Tears of Glass (Tears Of Ink #2), page 17
I sit on the bed and take the key in my hand turning it in the light.
Make myself at home? Is he being serious about me moving in?
I can’t, can I?
It’s crazy.
“So, what do you think?”
“What are we talking about here?” Abi frowns at me across FaceTime. “Are we talking about the fact Elijah wants you to move in with him, or the fact you seem to be making a giant phallic shape with clay.”
I look at the clay I’m moulding. “That is nothing like a penis.”
“Adam! Come and look at this, is Faith making a clay dick?”
She swings the phone, so Adam can see, and I roll my eyes. “Hi, Adam, why aren’t you at work?” Might as well try to make decent conversation while stroking a clay penis.
“The kids gave me a tummy bug.” He shakes his head and points at Abi mouthing the word ‘cooking’. I snort and a sofa cushion smacks him in the face.
“So are you going to move in with the Baroness’ son?”
I scowl at Abi and she turns the camera back around to her. “I don’t think of him like that.”
She narrows her gaze. “Well regardless of how you think of him, that’s what he is. At some point you are going to have to be his girlfriend in front of his mother and face up to everything it brings.”
I purse my lips. “His mother can’t know. Not now, or yet. I don’t know.”
“So you are still his little secret, just like you were over the summer?”
“No. Well, maybe.” What is this an inquisition? “I don’t know.”
“You sound like a thirteen-year-old.”
“Bite me.” I give my head a shake. “I thought you liked him? You were the one talking me into giving him another chance.”
She howls with laughter. “I don’t need to, it seems Elijah has that all covered. I just want you to finally have a normal relationship. And I want you to have dates, and fun, and awkward family meetings.”
“Really, do you think meeting his mother now we are together is going to change everything? I don’t. I think she will ruin everything.”
“But at the moment you are a secret. And, Faith, you deserve more than that.” She pauses for a moment and thinks before opening her mouth again.
“And his friends?” She nods. “I mean you’ve got to meet his mates, right?”
I haven’t even thought about this. I know nothing about being in a relationship. It’s quite scary. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “He’s never mentioned any friends.”
“So basically, you guys are fucking the brains out of each other and not talking at all.”
My heart sinks. That’s exactly what we are doing. “Shit.” I slump a little bit over the clay penis.
“Don’t worry. It’s all fine, you guys are perfect for each other no matter how different you are.”
Abi’s not helping here at all.
“And hey, think of it this way, it sounds like you’ve got a house in France out of it.”
“Abi!”
“And a huge diamond. I mean come on, Faith, you are winning here.”
I know she’s only joking, but her words sting a little. Is this what people are going to think of me? That the girl with the tatts has somehow managed to bag herself an heir to one of the richest families in England? Is that what everyone I meet is going to think from this point on?
“I’ve gotta go.” I smile at Abi, but it’s fake and forced.
“No, Faith, come on, I was joking.” Her face creases with a frown but I give her a little wave and press the red button to disconnect the call.
I rub at my face and look at the random pieces of art I’ve been creating the last few days while Eli’s been at work. There is nothing there that makes them cohesive to one another. It’s just more individual items with no purpose.
I’ll never be known as Faith Hitchin the artist who could create ‘—’ fill in the blank.
What if I’m not known for being an artist, but instead become known as the woman who Elijah Fairclough elevated to a position she didn’t deserve?
With a hollow knocking in my chest I snap pictures of the pieces in the studio and then upload them onto my laptop ready to take to Whitlocks.
My phone pings, and I glance down at the screen. Abi. Please don’t listen to me, I’m just jealous of all the sex you’re having. Adam’s forgotten I have a G-spot.
I smile and type back a quick response. Don’t worry. I’m cool.
With a sigh, I pack up my laptop and put it into my bag.
I grab a coffee on campus, asking for a double espresso with a shot of hazelnut, and with still an hour until I’m due in any lectures, I sit down at a small round table and pull out my sketch pad and pencils. I might have been playing with clay earlier—although I stand by the fact it wasn’t supposed to look like a penis, but the truth is I’m a bit short on ideas.
Before I met Elijah, I was also blocked. It was only making that cameo from the marble that’s enabled me to even come back for this third year. I was blocked. And I still am. Folding back the spiral pad, I smooth my hand over the surface and tap a pen against the table top.
I take a sip of my coffee, but it doesn’t help. “Hey, Faith.”
“Hey.” I don’t take my eyes from the paper but kick the chair opposite mine out for Gerard to sit on. “Don’t you have a coffee machine in your office?”
“I like to keep it real with the students.” He sits down and pulls my blank piece of paper towards him. “You’ve got something really great here, Faith, I’m impressed.”
“Shut up.” I scowl and take another sip of coffee.
“What’s up?” He blinks at me through his glasses and I appraise him from behind my cardboard cup. I no longer know what my obsession with him was. It’s what I do though, get uncontrollable urges that can’t be appeased until I give into what I want—all objectivity lost.
Is that what I’m doing with Elijah?
I’d be crazy not to consider the possibility... I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life... and now what?
“Earth to Faith?”
“Sorry.” I lift my gaze from the blank sheet of paper and give him a smile. “I’m blocked like a public toilet.”
He grimaces, scrunching his freckles. “You’re disgusting.”
I flash him the brightest smile I can sarcastically muster but it soon drops.
“How can you be blocked? On Friday you had an exhibition launch in your honour. A few weeks ago, you taught a bunch of kids who had never done anything outside local authority education. So how on earth can you say you’re blank?”
I sigh and scrape a pencil across the page, leaving a dark groove in the paper. “It was different over the summer. The ideas just seemed to flow.”
“Because you were inspired?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe it was because I wanted to prove Jennifer and Connie Fairclough wrong. That I was suitable, and I could do better than the low estimation they had.”
Gerard grins. “So basically, you need to find someone you’ve got to prove yourself to.”
“I don’t think it’s quite that clear cut.” I finish my coffee and scrunch the cup into a misshapen ball.
His smile turns sly. “It’s given me an idea.”
“No, no, no, no.” My head shakes from one side to the other. “Your ideas are terrible. Look at what happened over the summer.”
“Exactly, it was a major success.” He drains his cappuccino and wipes the froth off his beard with the back of his hand. “So you and Fairclough are still off then?”
I hesitate. Gerard is friends with Peter and I don’t know how deep that friendship goes. I nod my head. “Yep.” Pushing my chair back, I stand up and stare down at him. “You know me, Ger, I don’t do second chances.” And just like that the lie slips from my mouth. I push my still empty sketch pad back into my bag along with my pencils. “See you in lectures.”
Chapter Twenty
Elijah is gone by the time I wake up most mornings. Before I open my eyes, I slide my hand across the mattress and grumble under my breath. Then I mooch my way across London to class and spend the day in lectures and workshops while he does whatever it is that hot shot lawyers in three-piece suits do.
At night I go to the Mews under the cover of darkness and he makes me his own all over again.
My phone rings and I stretch against the luxurious bedding. Five days in I’ve come to the conclusion a cleaner must come in on a daily basis; either that or there are some housework fairies that make the bed every day.
I glance at the screen of my phone and smile, rolling over and snuggling under the duvet that smells of Elijah and sex. “Please tell me you aren’t still asleep.”
“Nope. I’ve been awake for ages, I’ve been for a run, done some sketching, and cleaned the kitchen.”
“Such a fibber.” Elijah’s voice purrs down the line and my stomach tightens in the most pleasurable way. “I’m hoping you’re free this evening?”
“Free? I’m free every night for you.” I stretch again, my muscles aching and pulling. “You know that.”
“I figured this time we could venture out of the house, maybe attempt dinner, some drinks; you know not just bedroom based activities.”
I raise myself up onto my elbows, hooking my phone under my chin. “I thought you liked our bedroom activities?”
“I do.” His voice is a low rumble and it sends a shiver along my skin. There’s a tap of keys in the background and it’s ridiculous to think he’s at work and I haven’t even managed to haul my lazy arse out of bed. “I just thought you might like to go out with me.”
“I’d love that.” I pause. “But what if we get seen? I thought I was still your secret.”
He sighs and there’s a lengthy stretch of silence.
“Anyway,” I say to fill it. “I think I’m out with people from uni later.” Why does this feel awkward. “I figured you’d be working.”
“It’s Friday, I’m not a complete dick.”
“I didn’t say you were. I just know how busy you are.”
“Where are you going? Maybe I could meet you.”
“Listen, I lied to Gerard the other day, told him that there was nothing between us.”
“You’re worried about lying to Gerard after what he’s done to you?”
“Hey, you’re the one who’s encouraged the new forgiving Faith.”
The keys in the background become a little louder. “Hmph.”
“Listen, I’d just rather not lie to anyone, but if you’ve got to sort things with your psychotic family, then so be it. And it’s not bothering me. It’s not like I mind being your dirty little secret you screw frantically every night.”
“Faith!”
I sit up and throw the duvet off. “Listen, I’ve got to get ready for classes.”
“I thought you were ready?” His voice softens with a teasing edge.
“Just another lie, Elijah.” I hang up the phone and pitch it onto the mattress before stalking to the bathroom. I flick on the shower and stand with my hands on my hips glaring at the powerful jets of water. Then I switch it back off again and go to collect my stuff.
Today I think I’ll shower in my own home.
Tabitha is on the couch, a bowl resting on her stomach. “Still bad, huh?” I ask as I drop my bag on the lounge floor.
“It’s fine. Absolutely fine.” She tries to get up but then just falls back on the pillows again, a thin film of sweat dotting along her pale skin. “Want me to make you one of those ginger teas, that helped yesterday?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t speak for a moment. Rolling over she gags into the bowl and I step up and rub her back. “You know,” I say, soothing her hair. “I can honestly say you’ve put me off pregnancy for a lifetime.” She shoots me a weak smile and then falls back on the sofa. “Seriously though, Tabs, you are being sick so much. I think we should ring the midwife back and get her advice.”
“It will pass.” Tabitha looks hopeful, but I’m not so sure.
“Where’s Lewis?”
Her eyes darken for a moment. “Gone to work with his dad. He hates it.”
I don’t have much to say to that. What with my art and tattooist career I’ve never really done a normal day’s work.
“How’s Elijah?”
“Busy.” I sigh and sit back on the sofa. “He works such long hours.”
She nods. “Remember I told you back at Bowsley I liked you being around because it meant I saw more of him?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Now do you see what I mean?”
I scrub a hand down my face, even my skin feels tired. We haven’t been sleeping much, trying as we are to spend as much time together as we can, which is unfortunately only past the hour of nine thirty normally. “Yeah, I do. I hate the fact he’s working so hard at a job he hates.”
She shrugs. “It’s the Fairclough way.”
“The Fairclough way sucks.”
“Yeah, well at the moment I think he’s just got to keep his head down. One thing at a time. He’s pissed mother off enough I think.”
We sit in companionable silence for a moment while Tabitha stares at the ceiling until her colour comes back to normal a little.
My heart aches for Elijah. He’s still as trapped as he was when I met him, while he’s been slowly setting me free, pulling from the safety of rules, keeping me from the shadows of my fears—even if he had to make me face them by breaking my heart. Because of him I’m an artist with her own exhibition at the age of twenty-four.
“Do you know the name of any of his clients?” I sit up straighter as an idea begins to grow.
“It will be on their website. All the big clients are listed as assets.” Assets?
Whatever. I jump up and head to my bag, pulling my laptop out and my packet of cigarettes. I shake a smoke out of the packet and put it in my lips before glancing at Tabitha and remembering that she’s pregnant. I put it back in the box. I need to cut down anyway.
“Don’t mind me.”
“Nah. I don’t want you spewing all over my sofa.”
“Thanks.”
It doesn’t take me long to get Google up and search for Eli’s list of clients. Then grinning at Tabitha, I pick up my mobile and dial.
It takes me thirty seconds to get through to his secretary and ask for a lunchtime meeting as I pretend to be someone from Global Pharmaceuticals whom I found named on their website as a current client. My heart sinks when I’m told he’s in court which won’t end until noon for lunch. I need to be in class then. Bollocks. I tell the secretary I’ll see him in chambers as the meeting only needs to be quick, then I slip into the shower grinning to myself. I’ll miss class. If it puts a smile on his face, then so be it.
At five past noon I ask the law court clerk to point me in the direction of the offices and I search out the one with Elijah’s name on it, announcing my arrival to the secretary nursing a sandwich and a bottle of diet coke. “I’ll call you through,” she says, and I wait patiently while she rings and tells Eli that Janice Webster has arrived for the midday meeting. Her eyes graze over me as she answers a question I can’t hear. I’ve covered all my stories and lessons in a black button up shirt and black tailored trousers—honestly, I didn’t even know I owned something so structured and tailored. Paired with a pair of black stilettoes I look almost business like. It’s rather amusing.
“Mr Fairclough can see you now.” She points her biro at a corridor to the right. “Third door on the left.”
All the doors look the same and I count my way along. With each step, nerves twist my tummy. What am I doing here?
No seriously. What am I doing here? Outside the third door I hesitate. I can go now and not make a complete idiot of myself, not lay myself open and exposed.
Run and hide...
The door opens, and I pause there suspended in the moment, with my hand raised ready to knock.
If Elijah is startled to find me outside his office door, he hides it well. A brief flicker lights in his eyes and the nerves in my stomach morph into flames of anticipation.
Wearing a navy suit and waistcoat complimented by a vibrant pink tie he looks so beautiful I could stare at him all day, could spend forever trying to replicate him in art that will never been good enough.
“Miss Webster.” He holds his hand out to shake mine, but his fingers slide against my palm, warm and firm, slipping around my wrist as he tugs me into the room behind the door.
He kicks at the door, his fingers pulling me closer, edging me against surface of the door. The handle digs into my back, but I don’t care, his lips are on mine, slanting perfectly to fit as his warm tongue probes between my teeth. “What are you doing here?” His words lick warm minty breath into my mouth and I shiver with desire.
“I missed you.”
He pulls away slightly, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my face so he can read my eyes. “You were pissed with me.”
I shrug and slip my hands into the material of his suit, running my fingers across his cotton shirt, feeling the roll of his muscles beneath my touch. “Now I’m not.”
He appraises me for a moment, a slow smile tilting half his mouth into a sexy curve. “Come here.”
Then his mouth is on mine, hot and hard, soft and slow, everything all at once as every single one of our kisses are. I run my hands through his hair, playing with the strands at the base of his neck.
“My associate will be back in ten minutes.” He nibbles a kiss along the edge of my lips.
“What can you do in ten minutes?”
That smile grows and drops to my throat. A small sigh escapes me as his lips run across the sensitive skin of my throat and nibble on my earlobe. My earlobe and my core must be connected somehow. A darting tingle shoots straight between my legs.
“Wait.” I gush my reprieve as his hands slips around the waistband of my trousers, unhooking the catch.
“What am I waiting for?” He breaks his lips away from my throat to meet my gaze.
“Ten minutes?”
“Yes... Faith?” he warns, but I grin at him and push him away slightly so I can sink to my knees. He’s not the only one who can play dirty. This can be payback for the house in France, I’m still having vivid dreams about that moment in the empty hallway.
