True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(22)

'Just a dream.' I shiver. The curtains have been opened, the sash window raised slightly.

He feels my forehead. 'You're clammy. What were you dreaming about?'

It's a bad idea to let him know that Boyd's managed to invade my dreams. A little white lie is in order.

'I don't know. I can't remember.'

He frowns, as if he doesn't quite believe me, and then his expression lightens.

'Time to get dressed. Dinner in ten minutes.'

'But I need a bath.'

And I certainly do, seeing as I spent the better part of the afternoon  in a sweat. After the mad bout of rough sex, he made love to me twice  more before I finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.

'Later. Cottage pie waits for no man. And if we're late, we won't get pudding.'

He taps me on the shoulder, a silent command to get moving, before he  collects his mobile from the bedside table and goes to stand by the  window. With a yawn, I push myself out of bed and make my way into the  bathroom. As soon as I'm on the toilet, I know I've started. Glancing  round, I notice the tampons. They've been left for me on the unit, right  next to yet another selection of toiletries. I smile to myself. True to  form, while I've been sleeping, he's clearly been busy organising my  life for me. After sorting myself out, I make my way back into the  bedroom to find a packet of knickers lying on the bed. I pick them up  and examine them.

'Did I do well?' he asks. 'Size twelve.'

Opening the packet, I take out a pair and let them dangle in front of me. They unfurl like a sail.

'Lovely.'

'There wasn't much choice in town. They'll have to do for now.'

'Firmly constructed,' I muse. 'Totally unrippable. And thank God for  that.' Bending over, I step into the granny pants and pull them up. 'I'd  like to hang on to some of my underwear.'

'Mmm.' He licks his lips. 'Sexy.'

'You can forget about sex. I'm on my period.'

A wave of alarm washes across his face.

'For about four days,' I add.

A second wave.

He falters. 'We can work around it.'

I'm not at all sure what he means by that and right now, I really don't  want to know. He watches as I collect my bra and dress, put them on and  tidy my hair. By the time I'm ready, he's looking out of the window  again, his phone still clasped in his hands.

'What's the matter?'

Slipping an arm round his waist, I join him.

'Just thinking about Molly.'

I catch the flit of a shadow amongst the trees.

'There's someone out there.'

He manoeuvres me into his arms.

'No.'

'But I saw ...'

'There was nobody.'

The dream filters back to my waking brain, echoes of Boyd's face in the  darkness, and I begin to panic. Is that Boyd out there? Is he really  still stalking me? Would he go this far? I turn back to the window. Yes,  I saw it that time. There was definitely a movement.

'There is someone out there.'

He blinks, suppressing a scowl as he struggles with the next words. 'It's security.'         

     



 

'What? You have guards here?'

'I do now.' He draws in a breath. 'Look, Norman knows about it. Don't say anything to Betty. She'll only flip.'

My mind's in a spin and somehow, through the muddle, Clive's words come back to me: It'll be sorted tonight.

'Why couldn't you just tell me this was happening?'

'I didn't want you to think I was going over the top.'

'You are going over the top.' I try my best to wriggle out of his arms, but I'm held tight. 'Jesus. What's come over you?'

'Don't be annoyed.'

'You're paranoid.'

'No, Maya. I'm not.'

'If that's the case, then there's something you're not telling me. I don't like being left in the dark.'

His mouth opens as if he's about to speak, and then he thinks better of it.

'You said I could trust you, Dan. You said you'd never let me down.'

'I won't.'

'But you've kept this from me. I'm not some weak, pathetic woman who needs protecting. Tell me why you've done this.'

He's not about to admit the truth. I can tell. Maybe I should help him  along a little. After all, he doesn't need to know the source of my  information.

'Boyd. You think he poisoned Molly.'

He stares at me, saying nothing.

'Just because he's obsessed with me, it doesn't mean he killed your dog.'

'I know that.'

'Then there is something else, something you're not telling me, some reason why you've reacted like this.'

He shakes his head.

'It's just me, that's all.' He closes his eyes, lost in thought. When he  opens them again, I catch a hint of fear. 'I'm not taking any chances.'





Chapter Eleven


The next morning, we're back in London. As we ride the lift up to his  apartment, I take the opportunity to admire the man in my life. While  I'm still in yesterday's dress, albeit with a pair of fresh, clean  knickers, he's ready for work in a grey suit, complete with waistcoat  and a pink silk tie. I'm silently wondering how I can delay his  departure for a quick grope when the doors slide open prematurely. We  seem to be stopping off at the lobby.

'What's going on?'

Without a word, he leads me out by the hand. The first thing I catch  sight of is the reception desk and the slick-headed concierge lurking  behind a computer screen. And then I catch sight of the second thing: a  burly-looking man-monster who's apparently been stuffed into an  armchair. As soon as he sees us, he rises to his feet, doubling in width  and tripling in height.

'You must be Mr Anderson.' Moving forwards, Dan extends a hand.

'Beefy,' the creature announces, his voice deep and rough, as if he's been gargling on gravel. 'You can call me Beefy.'

In disbelief, I watch as a chunky hand is extended in return, as Dan  shakes it, and I try to take it all in, but I can barely believe what  I'm seeing. Good God, this man is huge. A vast bundle of muscles.  Everything seems to be bulging: arms, legs, torso, neck. But, as if he's  been hastily thrown together, nothing seems to go with anything else.  While the legs are too short for his body, the arms are way too thick.  And as for the head, that's practically rectangular, almost like a  brick. And it's topped with a carpet of close-cropped blond hair,  adorned on either side by a miniature cauliflower ear.

'Don't stare,' Dan whispers, giving me a squeeze. 'It's rude.' He shifts  his attention back to Beefy. 'This is Maya.' Putting a hand to the  small of my back, he nudges me forwards. If he's as disturbed as I am,  he certainly doesn't show it. He's as cool, calm and collected as ever.

'Pleased to meet you,' Beefy grates. His tiny, bird-like eyes flit from Dan to me.

'And this is your bodyguard.' Dan looks down at me. 'Shall we go?'

***

If I was in a state of shock at the sight of Beefy, then it's quadrupled  when I find myself standing in the apartment, confronted by a scene of  chaos. There's a suitcase by the fridge, a messy selection of plastic  bags strewn across the sofas, a crate in the middle of the kitchen,  canvases lined up against the bottom of the staircase and a pile of  cardboard boxes balanced precariously by the breakfast bar. Bewildered  by it all, I shuffle forwards and rummage through the plastic bags,  dragging out a clump of T-shirts. Suddenly, confusion morphs into  something else, and I think it might be anger.

'What the  … ' I come to a halt, gazing at the mess.         

     



 

'Well done, Carla.' Laying his keys on the counter top, Dan motions for Beefy to come through the front door. 'And Lucy too.'

'Jeez, that was quick.' I sling the T-shirts back into the bag and fix  Dan with an affronted glare. 'This is  … ' I point at the suitcase. I have  no idea why I'm flapping. After all, I heard him make the call. I  suppose I just didn't expect it to happen so quickly. 'What's  … '

Slipping a hand behind my back, he pulls me in close. 'We move at our  own speed, remember? I cleared space in the wardrobes and drawers.'

'When?'

'Sunday.' He smiles brightly.

Stifling an urge to scream, I stare up into those bright blue eyes. I'd  like to let him know his arrogance knows no bounds, and I have no idea  what our own speed is exactly, but I'm pretty sure it's a bit too fast  for me. Get yourself together, my brain grumbles. Say something. You  can't just let him steamroller you into everything.

'Is there a problem?' he asks.

'I don't like other people going through my stuff. And I don't like you trying to take over my life.'

'I'm not trying to take over your life.'

'You could have fooled me.' I extract myself from his grasp. 'Hiring  big, bloody bodyguards.' I wave a hand at Beefy. 'And all that stuff at  the house.' A general wave in no particular direction. 'And now this. I  thought you were going to slow down.'

'I am slowing down.' He shrugs. 'I told you about the bodyguard, we've  discussed the house and you knew about your stuff being brought over.  Chill your beans, Maya.'

'Chill my beans?' I cast another glance at the clutter and push out a sigh. 'Am I going to have a say in anything?'

'You agreed to move in. I'd call that having a say.' He studies my face. 'Don't misread the situation.'

I have no idea what to say to that. It's just as well I'm distracted by a  deep, gargling cough. Tracing the direction of the noise, I find Beefy  loitering in the open doorway.

'Come in, Beefy.' Releasing me, Dan takes a step back. 'Let's give you the lie of the land.'

While I clear a space on a sofa, flop down onto it and stare at my  belongings, Dan gives Beefy a quick tour of the apartment, taking him  upstairs. And judging by the fact that my bodyguard doesn't seem to be  blushing on his way back down, I can only assume that they've given a  wide berth to the room of kink.