Copyright

All rights reserved.  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law.  Any unauthorised distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.  Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Copyright © 2011 by JoJo Quinn

Published by JoJo Quinn Books. Updated July 2019

Pieces of You + Me is a work of fiction.  All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Pieces of

You + Me

This story is a prologue to the standalone book, In Pieces but can be read before or after it or not at all and you would not be missing any of the main story.

Chapter One

PAST

Delilah

I smoothly turned my crossed legs to emerge out of the limo door, hoping to exude an air with effortless elegance to the waiting paparazzi. There’d been a recent spate of unflattering photos of celebrities in gossip columns caught exiting out of cars flashing their undergarments to the waiting press, and I didn’t want to be tomorrow’s celebrity fodder.

As I settled my Louboutin heels on the pavement, I straightened up to my full five-foot-eleven height and turned my professional model smile up to its maximum wattage as a flash of cameras greeted my arrival.

“Delilah, over here,” shouted one of the photographers as I went through my well-practised poses for the arrival walk for such events.

As well as the face of Lippy Lips, a global cosmetic company, and other various brands, my so-called celebrity status drew a tremendous amount of publicity for the charities I’d chosen to promote.

Tonight’s dinner was in support of one for underprivileged children.

I was standing outside the Keats Mayfair hotel with its marble and stone exterior in a floor-length navy-blue evening dress embellished with tiny crystals. My long ash-blonde curls were swept up by several tiny hair-grips that matched the crystals on my dress, and as I stood against the backdrop of the hotel lights and camera flashes, the flickers of light bounced off the crystals, causing me to sparkle like a cluster of stars against a night sky.

“Is Dylan not accompanying you tonight?” another shouted, trying to provoke a reaction from me.

I pretended not to hear that specific question, my face remaining in a fixed smile although my teeth gritted together at the mere mention of that person’s name. Dylan Matthews and I’d been dating for the past nine months, but after several highly public arguments about his wandering eye, we were over for good as far as I was concerned. This was my first public event flying solo without a date since the break-up, and I didn’t want any photos from tonight’s event to give any impression that I was even upset over it.

Flashing one last winning smile, I walked through the hotel’s door to the entrance hall to meet up with the rest of my party.

Entering the banqueting reception area where the guests were gathering for a champagne aperitif before taking their places for the meal and after dinner auction, I spotted my two-favourite people, Abby and Kinnsie, in the crowd. Abby was my older sister by a year and Kinnsie was my bff.

Despite being polar opposites in looks – Abby was pale-skinned, blue eyed with long straight blonde hair, whereas Kinnsie was olive-skinned and green-eyed with black liquorice curls – each girl drew admiring glances even without trying.

Exchanging kisses on the cheek in greeting, we quickly fell into the familiar chatter of gossip of how our weeks had gone. Although we shared a luxurious house together in Notting Hill on the weekends, each of us were gone most of the working week elsewhere developing our careers. While I earned my living as a model and charity campaigner, Abby was studying law at Cambridge and Kinnsie was a photography student in London.

Sipping at the champagne that a passing waiter had been handing out, Abby got right to the point. “So what the hell was all that in the papers between D and you fighting outside Studio Whites?” Studio Whites was a club that Dylan part owned and DJ’d in sometimes.

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “A very public dressing down for that reoccurring bad habit of his of getting a little too close to the groupies.”

“You actually caught him this time?”

“I received a call from a bouncer friend of mine warning me that he was getting fresh with some bimbo, so I headed over to have it out once and for all. His security tried to stop me from entering his office, but you could tell what he was up to even before the door was open.”

Abby’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks blushing. “You mean you actually could hear them?”

I smirked at my sister’s obvious embarrassment at discussing such a subject but was interrupted from making any further comment by the CEO of the small but well-known charity, Sasha Willoughby.

“Apologies, I just need to borrow Delilah for a while,” Sasha informed.

Casting an apologetic glance towards Abby and Kinnsie, I turned and gave the Sasha my full attention.

“I want to introduce you to a group of potential investors. Each of them makes substantial charity donations each year, and I think meeting our charming patron would encourage them to add our name to their list.”

I laughed. “Okay, I will put my best charm offensive into motion. Which ones are they?”

Sasha smiled. “You see the three suits closest to the tables? The shorter blond on the left is Cameron Barker, the taller one is Adam Keats, and the dark dreamy one is Nixon Keats.”

I noted the group Sasha was indicating. They all looked to be in their mid- to late-twenties and immaculately groomed.

“Cameron Barker is studying to be the next Dotcom sensation, Adam is a PR guru, and Nixon runs the hotel chain of which this hotel is part.”

“Who is that fashion disaster with them?” I couldn’t help but scoff at the woman stood haughtily observing the people as they passed by her. She had on the most vibrant pink outfit that clashed with her long red hair.

“That is Caggie, Cameron Barker’s sister. She is well-known for her interesting colour coordination.” Sasha smiled knowingly

We couldn’t help but laugh a little at the other woman’s expense as we made our way over to the group.

“Sasha, it’s good to see you again.” Adam moved forward and shook her hand before turning to look at me. “And who is this lovely creature?”

“I’m Delilah Keyes,” I responded evenly as I felt the eyes of the group all turn towards me, especially the self-important redhead giving me the critical once-over.

After all the introductions had been completed, Sasha and I spent some time fielding questions from the three men about the ins and outs of the charity’s working principles while trying to ignore the persistent barbed remarks from Caggie.

Making my excuses, I finally returned to where my sister and Kinnsie had just congregated as the champagne reception progressed on to the dinner section of the evening.

“Who was that blond man Sasha introduced you to?” Abby whispered as she slipped onto the chair next to me.

I laughed. “I thought he might have caught your eye.”

“Am I really that predictable?”

“Only to me, dear sister.”

“So, who is he?”

“Cameron Barker, Cam to his friends. He is studying Business at Cambridge.”

“Who cares what he is studying? Get to the important stuff – is he unattached?” Kinnsie interrupted.

Rolling my eyes in Kinnsie’s direction, I chuckled. “I believe so.”

“Do you think he is going to make a donation?”

“Well, they all handed over their business cards to Sasha with a promise to get their accountants to give her a ring next week.”

“Did you see the size of the dark-haired one’s long fingers? I bet he knows exactly how to use them to drag an O from my lips,” Kinnsie interrupted loudly in her usual style.

“Kinnsie!” Abby and I chastised in unison.

Despite growing up together, the two sisters’ more refined upbringing hadn’t been able to fully quash Kinnsie’s crass outspokenness.

“What?” Kinnsie batted her lashes innocently. “I only asked what any hot-blooded woman would be thinking while looking at him.”

“Some things are better left to one’s imagination, don’t you think?” I reasoned. I was far too used to Kinnsie’s brashness to be truly offended but knowing others around us within earshot might have a dissimilar viewpoint, I tried to curb her potty mouth on occasions like this.

The noise of the waiting staff arriving with the first course thankfully drowned out any response Kinnsie may have said, but I couldn’t help but notice a man sitting at the next table to us that shared some of the same facial features of Nixon Keats, who was further around that table, staring at us intensely. A sinking feeling shuddered through me as the man’s bright sapphire blue eyes regarded Kinnsie and me with cold disdain. I imagine he must have overheard our whole conversation and summarised the worst about us.

Meeting his gaze defiantly, I gave him a slight nod before turning back to the conversation that’d started between our table occupants about the auction that was due to take place after the dinner.

Throughout the rest of the dinner courses and auction, I could feel the man’s unrelenting stare on me. As crude as Kinnsie had been in her description of the man’s relative, she hadn’t said anything further on that subject, so I felt he was almost being offensive himself to keep staring at me so critically. I’d tried my best to ignore him, but it began to grate on my nerves each time I caught his eyes skimming over my body broodingly.

Gritting my teeth, I was just getting to my feet, all ready to walk over to him with guns blazing and give him what-for for the continuous staring, instead I became distracted by Cameron stepping over from his table and whispering something in Abby’s ear.

Nodding her consent to whatever Cameron Barker had asked of her, I saw Abby blush. Moments later, he was leading her onto the dance floor as the band began to change the momentum of the music playing in the background.

Unable to resist giving the arrogant man a look of triumph at Cameron’s gesture, I made my own excuses and headed off to the bathroom to refresh my make-up.

Negotiating my way through to the long section of mirror in the luxurious bathroom, I pulled the liquid eyeliner from my purse and began retouching it while choosing to ignore the look of daggers Caggie Barker was directing at me in the reflection of the mirror until the room had emptied slightly.

Once we were alone except for the attendant, I turned and smiled sweetly. “You truly should fire the person who told you that dress would complement your colouring. It makes you look like a flamingo.” With that, I walked out without a backward glance.

Arriving back into the dinner area, I saw Abby and Cameron all smiles as they chatted quietly, dancing among the other couples on the dance floor. Satisfied that Kinnsie’s comments did not seem to have quashed Abby’s chances with Cameron, I started my way back to the table when I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between Nixon and the staring man, who both still had their backs to me as I approached.

“Have you lost your mind? I seriously cannot believe you intend on asking that woman to dance.”

“Murphy, you really need to get that broom out of your arse and chill out. So, the woman commented about the length of my fingers – it just proves she has a quirky sense of humour. Have you not seen how HOT she is? For that, I can forgive almost anything.”

“Looks – is that all you care about? What of her connections?”

“Seriously, you are starting to sound like Dad more and more. Not everything has to revolve around public image. And by the by, I think her connections must be extremely good if the CEO of Aheadstart has bothered to hold a conversation with her.”

My eyes followed the direction of Nixon’s tilting head. A knowing smile played on my lips as I took in the scene of our uncle chatting with a giggling Kinnsie.

“So she knows some of the right people.” The arrogant man shrugged.

Nixon shook his head in incredulity. “You need to start getting to know people before making such critical assessments of them. Not everyone is worthy of the contempt you seem to bestow if they leave a poor impression.”

I watched the man who I now knew was named Murphy sit open-mouthed as Nixon dragged his chair backwards as he stood up, exasperation written over his features. As he turned, he noticed me standing behind them for the first time, offering me an apologetic smile he strode off without another word.

As my line of sight focused on Murphy, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of vindication for Kinnsie as I saw his face flash with what I only could determine to be remorse.

Chapter Two

PAST

Delilah

Can a poor first impression ever be really overcome? This thought had been running over in my mind ever since that night at the fundraiser. Abby, Kinnsie and Sasha seemed to have been able to get over Murphy Keats’s judgemental attitude in the weeks since, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to forgive him. On top of that, there was now this pesky attraction I felt building towards him. My head wanted to deny it, but my heart just went right on fluttering defiantly whenever he was nearby. I felt torn over my uneasiness of how he reacted to people he might initially consider below his status in life, but no one could remain indifferent to how hot he was for long. His bright pools of blue sapphire and full lips consumed my dreams both day and night.

Sasha had been trying to convince me that he’d shown a more compassionate side when he’d doubled the donations from the whole fundraiser with his sole contribution, but I knew she couldn’t let on she was warming to the guy.

“I bet he only did it because his accountant told him about the tax break advantages.” I’d let my enthralment with the man get the better of me on several occasions as I searched the internet for information about him to find something negative to downplay my attraction to him. All I’d been able to discover was there were hardly any photographs of him with the same woman twice. The stories mostly covered Murphy’s workaholic ethic and numerous business takeovers.

“You should give him a chance, Delilah.” Sasha had further tried to reason with me as we sat down to a takeaway with Kinnsie and Abby one night.

“He really is quite good company once you get to know him,” Kinnsie added.

I pulled a face but said nothing. I knew all my already crumbling defences would collapse completely if I had to spend any more time with him up close. I’d up until now managed to successfully manoeuvre myself out of attending four dinner parties when the group had congregated at the house she shared with Abby and Kinnsie in just as many weeks. Each time, I’d seen him fleetingly, and each time, the casual small talk he struck up between us seemed to melt the cool façade I’d put around myself since Dylan’s betrayal.

They wanted me to agree to be the eighth member of the group outing that was planned. Each of the three other women had already paired up: Abby with Cameron, Kinnsie with Nixon, and Sasha with Adam – leaving just Murphy and I unattached.

“Come on, Delilah. It’s inevitable you are going to have to get used to seeing him more if things progress between the rest of us. You don’t have to like him but just be civil is all we ask.” Abby put her voice to the discussion.

Sighing, I knew I couldn’t continue to argue with all three of them against me. “Okay, I will concede to one night and see if he improves on me.” I tried to keep my voice cool and indifferent, but inside, I was quaking with anticipation.

The group outing was to the opening night at a dance club that the four men had invested in.

When he’d sat next to me in the limo that picked up the group, my heart had accelerated so much I felt sure he would be able to hear the pounding of it.

The feelings he arose in me I’d tried to quash after the insult, but being in such proximity, I couldn’t ignore them any longer. Determined to remain distant, as I couldn’t afford such a distraction at this point in my career, I’d decided not to dance with him. Although even that decision didn’t last long and now here I found myself on the dance floor with him, his body pressed close up against me causing my stomach to quiver uncontrollably.

Trying to ignore all the sensations his closeness evoked, I glanced around the crowded club, noticing the jealousy expressed on most of the women’s faces dancing around us, watching us. Even I couldn’t deny that Murphy Keats was among one of the sexiest men I’d met, and I’d met a fair few in my line of work. Their envy bolstered my ego as it was unheard of to see the infamous playboy Murphy Keats dancing in unfamiliar company.

 “Are you okay? You seem miles away,” Murphy’s voice spoke. His hot breath teased against my ear, making it difficult for me to breathe without taking in his glorious scent. The mix of vanilla and wood teased at my nose as his voice penetrated my thoughts returned me to the reality of his fingertips caressing the bare skin of my back in time to the slow rhythm of the music.

“Sorry, lost in the words for a sec,” I admitted, stumbling over my words. I couldn’t help but blush as he leaned back to look intently at my face. I felt sure he’d been able to feel my body reacting against his touch.

“Do you like this band?” he questioned. His usual air of indifference had vanished as he seemed to take a genuine interest in what my answer would be.

I smiled weakly under the continued power of his gaze as he awaited my reply. “Yes, they are one of my favourites. I missed out on getting tickets for their concert next week, even at heavily inflated prices.”

Chapter Three

PAST

Murphy

A smile played on my lips as I nodded. The cogs of my mind whirred as I found a way to persuade her that I wasn’t such a terrible person after all.

I’d been trying to make amends since that first night. It’d taken me several attempts at apologising and the persuasion of her sister and friends before she agreed to come to this event with me. Her resistance towards me drew me to want her even more. I was used to women falling at my feet, but she wasn’t like that.

Her sexy curves were on my mind constantly. That’d been half the problem when I was staring at her that first night. When she thought I’d been looking over constantly in judgement of Kinnsie had mostly been because Delilah was mesmerising. I usually got what I wanted, and I wanted her. I was so tempted to pursue her until she agreed to be mine. With her vivacious personality and the caring attitude towards the charities she supported made me decide she was a woman I wanted by my side. I just needed to get her to share this point of view. Simple enough, you would think, and perhaps it would have been if I hadn’t been so stupid as to insult her friend while she was standing right there. Now I was paying the cost of having to work harder to get her to like me. But the sensation of her in my arms felt so right that I knew she was worth any hardship.

Despite having the responsibility of extensive business assets, I preferred to spend my life in Yorkshire, far away from the cutthroat deals I conducted on a daily basis. The motivation of having someone like Delilah in my life was what I needed to start changing my business priorities and handing over more responsibilities to my brother, Nixon.

“I might be able to help there.” I gave her an intriguing smile as the dance came to end. “I have a contact within the band,” I explained as we moved back to the VIP section we were sharing with the rest of the group.

“Oh, I couldn’t expect you to do that.” Delilah started to refuse.

“Nonsense. Consider it my way of an apology. How many tickets would you need?”

“Well, seven was what I’d been trying to purchase,” Delilah admitted.

“Then seven it is.”

“Well, eight if you wanted to come too. I couldn’t accept them if you didn’t join us.”

My mouth twitched with satisfaction that I was starting to make progress in winning her over. “I would like that.”

We continued to talk about music for the rest of the evening and actually discovered we shared an appreciation for several other artists.

The other three couples all had separate plans of how they were travelling home as they were heading to other places, so I told Delilah that I wanted to see her home safe.

Asking the taxi to wait for a moment, I walked her up the stone steps to her front door.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” I began, my voice strained with nervous energy. My eyes gazed at her luscious lips as the trace of lip-gloss glistened from the diffused porch light above us.

Chapter Four

PAST

Delilah

“Thank you for asking me. I enjoyed myself.” I smiled nervously back at him. My tongue flicked over my lips subconsciously as I felt his gaze upon them. My own eyes fell upon his lips unintentionally as I remembered the beautiful smile that adorned them periodically throughout the evening when he glanced my way. I wished he’d smile more openly, as it brought out the dimple on his cheek, softening the hard mask he wore upon his features.

“In that case, would you be available for dinner again tomorrow?” His beautiful smile was back.

“Ohh,” I said, feeling caught off guard. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to ask me out on an actual date, especially with the concert planned for next week. “I’ll be in Prague tomorrow night for a photo-shoot, but I’ll be returning the following day. Would you be available for dinner that night instead?” I blurted out, surprising myself with the quick acceptance of his invitation despite all my earlier intentions to keep my distance.

“Yes, I will have to shuffle things around, but I can be free then.”

“Text me the details of the restaurant, and I’ll meet you there.”

He nodded eagerly.

“If you give me your mobile, I can put my number in for you.”

He handed over his mobile, and I entered my details for him.

“I should let you get inside,” he said as I shivered in the cool evening air.

My wrap covered my elbow and lower arms, leaving the top of the arms, neck and chest bare to the brisk evening air.

I smiled shyly, inwardly surprising myself that I was disappointed that the evening was over.

He took a step forward. My stomach flipped with unexpected excitement as I realised, he was going to kiss me.

His hands came up to grasp my upper arms lightly as he pulled me gently towards him, so his lips brushed against mine, soft and barely there on the first sweep. Electricity sizzled between us as he moved in for a second sweep of his mouth on mine, this time lingering longer and with more demanding pressure.

My heart raced, a fire spreading between my legs as he pulled away all too soon.

“Good night, Delilah. I’ll text you tomorrow,” he said softly, his eyes darkened with intensity, his breathing rate harsher than it had earlier been.

With that, he was gone.

Letting myself into the empty house and closing the door behind me, I leaned up against its wooden surface and sighed, letting the tip of my tongue move over my lips so I could continue to taste him.

Chapter Five

PAST

Murphy

I gave the cab driver the address of my house.

As I leaned back against the leather of the seat, I was still aware of the semi-hard erection pulled tight against my boxer shorts that’d materialised as I couldn’t help but notice her erect nipples poking through the material of her dress when we stood on the doorstep. I began to close my eyes to drift back over the evening’s events.

When she’d first arrived at the club, I had to stop myself from gawping at her. Her wild ash-blonde curls tamed into a French plait, leaving me aching to press my lips to her exposed neck. She looked stunning in her barely there pale-pink chiffon dress that flared out at her hips, with a silver halter-styled neck detail that matched the colour of her high heels.

I recalled the memory of her bare back beneath my fingertips that gave me an idea of how soft her secret flesh that I hoped to devour at a later date would be. The feel of her ample-sized breasts rubbing against me through my shirt had almost been the undoing of me. I can’t wait to release them from the restriction of any lingerie and enjoy watching them bounce up and down as I slide my cock deep inside her pussy. Despite being more of a leg man, I’d a feeling she would transform me into becoming a breast man as well.

Overall, I was pleased with how the evening had gone, and from her reaction to the kiss, she seemed to be warming to me slowly.

As thoughts of her flesh subsided, I watched the London nightlife whizz by out of the passenger side windows and realised for the first time I’d been so nervous not to show the effect she’d on me that I’d forgotten to compliment her outfit altogether.

Usually, it was part of my playboy MO to compliment the appearance of a woman who I’d spent the evening with, but the magnetism pulling me to her felt different – stronger, with more substance than the pure lust that I usually allowed myself to feel.

Pulling the phone from my suit jacket pocket, I touched the contacts icon and found my assistant’s mobile number. I hit the call option and waited for David to answer the phone despite the late hour. David assisted me in anything and everything to do with the company or personal business. He was paid highly for being at my command no matter the time of day.

“Mr Keats, it’s one AM.”

Absentmindedly, I checked my watch, not realising it was as late as that. “Sorry, David. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything.” There was music and talking in the background.

“No. What is it that you need?”

“Can you arrange to have some flowers sent first thing in the morning?”

“Of course. Roses as usual?” David was used to me requesting him to send flowers to random women.

“No, this lady is different. Send her hydrangeas. Lollipop blue.”

“A different message than usual as well?”

“Yes.” I reeled off the specific message I wanted on the card.

***

The next morning, once I reached the office, I placed another call to make good on my promise to secure tickets for Delilah at the concert she wanted to attend.

The ringing tone started, a long gap between each beep indicating that I was making an international call. I should have guessed, as the guy was barely in the country nowadays.

“Mate, how are you doing?” Xander’s British accent came over loud and clear despite the loud background of inaudible chatter also coming down the phone.

“I’m good. Where the hell are you?”

“Flying visit to the States before heading back home. How about we catch up?”

“Perfect, I was hoping to pull a favour and get a group of us onto your entrance list for the concert at the dome next week.”

“Sure, mate; how many?”

“Eight; Nixon, Adam, Cam, and I will be bringing some ladies to see you strut your stuff.”

“Lol, ladies. I like the sound of that.”

“Hey, hands off. These ladies are taken,” I joked.

“You know, once they meet the rock star Keats, you won’t be able to compete.”

“Yeah, yeah, in your dreams.”

“In all seriousness, just hit up my email with the names and it will be dealt with.”

“Cheers catch you, then.” I ended the call

Something I’d neglected to tell Delilah when she mentioned that Fusion was the band, she’d tried to get tickets to was that it was fronted by yet another relative, Xander Keats, along with his two brothers, Noah and Roux. They were from a different branch of the family than Adam. My father and his three brothers all had reasonably large amounts of offspring, so I’d about twenty cousins to call upon for favours when needed.

Chapter Six  

PAST

Delilah

I was due to fly out to Prague in the mid-afternoon. I’d be there for less than twenty-four hours to do a night photo-shoot for a clothesline I’d modelled for in an earlier season. Rising early, I was packing a few items in my overnight bag, when the doorbell rang. Kinnsie shouted from downstairs that she would answer it, so I carried on with what I was doing.

A few minutes later, Kinnsie appeared in my room. “You’ve a rather keen admirer,” my best friend said, leaning up against the doorframe and smirking.

I turned to look at her, my eyebrows raising as I saw why she’d made such a statement. Kinnsie held in her hands the largest bunch of blue hydrangeas with baby’s breath and heather that I’d ever seen. “They’re for me?” I asked, realising what a stupid thing to ask as soon as she uttered the words.

“Yes, your name scrawled over the front of the accompanying card gave it away,” Kinnsie answered, stepping closer to give them to me.

“I wonder who sent them,” I said, still feeling quite disconcerted. I’d received the odd bunch of flowers before, but nothing compared to this.

Kinnsie laughed softly at me. “I bet you will discover they are from a rather lush man, whose blue eyes followed you everywhere last night,” Kinnsie teased, pointing to the card among a section of greenery.

I blushed. “I’m sure you’re mistaken that he looked at me all night.” Taking the card and opening it, my cheeks flushed red as I read it under Kinnsie’s scrutiny.

“So I was right?” Kinnsie smirked, “Perhaps I should start calling you Mrs Keats from this day onwards.”

“Kinnsie,” I rebuked softly.

“So what does it say, and I wonder how he knew lilies were your favourite flower?”

“He may have asked Cameron to find out from Abby,” I suggested, not answering her question about what he had written.

“Maybe,” Kinnsie agreed, hugging me before leaving me alone since she knew I wasn’t going to reveal the card’s contents.

Alone again, my packing forgotten, I sat on the edge of the bed and read the card once more:

A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady. See you tomorrow at eight @ Netherfields, Murphy

Netherfields was a highly publicised, one-off restaurant owned by both Murphy and Cam, located in Covent Garden where many opera and ballet goers attended before shows.

After I’d arranged the flowers in two crystal glass vases from the kitchen, I sat down at the island.

My mobile began to vibrate on the kitchen counter as I took a swig of water from my nearby drinking bottle.

Noticing the screen indicating that it was my agent, Lauren, I answered it, wondering if there’d been any last-minute changes to the photo-shoot arrangements.

“I hope you’re ready to go,” my agent piped up in her usual manner of offering no acknowledgement.

“Of course,” I responded, used to the brisk way my agent spoke on the phone. “Am I still getting picked up at three?”

“Yes, everything is still on track as of fifteen minutes ago.”

“Okay.”

“I have received a specific request for you from a new client.”

“Who?”

“Keats Hotels. They’re looking for a new face to front their ad campaign,” my agent said casually. “It will be rewarding. They’ve already seen a few others that were unacceptable, and Mr Keats had personally asked for you to be included in the casting.”

I nearly dropped the phone at hearing his name.

“Do you know which Mr Keats? There are two,” I asked, taking a deep breath as I willed myself to relax.

“I think E. Keats,” my agent explained, causing me to gulp slightly.

“Okay, well, let me have a think about it.”

“Fine, but don’t take too long. This is an excellent opportunity,” she warned me.

During the drive through to outskirts of London for my flight, I took the opportunity to text Murphy about the flowers using the phone number that’d also been on the card.

Thank you for the flowers. They were lovely but unexpected. You are either a particularly good guesser or perhaps a little birdie told you. See you tomorrow, D

The check-in and flight were quick, arriving to a rainy Prague with the lingering raindrops sparkling in red and orange hues from the setting sun. I was met at the airport by the transport, which had been arranged to take the whole entourage of the photographer and assistant, hairdressers, make-up people, the editor responsible, and one other model, a guy called Tom, with whom I’d worked with before on a few other assignments.

The shoot lasted until the middle of the night, capturing the concept on black-and-white camera shots, set against diffused neon signs, and medieval, gothic-influenced architecture.

Exhausted, I was ready to crash as soon as we went back to the hotel afterwards.

Checking the phone, I’d several voicemails to listen to, and a couple of text messages. Both Kinnsie and Abby had phoned me to find out what my plans for the weekend were, as they were deciding which party invites to accept. The next voicemail was a rich, velvety voice that took me a moment to recognise. It was from Murphy Keats. Just hearing him speak sent my heart a-flutter.

It was a short recording, saying I’d busted him over the flowers and that he’d managed to cancel his late meeting, so he would collect me from my house earlier than the eight we’d originally agreed. I texted him a reply, imagining he probably would have the phone off, and he’d simply read it in the morning. A few minutes later, when I returned from a quick shower, I noticed a new message notification flashing on my phone, showing that he’d replied.

D: Hey, it must be about 3am - have you just finished the shoot?

M: Hi, yes after three, and yes, finished half-hour ago. Why are you up still?

D: Just wanted to finalise figures, for a deal I’m closing in the morning.

M: Ok, I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you at seven.

D: Sweet dreams.

Turning my phone to silent, I snuggled under the bed sheets. His velvety voice echoed through my mind as I tried to drift off to sleep, making it hard for my body to unwind into my usual comatose sleep state. Ever since his kiss, I’d been in a state of constant lust for him and now hearing his voice on the phone had set me on a journey I couldn’t turn my back on. I needed relief and fast. Sighing, I moved to rest on my back, my hand wandering between my legs as I began to rub my clit while the other hand teased at my erect nipples. I pictured his wet mouth and tongue trailing over my breasts, his teeth nipping at my hardened nipples in a way I enjoyed. As the fantasy gathered pace, my fingers slipped in and out of my pussy in a frantic motion until my body exploded into a long shuddering spasm as I came hard. Satiated for now, I knew it would be hard to look him in the eye tomorrow night knowing that I’d been masturbating to a mental image of him.

Chapter Seven

PAST

Delilah

Murphy arrived to pick me up in his own chauffeur-driven car.

He was dressed in an open-necked cream shirt with a black suit with thin vertical stripes printed onto the expensive material that moulded tightly across his narrow hips and firm derriere. I was unable to resist letting my eyes wander from his muscular chest, downwards to his groin as the tightness of the fabric emphasised his apparent size. Blushing, I’d pulled my eyes away after a few seconds and instead lifted them to meet the dazzling ones of my date.

I’d selected a cream sleeveless chiffon dress that a designer had given me as a gift. The cream tone was perfect for my tanned skin, showing off my bare slender arms. It had a high neckline, but the sheerness of the chiffon showed the outline of my lace lingerie, giving a tantalising glimpse of what lay beneath.

The restaurant was heaving with diners when we arrived at Netherfields. The maître d’ whisked us into a private room at the back that was reserved for family and friends of the owners. Several individual flower arrangements decorated the room, with one of the round tables laid out for two and a bottle of the restaurant’s best champagne cooling in an ice bucket beside it.

“Are we celebrating something?” I asked coyly, gesturing to the champagne as I seated myself upon the chair Murphy had pulled out for me.

Murphy smiled innocently as he sat upon his own chair. “Maybe, if you agree to my proposal.”

I wondered what proposal he had in mind. Even with the emotional magnitude I felt in my heart whenever he spoke or looked at me, my head remained reserved when it came to being able to trust him fully. I still felt torn about his first remarks about Kinnsie at times. “I guess that depends upon the finer details,” I responded, avoiding his penetrative gaze as my intrigue and slight apprehension grow, looking down at the menu and contemplating what to order.

“Did your agent not tell you that I want you as the face of Keats Hotels’ ad campaign?” he queried.

I relaxed slightly, now that I understood what proposal he was talking about. I’d totally forgotten my brief conversation with my agent as the past twenty-four hours had been rather manic flying to and from Prague with a long photo-shoot in between.

“Oh, yes, she did.”

He reached for my hand across the table. “Did the idea grab you?”

“It did, and I was flattered, but I do still have reservations accepting.” I gulped, trying to maintain an aloof exterior as I spoke despite the sensation of his large hand wrapped over my small one created.

“Please tell me what reservations you have, and I’ll try to ease them best I can.”

I decided that being forthright from the word go would be the best way to get him to understand my position as he came across as someone used to getting their own way. “Well, I wonder if you would be so interested in me for the project if you weren’t also attempting to date me.”

Murphy spluttered at this. “You think I’m trying to buy your affections?” A shadow of something unreadable crossed his expression.

“That isn’t exactly what I meant, but I’m not sure we should have dinners such as this if we are going to enter into a working relationship. The press would have a field day if they discovered we were seeing each other. You know how they like to imply things. It would look like I only gained such a contract because we were friends.”

“But your participation in the campaign will be a one-off. You aren’t going to be on the permanent payroll of my company, whereas, I hope the pleasure of seeing you outside work will be on-going. I think you would be foolish to turn down such an opportunity simply because of the risk of negative press.”

“Perhaps.” I knew it was an excellent opportunity and couldn’t truly afford to turn my nose up at it from a career perspective simply because I might have the occasional dinner with the head of the company. “Would you at least agree to keep our dinners quiet while the promotion is going on?”

“I’m never indiscreet about my personal life,” he responded tightly.

“You seem to be wilfully misunderstanding what I’m saying,” I said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“That wasn’t my intention.” He watched me earnestly as he kept his voice soft. “I like you and want to be able to take you out often, and I’m willing to do anything necessary to avoid any newspapers intruding into either of our privacy. But I also think the project would be beneficial to both of us. So please agree to hear me out about what it entails before you make your final decision.”

“Fine, I’m listening,” I replied, unable to stop my mouth from turning up slightly at his confession at liking me so openly.

Murphy obliged me by running over a choice of his ideas he’d like to get me to get involved in professionally. I had to admit what he proposed could only have a positive effect on my career. I experienced a twinge of guilt for letting my pride blur his intentions.

I remained silent, as the door opening and the waiter making an appearance interrupted us.

“Good evening,” he addressed us both. “Would you like to order some drinks before I take your food orders?”

Murphy looked over at me. “Do you want some wine?”

“A red would be nice,” I said, relieved at the interruption.

“We will have a bottle of 2001 Gaja Barbaresco,” Murphy requested without even needing to consult the wine list. “Do you know what you want to eat?” he asked, turning back to look at me from the waiter.

“Steamed dumplings, followed by the crispy shredded beef,” I responded directly to the waiter. Yes, probably not your usual model-like meal, but I liked my food and I worked out often enough at the gym to afford the odd overindulgence of calorific food.

“I’ll have the scallops, followed by duck in black bean sauce, with chow mein and egg-fried rice on the side.”

The waiter repeated back the order before departing to get our wine, leaving us alone once more.

“Okay, I’ll tentatively agree, with the final agreement depending on seeing the contract, but I still think we shouldn’t have any further dinners until it has been launched.”

Murphy frowned. “You mean not see you for a month?”

“At least not out in public, unless they are business-oriented,” I tried to concede.

“A month of intimate dinners in the privacy of my home sounds like a delightful alternative,” he suggested in a teasing tone.

I blushed, trying to think a witty response.

“That sounds like the perfect compromise to me,” he continued, trying to tease the seriousness from my stance.

“We will have to see if you behave yourself well enough tonight, to see if there will be another dinner.”

“Do I take that as an invitation to open the champagne later?”

I gave in and nodded.

The rest of the dinner was a haze of bubbles as we enjoyed the bottle of the Gaja red before moving on to the champagne.

Taking heed of my wish to avoid the press, Murphy arranged for us to leave the restaurant from the back of the kitchen. After saying thank you to the chef, he guided me to the waiting car, which was parked in a quiet street near the restaurant.

Once behind the darkened glass of the passenger windows and the privacy screen separating us from his chauffeur, he placed a hand either side of my cheeks and leaned in to press his lips softly against them. “I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he whispered huskily as he moved his lips onto my earlobe and proceeded to nibble it gently, before drawing my soft upper body towards him in a tight embrace. “I’ll get my assistant to liaise with your agent over schedules, so we can finalise the agreement quickly.”

“Okay,” I replied softly. My heart was beating so fast from the kiss. I couldn’t think straight in his arms, but the sensation was all too consuming of my sanity to want to break the moment, so I allowed myself to fully surrender to the indulgence of snuggling into his chest silently for a few minutes.

All too quickly, the luxurious car slowed to a stop outside my house. It was raining, so as Edward opened the door, he handed an open umbrella to Murphy, who exited the vehicle first. Holding me close to his hip, he ran me up the steps quickly, the large brolly protecting us both from the worst of the wind and drizzle.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked shyly, feeling both a sense of apprehension and excitement at the same time.

Using his free hand, he touched the side of my curls affectionately as he stared down at my face, his thumb rotating over my cheekbone. “I’d better not. I have a breakfast meeting starting at 7am, but I’ll be in touch, as soon as I have a quiet moment.”

I nodded, kicking myself for perhaps appearing overeager to invite him in.

“Until next time…” he breathed, brushing his lips to mine in the lightest of touches.

Chapter Eight

PAST

Delilah

True to his word, Murphy had contacted me the next day to say that the tickets were sorted. I was beyond excited. I hadn’t been to a concert of theirs in a couple of years and I was looking forward to hearing Fusion perform their new album live. However, I’d three photoshoots aboard to get through before then. Two days in New York, followed by another two in Ibiza, and one in Capri. Beautiful locations, but usually, I never got to explore much.

The concert was on the Saturday evening and I didn’t arrive back until the afternoon, leaving not much time to unwind before the boys turned up with Sasha already in tow in the big transporter shuttle car that could seat all eight of us comfortably.

We all dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts of various depictions.

This was the first time I’d seen or heard from Murphy since he let me know about the tickets.

“How are you?” he asked as we sat next to each other on the back row of three seats. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I was away all week on a last-minute business trip.”

I turned sideways in the chair to face him. “I’m good. I’ve been away as well.”

“You look very tanned; work or pleasure?”

“Work, but the sun in Ibiza and Capri was glorious.”

“Certainly sounds more exciting than being cooped up in a board room with a bunch of suits for four days in the States like me.” He laughed, his dimples showing.

I smiled at the way his handsome face lit up when he let go of his serious side. “True. Do you do a lot of last-minute travel?”

“Probably too much, but I’m hoping to decrease this drastically when Nixon takes over the hotel part of the company in a few months. It will give me more time for a social life.”

“All work and no play makes Murphy a dull boy,” I couldn’t help teasing.

He swatted me lightly. “Hey! I play hard and dirty when I put my mind to it.”

His eyes probed mine as he spoke the words, hinting their double meaning. I blushed at the thought at him playing hard and dirty with me somewhere private.

Any further comment between the two of us was interrupted by the rest of the group asking for our opinions on whether we should stop off for a quick bite to eat or just grab food there.

Having lived off mostly plane food for the past week, I was starved for some decent food, so opted for consensus opinion of grabbing takeaway food from a gourmet burger chain that was en route. We were soon back in the luxurious people carrier munching on our varying combinations of veggie, chicken, lamb and beef burgers and a delicious array of toppings. Mine was wagu beef, rocket, red onions oozing with a blue stilton sauce.

Eying the onions, Kinnsie, who was sitting on the other side of me, caught my eye as she waggled her eyebrows. “I have some gum for afterwards. We don’t want your breath smelling of onions when Murphy is kissing your face off later,” she whispered before almost cackling with laughter as she laughed at her own humour.

I rolled my eyes. My burgeoning relationship with Murphy had been the butt of much of Kinnsie’s teasing for the past couple of weeks.

We were soon parked up in the vast parking area of the O2 arena where the concert was being held. The complex was based in South East of London on the shore of the Greenwich Peninsula part of the River Thames.

We all disembarked from the vehicle; seven of us stood waiting for Murphy to get off the phone. He’d been chatting to someone quietly for the last couple of miles of the journey. 

When he finally finished the call, I imagined we would move forward to join the growing queue for the entrance in the distance, but Murphy said we should stay put as someone called Sam was coming to find us.

Nixon must have noticed my puzzled reaction as he remarked, “You’re about to experience the half-hearted Keats way of arriving at a public event. Normally, we would pull up closer to a side entrance for security to usher us through, but there has been incident, so they are busy elsewhere, so the band’s assistant is coming to collect us in person.”

“Incident?”

“Yeah, a bunch of overzealous groupies got into the band’s dressing room.”

My eyebrows raised. “Do you know the band, then?” Up to this point, I’d just thought Murphy had connections with someone at the band’s label, not that they knew them personally.

Nixon looked from me to Murphy, who was standing talking to Cam further away and not paying attention to my conversation with Nixon at that moment. He turned back to me. “You don’t know we’re related to the some of the guys in the band?”

I shook my head, feeling stupid. I knew three of the band had the surname Keats, but I never made the connection.

“Xander, Noah and Roux are our cousins. Our father had three brothers. Adam comes from Isaac while the other three come from John. There are a fair few of us.” Nixon continued to explain as finally we were joined by a guy with a clipboard who had a collection of card lanyards hanging from his hand.

Murphy stepped forward to greet the newcomer with a shake of the hand before introducing him as Sam to us. All the men all seemed to know Sam already as we came to learn he had been working as the band’s assistant for a number of years.

Sam weaved us through the parked area and into a security gate whilst talking periodically into a walkie talkie. Once inside a side entrance, there were endless people milling around with t-shirts on saying “crew” or “security” all over the material and vast amounts of musical equipment and boxes along every inch of wall space in the several corridors we walked down behind Sam.

Stopping, he knocked on a door and it was opened by a burly guy with another walkie talkie in hand. He waved us in. We had to hand over our bags and purses to be checked by some electronic device that another security guy waved over each item. Sam apologised and explained it was a precaution inflicted by the venue for all VIPs but not as rigorous as other ticketed people going through the main entrance had to go through.

Leaving that room, we were soon down another corridor that was much quieter except for the distant cheering echoing further down the corridor from one of the open-doored rooms. As we approached, Murphy finally fell out of line and joined me before slipping my hand in his. “I thought you might like a little meet and greet with the band before and after.”

I smiled shyly back at Murphy, shocked that all this was for me.

I was kind of glad I didn’t know coming face to face with one of my idols was going to happen until just a few moments before it actually happened. I think if I had time to think about it, I would’ve become an incoherent mess on the floor, but having it thrown up on me, I managed to keep myself together. I met really famous celebrities all the time in a professional capacity, but this was something else.

Murphy guided me into the room that the rest of our party had already entered. His arm slid protectively around me as he introduced me to the band within.  They were all clad in matching stage gear by this point, supping on bottles of beer, with many other empty bottles and half-eaten food abandoned on the tables about them.

Up close and personal, I could know see the close resemblance that Xander, Noah and Roux shared with Adam, Murphy and Nixon instantly. Where Adam, Murphy and Nixon were dark-haired, the other three were various shades of blond.

They all seemed pretty down-to-earth and chilled out as we chatted for about fifteen minutes before some unseen person shouted “five minutes to go” nearby. The band picked up their respective instruments and disappeared while we were finally escorted to a roped off section at the very front of the stage.

Soon the ground beneath my feet was thumping from the starting tempo of the music of the supporting band as the arena went dark and the light show started.

We stood singing old songs and learning the new ones over the next couple of hours and afterwards spent several more hours in the company of all the musicians. The evening ended with plans to meet the band under more relaxed circumstances for dinner one night soon.

Chapter Nine

PAST

Murphy

In spite of many tries for Delilah, her agent Lauren, and I to make space within our conflicting schedules to sort out the contract signings during the following three weeks, no progress was made, with each one of us having to cancel at least once, due to other pressing matters. In the end, we left it in the hands of my PR department and Lauren to earn her commission by negotiating favourable clauses in Delilah’s absence.

Despite their hectic schedules during the daytime, I manage to secure several evenings alone with Delilah. Most of them in various country pubs situated on the river in Berkshire, where we had less of a chance of being spotted by some paparazzi wannabe.  We talked about everything from books and travelling, to our shared love of ballet and theatre.

After our night at the concert, we’d established a pattern of texts and phone calls most mornings and evenings. I was sending fresh flowers to her home so often, I heard Abby and Kinnsie had started to complain it was becoming like living in a florist shop.

The relationship seemed to be progressing nicely. Delilah had warmed up after our shaky start. I felt each evening together was taking us closer to the conclusion of finally being able to wake up next to her in my bed, instead of the void that greeted me now.

She was brilliant and gorgeous, with a disposition that challenged me on all levels. I enjoyed that she wasn’t afraid of standing up to me. Where most people might bow and scrape to my every word and whim, even if they didn’t agree with my opinion or conduct, she’d always put me straight. It was this spirit, kindness and natural ability to make people comfortable in her company that pulled me to her so compellingly.

With the serious contract negotiations complete, it left only the placement of our inked scrawls to seal the deal which I’d arranged to take place at a private dinner at my house. I hoped to seal the deal in more ways than one. I wanted tonight to be the night that I got to slide my aching cock deep inside her pussy for the first time.

This would be the first time she’d stepped foot into my London home. I’d organised for my housekeeper Mrs. Button to do anything she felt necessary to make the meal a success. My intention was to seduce her with an intimate home-cooked meal with a lavish and romantic setting.

I’d planned to be at home, all showered and changed, when she arrived with my chauffeur, Edward, but back-to-back meetings overran considerably putting pay to that plan. By the time I escaped from his office, time was too tight for Edward to drop me off before heading back to collect Delilah.

My presence on the journey seemed a pleasant surprise for her. She looked nervous as she walked to the car before she realised, I was waiting within.

I drew her soft upper body towards me in a tight embrace as we maintained a contented silence for few minutes.

 “I hope you haven’t gone to sleep,” I teased gently as I unwound her grip on my torso a little to look down at her.

“No, I’m resting my eyes,” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Have you been working long days since I last saw you?” I felt a rush of concern well up in my throat as I carefully brushed a few wayward curls from her cheek. If only pressures of business would lighten enough, I would whisk us to Yorkshire and live a life of leisure. I wanted to be able to take care of her in every way. In four short months, I already wanted to be her everything: friend, companion and lover.

“No, I’m not tired; I was merely enjoying a quiet moment in your arms.” She smiled reassuringly as I silently stared into her eyes.

“Well, if you’re sure you aren’t overdoing it.”

“Very sure,” she said, pushing herself up off the seat slightly to touch my lips with hers. Her initiation of a kiss took me by surprise, but I soon recovered, and it quickly deepened in its intensity. My tongue eagerly pushed against the slight parting of her lips, seeking her acceptance of me into her mouth, as a dance of pleasure began.

My hands began to explore the small of her back through her dress. My hard chest pressed up against her soft mounds as we leaned into each other. Parting to recover my air supply, I spoke in ragged breaths, “I think it’s safe to say you’ve bewitched me.” Before she’d a chance to utter a response, I tilted towards her, to capture her mouth once again.

The sound of the car rolling over the gravel echoed as it slowed down considerably and then came to a stop. “We are here,” I said, sighing against her lips. We drew apart reluctantly, and Delilah swept a hand self-consciously through her mass of curls, trying to smooth them down.

Edward opened the door, and I stepped out first, stopping by the side of the car door and holding out a hand to aid Delilah in slipping from the car.

The house was set back in its plot and surrounded by a dimly lit, walled garden It was of old Georgian style, with large sash windows that glowed with a welcoming ambience of lighting when standing in the driveway looking in.

As we made our way up the stone steps to the wide front door, my housekeeper greeted us. “Mr Keats, I hope you had a pleasant day,” she uttered before turning to smile at Delilah. “Ah, and Miss Keyes, isn’t it? Welcome to Pembridge House. I’m Mrs Button, the housekeeper.”

Delilah returned the woman’s smile warmly. “Thank you, Mrs Button.” She stared around the room with a look of awe upon her features.

“Mrs Button is considerably more than a housekeeper, much like a beloved family friend. I’ve known her since I was seven,” I explained as I ushered Delilah into a large room with lofty ceilings and decorative cornicing, which was bedecked with modern furniture. “I hope you’re hungry.” I took her hand and guided her into another adjoining room that acted as a second reception room, then into a small corridor before finally entering another room.

“Ravenous.” Delilah laughed.

The room continued the theme of lofty ceilings and cornicing features, alongside dark wooden floorboards complemented by neutral walls and focal wallpaper patterns. Along two of the walls were two pale-blue chateau French-designed sideboards, adorned with freshly arranged flowers. Double doors opened outward into the garden with sheer voile curtains, flickering in the early evening spring breeze. Just beyond the double door, into the patio area, was a small circular table laid for two, with a bottle of champagne cooling in the ice bucket beside the table.

It was a cloudless, starry night, so I wanted us surrounded by the aromas of the garden as we ate beneath the twinkling beauty of the night sky. There was still a slight bite to the evening air, so both of the tall patio heaters were placed nearby to keep my guest warm.

Spotting the champagne cooler, Delilah quirked her eyebrow teasingly in my direction, “Another bottle of champagne, Mr Keats?”

“Indeed, Miss Keyes. I’ve much to celebrate of late,” I responded, raising her hand I still held within my own and placing a light kiss on the back of it.

Delilah’s cheeks coloured at my intended implication that my recent moments with her were what I wished to celebrate.

“This is an exquisite location, Murphy,” Delilah said, gesturing to the sumptuous table setting. “I love the ambience of the lights.”

The evening progressed smoothly as each of us began to speak without restraint under the relaxed atmosphere and shared more of our past. I talked about how I lost my mother as a young boy, when she developed septicaemia from an undiagnosed miscarriage, and then my father to cancer five years ago. Delilah divulged about her tenuous relationship with both her parents, who were more interested in their careers than taking on their parental responsibilities.

The harsh, emotional depths that the topic of her parents evoked dampened the earlier light-heartedness of the evening, prompting Delilah to drink more champagne than I’d seen her drink up till now.

With our leftovers and coffee cleared away, and Mrs Button relaxing in her quarters for the rest of the evening, Delilah caught me by surprise by placing her body in my lap and recommencing our earlier tongue dance.

As the heat between us built up to a volcanic status, I suggested we moved to the private cosiness of the reading room. It was my favourite room and I’d yet to show it to her. If she’d been my usual type, I would’ve taken her straight up to the soft comfort of my bedroom, but I thought that might send her running, and I wanted to savour this uninhibited Delilah for as long as possible.

We spent the remainder of the evening making love several times within the room. Safe to say, she gave me the most mind-blowing blowjob I’d ever received, but it was nothing to the decadent pleasure having her velvet-feeling pussy quivering tight around my hard cock as it milked my orgasm dry.

Chapter Ten

PRESENT

Delilah

The past fourteen days since I’d woken up to my nightmare of no longer having a sister just as we were getting our relationship based on track had become a blur. Kinnsie, my ever trusted bff had flown in from Italy and taken over getting things back into a calm equilibrium for my sanity. She’d persuaded my ex to stay away from the hospital.  She understood the last thing I needed was to keep seeing him and upsetting my emotions while I was trying to get stronger.  I would deal with Murphy on my own terms when I was ready.

Most days Luke and Cam came by for brief visits, but Cam had his own grief to deal with I didn’t expect him to want to stay all the time.  Luke had taken on as much of the day to day running of our fashion line that he could handle. My ready-to-wear spring/summer collection for next year was due to be shown at New York Fashion week in two short months and I was determined to be there, wheelchair or crutches be damned.

Kinnsie also brought Tommy with her every day so I  could maintain a sense of normalcy for him in seeing me every day even though it took several days of him crying when he saw all the tubes at each visit. 

My lawyer that handled my international transactions had been able to secure the Cannes property I fell in love with. I intended on moving in and employing whatever medical staff I needed so I could have my rehab there instead of at the rehab centre the doctor first mentioned when I started to come around.   My ankle was now in a red cast whilst my other leg’s fractures was being held together by metal rods and pins attached to external fixator, but I’d started non weight bearing physiotherapy sessions.

My doctor was very patient with me when I had different members of my business team and family coming and going at different times when he had been nagging that I needed to rest more.  I had seen him roll his eyes at my general direction several times when Maisie, my assistant arrived with a bundle of papers for me to sign and a tablet tucked under her arm.

Luke had arrived first today, a wide smile fixed on his face.  He had promised me he would have good news about a move in date for the new house.  He had managed to convince an interior designer contact he had used in the States to drop everything she was doing to come and put together some furnishing ideas. 

“Morning, babycakes.” Luke smirked his usual greeting at me.  We had known each other a long time.  Although our friendship was purely platonic, we were remarkably close.  In fact, because Luke was notoriously guarded about his private life the tabloids had always insinuated that we were a couple. Much to the laughter of Luke’s boyfriend and now husband. It was convenient to their privacy and mine as it stopped people asking questions about who Tommy’s father was.  They just made assumptions it was Luke’s due to Luke and Tommy’s real dad having the same colouring. You might think there was the danger of Tommy’s real father coming out in public and correcting the rumour, but you’d be wrong there.  Tommy’s father, Murphy Keats was a hard-nosed billionaire businessman who didn’t like the fact that I had dumped him and so shunned our child when I attempted to tell him of his existence months after we had parted. 

“Morning hotstuff,” I smile back. “So, have you come with news like you promised?”

“I have sort of. I have been onto your lawyer this morning that confirmed deposit has been paid to the vendor and now that promesse unilatérale de vente has been agreed.  Unfortunately, house buying bureaucracy moves slower here even with a full cash purchase you are looking at two to three months until you can move in.”

My heart sunk, I knew when Cam and Abby had first bought their property in Cannes a few years previously they had experienced a similar delay but I had hoped since my financial position was much stronger than theirs allowing me a full cash offering of the several million euro purchase price we would be able to move in quicker.

But when you have nothing but time on your hands thinking about such things like I had for the last fourteen days I had already thought of an alternative.  It wasn’t ideal as I had wanted to do my recovery in my own house but the Plan B of renting a similar sized house would have to do.      

“Ok, looks like my morning is going to be full of checking out rental websites on the tablet before and after my different exercise torture sessions.” I responded trying to sound more positive than I actually felt inside.  “Can I just say Luke I really appreciate all the extra work you have taken on dealing with the business and helping me with the house.”

Luke reaches over from the seat he is sitting on beside my bed and touches my arm.  “Don’t worry about it.  I will always go over and above to help you and Tommy out of any situation.”

Just as I was about to respond my private room’s door opened unexpectedly.  My brooding ex stood halfway in the doorway with his mouth gapping open as he surveyed the scene of Luke and me.

I frowned in response to his interruption; he had clearly gone back on his word to Kinnsie to leave me alone while I was in hospital.  Even though it was my intent to have an honest conversation with him about Tommy at some point that had been put on hold the moment my life changed after the car accident.

“Murphy, what are you doing here?” I asked, unable to hide my irritation that his presumptuous behaviour of only thinking about himself first rather than others.  “I thought Kinnsie made it quite clear I didn’t want to see you?”

“I know and it was my intention to stick to that agreement, but I really need to talk to you about something that cannot wait.”

I raise my eyebrows in scepticism that anything he says to me will really matter especially after how he had treated me after the breakup, but I nod my silent agreement. “Ok, you have five minutes.”

I turn to Luke.  “Luke I will see you later ok?”

Chapter Eleven

PAST

Murphy

Lying face to face on our respective pillows, I watched her intently as Delilah opened her eyes. My facial features relaxed as I lazily twisted one of her curls around my index finger. Do I dare to ask her now? Should I wait for a more romantic setting than a bedroom? God I just want to get the question out; I can’t take the uncertainty swirling through my head a moment longer, I reasoned with myself.

“Hi.” Delilah smiled shyly, sliding her arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss.

“Hi, yourself.”

“You look far away; is that deal you were discussing with Adam last night still troubling you?” A tender expression resonated through her eyes and face.

I shook my head, my smile stretched thoughtfully over my upturned mouth. “No, I was more pleasantly diverted thinking about how beautiful you look this morning.” I slid my leg in an upward motion and hooked it over her hip, drawing her lower body closer to me, making sure she was fully aware of my morning hard-on hidden beneath the duvet we were sharing.

Blushing, Delilah swatted me playfully with her hand. “Stop teasing me and be serious. I know you always have big-ass deals going on, but you have seemed even more distracted than usual. Maybe talking it through will help?”

Moving swiftly, I grabbed her retreating hand and held it in place above her head as my upper body weight pushed her body backwards onto the mattress from her side lying position. My legs were now either side of her legs in a semi-kneeling position as I leaned down, touching the side of her cheek with the back of my hand. “I love you,” I blurted out.

Drawing a sharp breath of air, she looked astonished by my sudden declaration. “I love you too, Murphy,” she replied breathlessly. “Is that what you’ve been worried about?”

We continued to kiss deeply for several minutes before I broke away from her slightly, my body half on top of hers. “I was nervous. I haven’t said those words to anyone since my parents died. I know you stay over regularly, but I want to wake up beside you every day and be able to say those words every morning like this. Move in with me.”

Delilah’s eyes were still glazed over with the heightened passion our kissing had invoked. “Oh, Murphy. Yes, yes, I would love to.”

Sliding her hands back up my arms, and onto my shoulders, her fingertips began to trace the outline of my collarbone, and downwards to my abdominal muscles, rubbing her fingers over the small tufts of wiry chest hair.

I moaned slightly at her caress, leaning in to kiss her once more and allowing my naked upper body to rub itself against her breasts, her nipples hardening in response.

As the kissing continued, I snaked my hand down between her slightly parted legs, still bare as neither of us had redressed since our lovemaking from the previous night.

Delilah arched her back, pushing herself against me harder, a shallow gasp of breath exhaled from her. Her own hands were soon engaged, running gently over my back and neck. Her eyes were closed as a look of enjoyment played out on her face.

I kissed downwards from her cleavage to her flat belly, one hand remaining on her breasts, squeezing each of them gently as I kissed and licked at her soft skin before I wandered lower.

My other hand paused to part her legs wider, allowing my body to slide between them. My erection hardened further at the sight of her swollen folds glistening with her dewy arousal. Probing my tongue in and out of her entrance, I felt her respond with a shuddering moan.

As I continued to lap at her swollen clit, her hands ran through my hair, pressing my head closer to enhance the friction of my tongue on her flesh.

Egged on by the sounds escaping her throat, I continued on, teasing and rubbing, causing her to writhe desperately against my touch until she came explosively.

I slid off her, lying on my side, my head propped up by an arm, watching her descend from her pinnacle of climax.

Before long, my cock was in her mouth, as the thought of waking up to her mouth sucking my cock every morning flashed in my mind now that she had agreed to move in. I couldn’t help grinding in and out of her throat in a fast motion as she took me fully without resistance. “Fuck baby, I’m coming,” I shouted as she continued to suck me greedily until my orgasm spurted down her throat.

A satisfied smile came across her face as, satiated, I pulled out of her.

“God, woman, you are just too good at that. I never last more than a couple of minutes.”

Laughing, she responded as she got off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, “I like to keep my man happy every way possible.”

Returning from the bathroom, Delilah peered out of one of the porthole windows in the cabin. Letting out an excited exclamation, she turned to me and said, “Have we moved across the sea? This certainly doesn’t look like England anymore.”

“What can you see?”

“Just other yachts.”

“Then we have probably reached Monaco,” I said casually. When we had first boarded the yacht I had leased, I simply told her to bring her passport.

“Monaco, as in where the Grand Prix is this weekend?” Her voice hitched up several octaves. I knew it was an unfulfilled dream of hers to attend a Monaco race weekend. She was a diesel fume junkie, so this was her perfect sport.

“Mmm, I believe there is only one Monaco, so I would guess so,” I teased.

Jumping back onto the bed in delight, she crawled up my body.  Her legs straddled me before she tickled me into submission over my tease.

I grinned up at her.

“Thank you for bringing me here. These last few months have been wonderful.”

“You are extremely welcome, baby.”

**

The next two days flew by, as Delilah experienced fully what a few billion in the bank and super yacht in the marina could obtain. As a small advertising sponsor of one of the racing teams, I was provided with VIP passes to the pit lane and the exclusive areas of the race concourse.

Lazing on the yacht in between the different race categories and qualifying were happening, we watched the qualifying session on the first day of the big F1 event, and the actual race the following day from within the confines of the racing team’s garage.

Chapter Twelve

PAST

Delilah

Over the next year, we flitted between Murphy’s house in London and Yorkshire, dependent upon our business commitments. As my international career took off, I began to spend more and more time away in New York, living in his apartment overlooking Central Park, causing disharmony in our relationship where harmony had been beforehand. It was the first real test of our longevity.

After much discussion, we decided there was no alternative but for one of us to cut back on their workload. Much to my annoyance, Murphy insisted that it should be me to abandon my career for the sake of our relationship. We’d argued back and forth for several weeks. He reasoned that Nixon was already working to full capacity on sections he had taken off Murphy’s hands, but Amber wasn’t yet old enough to take on the responsibilities that she would eventually be given.

In the end, I caved into Murphy’s persuasion and decided to put my relationship first. I learned to accept he couldn’t simply cut back when he had a few hundred thousand employees’ livelihoods to worry about, whereas I could select my assignments to lessen our time apart. I was also toying of the idea of moving away from modelling altogether and setting up my own fashion line.  I was always good at art at school and had plenty of practise on how to figure out the latest trends. 

I just needed some cold hard cash to rent a workspace and get whatever supplies I needed. I had a decent cashflow from my assignments, but it was all tied up in the house I used to share with Abby and Kinnsie that was now being rented out by a family so couldn’t sell that.  Once I had done my research and pulled together a business plan I would see if Murphy was willing to front the money temporarily.

In the meanwhile, we were back to enjoying trying for a baby. I didn’t want to wait beyond being twenty-five for the first. I’d heard stretch marks were much worse to get rid of after that and that would kill the current high demand, I attracted for swimsuit photo-shoot assignments.

Our sex life was still as passionate as the first time we made love, and I’d certainly discovered Murphy liked blindfolds and tying me to the bed whenever he could. The only problem now was he always seemed to be away for half of the best ovulation days due to his now more frequent business trips to Italy while he was negotiating a new deal.

As summer ended, Murphy was away on yet another trip.

As well as the absence of my period for the past couple of weeks, I’d been having increasing bouts of nausea and tenderness, so I bought a triple pack of pregnancy tests, hoping to have some news to tell Murphy upon his return, but each stick just showed only the single negative line.

I’d expected to fall pregnant straightaway, so with this being the fourth month in a row failing to show a positive result, my old habit of looking at everything as half empty rather than half full began to creep into my daily mood.

I couldn’t help but take this grouchiness out on the clueless Murphy when he called me and started asking what lingerie I was wearing.

All week, we’d been discussing the events of the day and having a little phone sex fun to take the edge of our sexual frustrations of not being able to see each other for so long.

“Do you ever think about anything other than what is between your legs?” I complained fiercely.

“Hey, that is rather harsh thing to say!”

“Well, I feel sick, and I’m certainly not in the mood to talk dirty with you.”

“How am I supposed to know that? You said you were okay at the beginning of the conversation.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind since then. I’m allowed to change my mind without seeking your permission, aren’t I?”

As the words fell from my mouth, I knew I was acting like a petulant child and he was used to my premenstrual moods by now.

Taking a breath, he started in a quiet tone. “Delilah, has your period started yet?”

“No!”

“But it’s later than normal, isn’t it?” A detectable tone of surprise was in his voice as he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then there may still be hope, don’t you think?”

“I bought three tests.”

“And?”

“They were all negative,” I replied sulkily

“Perhaps they are faulty, or maybe it’s too early to detect.”

“Maybe my mother was right all along when she said there is something wrong with me.”

For the last year, he’d tried to eradicate all the negativity my mother had instilled in me. Comments that led to my self-doubt about my attractiveness and the fluctuating appearance of my periods during my teenage years, meaning I would never be able to provide any future husband with a family. Mostly, Murphy had been successful in his endeavour to build up my confidence, but sometimes her mother’s voice slipped through a crack in my defences and plummeted my confidence levels again.

He growled, “Don’t say things like that. There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why am I not pregnant? I should be at the top of my prime for becoming a mother.”

Murphy sighed. Being at the end of a phone line rather than in the same room for this type of conversation made reassuring me impossible.

“If you want, we both can go and discuss getting investigated once I come back from this trip if that’ll put your mind at rest?”

Although this sounded the perfect solution, my mood was in the depths of despair as tears were rolling onto my cheeks.

“If you think it will help,” I managed to reply flatly.

“Damnit, Delilah, I just want what you want, but I’m beginning to think that you need to see your therapist again.”

“No! I can’t bear going there again. It’s too hard to lay myself bare to someone and them dissect everything.”

With that, I hung up, not giving him a chance to say anymore.

Chapter Thirteen

PAST

Delilah

As summer became autumn, things became even more fractured between us. I’d stopped even bothering buying pregnancy tests by this point. We’d gone to see a fertility doctor and they did tests that showed neither of us should have had any problems making a baby. However, there was still no baby. I was starting to think it was for the best. I knew my mood was all over the place.

Murphy had managed to get Abby, then Kinnsie to pressure me to change my mind about attending therapy again. I attended, but I didn’t attend every single time I was supposed to. The therapist had explained on more than one occasion I was likely to be discharged if I couldn’t maintain a regular pattern of attendance. I wanted to get over the downward spiral, but sometimes, it was just too hard to even get out of bed and it was starting to affect my career as well as my relationship.

Now with winter approaching, I was starting to attend more and make a breakthrough into the coping mechanism of dealing with life pressures properly. Things had started to return to tentative normality between Murphy and me, although I think it took him more time to trust things were fine than I did.

Then boom, I had a visit from a distraught Abby and Cam that the person at the root of my mental health issues was no longer on this earth. My parents had been killed in a car crash in Australia, just when I was hoping to get some closure by visiting them and having a conversation about why they had been such bad parents towards me in comparison to Abby.

One step forward and about twenty back. Murphy and I were back to arguing about his constant trips away and feeling unsupported even when he was here. He knew the damage my parents had done to my confidence and mental health in general as a teenager, but eventually, even he got frustrated with the endless misery I was wallowing in. He too had lost his parents and even his father hadn’t been the best parent after his mother died when he was just a small child, but he couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just move on.

The final straw came when I presented him with my business plan about starting my own fashion line.  I had hoped a new career focus would help stabilise things between us, give us more of a connection outside of the boundaries of our personal relationship.  In the end they made things worse.  Murphy conceded that I had a good chance of making it work based on my experience in the industry and designs already drawn but that he couldn’t support me in a business that would require such a financial investment and require me to be elsewhere securing suppliers when my place was to be available to him when he needed me for dinner parties and business events.

I gone from a horse ride alone after the argument. A thunderstorm had caught me unaware and led to a careless fall from my horse that had resulted in the loss of the pregnancy we only a few months earlier had been so anxious for, I knew I had to make a change for the sake of both of us.

Chapter Fourteen

PAST

Delilah

Once satisfied that all my belongings were safely in the boot of my car, I slammed the heavy oak front door closed behind me, fully aware that I was also closing the lid on my relationship with Murphy.

I gulped down the rising sensation of guilt I felt at taking the coward’s way out by leaving when the man was still on a business trip. While sharing Murphy’s sense of emptiness, I was unable to express it in words, but I did know that I couldn’t any longer deal with the look of pain on his face when he tried to talk about what happened. Whenever I attempted it, my throat seized up and no sound came out, only an endless stream of tears, which seemed to frustrate him even more.

Settling into the SVU, I plugged my phone into the hands-free system and set off for Surrey, where Kinnsie lived. She was the only person who knew of my plan to leave Yorkshire and head to New York. Activating the voice-dial on the phone, which connected to my friend’s home number, I heard a familiar voice come over the speaker. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” I said, unable to conceal my subdued mood. It was becoming more than a regular occurrence and I was fed up of feeling that way. I just hoped a change of scenery would lift me out of this despair.

“Are you on your way?” Kinnsie asked, her voice sounding tight and restrained.

“Yes,” I said, suspecting my friend of holding back on what she genuinely wanted to say.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?”

I sighed. Kinnsie had been trying to persuade me to stay and work through my problems with Murphy ever since I’d revealed my plans to leave. I recognised it was going to be hard, but I could see no other solution. The stabbing pain from the healing wound, caused by the accident, and the ache of my breaking heart had merged into one.

“No, I don’t want to do this, but I can’t stay either,” I replied, ending the call.

As the turbulent events of the past few months pushed to the front of my mind, I noticed a wetness forming on the fabric of my top as the silent tears refused to be held back any longer. After a brief stop for food, I arrived at Kinnsie’s house several hours later.

When Kinnsie answered the door, I noticed a look of shock on her face and I wasn’t surprised. I knew I looked pale and thin in comparison to six weeks earlier, when we’d attended the funeral of my parents, Stephanie and Hugo Keyes. “My god, you look awful. Haven’t you been eating properly?” Kinnsie questioned as we settled on the sofa.

“Gee, thanks for the confidence boost,” I responded dryly, rolling my eyes. “I have been eating properly, but the pain medication has been making me sick, on top of all the leftover pregnancy hormones.”

 “What does your doctor say? Surely it can’t be beneficial if it’s making you ill?”

“He put me on a weaker dosage, which has eased things a bit. I have to register with a new doctor in New York as soon as I arrive, so they can monitor my anaemia for a few more weeks.”

“Have you warned Emily and Jacob that you’re coming?”

Kinnsie was referring to my aunt and uncle, with whom I planned to crash in the city until I could secure a place of my own. They had been more like second parents to me when I was growing up.

“No, I need to call them today,” I replied, “although I doubt, they’ll mind the possibility of a live-in babysitter for a few weeks.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand the lack of notice under the circumstances.”

I met my friend’s disapproving tone with a sigh and a raised eyebrow. “I know you don’t approve of the way I’ve left Murphy, Kinnsie, but please stop going on about it. I didn’t take the decision lightly. It’s for the best. You haven’t seen how the loss has affected what we used to share.”

“I understand that relationships end, and God knows yours has had every reason to fail, with the strain of everything you’ve been under, but I simply don’t get why you’ve left him while he is on a business trip.”

“Because he would never let me walk away, and if I stayed, we would just end up hating each other. This way, once the hurt has dispersed, we might have a chance of staying civil when we meet at unavoidable family events now that Abby and Cam are married.”

“And what do I say to him when he comes looking for you?” Kinnsie wanted to know.

“I don’t expect you to lie about my whereabouts. Just tell him it’s for the best.”

“Sure, I’ll tell him because you’re like my sister, but I think you’re foolish to throw away everything simply because of one hurdle. Granted it’s a big one, but I’m sure you could work through it in time, once the pain lessens.”

“Kinnsie, I’ve made my mind up,” I repeated in an exasperated tone as I stood up and walked out of the room. I knew my friend was frustrated with my decision, but it wasn’t up for further discussion.

Later that same day, I placed a call to Emily to obtain her agreement to stay at her home. The conversation wasn’t an easy one, but my aunt, already aware that Murphy and I had been having issues, agreed all the same. While she didn’t ask many questions, I could tell that she shared Kinnsie’s opinion on the matter.

**

The next couple of days passed quickly. We stayed within the confines of the house due to the biting December winds, spending time reading and talking about everything and anything apart from the elephant in the room.

I managed to avoid any further confessions, despite many calls from Abby, asking me to get in touch. I knew that if I did so, before heading to New York, my plans and whereabouts would find their way back to Murphy in a heartbeat. Despite all the unanswered calls, Abby hadn’t attempted to visit Kinnsie’s home, so over breakfast that morning, I decided that no one suspected me of being there. I was booked on a flight that night and believed I was safe from discovery.

Therefore, when the doorbell did ring, it freaked me out. I’d been snoozing on the sofa while Kinnsie sat at a nearby table, going over some new photographs that she’d developed in her old-fashioned darkroom. Startled, I raised myself to a seated position and ran a hand nervously through my hair. We exchanged disconcerted glances as neither one of us made a move to see who was at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked uneasily.

Kinnsie shook her head.

Again, the doorbell chimed, the sound echoing dimly through the elegant hallway of wood and marble.

“Let’s ignore it,” I suggested, holding on to the desperate hope of burying my head in the sand a while longer.

Having spent the last two days discussing all the recent events, from my parents’ death to the miscarriage, I was feeling emotionally drained beyond measure, and I knew I wasn’t strong enough to refuse to see Murphy on top of all that. For a third time, we heard the doorbell, but in a longer burst this time.

“No, we’re going to have to be grown-ups and deal with it,” Kinnsie rationalised sensibly. “Let me try to talk to him.” It was a foregone conclusion that Murphy would be standing outside.

Kinnsie left the room, shooting a last uncomfortable glance in my direction as I followed behind but remained out of sight. Leaning against a wall, I held my breath as my friend opened the door. Some hushed tones were exchanged, which I couldn’t make out unless I craned my neck dangerously close to the corner, where Murphy might spot me.

“I know Delilah is here, Kinnsie. I need to talk to her.”

He spoke firmly, but I could detect the weariness in his voice; a deep fatigue I’d heard many times over the last few weeks since the accident and my surgery. All the sorrow had disturbed my sleep pattern to such an extent that Murphy had stayed up late into the night to comfort me. But his own lack of rest only served to heighten his irritability, while my depressive state seemed to extend indefinitely, with no end in sight.

The pressure had led to a few heated exchanges between us, Murphy stating that I needed to pick myself and move on. I knew he hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but his remarks cut me, and we’d slept separately for days afterwards, which had never happened before.

“Murphy, I understand you’ve had a long drive here, but she’s already been through so much that I don’t think it would be constructive right now,” said Kinnsie.

“I’m asking for only a few minutes. I accept it’s over, but I can’t bear to let it end without at least making peace.”

“I agree with the sentiment, but everything is too raw to expect her to agree to see you today. Just give it time and I’m sure she’ll agree to meet with you.”

A few moments of silence passed and then I could make out the rustling of what sounded like paper.

“Fine,” Murphy responded, sounding resigned to it. “Can you at least tell her that I bear her no ill will for leaving and give her these for me?”

I peered around the corner, eager to discern what he handed over without him seeing me. Spying the large bouquet of lilies in Kinnsie’s arms, I gulped as the significance of the gift caused a deep, stabbing pain in my chest. When Murphy first met me, he’d sent lilies every day after discovering they were my favourite. He still made sure the housekeeper organised fresh displays of them all over their house every week, without fail. My heart contracted at the poignant gesture.

Closing my eyes briefly, I reluctantly accepted what I ought to do next. He deserved some time to say goodbye properly.

“Of course, I...” replied Kinnsie, pausing in mid-sentence as the sound of my heels echoing along the stone flooring distracted her. Turning her head, she shot me an inquisitive look.

“Kinnsie, it’s fine, let him in,” I said, walking into full view of the open front door. My pulse raced as I lifted my deceptively calm gaze to meet Murphy’s surprised one. Blue met green as Kinnsie glanced at both of us in turn. Slowly, she moved to the side of the doorframe, allowing Murphy to enter the hallway.

He stepped forward, keeping his eyes fully locked on me, ignoring Kinnsie’s presence for a moment until she broke his silent trance. “Take Murphy into the lounge. I’ll go and place these in a vase in the kitchen.”

Waiting until we were alone, Murphy finally uttered softly, “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

With all the emotions churning in my stomach preventing me from speaking, I simply nodded before gesturing to the open door that led into the lounge. Giving a nervous smile, Murphy moved past me and into the indicated room. I breathed in a waft of his cologne as he did so. Taking a deep breath, I fought to hold back my welling tears, as the familiarity of the smell, and the fact it would be the last time I would smell it on him, overwhelmed me.

Entering the lounge, I pushed the door partially closed, leaving just enough of a gap for Kinnsie to be able to hear if it were wise to enter when she returned. Murphy was standing in his usual pose, by the window with his back to the room, staring out at the view. Taking a seat, I waited for several moments before he turned and spoke.

“As I said to Kinnsie, this will take only a few minutes.” His voice trembled with obvious emotion.

I knew I would crumble into a weeping mess if I looked at him, so I stared down at my hands, allowing the man to speak without interruption.

“I accept there’s no going back from your decision to leave, but I needed to see you one last...” He paused, obviously struggling to get his words out. “One last time to say sorry; sorry for not being supportive enough,” he continued. “I know I’m guilty of letting business get in the way of us being able to grieve together.”

I glanced up for the first time since he started talking with an expression of wonder written all over my face. For weeks, I’d felt guilty for not being able to express my anguish in words. Instead, I’d cried endlessly and mistakenly believed his anger was due to frustration at that. Hearing that Murphy considered himself to blame for us not spending enough time together lately, and for not helping me through my grief, threw me completely off balance.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for having to go to work. I’m sorry for all the nights I kept you up with my endless crying, rather than talking about it. Maybe if I’d been able to open up more, we wouldn’t be in this position today,” I said, looking away, unable to handle being in his gaze.

“Don’t tear yourself up about it. Each of us could have done things better in hindsight, but losing your parents and the baby in such a short space of time is enough to make anyone struggle,” Murphy answered. “I know I went into shutdown mode when my mother and father died.”

I offered a weak smile, not trusting myself to speak coherently as I tried to digest how reasonable he was being. I tried my utmost to resist listening to the voice inside my head that was screaming out for me to give him another chance, since he seemed to share the same regrets, but I knew deep down it wasn’t that simple. Too much had been said in the heat of the moment for me to go back now. This entire process only served to hit me with the cold reality that no matter how much I still loved him, I needed time alone to grow up.

“Anyway,” he added, letting out a deep sigh. “I think my few minutes are up. I guess I’ll be seeing you at Cam’s from time to time.”

“You might be relieved to know that I won’t be there often at all,” I replied. “I’ve accepted a job in New York.”

“Oh, I see. W-well, umm, good luck,” he stammered.

I gave him a tight smile. “Thanks.” My voice was full of fake casualness. “By the way, I appreciate the flowers.” My understanding of why he had bought lilies was written all over my face.

Murphy shrugged. “I bought them before... before I saw your note.”

A flicker of guilt flashed across my eyes before I glanced away, and my cheeks coloured with embarrassment.

“I thought you might still appreciate them, better than I do, under the circumstances,” he added.

“I’d better get going before the traffic gets too heavy,” he said, even as he continued to stand in the same spot, rather than moving.

As I raised myself from the sofa, Murphy finally managed to act, catching me unawares as he moved swiftly to stand in front of me. Raising his arms, he brought them to rest on either side of my waist before I had time to react. Pulling me close, his lips brushed against mine urgently before Murphy released me from his grip with the words, “As much as it hurts, I know loving you means I have to let you go.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply as Kinnsie interrupted us by entering the room.

“Kinnsie, thank you for allowing me to descend upon your home uninvited, but I won’t intrude any longer,” Murphy said, turning stiffly from me to focus on my friend. Kinnsie followed him out into the hallway.

I couldn’t help but watch him leave as I stood unobserved at a side window in the lounge. It was a desolate man who got into the driver’s side of his car.

He was clutching the steering wheel so hard; I could see his knuckles went white. He seemed to try to compose himself and then he pulled out an object from his jacket that he then hurled across the car. It seemed to look like a small ring box, but I couldn’t be sure. Bringing both hands up to his face, he sobbed.

I’d seen all I could cope with and stepped away from the window.

Chapter Fifteen

PAST

Delilah

On the second day after Murphy’s visit, I pulled off a controlled performance of a lifetime worthy of any award-winning actress as I stepped onto the plane, leaving my life in England behind for a fresh start.

After a gruelling seven-hours, the wife of my mother’s brother, Emily, greeted me at the other end of the flight. Despite losing my mother six weeks before, I looked upon Emily as more of a mother, so it didn’t take her long to get behind the facade of my cheerfulness.

“Delilah, you know you don’t have to put on a front for me. Murphy contacted Jacob yesterday, saying your parting conversation had been distressing for both of you—” Emily began softly as my fake smile was replaced by uneasiness. “Do you want to tell me about it?” The older woman leaned over and touched my arm as an offer of comfort.

“There is nothing much to tell, other than I’ve left him as I can’t stand the pain any longer.” My expression became unreadable. I wasn’t ready to open up fully yet. My hormones were all over the place still. The doctor had warned me that it might take up to two months for everything to settle down after the miscarriage. It was four weeks so far.

“He blames you for losing the baby?” Emily looked shocked.

I shook her head. “No, more than anything, I couldn’t talk to him about it until it was too late.”

“But now you’ve started talking, can you not work through the situation together?”

I shook my head again. “No, it has become far more now. The shock of all these events and my handling of them have made me realise I need to grow up more before re-entering into any relationship.”

Emily sighed; she obviously could see I was struggling and I knew she liked Murphy, so there would likely be some regret for him as well. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk things through further.”

“Thanks.”

Excusing myself from the room, I headed to the guest room, where I always stayed. Throwing myself on the bed, I contemplated the coming weeks as I knew the only way to cope with the emptiness was to bury myself into a heavy workload. Luckily, I had secured some work based on previous work I had done for an agency in New York previously.

**

Settling into a routine of working at a diligent pace, Christmas and New Year were soon forgotten. I’d begun to build a name on the global modelling stage even more. The exposure of doing a campaign with a company with Keats Media’s reputation gave me a solid foundation to build upon despite being away during the months of my depression.

As much as I kept busy during the daytime and evenings, the stark hours after midnight still dragged by slowly as I tossed and turned, reliving the painful memories of losing the baby and Murphy in quick succession. I had started to see a therapist here, determined to not linger on the sadness now that I was starting over. I wanted to mould myself into a stronger person who could cope when a crisis hit.

As the end of January beckoned, I was still living reluctantly in my relatives’ apartment, despite my earlier idea of moving into my own place within weeks. It wasn’t for want of trying to get a new place, but my aunt and uncle made me agree to stay for the near future as they were still concerned about my health. Although I’d recovered from the surgery I had in England after the miscarriage and had started to put on weight again, I continued to suffer with sickness every morning without fail.

My London doctor had given me the recommendation of a doctor in New York who I now had an appointment with. The recommended doctor was a female gynaecologist that specialised in after care of trauma-induced miscarriages and high-risk pregnancies and I hoped she would produce some answers to what was going on.

Despite now accepting the loss of the pregnancy wasn’t my fault and the sadness lifting enough to start enjoying my new life, the continued sickness in the morning was starting to affect me turning up for work if it involved an early start. My new agent knew my reputation of always being punctual and versatile in my work, but the on-going fatigue and sickness were beginning to hinder me getting repeat work. One client had the audacity to even say I was too fat for them to consider.

This criticism was the final straw in allowing my agent, and family, to convince me to make the appointment to see the doctor.

Several days later, I found myself in front of the new doctor for the first time.

 “I’m going to organise another round of blood tests, since you’re still suffering from disrupted sleep and sickness,” the doctor began after silently perusing the notes my old doctor had faxed over. “Have you menstruated since your surgery?”

I shook my head.

“And that was about twenty weeks ago?”

I nodded. “Yes. My cycles have always been somewhat sporadic, so that’s nothing unusual.”

“And when was the last time you had unprotected sex?”

“About fourteen weeks.”

“Do you experience any residual pain around the injury area?”

“Slight soreness, but not any pain as such, but I do experience a strange fluttering at times.”

 The doctor looked at me strangely for a moment. “Flutterings?”

“Yes, not quite where the wound was, but in the abdomen surrounding it.”

“Okay, if you go behind the curtain and take off your top, I can have a closer look at the wound.”

After gently probing of the wound above my right hip and the surrounding abdominal area, my doctor wrote in my file and asked me to redress and sit back down.

“The wound seems to be healed perfectly, so I don’t believe that is what is causing your symptoms. I’m going to send you over to my colleague in the centre to have them do an internal and abdominal ultrasound. The receptionist will be able to give you directions, and then I’ll see you back here later today, after the scans.”

I sighed at the prospect of waiting around all day, even if it were within the state-of-the-art private health practice.

“Okay, but do you have an idea of what is going on?”

“I’ve my suspicions, but I’ll get a better idea after the tests – we should have a definite diagnosis by the end of today.”

I gave the doctor a small smile, relieved that a conclusion to my feeling of being hit by a bus repeatedly could be in sight.

Three hours later, I found myself on a narrow bed in one of the ultrasound rooms. The ultrasound technician had placed the familiar cold gel over my lower abdomen before doing a few sweeps with the scanner. An image came up on the screen, but I didn’t understand what I was seeing. It looked like a baby, but I knew that couldn’t be possible. The technician made notes and then said she was going to get the doctor to come talk to me.

A feeling of uneasiness swept over me. I’d had pelvic ultrasounds before, and they’d never needed to send a doctor in during the examination in the past. What if the fall had caused irreparable internal damage to the abdomen after all? At the time of my surgery, they had said I was lucky to escape with the minor damage I had done.

The door opened, revealing my doctor and the technician. They both huddled over the screen as my doctor did another sweep of the scanner over my belly.

“Okay, well, it would seem all your nausea was caused by this area here,” the doctor said, turning to smile at me for the first time as she indicated to a prominent shape on the screen.

Frowning, I tried to make out sense of what was going on. It was shaped like a baby, but my head kept saying it wasn’t possible, but my heart wished it was. “What is it?” I felt stupid asking, but I was so conflicted.

“This outer shaper is your uterus, and inside, there is a thirteen-week foetus.” The doctor pressed a button and this loud noise echoed around the room. It was a heartbeat going so fast. “And that is their heartbeat.”

“Foetus? How can that be?” I stammered, my hand clutching the side of the bed as I tried to lean in further, to stare at the screen incredulously.

“Well, it would seem, although the trauma of your fall caused heavy blood loss and presumed miscarriage, there is still a viable baby in there.”

“But they said there was no chance of foetal survival after all the blood loss; they couldn’t find a heartbeat, and my hormone levels had started to fall.” I still did not quite believe what the doctor was telling me.

“This is a new foetus. Going by the dates you gave me of your last period and sexual activity, it is likely this baby implanted a month or so later.”

“Can you tell if this baby is okay?”

“The measurements show it’s a little on the small side, but nothing to be overly concerned about, so we will need to keep a close eye on you through the rest of your baby’s gestation.”

“I can’t believe this,” I finally responded after struggling to find my voice again.

“I realise it’s a lot to take in after all you’ve been through. I recommend you have plenty of rest, eat well, and I’ll see you again in another couple of weeks,” the doctor suggested. “The bathroom is through that door. Once you’re cleaned up, you are free to leave.”

Standing up, I thanked the doctor and exited the room through the door that had been indicated to me.

**

The revelation would take some time to sink into my mind properly. At first, I wondered if I’d dreamt it all. Finding the paperwork for another appointment to have a scan in my handbag, I knew it was all too real. At home, I’d quietly disappeared into my room where I was staying in my aunt and uncle’s apartment, and it was there I remained for rest of the day, searching through pages of information on the internet.

As thrilled as I was to be having a baby still growing inside me, I couldn’t help but wonder how to handle this turn of events. When should I inform Murphy about the new baby? Did it mean that I should go back to him? Yes, I missed him terribly, but my heart had started to heal, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave New York now that I was here.

Following more sleepless nights, I decided Murphy did deserve to know about the child, but I wouldn’t change my mind about needing to remain single. The existence of the baby didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t ready, emotionally, for such an intense relationship as the one we’d shared especially with his overcontrolling opinion on what shape my career could take.

With that part of the dilemma settled, the next significant problem was how and when to tell him.

After telling my aunt and uncle the news, I’d asked for their co-operation in keeping it quiet for now. I felt I needed to get used to the idea of the baby myself before I could cope with telling him. Due to the delicate balance of happiness and depression that I was experiencing, my aunt and uncle agreed, not wanting me to feel any added pressure of having to tell others until I was ready.

I maintained this stance for a month when I finally told Kinnsie, but with a continued frostiness between Abby and me, I remained silent on the issue with her.

With the morning sickness finally abated, I’d also decided to give up work as a model straightaway and moved my career focus back to fashion design. This had been my primary goal, before being plucked from obscurity by the first modelling agency who signed me. I was already educated in all the basic elements of putting a design together, from pencil to computer aided, and then onto pattern and fabric. My next step would be a degree course, to advance that knowledge to a higher level, which would help me on the path to running my own clothes company. Since being in New York and working more assignments than I ever did while dating Murphy I had made more than enough money to support myself and a child very comfortably without a continuous salary coming in, so I would start the degree once my baby was here.

Feeling more confident about my plans for the future also helped me feel ready to contact Murphy about the upcoming birth.

Alone in the apartment, I took the opportunity to dial his number straight from my phone as he always had that with him no matter what. Disconcerted by the fact that it went straight to voicemail at first, I’d managed to leave a brief message, asking him to phone me. After hearing nothing back from him after a week, I tried again on several other occasions, but it simply rang off and went to voicemail immediately. On the final occasion, I’d become so emotional at his silence, I blurted out the news about the child, whereas all my earlier messages had been just asking him to make contact about something important.

I became resigned to the fact that he wasn’t interested in the child after hearing no response to any of my messages after several weeks. Dejected, my determination remained unwavering to do the best for our child, even if he wasn’t.

I tried to keep the strain of Murphy’s rejection from affecting the baby, but after experiencing sharp abdominal pains, I’d visited the ER to be told I was suffering from pre-eclampsia, beginning a cycle of uncertainty of whether the baby would go to full term or be born via emergency C-section.

My doctor arranged for me to be transferred from the emergency room and admitted onto a maternity ward so they could hook me up to a machine to watch the baby’s heartbeat rate and movement, and to monitor the baby for any distress. After a few hours, it became clear the seriousness of the situation was escalating further, and to save us, an emergency C-section was performed, bringing my son into the world four weeks premature.

**

The next day passed in a drug-induced haze. I remembered as soon as the prescribed medicine had brought the pre-eclampsia under control, my son was delivered, leaving the hostile environment of my uterus in favour of the neonatal unit.

Following an anxious phone call from Emily to Kinnsie about what happened, my bff had shown up the second morning after the birth. Seeing her by my bedside had been a welcome relief as I awoke from a short nap.

I smiled weakly at Kinnsie’s crumpled appearance. “Hi, you look almost as knackered as I feel.”

“Gee, thanks.” Kinnsie consciously brushed a hand over her hair and top. “I came to see my honorary nephew straight from the airport!”

“Get in line; he’s been melting hearts already. Have you seen him yet?”

Kinnsie nodded. “Only through the window of the neonatal unit, though. He’s attached to more tubes and wires than I expected.”

“They have a few concerns about his lungs and other things,” I explained.

Kinnsie touched her friend’s hand thoughtfully “Are these concerns going to affect him long term?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. I’m having to take each day as it comes, for the time being. He is four weeks premature, so he needs time to catch up to the level he should be at birth.”

“Do you want me to get a message to Murphy through Cam about his son’s birth? Maybe he’d want to see him if he knew he was so sick,” Kinnsie asked gently. She, like me, didn’t understand why he had ignored all the messages, after coming to see me at her house that time. Kinnsie had repeatedly said she felt sure he would come running to my side when he found out about the baby, but that never happened.

I shook my head. “No. He has had his chance. I only want my son to have reliable people in his life.”

“I know you’re hurt by his silence, but what if he didn’t get the messages, and what if the baby takes a turn for the worse, and Murphy never gets to say goodbye to him?”

I turned my face away from Kinnsie’s gaze. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

Kinnsie sighed at my stubbornness. “So have you been able to get out of bed yet?”

I shook my head. “But the nurse said that I should try and do a short walk. I need to get the approval of the doctor so I can leave the ward and head down to the neonatal unit myself.”

I yawned slightly as a nurse entered the room to do her regular checks on my blood pressure.

Noting my yawn prompted Kinnsie to stand up from her chair. “I think that is my cue to head out and freshen up. I’m meeting with Emily and Jacob for lunch, so I’ll see you after that.”

**

My doctor cleared me as strong enough to leave the ward after completing several short walks with the nurse’s help over the next day or so, allowing Emily to wheel me down to the unit, to spend time with my baby.

The neonatal unit offered the latest state-of-the-art medical facilities that justified the hefty private insurance I paid. My son was among several others who were under the care of a level 2a speciality care unit, as he had needed supplemental oxygen until the mild respiratory problems of his premature birth were resolved. His paediatricians didn’t have time to give his underdeveloped lungs a steroid boost, due to the rushed C-section.

After being buzzed through the security door to the unit, one of the nurses asked which baby I was coming to see. “Baby Keyes,” was my reply, as I was still deliberating what name to give him.

“Ahh, he’s over here,” the nurse said, leading us to the far corner of the room. “He is doing exceptionally well considering his prematurity, and we should be able to take him off the oxygen later today.”

“Is there any way I could hold him?” I asked the nurse hopefully. I’d only held him once, and that had been only fleetingly, in the first few minutes after he’d been pulled through my abdominal incision before they whisked him off into an incubator.

“Sure, if you can give me a few minutes to rearrange his drips, I’ll be able to remove him from the incubator.”

The nurse disappeared off to organise things, leaving me alone with my aunt. “Have you given any more thought to what you’re going to name him? You honestly can’t keep referring to him as Baby Keyes indefinitely,” Emily suggested gently.

“I know, but I’ve been worrying more about his health problems than a name.”

“Well, as the nurse said, they’re happy with his progress, so now you can just relax and think of one. I thought you had a short list of only a couple when we last discussed it?” my aunt said, pushing me to make a decision. She’d lost a child a couple of days after its birth herself, and she’d felt rushed into naming him in the midst of all the grief.

“Yes, Tommy or Matthew.”

Tommy had been one of the names that Murphy and I had discussed when we’d originally been trying to get pregnant. I felt, deep down, that I owed it to him to stick with a name that we both liked, in spite of the failure of our relationship.

Finally, the nurse returned, ending our conversation as our attention was diverted to the small, squirming bundle being handed into to my open arms. Pushing the blanket away from his face, I stroked my fingertips gently on his cheek, familiar sapphire blue eyes staring up at me as the baby yawned slightly. “Hello, little darling,” I cooed.

“He certainly looks like you.” Emily spoke after several minutes of remaining silent as I talked quietly to the baby.

I nodded thoughtfully, my fingers lightly touching a small curl that could be seen escaping from beneath the knitted bonnet on his head. “Yes, but he has Murphy’s eyes and hair.”

After a few more minutes of quiet chatter to the baby, the nurse interrupted us, and encouraged me to try to breastfeed him, as it was nearing his feed time. As his stomach was still delicate, his feeds had up until then been made through a drip, or a formula bottle of my pump-extracted breast milk. The doctor and I had discussed the importance of attempting to get him used to trying to suckle as soon as possible, to aid in the bonding process between myself and the baby after our awful start. The doctor had also educated me that my breast milk had naturally altered to the circumstances of having a preemie baby and the milk would be richer in proteins and different fats than milk produced later on.

With the baby satiated and settled back into his incubator, Emily wheeled me back to the ward before leaving me to go to sleep. As my aunt was leaving, I turned to her and said, “I think he looks like a Tommy, don’t you?”

Emily smiled. “Yes, I think Tommy will suit him.”

**

The next four weeks between Tommy’s actual birthday and the one he would have had if the pregnancy went to the full term were the most dramatic, I’d experienced in my life. Despite the strong start my son made, his little lungs still struggled to work by themselves, leading to repeated setbacks, during which he had to return to mechanically aided breathing.

With the dismay of seeing my son’s health yo-yoing, combined with lack of sleep over the dread of what the longer term might bring him, my earlier depression and lack of appetite came back. This, in turn, led to my own doctor questioning whether I could cope with tending to a frail child if they discharged us too soon.

My doctor felt I was suffering from a form of postnatal depression and, after some inpatient therapy working through my guilt, I could accept the past and move on. Finally, four weeks after the birth, I was released from the hospital with Tommy following two weeks later, giving me time to decorate the nursery as I’d originally planned to do in my final month of pregnancy in the intervening period.

Chapter Sixteen

PAST

Delilah

The only benefit my American mother afforded me was to be classed as a dual citizen, enabling me to stay in New York indefinitely. I had also had the forethought to visit the British Embassy in New York so I could fill out the necessary paperwork for Tommy to be registered as a dual citizen as well rather than just as solely American.

For me, the therapy I received for my postnatal depression during those first nine months of looking after Tommy gradually helped me into a fresher outlook for single-parent motherhood and a new career. I focussed fully on making sure Tommy had all the development lessons necessary for his learning to be the same standard of a child of a similar age despite his ongoing hearing disability. We lived in a spacious two-bedroom beach cottage in the Hamptons part of the time, and a city condominium the rest of it.

Once Tommy had his first birthday, he was put up as a candidate for bilateral cochlear implants, with the surgery taking place just months later. Employing the skills of a Listening and Spoken Language Educator for him, I decided I wanted to explore the Auditory-Verbal Education route before he entered school.

Just after his first birthday, I started on a two-year fashion design degree at FIT, which gave me one year of study in New York and another in Florence. I opted to take my first year in New York, so Tommy could keep a regular childcare routine, with my Aunt Emily helping whenever she could fit it around her own children, with any supplemental needs met by a part-time nanny, Beth.

With Tommy’s paediatrician having long been satisfied that he’d recovered from all the problems his premature birth caused, and the later surgery to ease his profound hearing impairment, I moved to Florence for the second year of the course.

Once the course was complete, I began initiating my plans to set up in a series of boutiques in New York, Paris, Florence and London within the first two years of my ambitious business plan. Tommy was still too young to join my friend’s private school, so Beth had become my full-time childcare support as I travelled with them both to multiple locations over that first year of running the clothes company.

As distant as my relationship remained with my sister, I’d been invited to the christening of Abby and Cam’s first child.

I was only attending out of a sense of duty, prompted by pressure from Kinnsie, and Emily after staying away from their wedding. Despite sharing the bond of sisters, we’d never been as close as I was to my best friend, Kinnsie, and the end of the relationship with Murphy, while Abby continued to date Murphy’s best friend, had led to further strain during the intervening years.

I knew attending the christening would unavoidably bring me into the company of Murphy for the first time since he had followed me to Kinnsie’s house that day. As uncomfortable as I imagined seeing him would be since his rejection of being in our son’s life, it was nothing to the burning disdain that had been building since I’d heard that he had chosen to be in Caggie’s child life. What kind of a father chooses one child over another? He was certainly not the man I thought him once to be.

I was intent on ignoring him for the entire event.

**

Checking my appearance one final time in the full-length mirror, I was relieved, after a recent exercise regime, to see there was no trace of my pregnancy fat that stubbornly lingered for a year or two, visible where the luxurious material skimmed over my waist and hips. I opted to wear a long evening dress that was part of my first collection. It was backless, with a one-shoulder style neckline, made of a rich silver satin accompanied by diamond and emerald jewellery, emerald-green strappy heels, and clutch bag.

I’d also given another dress from my collection for Kinnsie to wear to the party as the christening afterparty was being exclusively publicised in a celebrity magazine, and my designs would be mentioned.

Hearing a car horn, I glanced out into the street. I saw a cab stopped outside, with Kinnsie leaning out of the cab window trying to attract my attention. Dashing outside, we were soon on the way for the journey from the hotel I was staying at in Harrogate to Murphy’s.

As the cab turned onto Murphy’s road, I couldn’t help but think back to all the times I’d driven down this same piece of tarmac.

“Are you ready to make an entrance?” Kinnsie whispered, bringing me back to present as we were driven through the iron gates and down a short circular drive after being let through the specially laid on security.

“As ready as I ever will be.” My face pulled into an uncomfortable expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be at your side for support,” Kinnsie added as we exited the cab and made our way into the large entrance hall, where Abby and Cam were greeting their long stream of guests.

Wrapped up in the moment, Abby embraced both of us in unison, her usually cool exterior replaced by one of warmth.

The tension between us had only just begun to thaw as I received the surprising request to be a godmother to my new niece, Jess.

I’d thought long and hard about being godmother to my sister’s daughter, but once I said yes, I couldn’t back out, even after discovering that Murphy was going to be standing by the font beside her. I had successfully evaded actually talking to him through the ceremony at the church a couple of hours previous.

“The place looks stunning,” I said at last, glancing further into the house.

The large, sweeping staircase had been transformed with garlands of flowers wrapped around the banisters. Above, white and silver streamers criss-crossed the hallway ceiling and followed into the rooms beyond.

The venue of the christening party had been changed at the last minute to Murphy’s country estate. An ancient church on the grounds still served the local parish, so it had been possible to move the ceremony there at short notice.

“Yes, the party planning company has done an exceptional job,” Cam joined in. “But I think Jenny will be relieved when we’re finished.”

Kinnsie and Delilah chuckled as we caught sight of Jenny Reynolds, Murphy’s ever-dependable housekeeper for his Yorkshire home, shaking her head at several of the waiters milling around the room, which was already heaving with guests. Noticing that we were holding up the queue of people behind us who were waiting to talk to the couple, we moved on to find the rest of our party – Kinnsie’s boyfriend, Zak and his sidekick, Dylan.

Zak and Kinnsie had been getting steadily serious since meeting at a photo shoot six months earlier. He was well-versed in the merchandising side of fashion and I’d asked him to join my fashion label as a result.

Wherever Zak went, his partner in crime, Dylan, could be found. He and I had a dating history prior to my relationship with Murphy. The guy was cad in relationship terms, but as a friend, he was a welcome distraction from the loneliness that sometimes came with being a single mother. It didn’t stop rumours circulating in the tabloids that we were an item again. Even though I knew the truth, I was kind of glad of the stories, as I presumed it would get up Murphy’s nose to see me moving on with someone else.

Grabbing Kinnsie’s hand, I hurried in the direction of some waiters carrying flutes of champagne that I’d spied drifting through the throng of people. Not paying much attention as I chatted away to her friend, I grabbed two flutes from the nearest waiter. It was only upon hearing a familiar clearing of the throat that I looked up to find a sparkly sapphire pair of eyes looking at me.

Swallowing hard, I realised my error of taking the glasses that Murphy had been carrying personally. “Oh” was the only sound omitted from my mouth as I felt myself growing warmer by the second.

“Sorry, Murphy, have those back and we’ll find our own,” said Kinnsie, intervening to place the two untouched glasses back on the tray he was still holding.

Murphy muttered his thanks before turning on his heels and moving back into the crowd, but not without casting a long, lingering look in my direction.

“Oh, shit, so much for avoiding him! I can’t believe I mistook him for a waiter,” I whined.

Kinnsie smirked. “I’m sure he’ll get over it. I think it was the shock that caused him to be silent. You must’ve seen how he looked at you – he certainly didn’t seem like a man who wanted to be avoided.”

Pulling a face, I was about to reply when I was stopped by the appearance of Murphy in front of me again, minus his drinks’ tray.

“Sorry,” he started, “that I had to rush off. I didn’t mean to appear rude, but I had a table of people claiming they were dying of thirst!” he tried to joke.

“That’s fine,” I replied.

“So how have you been?”

“Good, I guess.”

“I hear you’re moving back to England,” Murphy said shyly, his eyes searching mine, as though he wanted to say something more.

“Not quite yet, but eventually,” I answered cagily, trying my best to discourage the conversation from continuing. I didn’t like the fact that he knew about my plans, especially since they were still a year off.

Murphy’s brow furrowed as he gave me a quizzical stare. If I didn’t know better, he seemed genuinely surprised by my coldness, but surely, he knew things could never be the same after he had ignored all my messages?

“Abby seems ecstatic that this day has finally arrived. She was showing off Jess’ christening gown earlier, explaining that you’d designed it,” Murphy continued. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s what sisters are for,” I replied with a shrug, still determined to give him nothing to work with that could extend the chit-chat any longer than necessary.

Dylan suddenly appeared at my side and said, “Sorry to interrupt, but this gorgeous woman promised me a dance.”

Scowling at the other man, Murphy nodded and turned to walk away without another word. With him gone, I relaxed and exhaled the deep breath I’d been holding in to stop myself trembling in front of him.

“Kinnsie suggested I come and rescue you,” Dylan explained. “So that’s the infamous Murphy?”

I gave him a tight smile and nodded. Dylan had been there for me when I first moved to New York, during which Murphy had been the subject of many a late-night talk. Dylan was the only person who knew the true extent to which I regretted leaving the man when the emotional cloud of grief began to lessen. And Murphy’s rejection of my olive branch months later was why I couldn’t bear to talk to him now.

“I don’t think he appreciated me interrupting,” Dylan mused as we observed my ex staring in our direction with a frown upon his face.

“I guess he isn’t as proficient at receiving the cold shoulder as he is at dishing it out,” I remarked.

“He doesn’t strike me as the type that is used to being ignored.”

I couldn’t help but snigger at this comment. “I agree. Perhaps we should give him something to really frown about?”

With that, we spent the next half hour grinding against each other’s bodies on the dance floor. Perhaps not the most appropriate behaviour for a christening party, but it sure made me feel a whole lot better to give Murphy something to truly scowl about.

After burning some nervous energy on the dance floor with Dylan, we went to join the rest of the group. As we conversed about the daily happenings of our lives over the next couple of hours, I couldn’t help but be aware of the sullen glances being cast in my direction from Murphy.

“Murphy seems to be looking over this way a lot,” Kinnsie whispered in my ear as the others at their table circulated the room, dancing or talking to other guests.

“Let him.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he might regret his ignoring of your messages, and now he doesn’t know how to broach the topic of Tommy with you?”

Frowning, I spoke, “Has he asked anyone else about Tommy?” The idea of Tommy being discussed by Murphy with someone else left me feeling unnerved.

“Not that I’m aware of, but Cam would have naturally mentioned him in passing, so he must know bits and pieces about him. Maybe he wants to know more from you, though; you’re his mother after all.”

“Well, he gave up all rights to knowing about Tommy’s life the day he chose not to be part of his life.”

“But didn’t it ever strike you as odd that he ignored them altogether after the way he fought to see you before you left for NY.”

“I can’t say I ever gave it much thought. Why?”

“What if someone maliciously deleted the messages before he saw them, and he doesn’t actually know that Tommy is his?”

“Who would gain anything from doing such a hateful thing?”

“Caggie.”

Delilah looked over to where Caggie was standing, with an aloof-looking Murphy. Her hands were all over him and sense of doubt over my earlier summary of Murphy’s character swept over her. “I doubt she is smart enough to even get hold of Murphy’s phone without him knowing.”

“No, but when she was his PA, she would have had some access. I wouldn’t put it past her that she deleted them, so as not to ruin her chances with him. You know she has been after him since day one.”

“I know she was desperate to be with him, but she must know it would be all for nothing if he found out – would she risk everything for the sake of a few messages?”

“Who knows what was going on in her head?”

“So do you have any proof that she did this, or are we just guessing?”

“Just guessing, unless we can get her to confess.”

“That’s hardly likely.”

“You could always simply tell him about Tommy in person and beat her at her own game.”

“And how do I explain the last four years of not telling him then – it would look like my fault, rather than hers,” I said, not quite ready to accept that I might be wrong in my assumptions of Murphy’s silence.

“Tell him your suspicions.”

“I’m not sure.” I still didn’t like the idea of having to grovel to Murphy.

“You want Tommy to have the chance to know his father, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. But it’s hard to put the last four years of contempt for him aside on mere a guess.”

“Well, you’ll have to do something; otherwise, she has won – she’s already convinced him to marry her. And once that the ring is on her finger, you’ll stand no chance at getting him to acknowledge Tommy. She will poison him against you.”

“He’s marrying her?” My heart sank.

“Yes, Abby told me. They’re going to make the announcement tomorrow.”

“You know, when I had the altercation with her before, she said that he’d chosen her baby over mine. I thought she’d meant he actually willingly decided that, but it makes more sense now that she conveniently made it sound that way to cover her tracks.”

“Delilah, you seriously need to tell Murphy all this, even if he refuses to believe you. I’m sure the seeds of doubt will start to grow, and she’s bound to slip up somewhere along the line.”

Seeing the others returning to the table from the dance floor, we moved on to another subject.

As the evening progressed, I had to restrain myself from confronting Caggie; my nemesis seemed to be on a mission of flaunting her relationship with Murphy. On several occasions, when they were dancing near to our table, Caggie had made a point of initiating a full-on kiss, which Murphy seemed too embarrassed to make a scene about, except for pulling her back to their own table. She could be overheard by other guests making derogatory comments about me, which Murphy tried to curtail with his formidable stare. Despite the obvious pregnancy bump Caggie was carrying, her behaviour to an inexperienced observer would appear as the result of drinking more than just soft drinks. But I suspected the behaviour was because of her secret drug habit.

Clearly embarrassed, Murphy seemed to have no choice but to make their exit from the party early.

“I certainly can’t imagine why Murphy is allowing his child’s health to be put at risk by allowing that woman to drink so excessively,” Mrs. Potter, who was sitting at our table, commented once the couple had retreated from the room. She was the wife of a filmmaker who was associated with Keats Media’s ad campaigns.

“I don’t think it was brought on by a drink,” Kinnsie responded to Mrs. Potter’s observation.

“Does he know about her drug history?” I asked quietly.

“I’ve no idea, but Cam might.”

“I’m going to go outside to make a call to Beth, to check on Tommy.” I excused myself from the table to see if I was able to catch up to the retreating couple discreetly, to see how Murphy was reacting to Caggie’s odd behaviour.

Out in the deserted hallway, I could hear the arguing voices of Murphy and Caggie drifting downward through the open staircase.

“I can’t believe how irresponsible you’re being – didn’t your doctor say it’s bad for the baby to drink this much alcohol!”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Then how do you explain the fact that you can’t even stand up without my help, and you’ve behaved abominably in front of all those people?”

“You drove me to it!”

“How exactly am I to blame?”

“You went over to that bitch TWICE and tried to talk to her after you promised you wouldn’t do so.” Caggie screamed her voice shrill as it echoed down the walls to where I stood open-mouthed.

“I never promised you any of the sort – she’s a guest in my home. I was being polite by talking to her.”

“You told me you would be here for our child, yet at the first opportunity, you have to go off and try to get in her pants.”

“What the hell are you talking about – I never went over to her with that intention. The drink is making you delusional. I said I would be here for the child, and I’ll be – I’m marrying you, for goodness sake.”

“I told you, I’m not drunk! I simply took a pill to calm my nerves.”

“What pill?”

 “Just an upper. It’s not important. I do it all the time.”

“No biggie? Your disgusting habit could be hurting MY child.”

“I only take them because I’m so frightened that you will leave me for that bitch when you find out the –” My heart began to race as I knew Caggie had slipped up.

“When I find out what?”

“You’re trying to confuse – I don’t know what I’m saying.” Sobbing noises started.

“Caggie – tell me. When I find out what?”

The sobbing became louder. “Owww, you’re hurting my arm!”

“Stop with the fake tears, Caggie. We will continue this discussion in the morning, and you may as well know now that I expect you to be packed to leave straight afterwards. I don’t want you to ruin this weekend’s celebrations with further scenes like this one.”

“You don’t want me to be here so you can get back into HER good books.”

“No, I don’t want you here in case your jealousy gets out of hand again, and I need time to think away from you.”

“If you leave me, I’ll abort our child.”

“You undoubtedly are a heartless bitch to threaten such a thing, I’ve already said I’ll do my duty and marry you for the sake of the child, but that doesn’t mean I’ve to like it, and it most certainly won’t stop me from spending time with whom I choose.”

The sobbing continued for a few moments, then just silence.

I blew out the breath I’d had been holding, amazed at all that had been overheard. So Caggie had slipped up. But he was still marrying her, despite the abortion threat and the fact that he clearly could tell she was lying to him about something.

Despite an overwhelming need to tell him my suspicions now that he was experiencing his own doubts about Caggie, I knew about Murphy’s sense of duty, so I hung back from seeking him out. I knew now that he’d promised to marry Caggie; he’d still honour his promise, even if I did tell him about our child. That was a situation I refused to get myself and my son entangled in.

I decided there and then to protect my child from being ensnared into the mess that their marriage would have surely become. Even if Caggie had deleted her messages, and he hadn’t knowingly rejected our child, I couldn’t put my boy through having a stepmother that dysfunctional.

I would stay silent and avoid Murphy as much as possible in the future. He’d made his choice by getting involved with Caggie in the first place, and now I’d made mine.

Upcoming books by me

Hot Summer Nights

Forget Me Not

Let me Down Slowly

Scars I bare

Meant to be

Torn between

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Table of Contents

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Upcoming books by me

Contact me