Being locked in Alex’s office on my own is doing absolutely nothing good for me. I am stretched out on my back across the enormous sofa, waiting for him to return with Nounou. After eating a few chips, as His Highness so graciously ordered, I start looking around the room for something, anything, that might tell me a little more about Alexander Ashcroft. Nothing. My hand drifts towards the notebook on the table. I know I shouldn’t. Obviously, I open it. It is completely blank. Brand new. Not a single word. “Useless,” I mutter, dropping it back onto the table. Nothing about my current situation is normal.
There is a ridiculous little fizz of excitement inside me that refuses to disappear, tangled up with an equally ridiculous amount of desire. At the same time, I am worried about Nounou. I am worried about whatever the hell is happening between Alex and me. But I have tortured myself enough with that particular subject tonight. For now. I am also painfully bored. My phone battery is nearly dead, probably because Rosie has tried to ring me approximately fifteen hundred times. I am still furious with her. The woman practically handed me over to Alexander Ashcroft and then stood there in complete silence while he threw me over his shoulder and carried me away.
Traitor.
Still, she is probably the only person I can call. If I tell Mum what has happened tonight, she will drive down here herself, drag me back to Scotland and lock me permanently inside our cottage near Dundee. Rosie is the only person I can tell where I am without triggering an international rescue operation. Ignoring the tiny red battery symbol, I call her. She answers almost immediately.
“Cait! Are you all right? Where the hell are you? I’ve rung you about a thousand times!”
“Do you honestly think you’re the one who gets to be angry right now?”
“What happened? Tell me. Quickly!” What hasn’t happened, Rosie?
“I’m currently locked in an office somewhere outside the city and I don’t actually know where I am.” There is silence. Then her voice comes back considerably louder. “What the fuck do you mean, locked somewhere? Have you called the police? How are you even answering your phone? Send me your location. Now.”Right. Location. That would have been clever. My brain is clearly no longer functioning. “Hang on. I’m putting you on speaker. I’ll check.” “Send it to me as well.” I open my location and stare at the screen. Ashcroft Hotel.
“I’m at the Ashcroft Hotel. In Alex’s office. You don’t need to panic. He’s gone to collect Nounou and locked me in here so I couldn’t go anywhere.” Considering the place is called the Ashcroft Hotel, I assume it belongs to him. I am not remotely surprised. Rosie spends several seconds attempting to process everything I have just said. “So... the man kidnapped you, brought you to his hotel, locked you inside his office and then left?” Put like that, the entire situation does sound slightly unhinged.
“Yes. That is precisely what happened.” Rosie bursts out laughing. “This man is completely nuts. Honestly, Cait, I think this is exactly what you needed.”
I push myself off the sofa and wander towards the little bar at the side of the office. Rows of very expensive-looking bottles stare back at me. I run my fingers over them, choose a whisky and continue talking to Rosie. Apparently, whatever filter normally exists between my brain and my mouth has officially died. “He’s insane, but he is so fucking sexy, Rosie. God. I don’t know what to do with myself.” There is a pause. Then Rosie groans. “Oh, no.” “What?”
“I know that voice.” Unfortunately, so do I. “I’m assuming you fancy him rather a lot.” I nod before remembering she cannot see me. “He has turned me into some sort of sexually frustrated lunatic in less than two hours. I’m exhausted. And we keep arguing.” She laughs again. I twist the cap off the whisky. “Did you get back to work all right?” Daniel pops into my head. “Yes. Daniel dropped me literally outside the door of my office. He waited until I was inside before he left.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Isn’t Daniel a bit old for you, Rosie?” I pause. There is a beat of silence. Then she snorts.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we suddenly imposing age limits?”
Bitch.
It’s true that Alex is hardly young enough for me to be judging anyone. Oh God. What am I even thinking? I lift the whisky bottle and take a large mouthful. Fire slides down my throat and settles warmly in my stomach. Considering I am already burning alive, adding whisky to the situation is probably an exceptionally stupid decision. I take another sip anyway.
“I forgot Nounou at home, so I sent Alex to get her. I thought being alone for a little while might help.”
“And?”
“It has not helped.” I wander back towards the sofa. “He has completely knocked me off balance, Rosie. I’m barefoot, sitting in his office with a bottle of whisky, mentally directing films about all the things I want him to do to me.” A miserable sound leaves me. “It’s pathetic.” Despite still being angry with her, hearing Rosie’s voice is exactly what I need. “Oh, Cait. Just stop thinking. Stay with me okay?” Easy for her to say. “Listen to me. You sound drunk. Don’t move, all right? I’ll come and get you.” Rosie, you have met Alex for approximately five minutes. Do you honestly think he would allow that?
“No, no. I’m not drunk.”
I consider it.
“Maybe a tiny bit drunk. But you don’t need to come. I’ll see you at dance tomorrow anyway. Don’t worry. I’m safe with Alex.” There is another pause. “He’s just extremely sexy. And he’s going to be my patient. And he might be a little bit nuts and unhinged. But I’m safe.” She exhales in the sort of way people do when they have decided you are beyond saving. “All right. But please be careful. If anything happens, ring me.” “I will, Rosiecakes. I love you. But this does not mean I’m not still angry with you.” “I know. Love you too.” Talking to Rosie settles my increasingly unstable nervous system. Slightly. The whisky promptly ruins that. With every mouthful, I feel myself drifting closer to the drunken state I was in an hour ago. The velvet beneath my palms suddenly feels exceptionally soft. The room begins to sway gently around me despite the fact that I am sitting perfectly still. Naturally, none of this inspires me to stop drinking. I crossed the sensible-decision threshold hours ago.
My phone vibrates. I look down at the screen. Brent. My only neighbour I actually know. He is nearly ninety and possibly the sweetest English gentleman alive. A few weeks ago, when I first moved into the flat, he knocked on my door carrying a welcome cake and more or less forced us to exchange telephone numbers in case either of us ever needed anything. We have bumped into each other a few times since. Why is he ringing me this late? Then I realise. Alex. Brent must have seen a strange man going into my flat and leaving with my dog. I answer. “Hello?”
“Hello, Caitríona. How are you?” His voice is gentle and warm, but there is an unmistakable thread of concern beneath it. “I don’t want to worry you, but a rather handsome gentleman just let himself into your flat with a key and left carrying Nounou. I wanted to make sure everything was all right.” I blink. Of course Alex charmed Brent as well. “He also helped me with the lock above my door. Been giving me trouble for weeks.” Hearing Brent’s voice strangely calms me “Everything’s fine, Brent. Thank you. I know about it.” He hesitates. “Your dog seemed to know the gentleman.” Oh, Brent. If only you knew what that man appears capable of doing to every female creature within a twenty-mile radius. Apparently even you have fallen under his spell.
I decide not to elaborate. Dad has always said you should never tell neighbours too much. Although Brent is adorable. “Everything’s fine. Thank you for checking. Goodnight, Brent.” “Goodnight, Caitríona. Give my regards to your gentleman.”
My gentleman. Absolutely not.
I end the call and collapse back onto the sofa. For a while, I simply lie there waiting for Alex. Then I hear something at the door. I sit up immediately.
Alex.
Except when the door opens, it is most definitely not Alex who walks through it. It is a woman who looks as if she has wandered directly out of Love Island. Everything about her appears to have been cosmetically enhanced. I think she might be in her forties, but between the fillers and the whisky currently pickling my brain, I cannot make a reliable assessment. She does not hesitate at the doorway. She simply marches straight inside as if this is her office.
Maybe it is.
Oh God.
Despite the room spinning rather enthusiastically around me, I manage to stand. She is taller than me, and her heels are doing absolutely nothing to help my situation. Long brown hair, very obviously extensions, falls almost to her waist. Her lips are so full they look as if closing them properly might require effort. She stops in front of me. No hello. No introduction. Nothing.
“Where’s Alex?”
Do I look like Alexander Ashcroft’s keeper? And who the hell is this woman? For several seconds, I have no idea how to answer. Then another thought hits me. What if she is his girlfriend? Worse. What if she is his wife?
Fuck.
What am I even doing here? Barefoot. Drunk. Locked inside the office of a man I barely know. I start becoming angry with myself all over again. The possibility that he might already have someone makes my stomach tighten when I think about everything that happened tonight. And my stomach was not particularly stable to begin with. She looks me up and down with the enthusiasm of a snake deciding whether something is worth eating. My bare feet and general state of disarray suddenly feel painfully obvious.
“Alex isn’t here, as you can see. I don’t know when he’ll be back.” If she wants rude, I can do rude. I dislike her instantly. Judging by her expression, the feeling is entirely mutual. And another question joins the growing disaster inside my head. Why does this woman have access to Alex’s office? They must be close. Surely an employee would not simply stroll into his private office without knocking. She gives me another look. One that quite clearly asks who the hell I am.
“What are you doing here?” Before I can answer, the door opens again. Alex walks in carrying Nounou. He looks completely relaxed. Completely composed. And, infuriatingly, slightly amused.
“Ah. I see you’ve met.”
Nounou is curled happily in his arms despite seeing me. My dog has apparently betrayed me as well. Wonderful. Were you planning to abandon me tonight too, Nounou? Alex drops a kiss onto the top of her head and gives me that devastating smile. “She was perfectly behaved. Nothing like the menace you described.”
He does not even look at the woman beside us. His entire attention is on me. I, however, am far too busy trying to understand what the hell is happening. Alex crosses the room and transfers Nounou into my arms. The moment he does, the woman steps towards him and slips her hand around his arm. Something sharp twists inside me. She leans towards his ear.
“I need to tell you some things.”
Alex does not look remotely uncomfortable. As far as he is concerned, apparently, this is all perfectly normal. “Has something happened?” His voice is calm. “You can tell me everything tomorrow, Andrea.”
Andrea.
So that is her name. Something inside me snaps. “I don’t think she needs to wait until tomorrow. She can tell you now.” Both of them look at me. “I was leaving anyway.” Alex turns to me so quickly that I almost take a step backwards. Shock flashes through his expression. Then anger.
“You gave me your word, Caitríona.”
A line appears between his brows. Oh, did I? Did you happen to mention the girlfriend, Alex? Suddenly, I forget Andrea. I forget every reason I have for staying away from him. Because he is looking at me. And somehow that is enough to make my entire body betray me again. Why is it so difficult to pull away from this man? Still, I possess at least a small amount of pride. The thought that there might be another woman makes everything that has happened tonight feel humiliating. I will not be the other woman. Especially not tonight. Not after seeing Tom with someone else only hours ago.
I straighten my spine. “I don’t remember promising you anything.” Andrea is standing right beside us, so I refuse to say more. My eyes begin to sting. No. Absolutely not. I take a deep breath and fight it. Alex notices immediately. The anger disappears from his face, replaced by unmistakable concern. Those dark blue eyes hold mine. I look away. His hand comes up.
One finger settles gently beneath my chin and tips my face back towards his.
“Caitríona.” His voice is quieter now. “Has something happened?”
I swallow hard, forcing the tears back before they can embarrass me further. “I need to go home.” His brows pull together. “I need to be alone.”
Alex searches my face for several seconds before turning towards Andrea. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Message me if anything happens.” What does that mean? My head is spinning even more now. Whatever this is, whatever is happening between Alex and me, trusting him feels like volunteering to have my heart broken. Andrea touches his shoulder. “Of course, darling.”
Darling. Huh?
Brilliant.
She turns and walks out of the office, hips swaying with every step. I put Nounou down on the sofa and crouch beside my handbag, shoving everything that spilled out earlier back inside. Alex stands over me. He looks worried. And angry. Possibly both. “Are you not going to talk to me?”
I ignore him. “What happened, Caitríona?”
You happened.
Tonight happened.
Everything happened.
And I cannot do this. I cannot see this man again. In the space of one evening, he has dragged me through more emotions than I have the capacity to process. I continue stuffing things into my bag. The room is spinning. I sway once. Then again. Alex catches my arm.
I pull against him, but he bends towards me.
“What. Happened. Caitríona?”
Every word is controlled. Then that control cracks.
“Fuck. Talk to me.”
Nounou startles and begins barking. I pull my arm free and bend towards her, pressing a little kiss onto her head. “Shh. It’s all right.” Then I straighten.
How am I supposed to tell him the truth?
I want you so badly I can barely think, and that terrifies me.
So instead, I give him the most sensible answer I can. My voice is completely flat. Almost robotic. Because every scrap of emotion I give him seems to turn into a bloody tsunami inside me. “I want to be alone, Alex. Tonight has been exhausting enough. I have work tomorrow.”
Something shifts in his face. He sees the mask for exactly what it is, and suddenly I feel horribly exposed, as if he knows me far better than he has any right to. His eyes stay on mine.
“Try again.”
Two quiet words, but there is nothing soft about them. My stomach tightens. He knows I’m lying. Worse, he knows I know he knows. Then his gaze moves past me. Towards the bar. Towards the bottle of whisky I have managed to empty by an alarming amount. His expression changes instantly.
“How much of that fucking bottle did you drink?” His voice drops. “And think very carefully before you lie to me again.”
I stare at him. How does one man change personality so quickly? My already shredded nerves finally explode. “What does it matter to you, Alex?”
He says nothing. Then his voice rises.
“I leave you alone for one fucking hour and you decide to drink enough whisky to sedate a horse?”
Alex’s entire body seems to become harder. More imposing. Before I can react, his arm catches around my waist.
“Oh, for God’s sake Alex! What does it fucking matter to you?”
The world tips. Again. He throws me over his shoulder for what must be the hundredth time tonight and starts carrying me towards the bathroom.
“Alex!”
“Everything about you matters to me.”
His voice is low. Almost a growl.
My breath catches. He carries me into the enormous walk-in shower and lowers me down his body. Every hard inch of him presses against me as my feet meet the marble. My hands fly to his chest to keep myself upright. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath my palms. He reaches past me and turns on the shower. Cold water crashes down over both of us.
I gasp.
“Alex!”
The shock sobers me by several degrees. Within seconds, we are soaked. My dress clings to me. His white shirt turns translucent against his skin. Alex places both hands against my cheeks and bends his head until his face is close to mine. Too close.
Those eyes trap me.
“Promise me you’re not going to run from me.”
The water slowly begins to warm. I cannot speak. I can barely breathe.
“Promise me, Caitríona.”
Why does he keep asking me for things I cannot give him? He is watching me with such intensity that something painful twists in my chest. For all his size, all that arrogance, all that impossible confidence, there is something almost boyish in the way he waits for my answer. I force myself to speak.
“Leave me alone, Alex.”
We are both completely drenched now. His shirt is plastered to his chest, outlining every hard muscle beneath it. The fact that I am managing to form sentences while that is directly in front of me feels like a personal achievement. Apparently, he has not heard me.
“Promise me.”
His lips are slightly parted. His head lowers another fraction. If I kiss him now, it is over. I know it. Whatever control I still possess will disappear. I cannot let him kiss me. My eyes betray me first, dropping to his mouth. I force them away. Then I lower my head and focus on the marble wall behind him. I close my eyes briefly.
“I can’t promise you that.”
Silence. I look up at him again. This time I make myself say it properly.
“I can’t make you that promise, Alex. This is wrong.” Andrea flashes through my mind. Then everything else. My career. The inevitable heartbreak waiting for me if I give in to this. Half of me wants to surrender completely. The other half is terrified. Why does rejecting him hurt this much? Why do my eyes suddenly feel dangerously full? The knot in my stomach tightens.
“You’re pulling away from me.”
His voice is quieter now. I have to protect myself, Alex. I have to protect whatever is left of my heart. “I should never have got this close.”
Something defeated flickers through his eyes. It hurts far more than it should.
“I should never have left you alone.” He says it almost to himself. I press both palms against his chest and push. He lets me go. I step out of the shower and leave the bathroom. Alex follows immediately. When I reach the office, I turn around. His expression is unreadable. My chest aches.
“You’ll get ill standing there like that.”
He is holding a bathrobe. I walk towards him, take it without looking at his face and head straight back into the bathroom. Then I lock the door. A curse comes from the other side. His footsteps approach. The handle moves.
“Open the door, Caitríona. Fuck, you’re drunk!”
Yes. I am very drunk. Unfortunately, I can still feel everything. If anything, the alcohol has stripped away whatever protection I normally have. Every emotion feels closer to the surface. The handle moves again. Then Alex knocks.
“Caitríona. Listen to me. Open the door.”
I yank my soaked dress off and throw it across the room.
“I am opening it. When you leave.”
“Don’t fucking drive me mad, Caitríona.”
My bra follows the dress.
“You’re the one driving me mad, Alex!”
His knocking becomes harder. Faster. My knickers join the pile on the floor. A shiver races through me. Only now do I realise how cold I am. I pull the enormous, ridiculously soft bathrobe around myself and tie it tightly. Then I look into the mirror.
Jesus Christ.
I look horrifying. My hair is soaked. Mascara has run beneath both eyes. I resemble a drunken raccoon. How Alex can look at me in this state and still appear remotely attracted to me is beyond comprehension.
“I’m not coming out until you leave!”
Nounou scratches at the other side of the door. Everything feels strangely far away now. As if I have entered another universe entirely.
“Caitríona! Open the door. Talk to me.”
“There is nothing to talk about!”
The exhaustion hits me all at once. Every muscle in my body suddenly feels heavy. I slide slowly down the wall. Alex says something else from outside, but I barely hear it. I draw my knees towards my chest. Then, finally, my voice comes out quiet.
“You’re too dangerous for me, Alex.”
I curl myself into a ball on the bathroom floor. And before I can think about him, Andrea, Tom, my career, or any of the spectacularly terrible decisions I have made tonight, sleep takes me.
Okay… I think we can officially agree that Alex and Caitríona are terrible at staying away from each other 🖤
This chapter was such a delicious mess to write, jealousy, whisky, arguments, that shower scene, and Alex being completely and unapologetically Alex. I need to know what you thought and, more importantly, which moment was your favourite?
If you’re enjoying True Affliction, please leave a like, drop your thoughts in the comments and subscribe so you don’t miss the next chapter. And if there was a line or moment that made you lose your mind a little, feel free to restack it. 🖤
A💋
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