Villain, page 5
“I study law. It comes up. Drink.”
“You’re so bossy. Hey, I think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me. I mean without insulting me or generally being a massive dickhead.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Arguing doesn’t count. Before this, all we’ve done is argue. Well, you argue because you’re a bit of an arsehole. I’ve never wanted things to be like this. We live next door to each other, and our friends hate that we constantly bicker. If you’d just be nice, none of this would happen.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“You think I’m an arsehole, dickhead, and a twat?”
Okay, he sounds super posh when he says twat.
“I do. Reggie and Marvin don’t think that, but they obviously don’t know you that well. The room is still spinning a bit. It’s kinda pretty.”
“Drink.”
He says nothing about my insult.
“I don’t want to sober up. I like this buzz. It helps to be drunk when I’m around you.”
His jaw twitches. “Sober up and I’ll leave you alone.”
Maybe I was a bit mean there, but it’s not like he holds back when it comes to talking to me. In fact, he threw the first insult.
We met during the first week of uni. It was all drinking and getting to know each other back then. I met Freya and Imani first, and we instantly hit it off. Casper was at a bar with a group of lads who were all loud and obnoxious. They were working their way around the women, sleeping with as many as they could.
Casper approached me after flirting with loads of other women. He let his arrogance lead and thought I would be impressed like the rest of them. When I turned him down, he began his hate campaign.
I was probably the first and only woman who ever said no to him, and he couldn’t stand it.
I sip the Coke and wonder why the hell I’m listening to him. He’s bossy and moody. We don’t get on, but here I am, drinking something to sober me up because told me to.
What am I doing?
“You can go now. I’ll finish this,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
All right, then.
“Why do you want to be a lawyer? Is it because of your parents?”
I’m met with complete silence.
Are we supposed to sit here and ignore each other while he waits for me to drink a glass of Coke? This is bloody weird. I want to fill the silence because sitting here with him is making my pulse flutter way too quickly.
What goes through his mind?
“Your parents are really nice,” I tell him.
I want to add ‘so what happened to you?’ but that seems a bit much.
“Mm,” he hums, and I can only just hear it. His tone is full of boredom. I don’t think he wants to make small talk.
It’s always been awkward when I don’t know what to say to someone, but I hate saying nothing even more. I get word vomit and keep talking rubbish.
“Your car is a bit ridiculous.”
“What the fuck, Ainsley?”
Ah, he speaks.
“It doesn’t suit you. I’ve always thought that. You don’t need a penis extension, you’re already a massive dick.” I laugh at my own joke.
Casper rubs his lips, and it sort of looks like he’s concealing his amusement.
“Drink,” he orders.
I can’t believe he has nothing else to say to that.
“I won that round.”
“For fuck’s sake, will you drink.”
“I’m going to be peeing all night if I keep drinking this. Why are you so obsessed with this. You hate me. If you leave me to keep on with the Prosecco, I’ll probably fall on my face, then you’ll get a real laugh.”
He turns his head, going back to pretending that I don’t exist. Fine. Whatever. I don’t care.
I drain the last of the Coke and wiggle the glass in front of his face.
He takes one look at it, gets up, and walks away from me.
CHAPTER SIX
Drinking the night before an appointment was a terrible idea. In my defence, I only knew about the appointment an hour ago. Flora called and asked if I would meet her to go through some of the menu choices.
It’s sooner than I thought we’d be going through this, but I can hardly say no. Besides, it would be good to get something big ticked off the long list of things to do.
It’s quite nice having the opportunity to do this alone, too. When I get a job, I won’t have Reggie holding my hand. We work well together and can pick up where each other leaves. He hasn’t given me the impression that he sees himself as my boss, but he kind of is.
I’ll miss him once uni is over.
The bus dropped me at the stop, which is only a ten-minute walk from the castle, and that’s practically the time it takes to walk down the grand driveway alone.
It’s chilly out, but sunlight streams through the trees, causing a disco ball affect as the breeze dances through the leaves. New flowers begin to bud in the flowerbeds. The castle is about to explode with colour and make the event even more beautiful.
The sharp air is doing wonders for my hangover. As did the bacon sandwich.
Birds chirp on the branches above me. I smile as I walk, the fresh spring day making me happy.
Then I remember something, and my steps falter, my boozy brain not fitting it all together on the first attempt. On the phone this morning, just as I was about to go into a lecture, Flora mentioned meeting ‘us’, and also how Frederick couldn’t get out of a meeting with a client.
The ‘us’ must be her and Casper.
My head begins to pound immediately, reigniting the hangover. Casper has nothing on alcohol.
Last night, Casper was so weird—still bossy, domineering, and horrible—but the few times I’ve seen him while we’ve been out, he’s ignored me completely. The only thing I can think of is that I was way drunker than I have been in the past.
He might have thought I would show him up since we all arrived together.
As I walk, I try to refocus by taking in the view of the castle in the distance, surrounded by acres of fields and forest.
I would enjoy it much more if Casper’s obnoxious Porsche didn’t come screaming past me. My hair flies up as he whizzes by, leaving a bird’s nest on my head.
Prick.
Oh, it’s fine, I don’t need a lift. I’d scream wanker at him, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He would’ve seen me and probably put his foot down on purpose. Oh God, last night I told him that he’s a dick who doesn’t need his car.
Okay, I wouldn’t give me a lift, either.
But that was a good one.
I slow down when I’m near the castle so that I don’t turn up looking like I’ve been mugged. More walking on the treadmill this week, I think.
Flora’s outside, looking up at the turrets when I approach.
She turns when she hears my footsteps on the gravel.
“Ainsley, hello. I forgot how beautiful this place is.”
“Hi. Yeah, it’s stunning.” It’s relatively small. When you hear the word castle you expect something bloody massive with a moat and drawbridge. You could comfortably fit five hundred people in it.
“Is Casper here?” I ask. “I thought I saw his car.”
She smiles and slightly shakes her head. “He’s on the warpath about the scaffolding.”
My heart drops. This venue is perfect, and I would hate to change it. Actually, I would hate to change it because I’m the one who suggested it.
“We knew that was happening. I didn’t think it would be noticeable.” Which it isn’t from where I’m standing. “If it’s going to be a problem, we can look for another venue.”
The words feel like blades leaving my mouth.
“No, not at all. We won’t even need to be around the back. I have told him this already, but he wanted to see if anything could be done. As if they would forego safety for aesthetics. Come one, let’s go find him.”
I’d rather not.
“The caterer said they’ll meet us in the kitchen so we can just go straight through,” I tell her. “The venue has the function room set up for a conference tomorrow, so we’re unable to use that today.”
“That’s fine.”
It has to be since this has all happened within twenty-four hours. The caterer almost laughed at me when I called him back straight after speaking to Flora at 9:00 a.m. That was until I dropped their family name in, and suddenly they could be here this afternoon with food to sample.
They must have been running around gathering supplies and getting here on time.
Imagine having that power in your name.
I lead the way into the castle and through to the kitchen. There’s still no sign of Casper, but I can’t hear any shouting, either. I hope the manager told him how ridiculous he’s being, and Casper is off licking his wounds. Better still, I hope he’s buggered off home.
I push the door open, and there he is, leaning against the stainless-steel counter, laughing with one of the chefs. He doesn’t look hungover at all. His eyes are fresh, and his smile is easy.
So, he’s staying for this.
The female chef is eating up his attention. A pretty face is all it took for him to forget whatever work is being done on the building. Typical Casper move. I bet he has her number in his phone already.
Gross.
“Hello,” I say a little too sharply.
The flirty woman and Mario, the head chef, turn to me.
The woman is blushing furiously at being caught, but Mario doesn’t seem to notice. I wish I could remember her name.
“Ah, you must be Ainsley Miller. And Mrs Hart, how do you do?”
“Oh, call me Flora, please. It smells wonderful in here.”
Flora, Mario, and the woman chat for a minute. They tell Flora how wonderfully refreshing it is to do something different for the event. It’s hard to tell if they’re being sincere or just blowing smoke up her arse.
I try to feign interest in the origin of the toffee apple but fail miserably, and that’s thanks to the devil ghost who’s shooting a death glare my way. Funny, though, he looks rather amused while doing it.
My stomach burns just being in the same room as him. We look so unprofessional now, thanks to him and his need to sleep with everything. Not that I can talk about professionalism. At the brief meeting yesterday, I teased the clients’ son.
Mario and the flirty one—Miranda, I overhear—take Flora to the large island to show off their tiny, fancy, carnival-inspired canapés. Neither Casper nor I move.
I should walk away and pretend he doesn’t exist, but arguing with him is addictive. I don’t think I can move away.
I’m so messed up. This is so messed up.
“Hello, Ainsley,” he says in a sickly-sweet tone that makes me want to vomit.
Unless that’s still last night’s Prosecco.
To everyone else, he sounds pleasant. I know better, and it makes me so mad.
“Casper. I heard you’re unhappy about the scaffolding, but there’s nothing that can be done. We discussed this already, if you recall. Wouldn’t want the roof caving in and killing us all now, would we?”
“If anything happened to you, it would break me, Ainsley.”
No one has perfected the sarcastic smile quite like Casper Hart.
“Hmm, it would be a noble way to go.”
He stifles a laugh. “I’ll pretend that hurt.”
“And there was me thinking you couldn’t feel pain.”
“I assume you’re referring to emotional pain and not physical?”
“Forgive me for not being more precise. Of course, I meant to insinuate that you’re a sociopath.”
He doesn’t hold back now. Mario, Flirty Twat, and Flora look over when Casper laughs.
I’m taken aback because that doesn’t happen often—not when I’m around, anyway. His laughter is quite nice.
Another confession to take to my deathbed.
“Sorry,” Casper says to the others, rubbing his mouth to fight his amusement. “Ainsley was just diagnosing me.”
My eyes cut into him so deeply, I’m surprised he doesn’t feel it. The bastard is trying to embarrass me. My scalp prickles, but I take a breath and will my cheeks not to flame.
“Oh?” Flora says.
I have nothing to say. No excuse or explanation that won’t get me fired. But I stand tall and pretend that I’m not dying inside.
“I’m joking, Mum,” he says casually. “We were discussing the building work.”
I’ll take that roof falling on my head now.
When they turn back to the food, Casper smirks again. “You’re welcome.”
I’m welcome. Is he kidding?
Taking a few deep breaths and sucking in enough oxygen to make me dizzy, I move away from him.
Next time I’m not doing anything without Reggie present. It’s too risky. Casper knows all the right buttons to press, and he seems to press them all at once. I get sucked into his bullshit every time.
I refocus because I cannot afford to mess this up.
For the rest of the tasting, I’m the perfect event planner, and Casper is pissed. He watches me, trying to get my attention with that icy stare, but I pretend he’s not even here. It’s a little victory that leaves me feeling like a goddess.
When we’re done, Flora, Casper, and I walk out of the castle together.
“Ainsley, thank you for this afternoon,” Flora says. “Sorry it was such short notice, but I won’t be available for the next few weeks.”
“That’s fine, you’re welcome. I’m so pleased you have a menu you love.”
“I do. Anyway, I’d better dash. I have back-to-back meetings and a working dinner. Make sure she gets home safely, Casper.”
I’m about to open my mouth to tell her that I’m taking the bus when Casper says, “I will do. My car is this way, Ainsley.”
He will not.
Flora smiles, expecting us both to head in the direction of his car, which must be around the side of the castle. Flora parked right out front.
To save us from any questions, I follow him.
“Don’t worry, when she’s gone, I’ll turn back and start walking,” I tell him.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “What?”
“You know, when she can’t see, I’ll head back to the main road for the bus.”
“Get in the fucking car.”
My back stiffens. “Since you asked so nicely.” I roll my eyes and turn around when I hear Flora’s car driving over the gravelly driveway. “See you never.”
His hand circles my wrist. It’s the second time in two days he’s touched me. I wonder if that’s grounds for a restraining order.
“What?” I say, tugging my hand loose and ignoring my ricocheting heart.
“Get in the car.”
“Your mum knows I’m with you.”
He stifles his amusement. “I’m not taking you into the woods to kill you.”
“Then, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving you a lift home.”
“We don’t do that; we established that the other day.”
My trainers have only just dried out.
“Why is everything such a drama with you? Just get in the car.”
“I’m the drama?”
“Ainsley, get in the car.”
“Casper, no, thank you.” I turn from him for what feels like the thousandth time and don’t look back.
He doesn’t follow me again, so I start down the long driveway. Good, he’s got the message. We need some time apart because spending time together is toxic. Minutes later, however, I realise he hasn’t given up at all. He pulls up in his car beside me and slowly creeps along.
That’s how we’re going to play it.
I keep my head forward and ignore him.
He winds the window down. “I’ll drive this car right beside you the whole way if I have to.”
“Enjoy that.” It’s not far to the bus stop. He’ll have to drive off then… unless he trails the bus.
“Get in. You’ll be home a lot quicker.”
“I’ve got all day,” I tell him, which is a total lie. I have a study group with some people on my course, going over business strategies in preparation for turning in a piece of coursework worth fifteen credits.
“Have you forgotten that I live with someone on the same course as you? Reggie mentioned your meeting.”
Ugh, I hate that. Reggie needs to talk less. Casper has the upper hand.
“What do you want from me?” I throw my arms up, exasperated. I’m so over this fight already and we’ve barely bickered.
“I want to give you a ride.”
A shiver rolls down my spine at the deep, husky tone in his voice.
A ride.
Fucking stop that right now, you weirdo.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Just go. I don’t need your help.”
I carry on, and so does he. The car has an annoying drone with an even more annoying driver. I take maybe ten more steps before Casper speaks again.
“There’s a car behind mine,” he says. “I wonder how pissed off they’re going to be when it takes an additional five minutes to reach the end of this driveway because of you.”
That makes me look. Someone is trying to get out, and with half the road blocked off for what I assume are renovations, it’s now a one- way system.
“There are passing places along the way. Pull into one of those and let them by,” I tell him.
“No, I don’t think I will. I’m in no hurry.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“You’re the one holding us all up. Oh, another car now,” he says, glancing in his rear-view mirror. “Looks like the caterers are ready to leave. I hope they don’t have anywhere to be for a while.”
One of the drivers beeps their horn.
“Casper!”
“Get in the car.”
I look at the two cars behind him and groan. Why does he have to be so awkward?
“Fine. You can drop me off at the bus stop.”
I get into his car, slam the door, and resist the urge to face him. He’ll be happy he’s won this round.
“Seatbelt, Ainsley.”
Oh, I would love to wrap it around your neck.
“You’re so bossy. Hey, I think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me. I mean without insulting me or generally being a massive dickhead.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Arguing doesn’t count. Before this, all we’ve done is argue. Well, you argue because you’re a bit of an arsehole. I’ve never wanted things to be like this. We live next door to each other, and our friends hate that we constantly bicker. If you’d just be nice, none of this would happen.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“You think I’m an arsehole, dickhead, and a twat?”
Okay, he sounds super posh when he says twat.
“I do. Reggie and Marvin don’t think that, but they obviously don’t know you that well. The room is still spinning a bit. It’s kinda pretty.”
“Drink.”
He says nothing about my insult.
“I don’t want to sober up. I like this buzz. It helps to be drunk when I’m around you.”
His jaw twitches. “Sober up and I’ll leave you alone.”
Maybe I was a bit mean there, but it’s not like he holds back when it comes to talking to me. In fact, he threw the first insult.
We met during the first week of uni. It was all drinking and getting to know each other back then. I met Freya and Imani first, and we instantly hit it off. Casper was at a bar with a group of lads who were all loud and obnoxious. They were working their way around the women, sleeping with as many as they could.
Casper approached me after flirting with loads of other women. He let his arrogance lead and thought I would be impressed like the rest of them. When I turned him down, he began his hate campaign.
I was probably the first and only woman who ever said no to him, and he couldn’t stand it.
I sip the Coke and wonder why the hell I’m listening to him. He’s bossy and moody. We don’t get on, but here I am, drinking something to sober me up because told me to.
What am I doing?
“You can go now. I’ll finish this,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
All right, then.
“Why do you want to be a lawyer? Is it because of your parents?”
I’m met with complete silence.
Are we supposed to sit here and ignore each other while he waits for me to drink a glass of Coke? This is bloody weird. I want to fill the silence because sitting here with him is making my pulse flutter way too quickly.
What goes through his mind?
“Your parents are really nice,” I tell him.
I want to add ‘so what happened to you?’ but that seems a bit much.
“Mm,” he hums, and I can only just hear it. His tone is full of boredom. I don’t think he wants to make small talk.
It’s always been awkward when I don’t know what to say to someone, but I hate saying nothing even more. I get word vomit and keep talking rubbish.
“Your car is a bit ridiculous.”
“What the fuck, Ainsley?”
Ah, he speaks.
“It doesn’t suit you. I’ve always thought that. You don’t need a penis extension, you’re already a massive dick.” I laugh at my own joke.
Casper rubs his lips, and it sort of looks like he’s concealing his amusement.
“Drink,” he orders.
I can’t believe he has nothing else to say to that.
“I won that round.”
“For fuck’s sake, will you drink.”
“I’m going to be peeing all night if I keep drinking this. Why are you so obsessed with this. You hate me. If you leave me to keep on with the Prosecco, I’ll probably fall on my face, then you’ll get a real laugh.”
He turns his head, going back to pretending that I don’t exist. Fine. Whatever. I don’t care.
I drain the last of the Coke and wiggle the glass in front of his face.
He takes one look at it, gets up, and walks away from me.
CHAPTER SIX
Drinking the night before an appointment was a terrible idea. In my defence, I only knew about the appointment an hour ago. Flora called and asked if I would meet her to go through some of the menu choices.
It’s sooner than I thought we’d be going through this, but I can hardly say no. Besides, it would be good to get something big ticked off the long list of things to do.
It’s quite nice having the opportunity to do this alone, too. When I get a job, I won’t have Reggie holding my hand. We work well together and can pick up where each other leaves. He hasn’t given me the impression that he sees himself as my boss, but he kind of is.
I’ll miss him once uni is over.
The bus dropped me at the stop, which is only a ten-minute walk from the castle, and that’s practically the time it takes to walk down the grand driveway alone.
It’s chilly out, but sunlight streams through the trees, causing a disco ball affect as the breeze dances through the leaves. New flowers begin to bud in the flowerbeds. The castle is about to explode with colour and make the event even more beautiful.
The sharp air is doing wonders for my hangover. As did the bacon sandwich.
Birds chirp on the branches above me. I smile as I walk, the fresh spring day making me happy.
Then I remember something, and my steps falter, my boozy brain not fitting it all together on the first attempt. On the phone this morning, just as I was about to go into a lecture, Flora mentioned meeting ‘us’, and also how Frederick couldn’t get out of a meeting with a client.
The ‘us’ must be her and Casper.
My head begins to pound immediately, reigniting the hangover. Casper has nothing on alcohol.
Last night, Casper was so weird—still bossy, domineering, and horrible—but the few times I’ve seen him while we’ve been out, he’s ignored me completely. The only thing I can think of is that I was way drunker than I have been in the past.
He might have thought I would show him up since we all arrived together.
As I walk, I try to refocus by taking in the view of the castle in the distance, surrounded by acres of fields and forest.
I would enjoy it much more if Casper’s obnoxious Porsche didn’t come screaming past me. My hair flies up as he whizzes by, leaving a bird’s nest on my head.
Prick.
Oh, it’s fine, I don’t need a lift. I’d scream wanker at him, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He would’ve seen me and probably put his foot down on purpose. Oh God, last night I told him that he’s a dick who doesn’t need his car.
Okay, I wouldn’t give me a lift, either.
But that was a good one.
I slow down when I’m near the castle so that I don’t turn up looking like I’ve been mugged. More walking on the treadmill this week, I think.
Flora’s outside, looking up at the turrets when I approach.
She turns when she hears my footsteps on the gravel.
“Ainsley, hello. I forgot how beautiful this place is.”
“Hi. Yeah, it’s stunning.” It’s relatively small. When you hear the word castle you expect something bloody massive with a moat and drawbridge. You could comfortably fit five hundred people in it.
“Is Casper here?” I ask. “I thought I saw his car.”
She smiles and slightly shakes her head. “He’s on the warpath about the scaffolding.”
My heart drops. This venue is perfect, and I would hate to change it. Actually, I would hate to change it because I’m the one who suggested it.
“We knew that was happening. I didn’t think it would be noticeable.” Which it isn’t from where I’m standing. “If it’s going to be a problem, we can look for another venue.”
The words feel like blades leaving my mouth.
“No, not at all. We won’t even need to be around the back. I have told him this already, but he wanted to see if anything could be done. As if they would forego safety for aesthetics. Come one, let’s go find him.”
I’d rather not.
“The caterer said they’ll meet us in the kitchen so we can just go straight through,” I tell her. “The venue has the function room set up for a conference tomorrow, so we’re unable to use that today.”
“That’s fine.”
It has to be since this has all happened within twenty-four hours. The caterer almost laughed at me when I called him back straight after speaking to Flora at 9:00 a.m. That was until I dropped their family name in, and suddenly they could be here this afternoon with food to sample.
They must have been running around gathering supplies and getting here on time.
Imagine having that power in your name.
I lead the way into the castle and through to the kitchen. There’s still no sign of Casper, but I can’t hear any shouting, either. I hope the manager told him how ridiculous he’s being, and Casper is off licking his wounds. Better still, I hope he’s buggered off home.
I push the door open, and there he is, leaning against the stainless-steel counter, laughing with one of the chefs. He doesn’t look hungover at all. His eyes are fresh, and his smile is easy.
So, he’s staying for this.
The female chef is eating up his attention. A pretty face is all it took for him to forget whatever work is being done on the building. Typical Casper move. I bet he has her number in his phone already.
Gross.
“Hello,” I say a little too sharply.
The flirty woman and Mario, the head chef, turn to me.
The woman is blushing furiously at being caught, but Mario doesn’t seem to notice. I wish I could remember her name.
“Ah, you must be Ainsley Miller. And Mrs Hart, how do you do?”
“Oh, call me Flora, please. It smells wonderful in here.”
Flora, Mario, and the woman chat for a minute. They tell Flora how wonderfully refreshing it is to do something different for the event. It’s hard to tell if they’re being sincere or just blowing smoke up her arse.
I try to feign interest in the origin of the toffee apple but fail miserably, and that’s thanks to the devil ghost who’s shooting a death glare my way. Funny, though, he looks rather amused while doing it.
My stomach burns just being in the same room as him. We look so unprofessional now, thanks to him and his need to sleep with everything. Not that I can talk about professionalism. At the brief meeting yesterday, I teased the clients’ son.
Mario and the flirty one—Miranda, I overhear—take Flora to the large island to show off their tiny, fancy, carnival-inspired canapés. Neither Casper nor I move.
I should walk away and pretend he doesn’t exist, but arguing with him is addictive. I don’t think I can move away.
I’m so messed up. This is so messed up.
“Hello, Ainsley,” he says in a sickly-sweet tone that makes me want to vomit.
Unless that’s still last night’s Prosecco.
To everyone else, he sounds pleasant. I know better, and it makes me so mad.
“Casper. I heard you’re unhappy about the scaffolding, but there’s nothing that can be done. We discussed this already, if you recall. Wouldn’t want the roof caving in and killing us all now, would we?”
“If anything happened to you, it would break me, Ainsley.”
No one has perfected the sarcastic smile quite like Casper Hart.
“Hmm, it would be a noble way to go.”
He stifles a laugh. “I’ll pretend that hurt.”
“And there was me thinking you couldn’t feel pain.”
“I assume you’re referring to emotional pain and not physical?”
“Forgive me for not being more precise. Of course, I meant to insinuate that you’re a sociopath.”
He doesn’t hold back now. Mario, Flirty Twat, and Flora look over when Casper laughs.
I’m taken aback because that doesn’t happen often—not when I’m around, anyway. His laughter is quite nice.
Another confession to take to my deathbed.
“Sorry,” Casper says to the others, rubbing his mouth to fight his amusement. “Ainsley was just diagnosing me.”
My eyes cut into him so deeply, I’m surprised he doesn’t feel it. The bastard is trying to embarrass me. My scalp prickles, but I take a breath and will my cheeks not to flame.
“Oh?” Flora says.
I have nothing to say. No excuse or explanation that won’t get me fired. But I stand tall and pretend that I’m not dying inside.
“I’m joking, Mum,” he says casually. “We were discussing the building work.”
I’ll take that roof falling on my head now.
When they turn back to the food, Casper smirks again. “You’re welcome.”
I’m welcome. Is he kidding?
Taking a few deep breaths and sucking in enough oxygen to make me dizzy, I move away from him.
Next time I’m not doing anything without Reggie present. It’s too risky. Casper knows all the right buttons to press, and he seems to press them all at once. I get sucked into his bullshit every time.
I refocus because I cannot afford to mess this up.
For the rest of the tasting, I’m the perfect event planner, and Casper is pissed. He watches me, trying to get my attention with that icy stare, but I pretend he’s not even here. It’s a little victory that leaves me feeling like a goddess.
When we’re done, Flora, Casper, and I walk out of the castle together.
“Ainsley, thank you for this afternoon,” Flora says. “Sorry it was such short notice, but I won’t be available for the next few weeks.”
“That’s fine, you’re welcome. I’m so pleased you have a menu you love.”
“I do. Anyway, I’d better dash. I have back-to-back meetings and a working dinner. Make sure she gets home safely, Casper.”
I’m about to open my mouth to tell her that I’m taking the bus when Casper says, “I will do. My car is this way, Ainsley.”
He will not.
Flora smiles, expecting us both to head in the direction of his car, which must be around the side of the castle. Flora parked right out front.
To save us from any questions, I follow him.
“Don’t worry, when she’s gone, I’ll turn back and start walking,” I tell him.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “What?”
“You know, when she can’t see, I’ll head back to the main road for the bus.”
“Get in the fucking car.”
My back stiffens. “Since you asked so nicely.” I roll my eyes and turn around when I hear Flora’s car driving over the gravelly driveway. “See you never.”
His hand circles my wrist. It’s the second time in two days he’s touched me. I wonder if that’s grounds for a restraining order.
“What?” I say, tugging my hand loose and ignoring my ricocheting heart.
“Get in the car.”
“Your mum knows I’m with you.”
He stifles his amusement. “I’m not taking you into the woods to kill you.”
“Then, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving you a lift home.”
“We don’t do that; we established that the other day.”
My trainers have only just dried out.
“Why is everything such a drama with you? Just get in the car.”
“I’m the drama?”
“Ainsley, get in the car.”
“Casper, no, thank you.” I turn from him for what feels like the thousandth time and don’t look back.
He doesn’t follow me again, so I start down the long driveway. Good, he’s got the message. We need some time apart because spending time together is toxic. Minutes later, however, I realise he hasn’t given up at all. He pulls up in his car beside me and slowly creeps along.
That’s how we’re going to play it.
I keep my head forward and ignore him.
He winds the window down. “I’ll drive this car right beside you the whole way if I have to.”
“Enjoy that.” It’s not far to the bus stop. He’ll have to drive off then… unless he trails the bus.
“Get in. You’ll be home a lot quicker.”
“I’ve got all day,” I tell him, which is a total lie. I have a study group with some people on my course, going over business strategies in preparation for turning in a piece of coursework worth fifteen credits.
“Have you forgotten that I live with someone on the same course as you? Reggie mentioned your meeting.”
Ugh, I hate that. Reggie needs to talk less. Casper has the upper hand.
“What do you want from me?” I throw my arms up, exasperated. I’m so over this fight already and we’ve barely bickered.
“I want to give you a ride.”
A shiver rolls down my spine at the deep, husky tone in his voice.
A ride.
Fucking stop that right now, you weirdo.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Just go. I don’t need your help.”
I carry on, and so does he. The car has an annoying drone with an even more annoying driver. I take maybe ten more steps before Casper speaks again.
“There’s a car behind mine,” he says. “I wonder how pissed off they’re going to be when it takes an additional five minutes to reach the end of this driveway because of you.”
That makes me look. Someone is trying to get out, and with half the road blocked off for what I assume are renovations, it’s now a one- way system.
“There are passing places along the way. Pull into one of those and let them by,” I tell him.
“No, I don’t think I will. I’m in no hurry.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“You’re the one holding us all up. Oh, another car now,” he says, glancing in his rear-view mirror. “Looks like the caterers are ready to leave. I hope they don’t have anywhere to be for a while.”
One of the drivers beeps their horn.
“Casper!”
“Get in the car.”
I look at the two cars behind him and groan. Why does he have to be so awkward?
“Fine. You can drop me off at the bus stop.”
I get into his car, slam the door, and resist the urge to face him. He’ll be happy he’s won this round.
“Seatbelt, Ainsley.”
Oh, I would love to wrap it around your neck.
