Unsticky (14 page)
Authors: Sarah Manning
He could dress it up any way he wanted to, but he’d said ‘mistress’. That was what he’d started with and that was where Grace was still stuck. Yes, the travel sounded wonderful - there might be a private jet involved and she’d always wanted to go on one of them - but she’d been brought up to be a nice girl, and just thinking of exactly how she was brought up gave Grace a mental picture of her grandmother’s horrified face.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No.’ This time it was definite. ‘I can’t.’
Vaughn gave an elegant, ophidian shrug. ‘I realise that I’d be taking up a lot of your time, so of course there’d be a monthly retainer and a clothing and grooming allowance.’ He was purposely misunderstanding her and as diversions went, it was effective, but the mention of allowances made the whole tart scenario loom large again.
‘I’m going,’ Grace said as she struggled to get out of the depths of the chair. ‘I’m sure you could find a discreet escort agency that—’
‘I was thinking five thousand pounds a month - and what? - an additional two thousand pounds for the clothing allowance,’ Vaughn said before Grace could even get fully upright.
‘Fucking hell!’ She sat down again, or rather collapsed heavily back into the chair. ‘That’s a lot of money. That’s way too much money.’
‘Not for someone like me,’ Vaughn said smoothly.
‘Well, it is for someone like me.’ Grace hunched forward, elbows on her knees, and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Just how rich are you anyway?’
‘Well, I could provide five years of accounts but this isn’t about the money, Grace. It’s about you and me and what we can do for each other.’
She could hear Vaughn getting up, walking over to her, but it was still a shock when he squatted down so he could take one of her limp hands. ‘I can see that this has all been rather discombobulating. ’
Grace wished that he’d stick to words of two syllables or less, as she tried to think. £5,000. £5,000! She could start paying off her most outstanding debts. Like her TopShop store card or the consolidated loan she’d taken out to pay off her creditors although she’d never got round to making any of the payments. Or the new credit-card debts she’d incurred in the meantime. Or even the months of back-rent she owed so she wouldn’t have to live in fear that one day, she’d come home from work to find all her belongings in the front garden because her landlady would no longer accept IOUs . . .
‘You’re very quiet, Grace,’ Vaughn prompted, and he reached up to touch her, maybe stroke her cheek or push back the hair that was falling into her face, but she shied away from him and he blinked rapidly before he could check himself.
Grace squinted at him. ‘So that evening in New York - was that meant to be a dry run?’ And if she sounded pissed off, then good. ‘Did I get a black mark or a gold star?’
‘It was more of an informal interview,’ Vaughn said carefully. ‘And you don’t have to be embarrassed about what happened. I was very flattered and it clarified a few grey areas.’
Grace stared at him. ‘Well, that would probably fall into the category of apologising and you told me that I shouldn’t do that.’
Vaughn dipped his head in acknowledgement but didn’t fight back with the acid-dripping sarcasm that she was sure he’d have had all good to go. The urge to giggle and to check the plant in the corner for a hidden camera was hard to avoid. Somebody was
Punk
ing her - they had to be.
Punk
ing her - they had to be.
‘This is not fucking happening,’ she said quietly. ‘I know what you think. You think because I was up for it in New York that I’m easy, but I’m not. You kissed me first! And then you made me feel like a complete . . .’ She’d been planning to say ‘twat’ but at the last second improvised with ‘idiot’.
‘That wasn’t my intention. It was just . . . well, don’t you think you’re worth something more than a one-night stand?’ Vaughn stood up in one easy movement and toed a little leather footstool nearer so he could sit on it, his shirtsleeve brushing her leg.
And yes, Grace did think she was worth something more than that, but it didn’t really make much difference. ‘Well, yeah, but—’
‘Do you remember how we first met? You were crying your eyes out in the middle of Liberty’s. I saw him, Grace.’ Vaughn paused to shake his head as if the memory of Liam was causing him all sorts of inner turmoil. ‘Why are you wasting your time with pitiful losers who don’t appreciate how special you are?’
Grace felt compelled to stick up for Liam, and by definition, herself. ‘Oh, come on, he’s not that bad. I mean, it was good at the start and then . . . He’s just, like . . . he . . .’
‘He was trying to crush your spirit,’ Vaughn supplied, as if it was an undeniable fact. ‘Men like that haven’t got the intelligence or the imagination to appreciate how extraordinary and vibrant you are. You deserve so much more than that, Grace, and I can give it to you.’
Vaughn’s voice was low and urgent, his eyes bright with fervour as he sold a shiny, new version of Grace to the current model who was leaning forward eagerly so she didn’t miss a single word. He didn’t just want to get in her pants, he seemed to actually want the whole package, which was a first. It was also insanely flattering because he was rich and successful and attractive, and for some inexplicable reason he wanted
her
.
her
.
Grace couldn’t think of anything vibrant and extraordinary to add. ‘Well, so we’d date then or something?’
‘It’s a partnership, an agreement with a contract - say for a six-month period . . .’
It had been much better when he’d been playing to her strengths. Now panic flared up again. ‘I’m not signing anything else!’ Grace burst out, white-knuckled hands clutching the sides of the chair because she might bolt at any moment. ‘This is not how you do things. It’s so calculated and it’s cold. You’d be paying me - and last time I checked, that was prostitution.’
‘Sshhh.’ He placed a finger on her mouth and it was only to get her to shut up but it made Grace shiver because there
was
a connection between them. It was why she was here, after all. ‘It’s better this way with clear-cut boundaries, so we both know exactly where we stand. Aren’t you tired of constantly stumbling about in the dark?’
was
a connection between them. It was why she was here, after all. ‘It’s better this way with clear-cut boundaries, so we both know exactly where we stand. Aren’t you tired of constantly stumbling about in the dark?’
Vaughn couldn’t know that she felt as if she’d spent all her life blindfolded, hands stretched out in front of her to feel where she was going. Nobody knew that, but his eyes were boring into hers, not judging but as if maybe Vaughn knew how that felt too.
‘I can’t think. Honestly, my head feels like it’s about to explode,’ Grace said weakly. ‘None of what you’re saying is making any sense.’
‘I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here to say that we get along,’ Vaughn explained patiently, as if she was purposely not getting a clue. ‘There’s absolutely no reason why we can’t enjoy each other’s company and let things run their natural course. You certainly didn’t find me that repugnant in New York.’
Vaughn wasn’t repugnant. There were men who made Grace’s flesh want to crawl off her bones, like Ron from the postroom who always smelled of mouldy cheese and never took his eyes off her tits. Or even Alfie, the drummer in Liam’s band, who was textbook good looking but had really small feet and chewed with his mouth open.
The leather seat was sticking to the backs of her thighs and Grace hoped that when she stood up again there wouldn’t be any embarrassing noises. She leaned over and picked up the glass of water because there was so much to process that speaking would finish her off altogether.
Vaughn was watching her keenly and, even though it was very immature, Grace angled her upper body away from him so she could stare at a picture on the wall that looked like splattered guts.
There was a firm grip on her chin, so she had no choice but to turn her head and look right into those big, blue eyes. She’d never got such a close look at them before with the benefit of really good lighting. There were little flecks of gold breaking up the blue, and near to the pupil, they were almost navy. ‘I don’t know why you want me to be your m-mistress.’ Grace stumbled over the word. ‘I’m nothing special. And six months is a long time. You’ll be sick of me after three, I guarantee it.’
‘We could take the six months under advisement,’ Vaughn offered, and Grace had the feeling that that was all he’d be willing to concede. ‘I happen to think you’re a very singular young woman. You won’t bore me, for one thing.’
‘Yay me,’ Grace said solemnly, as the hand that had been on her chin brushed back her hair in a way that could be misconstrued as tender.
‘Your roots are coming through,’ Vaughn murmured, his fingers tensing as they smoothed over her crown. ‘So, why don’t I take you out for dinner and we can discuss this in more detail. What are you in the mood for?’
Grace had almost been lulled into calm by the rhythmic movement of Vaughn’s fingers in her hair. Almost. But now she imagined two hours of sitting across from Vaughn in another expensive restaurant where she’d feel ill at ease and vulnerable enough that she’d probably let him talk her around. She’d let herself be persuaded that it was all right for him to
pay
to sleep with her. And it wasn’t. It so wasn’t.
pay
to sleep with her. And it wasn’t. It so wasn’t.
‘Will you please move so I can get up?’ Grace clung to the arm of the chair as she hauled herself to her feet. ‘This is, like, really fucked up.’
Vaughn didn’t seem that perturbed by the hysteria Grace was transmitting like some high-frequency bat sonar. ‘Grace, you’re overreacting. I understand that, but there’s no need. It all makes perfect sense if you look at it logically. Would you like a week to think about it?’
Grace was already halfway to the door but she whirled around, in a flutter of angry polka dots. ‘What makes you think that a week is going to be enough time for me to agree to this insane and actually really humiliating proposal?’
Vaughn looked surprised that she was dumb enough to ask. ‘Because you haven’t said no.’
She nearly broke her neck running down two flights of stairs in her flip-flops and for one awful moment, Grace thought she was going to have to go back to Vaughn’s office and ask for his help because she couldn’t figure out how to open the front door, but finally she was free and pelting down the street, not even caring if Vaughn was watching from his office window.
Grace was still out of breath as she sat on the top deck of the 134 and placed a steadying hand over her frantically beating heart. She’d done the right thing though, she thought. She did actually have a strong moral code, which was news to her, though it had never really been put to the test before. She stared out at Camden High Street, which was far more her speed than Mayfair. She was charity shops and picking up a ready meal from Sainsbury’s Local. She was drinking until two in the morning in pubs with sticky floors and really good jukeboxes, then stopping to get a bag of chips on the way home.
She might have to live cheap, but that didn’t mean that she
was
cheap, which was what Vaughn obviously thought. Grace sighed so heavily that the two teenage girls sitting behind her burst into giggles, even when she turned and gave them the evil eye. But she couldn’t help sighing again because it had all been too good to be true; there really was no way a man like Vaughn would be interested in her without there being an ulterior motive. If she’d just sent him a polite little thank you note for the Marc Jacobs bag, then none of this would have ever happened.
was
cheap, which was what Vaughn obviously thought. Grace sighed so heavily that the two teenage girls sitting behind her burst into giggles, even when she turned and gave them the evil eye. But she couldn’t help sighing again because it had all been too good to be true; there really was no way a man like Vaughn would be interested in her without there being an ulterior motive. If she’d just sent him a polite little thank you note for the Marc Jacobs bag, then none of this would have ever happened.
Grace tugged her foot free from the gooey blob of chewing gum that was stuck to the bottom of her flip-flops and closed her eyes.
chapter nine
Lily was back in the office the next day, her skin sun-kissed to the exact shade of toasted almonds because she even tanned perfectly. Grace didn’t think she’d ever been so pleased to see anyone. Lily was going to have to cancel all her social plans for the rest of the week so they could properly do justice to the whole Vaughn débâcle.
‘I missed you so much and I’ve got so much to tell you!’ Grace exclaimed when Lily walked into the fashion cupboard, and Grace hurled herself at her friend. It was a moot point which one of them was most surprised, as they had a standing joke that Grace had cuddle deficiency syndrome. Now that Lily was hugging her, Grace wasn’t sure what to do; Lily always felt so fragile but she patted her back enthusiastically before wriggling free. ‘Did you have a nice time?’
‘It was the best holiday of my life,’ Lily beamed, and even without the tan, she would still have looked radiant and glowy. ‘And I’ve got something to tell you too. Well, something to ask you.’
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