Chapter One - Jas
I watched him walk away from me.
I stood still for a moment, with my breath caught in my throat. I had been convinced he was going to strike me. Maybe a sick part of me wanted him to. Then I could unleash all my anger onto him. Rain blows upon his chest, call him out for - for what?
The sins of his father?
Andrew was correct when he said he was not his father. His father, Leonard Walker-Wilkinson, was exactly the sort of stuck-up, arrogant, rich motherfucker that I had assumed London was full of. I'd been here now for a month, and I thought I was settling in; till that jerk had kidnapped me.
Andrew had rescued me. Andrew, my tall, mysterious, troubled savior. Now we were back at his townhouse, and I was exhausted, and I had just accused him of the worst crime possible - that he was like his father.
No wonder he'd wanted to hit me. But he held his blow, and now I was watching him walk away.
Isn't it funny how you don't know how much you feel for someone until they leave you?
"Get out," he said again.
I guess I could have argued back. But what good would it have done? Anyways, I was not the sort of girl who ever begged. No sir. I wasn't raised to be submissive.
So it was kinda funny I was here, now, feeling hurt and lost. The Dominant I was beginning to submit to had just rejected me.
Was I supposed to beg and cry? I briefly considered it. But then he turned around and my words died on my lips. His eyes were narrowed and dark, set deep in his high-cheeked face. "Still here? I'll call Amjad. Wait in the hall."
I fled through the door and into the hallway.
* * * *
Amjad, Andrew's personal driver, didn't speak until we were well underway on the journey back to my apartment.
"So, how are you finding London? Settling in well?"
"Yeah." I rested my forehead on the glass in the passenger side window. I was so tired. Everything hurt. "I guess."
"Are you all right, miss?"
"Yeah. It's been a rough few days, you know?"
I didn't know how much Amjad did know. He was only Andrew's driver. Did he know that I'd been kidnapped by Andrew's father? Leonard had wanted me to spy on Andrew. His own son! Just because he'd wanted to make his own way in the world and not rely on his rich daddy's influence. Jeez. When I said it like that to myself, it was crazy talk.
Amjad sucked on his teeth, before speaking slowly, as if he wasn't sure if he ought to say anything. "Well, miss. I would put this to you. Mr. Walker-Wilkinson is a young man with some troubles, I think. And he is not yet sure of what a real man should be. I think I should not be driving you home, miss. It should be him. He has a responsibility and I think he should learn this."
Amjad's accent was pure London but there was a musical pattern in his words that made me smile.
I said, "Yeah, I kinda agree with you. But he's had a rough few days too. Also, he's just had a massive argument with his father and…" I stopped. I didn't think I ought to reveal that Andrew had just punched his father in the face and knocked him out cold. "And, well, these things change … things," I added lamely.
"A man needs to be a man," Amjad said flatly. "This is the way of it."
My eyes were sore and my cheekbone hurt. A few weeks ago, when I'd met Andrew for the very first time as I gave a presentation to a bunch of businessmen, I'd bawled him out for holding a door open for me. I'd pretty much accused him of being an outdated dinosaur and sexist pig.
And now Amjad was saying the sort of stuff that would usually have me going for the jugular.
I was too tired. And maybe I was changing - or getting soft, or something - because I knew he meant well. So I swallowed my feminist rage, and just sighed, and when he pulled up at my apartment, I didn't yell at him for opening the door or helping me out or politely ensuring I got safely to my own door.
The door had been repaired; Andrew must have had an emergency locksmith out to sort it. I stared, blankly, at the
I watched him walk away from me.
I stood still for a moment, with my breath caught in my throat. I had been convinced he was going to strike me. Maybe a sick part of me wanted him to. Then I could unleash all my anger onto him. Rain blows upon his chest, call him out for - for what?
The sins of his father?
Andrew was correct when he said he was not his father. His father, Leonard Walker-Wilkinson, was exactly the sort of stuck-up, arrogant, rich motherfucker that I had assumed London was full of. I'd been here now for a month, and I thought I was settling in; till that jerk had kidnapped me.
Andrew had rescued me. Andrew, my tall, mysterious, troubled savior. Now we were back at his townhouse, and I was exhausted, and I had just accused him of the worst crime possible - that he was like his father.
No wonder he'd wanted to hit me. But he held his blow, and now I was watching him walk away.
Isn't it funny how you don't know how much you feel for someone until they leave you?
"Get out," he said again.
I guess I could have argued back. But what good would it have done? Anyways, I was not the sort of girl who ever begged. No sir. I wasn't raised to be submissive.
So it was kinda funny I was here, now, feeling hurt and lost. The Dominant I was beginning to submit to had just rejected me.
Was I supposed to beg and cry? I briefly considered it. But then he turned around and my words died on my lips. His eyes were narrowed and dark, set deep in his high-cheeked face. "Still here? I'll call Amjad. Wait in the hall."
I fled through the door and into the hallway.
* * * *
Amjad, Andrew's personal driver, didn't speak until we were well underway on the journey back to my apartment.
"So, how are you finding London? Settling in well?"
"Yeah." I rested my forehead on the glass in the passenger side window. I was so tired. Everything hurt. "I guess."
"Are you all right, miss?"
"Yeah. It's been a rough few days, you know?"
I didn't know how much Amjad did know. He was only Andrew's driver. Did he know that I'd been kidnapped by Andrew's father? Leonard had wanted me to spy on Andrew. His own son! Just because he'd wanted to make his own way in the world and not rely on his rich daddy's influence. Jeez. When I said it like that to myself, it was crazy talk.
Amjad sucked on his teeth, before speaking slowly, as if he wasn't sure if he ought to say anything. "Well, miss. I would put this to you. Mr. Walker-Wilkinson is a young man with some troubles, I think. And he is not yet sure of what a real man should be. I think I should not be driving you home, miss. It should be him. He has a responsibility and I think he should learn this."
Amjad's accent was pure London but there was a musical pattern in his words that made me smile.
I said, "Yeah, I kinda agree with you. But he's had a rough few days too. Also, he's just had a massive argument with his father and…" I stopped. I didn't think I ought to reveal that Andrew had just punched his father in the face and knocked him out cold. "And, well, these things change … things," I added lamely.
"A man needs to be a man," Amjad said flatly. "This is the way of it."
My eyes were sore and my cheekbone hurt. A few weeks ago, when I'd met Andrew for the very first time as I gave a presentation to a bunch of businessmen, I'd bawled him out for holding a door open for me. I'd pretty much accused him of being an outdated dinosaur and sexist pig.
And now Amjad was saying the sort of stuff that would usually have me going for the jugular.
I was too tired. And maybe I was changing - or getting soft, or something - because I knew he meant well. So I swallowed my feminist rage, and just sighed, and when he pulled up at my apartment, I didn't yell at him for opening the door or helping me out or politely ensuring I got safely to my own door.
The door had been repaired; Andrew must have had an emergency locksmith out to sort it. I stared, blankly, at the
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