I have no idea what Mr Ashcroft is doing here, but the relief that floods through me at the sight of him is almost dizzying.
He stands in the doorway like a tall, broad-shouldered Greek god. His suit is as sharply tailored as the one he wore at the clinic, although tonight it is a deep charcoal grey. His eyes move between Tom and me, calmly assessing the scene before him.
He looks perfectly composed.
He also looks as if he might commit murder.
Then I hear that compelling voice.
“Caitríona.”
The sound of my name seems to glide over my skin before reaching my brain.
His gaze drops to my arm.
It cannot possibly have bruised already.
I follow his eyes and look down. My skin is an angry shade of red.
Mr Ashcroft begins walking towards me.
Tom finally recovers from the shock of being struck by the door. His fury returns, and he grabs me again in precisely the same place.
“Who the fuck is this?” he demands. “How does he know you?”
I have the sudden, very distinct impression that Mr Ashcroft is about to destroy him.
He closes the distance between them and leans towards Tom’s ear. His voice is so low I barely hear him.
It sounds like, “You’re a dead man, Tom.”
Or something very close to it.
I am far too tipsy to be certain.
Tom immediately releases my arm.
He is still angry, but now there is something else beneath it.
Fear.
Mr Ashcroft’s expression hardens. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, severe and terrifyingly controlled.
“You have two seconds to leave.”
He steps away from the doorway, giving Tom a clear path out.
Tom stumbles past him and disappears into the corridor.
I remain where I am, still in shock.
Mr Ashcroft moves closer until there is barely any space between us. His hand settles around my injured arm, and his thumb begins moving gently over the painful skin.
Tiny, soothing circles.
I become completely still beneath his touch.
I cannot find a single word to say.
He seems to understand.
“Are you all right, Caitríona?” he asks calmly.
I gather what remains of my composure and force myself to answer. His thumb continues its slow movement against my arm.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
His brows draw together.
There is no trace of amusement in his face now.
“Do you know what happens when you lie to me, Caitríona?”
I exhale in frustration. His eyes narrow. He steps closer, crowding me until the warmth of his body presses against mine. One hand settles at my waist as he lowers his head, his mouth hovering beside my ear. His breath moves across my skin, slow and hot.
“You don’t want to find out.” Then he straightens and a shiver slips down my spine, entirely unrelated to fear. I look up at him.
“My arm hurts, but it’s nothing. Honestly. And how are you even here?”
He holds my gaze, his expression unreadable. His eyes do not leave mine as his voice drops to a rough whisper.
“Coincidence.”
I do not believe in coincidences, but I am too relieved by his presence to question him properly.
“I seem to remember that you know rather a lot about dishonesty.”
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face.
He looks directly into my eyes, and something inside me melts.
I cannot stop myself from smiling.
Why does this man affect me so completely?
Then again, I cannot imagine any woman remaining unaffected by him.
His arm loosens around my waist, but his hand remains at the small of my back as he turns me gently towards the sink.
The pressure of his palm is firm and warm through the fabric of my dress.
He turns on the tap, cups cold water in one hand and begins pressing it against the back of my neck. Then he carefully wets the tender skin on my arm.
He may be trying to cool me down, but his closeness only makes me hotter.
“You’re very flushed,” he says. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
“It will pass in a moment. Thank you.”
I try to move away from him.
No, I am not all right.
And you are the reason, you sexy, infuriating man.
I realise too late that I have whispered the words aloud.
This time, he laughs properly.
The deep sound fills the small room and travels straight through me.
“You’ve had far too many cocktails on an empty stomach,” he says, his eyes holding mine. A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips. “Which is the only reason I’m not bending you over that sink.”
I cannot understand how we have arrived at this moment.
Everything with this man happens at full speed. There is no pause, no gradual adjustment. Every second brings another rush of excitement.
I am breathless.
He reaches past me for the paper towels, and his scent immediately surrounds me. Fresh cedar, clean aftershave and something darker beneath it that belongs entirely to him.
My nose is practically pressed against his shirt.
For one absurd moment, I want to fall asleep against his chest and never move again.
My head begins to spin, although I cannot decide whether the alcohol is responsible or whether it is the solid chest beneath my cheek.
He takes his time pulling several paper towels from the dispenser.
I take advantage of those few seconds shamelessly.
I rest my cheek against him and make a small, contented sound, almost like a cat.
His hand rises to my face.
His palm cups my cheek with startling gentleness.
Then he places the paper towels aside and wraps his other arm around me.
For a moment, time seems to stop.
We simply stand there, holding each other.
I could swear that nothing has ever felt this comforting.
His body is warm and solid around mine. One hand remains against my cheek while the other holds me securely at the waist, keeping me close to his chest.
Then I hear his voice above me, low and rough with desire.
“You’re very beautiful.”
His thumb strokes my cheek.
“And very drunk.”
With entirely undeserved confidence, I wrap my arms around him too.
“You’re the bonnie one, Mr Ashcroft.”
I press my cheek more firmly against his chest.
“And I am extremely drunk.”
I have no idea where this sudden courage has come from.
The words simply escape.
“Alex,” he corrects softly.
I lift my head and look into his eyes.
“Alex,” I repeat in a whisper.
He smiles.
He looks far too pleased to hear his name on my lips.
“Thank you, Alex.”
I enjoy saying it more than I should.
“My pleasure, Caitriona.”
My attention falls to his mouth.
I find myself wondering what he tastes like.
His lips are close enough that I could discover the answer with the smallest movement.
Then the truth forces its way through the alcohol clouding my mind.
This is wrong.
He is going to be my patient.
The day after tomorrow.
I drag my eyes away from his mouth, but his arms remain firmly around me.
The door to the toilets opens again.
When I see Rosie, I attempt to pull myself out of Alex’s embrace.
He does not release me.
“Cait, what’s going on?”
Rosie looks anxious and utterly bewildered.
Then her eyes move to Alex, and her entire expression changes.
“And who is this handsome gentleman?”
Before I can answer, Alex slowly removes the hand cupping my cheek and offers it to Rosie.
“Alex. And who might this lovely lady be, Caitríona?”
I want to bite the mouth that says my name like that.
Rosie smiles and takes his hand.
“Rosie. Lovely to meet you, Alex.”
Then she turns towards me.
“Would you like to explain what is happening now? Why is Tom eating another woman’s face in the bar, and what exactly are the two of you doing in here?”
With considerable difficulty, I press my hands against Alex’s chest and push myself out of his arms.
“We were just leaving. Thank you for everything.”
Alex does not like that answer.
His voice becomes unmistakably firm.
“You’re not going anywhere in this state.”
I am suddenly exhausted by men giving me orders.
Alex may look like a god, but that does not mean he is entitled to command me.
I turn to Rosie and slip my arm through hers, then lift my head and look back at Alex. “What could I possibly have done to make you believe you can give me orders, Mr Ashcroft?”
“Alex”, he corrects.
Rosie stares between us in astonishment.
“I don’t only believe I can give you orders, Caitríona,” he continues. “I know you’ll follow them. Now, let’s get you home.”
Considering the state I am in, it is a perfectly sensible suggestion.
Unfortunately, my stubbornness has already taken control.
“No. I can get home by myself. Rosie is with me.”
I nudge Rosie with my elbow.
“Aren’t you, Rosie?”
She begins stumbling over her words.
“Well, actually, I can’t stay for very long. I need to go back to the office, but I can take you home first.”
I widen my eyes at her, trying to communicate silently.
She finally understands.
“Yes. Yes, absolutely. I should definitely take Cait home. Have a lovely evening, Alex.”
Holding tightly to Rosie, I walk out of the toilets without listening to anything else Alex has to say.
We move quickly towards our table.
Everything is going remarkably well until Tom suddenly steps into my path.
The way he looks at me makes every trace of drunken warmth leave my body.
I do not feel safe.
He leans close enough that only I can hear him.
“You really think a man like him is going to keep you?” he hisses. “You pathetic little whore!”
A wall rises behind him.
Alex.
He catches Tom by the shoulder, spins him around and looks directly into his face.
“What did you just say?”
Then he punches him.
The movement is hard, fast and shockingly precise.
Tom collapses to the floor.
Rosie and I scream along with several other people in the restaurant. Chairs scrape against the floor. Conversations break apart around us as every head turns towards the scene.
Alex bends down, hauls Tom upright and drags him towards the entrance as if he weighs nothing.
Then he throws him out of the restaurant.
Rosie and I hurry outside after them.
Oscar and his girlfriend follow at the same time.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Oscar shouts at Alex.
Alex does not appear to hear him.
He looks as if he has entered some dark, furious trance.
Tom manages to find enough strength to throw a punch at him.
It lands, but Alex barely moves.
“You little bastard,” Alex roars. “You’re going to stay away from Caitríona.”
We are standing in the middle of the street.
Blood and saliva spill from Tom’s mouth onto the pavement. People passing nearby slow down, openly staring at the violence unfolding in front of them.
“Alex!” I scream. My fists are clenched, and I am bouncing helplessly on the spot like a little girl.
He looks at me for a fraction of a second.
The rage in his face does not disappear.
Before Tom can reach him again, Alex attacks.
I cannot deal with any more of this.
Holding Rosie’s arm, I begin walking towards Berkeley Square.
“Cait, who is that man?” Rosie demands. “What is happening? You need to tell me everything immediately.”
She looks as if she might faint from a combination of curiosity and shock.
“Can we sit down first?”
When we reach the square, we find an empty bench.
I lower myself onto it and wince.
“Fuck. My foot hurts so much.”
Rosie looks at me with a knowing expression.
“All right. All right, I’m telling you. Don’t look at me like that.”
I explain everything that has happened.
As I speak, I relive every moment of my encounter with Alex in the toilets. His scent. His hand on my cheek. The heat of his chest beneath mine. The way he said my name.
Rosie fails to contain herself.
“That man is so ridiculously sexy. What was that between the two of you, Cait?”
I can still feel that energy moving through me, Rosie.
You have no idea.
“I know absolutely nothing about him, Rose.”
“Perhaps you don’t need to know anything yet.”
She smiles.
“You could simply have a taste. Think of it as trying a new restaurant.”
Despite everything, I laugh with her.
Then something near one of the entrances to the square catches my attention.
Alex is walking towards us.
Even from a distance, his height, power and lingering fury are impossible to miss.
He stops in front of us and towers over the bench like a statue.
One would never guess that only minutes ago he had nearly put Tom in hospital.
He is holding the handbag I left behind at the restaurant.
The sight of him brings my anger rushing back.
Perhaps it is the alcohol, or perhaps I have finally lost all sense of self-preservation, because I wrench myself upright and turn on him. “What the hell was that?” His jaw is tight, his knuckles red. I jab a finger towards his chest and nearly miss. “You cannot just attack people because you feel like it. You’ve completely lost your mind.”
His eyes turn cold. “He called you a whore.”
Rosie watches us as if she is following a particularly tense game of table tennis.
“Who are you, and what do you want from me, Alex?”
“You’re coming with me, Caitríona.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you lunatic!”
Alex turns towards Rosie.
“Caitríona will be safe with me. Daniel, my assistant, can take you back to your office.”
Rosie appears to have fallen into another trance.
I cannot understand how Alex has transformed from the animal who attacked Tom into this perfectly controlled gentleman in the space of fifteen minutes.
Worse, he is discussing me with Rosie as if I am not standing directly beside them.
“I’m not a child, Alex.”
His eyes return to me.
“No. But you can barely stand.”
I tilt my head back and stare into his eyes.
“Fuck off, Alex.”
Apparently, I am exceptionally brave tonight.
Alex closes his eyes briefly before opening them again.
“Careful Caitriona. You’re coming with me now, and you are going to stop trying to walk in those heels immediately.”
I lose control of my temper.
I begin striking his chest with my fists, as if I have any hope of moving him.
“I hate you. Where did you even come from?”
With one hand, he catches both my wrists and presses them against his chest. His other arm closes around my waist, pulling me firmly against him.
He bends towards my ear.
“Enough. We’re going home.”
Before I can understand what is happening, he bends, catches me around the legs and lifts me over his shoulder.
The world turns upside down.
He begins carrying me away.
As he turns, I find myself staring at Rosie from my inverted position. I start pounding my fists against Alex’s back.
“Put me down, you psychopath.”
Rosie shouts that I must telephone her when I arrive home.
Alex slaps my bottom.
“Ow! That hurt.”
What a wonderful friend you are, Rosie.
“You’re dead to me!” I shout at her.
At that moment, one of my stilettos falls from my foot and lands on the pavement.
“Let me know you’re safe!” Rosie calls after me.
Without slowing, Alex gestures towards a man I cannot properly see from my position.
“Please take the lady wherever she wishes to go, Daniel.”
Alex continues walking, and although I am still hanging upside down, I manage to catch a glimpse of Daniel.
He appears older than Alex, broad and strong, although not quite as imposing.
So this is Daniel.
His assistant.
I stop hitting Alex because exhaustion is beginning to take over.
Being carried over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes is also doing terrible things to my alcohol-filled stomach.
With every step, I feel my skirt riding higher.
I begin shouting at him again.
“My knickers are going to show, you disgusting pervert.”
“Careful, Caitríona.”
He slaps my bum a second time.
He does listen, however.
The same hand that struck me moves to the hem of my skirt and pulls it back into place. Then he leaves his palm firmly over my bottom.
Whether he is protecting my dignity or simply enjoying the contact is impossible to determine.
Despite my anger, I cannot deny how much I like the feeling of his hand there.
I have never found myself in the middle of such madness before.
From my position over his shoulder, I also have an excellent opportunity to inspect his backside while he walks.
There is genuinely nothing to criticise.
It is perfect.
After several more steps, he stops.
He turns his head slightly.
“Have you calmed down now?”
“That depends on you.”
I kick off the second stiletto and let it fall to the ground.
Alex shifts me carefully from his shoulder and gathers me horizontally into his arms.
His eyes find mine.
For several seconds, he simply watches me.
He looks almost entranced.
But there is something else in his expression too.
Still holding me securely, he opens the door of a parked black McLaren and lowers me onto the passenger seat.
He leans across me and fastens the seat belt tightly around my body.
The vein in his neck is beating visibly beneath his skin.
His intoxicating scent surrounds me again, and I breathe it in before I can stop myself.
Before straightening, he pulls a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket.
He lowers himself further, murmuring beneath his breath.
“You’ve ruined your foot. How is this supposed to heal?”
I can see that the injury genuinely troubles him.
When the fabric touches the raw skin at the back of my heel, I flinch and pull my foot away.
“Stop moving, Caitríona. Hold still for a second.”
His attention becomes completely fixed on the wound.
He cleans it carefully, his strong fingers unexpectedly gentle against my ankle.
Once he is satisfied, he straightens, closes the passenger door and walks around the front of the car.
A moment later, he settles into the driver’s seat.
If you’re enjoying Cait and Alex’s chaos, leave me a comment and tell me what you’re thinking 🖤 And please don’t forget to like and subscribe. Every little bit of love helps me keep bringing you new chapters every day.
Love you,
A💋
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