True Colours:The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2(36)

I hear Dan's voice calling.

'Maya!'

I don't stop. With my pulse in top gear, I make for the lights of the  embankment. If I can get to the river, I'll be able to find my way back  to Camden, and sanity. But I don't get very far. It's all over in  seconds. I feel a hand on my wrist, an arm around my stomach. I'm  grabbed from behind and hauled into the shadows of a side street.

Swinging me round, he presses me against a wall, pinning me into place with his chest and holding my arms against my sides.

'Let me go,' I growl.

'Never.' Tightening his hold, he brings his face to mine. 'We agreed. No more running.'

'And maybe I've changed my mind,' I shout. 'Maybe I can't deal with this. I need answers and you  …  you  … '

The sentence can't find an end. My throat constricts. And damn it, I'm sobbing.

'Listen to me  … '

I hear the voice, but I don't want to acknowledge it. Closing my eyes, I lower my head.

'Listen.'

I feel his fingers under my chin, gently urging my face upwards.

'Open your eyes, Maya,' he whispers. 'Open them. Please.'

With the full intention of telling him to piss off, I simply do as he  wishes. But I'm stunned by what I see. His face is half in shadow, half  illuminated by a street lamp, but it's clear that he's struggling to  control himself. And those aren't just raindrops on his cheeks.

'You're crying.'

'No shit.' He half-laughs. 'Look what you've done to me. Happy now?'

'Why are you crying?'

Fighting back my own tears, I reach up and touch his face.

'Because I can't lose you.' He swallows, blinking into the rain. 'I need to make this right.'

'I shouldn't have pushed.'

I feel his chest rise and fall.

'You have every right to push.' He gives me a weak smile. 'You need answers. I understand.'

'Then give them to me,' I beg.

We're silent for a while, gazing at each other. At last, he begins to speak, slowly, in the quiet tones of a confession.

'I'll see my sisters, I promise. One day, I'll get back in contact.' He tips his head forwards. 'But I can't rush it. Okay?'

I nod.

'And as for Italy  …  I was a mess back then. It wasn't a good time. I'd just rather forget.'         

     



 

I look into his eyes, picking up on silent desperation, and resolve to  leave the subject of Rome behind. He lived with a woman. It was an  arrangement. Nothing more. I just need to take his word for it.

'But Lily was right,' he goes on. 'When I came back, I closed myself  off. The club served a purpose. Every time I visited, I played a role. I  wasn't Daniel Foster and I wasn't Daniel Taylor. I was someone else. No  baggage. No past. No connection. No hurt.'

I trace a finger down his cheek.

'It's an addiction for me, Maya. You need to understand that. The more I  played the role, the more I needed it, the further I went. Claudine was  the wake-up call. After that, I thought I was done with it. But I  slipped the other day, just like any addict can slip  …  and it freaked me  out. I didn't think I needed it any more. I don't want to need it any  more. This is all I want.'

He kisses me gently. And suddenly, I find myself panicking. Jesus, if he  wants to leave all that behind, then we might have to go vanilla.

'No more kink then?' I ask.

I catch the hint of a smile in the shadows.

'That's not what I'm saying. Plenty more kink.' His voice is warmer now. 'More kink than you can shake a stick at.'

I giggle and he touches my lips.

'But always with this.'

'With what?'

'Smiling, laughing, talking. Feeling like I'm a part of you, and you're a  part of me.' He takes my hand and lays it over his heart. 'With this.'





Chapter Sixteen


He's out on the terrace. Dressed in grey sweat pants and a white  T-shirt, he's leaning against the parapet, coffee in hand, watching the  morning unfold over the Thames. Conscious that he doesn't know I'm here,  I observe him for a minute or two, wondering what he's thinking about.  His past, perhaps? I wouldn't be surprised, especially as today's his  birthday. Clive's words come back to me: I wouldn't mention it if I were  you. And I won't. I've already stirred up too many memories and now  it's time to calm things down. As soon as I move forwards, he's  conscious of me. Putting down the mug, he motions me into his arms.

'Morning, sweet pea.'

He kisses the top of my head and I grin. Realising I should have some  sort of lovey-dovey nick name for him by now, I say the first thing that  comes to mind.

'Morning, shit head.'

'Shit head?'

I wince, shrug apologetically. 'It was all I could think of.'

'I'm sure it'll grow on me.' He squeezes my arm. 'Are we good?'

'We're very good. In spite of the fact that you fucked me to death last night.'

And he did  …  for at least three hours. After Wednesday night's row, we  simply called a truce, swept the problems back under the rug and slept  in each other's arms. But last night was an entirely different matter.  With my period almost over, it was open season, time to make up for lost  sex. And we did it with a vengeance.

'I fucked us both to death.' He smiles knowingly, brushing his lips  across mine and sending a rush of warmth to my core. 'I'm knackered.'

'So take a day off.' I may be totally spent, but I'm also totally up for a day of solid sex.

His eyes glint in the early morning sunlight. 'I'd love to.' He touches the pendant. 'But I can't. Too much on at work.'

While we gaze at each other, lost in our own private bubble, the seconds  seem to stretch out into an eternity. Finally, he speaks.

'It's the Savoy tonight. The car's picking us up at seven. I'll be home by six.'

And then, without warning, he swings me round to take in the scene.  Sunlight glistens across the water, glowing against the limestone of the  Houses of Parliament, catching on the ironwork of Lambeth Bridge. And  I'm thinking about a time when we can both face the past and move on  into the future, without any shadows.

'The colour's back,' I murmur. 'Every day's a new beginning.'

'It is.' I hear him breathing slowly, calmly. 'Food,' he says at last. I  feel his hands on my hip bones. 'I'm not having my woman turning  scrawny on me. Come on.'

While Dan sets about making me tea and popping bread into the toaster, I  rummage through my handbag and find my mobile. I've got Layla's number  now, but I've been careful, storing it under the name of 'Fiona', an  acquaintance from university I never kept in touch with. As yet, there's  no communication from her, and I'm relieved. As far as I can see, he's  just not ready to meet her yet. But there is a text from Sara. I groan.         

     



 

'What's the matter?'

'My sister. She wants to meet up.'

He shrugs. 'Does she know we're back together?'

'Yes.' I watch as he leans against the counter, fixing me with the pools  of blue. 'It's going to be complicated,' I warn him. 'You can't just  carry on as if nothing ever happened.' I slide the phone back onto the  counter.

'Why not?'

I stare at him, perplexed.

'Dan, she made your life a misery. She's got a lot of explaining to do.'

'Not to me.' With a shrug, he makes his way over to the fridge, opens  the door and takes out the milk. 'It's all in the open now. I'm not  interested in what made her behave that way. If there's anyone she needs  to explain herself to, it's you.'

The kettle flicks off and while I try to work out what on Earth he's  going on about, he makes the tea and brings it over to the counter.

'Why would she need to do that?' I demand.

He nudges the mug towards me.

'Because you doubt yourself.'

My mouth opens.

'Don't kid yourself, Maya. It's obvious. You have no idea how wonderful  you are. I want to see you confident, afraid of nothing. I want to see  you to blossom.'

He straightens up and I throw him a smile.

'That's very thoughtful of you, Mr Foster. Thank you so much, but we've already sorted it.'

'Have you?' He cocks his head. 'Does she really know what she's done to you?'

I twist the mug around on the top, resolving not to get annoyed with him  for bringing this up. After all, I've forced him to confront a thing or  two about his own life in recent days. And anyway, he's pushing in  exactly the right direction. I've never really discussed anything with  Sara. She has no idea what she's done to me. Finally, I shake my head.

'Then I'd say you need to talk.' He stares at me, utterly determined.

'Fair enough.'

With a satisfied nod, he sets about preparing my breakfast. He's just  sliding a plate of toast under my nose when the doorbell chimes. I watch  as he answers the door. I don't get to see who's on the other side, but  I recognise Spencer's voice.

'This was delivered for you.'

Without a word, Dan closes the door and returns to the breakfast bar,  clutching a small black box in his hands. He opens the box and  immediately snaps it shut again.

'What's that?' I ask.

'Cufflinks,' he answers with a quick smile. 'I need to get going.'  Suddenly distant, he gives me a quick peck on the lips before taking  himself upstairs with the box and his mobile.

Sipping at my tea, I wonder what he's hiding from me now, because those  certainly weren't cufflinks in that box. A gift, perhaps? A little  trinket? Resisting the temptation to follow him and indulge in a touch  of snooping while he's in the shower, I finish off my breakfast and wait  until he reappears, looking ridiculously delectable in a tailored grey  suit. He slips his briefcase onto the counter and sets about rearranging  his tie.