that why it starts with a K? Is that why they spelt it KLUB?”

“Yep, it’s made up of an initial from each investor, the K coming from King.”

I look up at him and smile. Doing my best Humphrey Boggart impersonation say, “In all the bars, in all the world.” He smiles and his eyes shine.

“You walk into mine… again.” I give a small laugh.

“That’s mad, you know? What are the chances of us both being in Australia at the same time?” He rubs his nose in my hair.

“We weren’t. I flew home from here last weekend; I was just getting into a car at Heathrow when I got your text. I was frantic. I was jet-lagged and thinking all sorts. Your brother was behaving like a complete prick and giving me nothing, and I didn’t know what to do.” I curl into him, getting closer, remembering my stupidity of last weekend. “I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. I said I’d seen enough, wished everyone good luck and said I would be back after Christmas. Then when I found out you were here, I got off the phone, rearranged a few things and booked a flight back. I came to the opening tonight, and I was coming to Byron Bay tomorrow to find you.”

Oh, he was coming to find me.

“Why, why were you coming to find me?” He lifts my chin with his index finger so my eyes meet his.

“I needed to know you were okay. I needed to know if all the things you said on the phone last weekend were true. I know you were bolloxed and fucked-up, but you don’t just say that kinda shit. No one says that kinda thing without there being some truth in it.” He tilts his head forward so his forehead rests against mine. “You told me on the phone that you had told someone you loved me, that you’d always loved me. Then Sunday, when you were straight and sober, you told me you cared, that you’d always cared, that you still care. I just… I wanted to see you. I wanted to hear you say those things to my face.” He says no more, and I know he’s waiting for me to speak. He leans his head back into the pillows.

“I never gave us a chance, did I, Tiger? I was so obsessed with Sean that I couldn’t see what was happening right in front of me.” He deserves my honesty, even though I’m not sure if it’ll do any good now. I’m feeling drunk and brave, so I decide to tell him anyway. “I was attracted to you from the very beginning, Cam. Right from the start, you were the first bloke who made me want: made me want to be kissed, want to be touched, want to be fucked, the first one since I’d split up with Sean. But then when you found out who my dad was and got on the turn, I thought it was because you’d realised I was ‘that’ Georgia, the one they wrote about in the paper, the underage whore who broke the poor boy from Carnage’s heart. That’s why I threw the drink over you.”

He gives a small laugh. “Fuck, I’d forgotten about that.” He leans over and picks the hotel menu up from where I’d left it on the bedside table the night before. “You hungry?” I nod.  “I’m starving, what’s good?” he asks.

“The burger with the lot,” I reply. “I had one last night.” He tilts his head and looks at me.

“You were here, in your room last night, ordering room service?” I nod, mainly because I’m struggling to form sentences. “I was a few streets away in my hotel room, doing the same.” I make do, do, do, do noises, attempting to sound like the theme to the Twilight Zone.

“Spooky,” I whisper to him, and he slaps me over the head with the menu.

“Don’t take the piss, Kitten; it’s not nice.”

I sigh a big sigh and shake my head at him. “Cameron King, when are you gonna realise I’m not nice?”

He looks at me almost reverently as he tucks my hair behind my ear. “You’re nice; you’re just too hard on yourself, and you worry too much about what other people are gonna think or say.”

I ignore him. “Anyway, listen, you have to listen to my story. I need to tell you all of this.” No matter how hard I try, I slur nearly every word, and I can see Cam’s trying his best not to smile. “So, yeah, anyway, because I thought you thought I was a little whore, I decided to act like one. All those blokes, the different ones I used to bring into Kings every week or so, I was just trying to piss you off. I was just like… ‘yeah, well, you think I’m a whore, then I’m gonna act like a whore; just watch me. Just watch me, King, you fucker.’ And for six months, six whole months I did. And all the while, I wanted you to stop me; I wanted you to say something, to tell me to stop, ask me to stop, but you didn’t. You didn’t say or do anything, so I just kept bringing them in, week after week after week.”

He picks up the hotel phone and presses a button. “Keep talking. I’m listening.”

I give him a wink. “Good-looking and a multitapletasker, a multiple, a multitasker, wow.”

He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “Baby, you’ve felt nothing till you’ve felt my fingers,” he wiggles his middle finger at me, “my tongue,” he sticks out his tongue and moves it suggestively, “and my cock,” he gyrates his hips, “all in action at the same time… Shit, sorry, no not you, love.” He bites his bottom lip as he tries not to laugh at the person who’s just answered the phone. “Shit,” he mouths to me. “Yeah, can I get two burgers with the lot, one with no pineapple.” My heart stutters; all these years and he’s remembered I don’t like pineapple. He winks at me as he talks. What is this? What am I feeling here and where am I going with this? My head is swimming, drowning in the questions I’m asking myself right now. “Yeah, a side of wedges, some aioli, some sweet chilli sauce, a large jug of iced water and a bottle of Wild Turkey, Rare Breed if you’ve got it… That’s right, cheers.” He puts the phone down.

He folds his arms behind his head and leans against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front as I sit cross-legged beside him on the bed.

“So, all you wanted was for me to rescue you. Is that what you’re saying?”

I nod. “I think I was but I wouldn’t… couldn’t admit that to myself at the time.”

“Why?”

I think about this for a while; my long conversations with Jackson have helped me come to a conclusion, and I concentrate hard on explaining myself clearly to Cam. I don’t want him to think this is just drunk talk. I want him to know this is me being honest.

“I was so in love with the idea of being in love with Sean that I couldn’t see past it. I wouldn’t let myself accept that I was attracted to you, but at the same time, I so desperately wanted you to force me, to make me see it.” God, this feels so good. Sitting here with him, with Cam and after all these years, finally explaining myself to him. It just makes everything so much clearer. “When you spoke to me that night in the wine bar, when that bloke shoved me at the bar and we ended up in your office—” His eyes are closed as he interrupts me.

“Fuck, you were wearing stockings and suspenders.”

“I was.” I blush as I think about that night; my behaviour all round was pretty shameful. The way I treated the bloke I was with, and the things I did with Cam in his office. Cam, me and offices, what a lethal, explosive combination.

“What is it when you and me end up in an office together, Kitten, ehh? Things happen.”

My stomach churns as I think about the ‘things’ that have happened; the sex we had against his office door, the one and only time in my life I was unfaithful to Sean.

“Bad things happen when we’re in an office together,” I say quietly.

He shrugs and shakes his head slightly, the way he so often does around me. “There was nothing bad about the things we did as far as I’m concerned, Kitten. I only remember them as good, and… Fuck, change the subject. I’m getting a hard-on.” I don’t mean to, but fuck, my eyes go straight to his crotch and sure enough, he has a tepee in his trousers,

“Cam, seriously?” My eyes roam up his body and meet his, and we both laugh and shake our heads. I’m still wearing the dress I went out in and I have a pillow over my lap so Cam can’t see up it. I throw the pillow down onto his lap as I jump off the bed. “I’m gonna have a quick shower before our food gets here. You can try and calm yourself down while I’m gone.”

“You’ve just told me you’re going for a shower and you expect me to calm down? Are you fucking mad, woman? Pass me out some tissues, and I’ll have a wank while you’re gone. I just saw your knickers by the way, Kitten.” His lips are pursed together, eyebrows raised as he waits for my response.

“You need help, Tiger?”

He pulls open his fly. “Is that an offer, Kitten?”

I need to leave. I need to lock myself in the bathroom and take a cold shower. I have no idea where things are going with Cam, and the last thing we need to do is complicate matters with sex; not that I would do that, with him, tonight of all nights.

I grab what I need and take it into the bathroom. There’s no way I’m stepping back out here with just a towel wrapped around me. I shower and remove all the makeup I’m wearing, then dress in one of my Juicy tracksuits.

I step from the bathroom into the bedroom, and Cam’s no longer on the bed. I walk out into the living area of the suite and he’s standing with his back to me, sipping on a bourbon, our food laid out on the table. I must make a noise or he just senses my presence as he turns and looks at me, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other nursing his drink. His sleeves are rolled up and he’s taken off his tie. He is just so… male: big, tall and so fucking sexy.

We both stand completely still; the air crackles between us but we don’t say a word. My heart is pounding, and I desperately want to touch him. I desperately want him to hold me in his arms, but I say nothing. The telly is on and has been switched to a music channel. Lifehouse are on, singing “Hanging By A Moment”, and if this had been pre-planned, set up, staged or whatever, there’s not a better song out there to fit this moment.

“That’s better; now you look like my Kitten. You didn’t need all that shit on your face. You’re more beautiful without it.” I don’t reply, because if I say something, it will be too much and I don’t want to spoil things. “Come and eat something; you really need to fatten up.” I’ve actually put on weight since I’ve been in Australia; God knows what he would have thought if he’d seen me before I arrived.