[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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April 2013
ZOE
There's no place like home. Unless your home is a spare hotel room because you're so caught up in running your department that sometimes it's easier to stay the night. In which case, there is a place just like home, and it's work.
Let's face it: I have no other reason to spend evenings wrapped in expensive Egyptian cotton or soaking in deep claw foot bathtubs. If I didn't love my job so much, it would actually be a little sad. Okay, it's definitely sad, but I spend twelve hours a day running this place. It's only right that I get to enjoy it too.
My phone buzzes, and I reluctantly lift a hand out of the bath. Bubbles drift through the steamy air as I shake the water from my fingers and tap the phone screen.
Darren: Hey beautiful. I'm thinking of you. Are you free tomorrow night? I'd love to cook you dinner.
Urgh.
I ignore the message and slide deeper into the bath. Water sloshes over my chest, bubbles circling my throat like a collar. How long has it been since I had an actual hand around my throat? Too long. Not the kind of thing you can tell someone you enjoy until you trust them. I don't ever let them stick around long enough for that to be the case.
And unfortunately for Darren, he's about to find that out.
Three dates. That's all it's been. That's all it ever is. Anything beyond three dates is creeping into relationship territory, and I've no interest in entering.
When the water starts to cool, I drag myself out of the bath and wrap a towel around my body. We've recently upgraded to 800 gsm and God does that extra weight make a difference. Plush, velvety cotton caresses my damp skin as I amble towards the queen-sized bed. Much nicer than the double I have at home. The mattress is the perfect firmness, the pillow isn't too soft, and the space is huge.
I thought I'd miss my old hotel, but moving to the luxury market was an excellent decision.
Once settled, allowing the air-con to flutter over my face, I idly scroll through Facebook. I never knew Richard was such a photo whore; he's all over my feed, arms wrapped around Christian. I'm happy for him. Honestly. But I'm also a little bitter. I had my shot at that, and naively I'd believed what Richard and I shared was the safer choice. The longer-term choice.
Longer-term turned out to be a four-month engagement. After Mark's surprise visit, Richard decided he needed closure with Christian too. When his two-week trip to Australia extended into a month, I knew exactly what had happened. Richard had cashed in on our deal. I can't blame him for that, even if I did naïvely expect that deal to end the second we became engaged.
I scroll down and pause on an article about Teddy Stone. He's kind of cute and his songs are fun, but his scrawny frame and boyish grin betray his young age. The universe is clearly messing with me, though, because one of his bodyguards looks scarily similar to...
