Unworthy (4 page)

     Monday morning, I take the circle line of the Tube to my station and walk the short way to the Harding building. As always, it’s a normal busy morning. I drop files off to all the relevant persons and even write up a report for a member of our finance department who is better qualified, but seems to think I am just as good. This is how I have managed to learn as much of the business as I have, doing things I’m probably not trained to do, but everyone gets me to do anyway.  After my lunch break I receive an email asking me to forward a stack of reports to Mr. Harding’s email address. I begin to do what was asked of me and as the afternoon goes on I can tell the atmosphere on the top floor of The Harding building is electric. Everyone seems so excited yet daunted by the prospect that one of the big bosses is here. By the end of the normal working day as everyone else begins to leave no-one has even met him yet. As I carry on with my work it makes me laugh how everyone is getting carried away over one guy.

I don’t finish my work till just after eight. As the last document is sent to Mr. Harding’s email and as I pass his office I can see that his light is still on. It seems that I am not the only one that will work after hours.

The week carries on as any other would have, except for the constant chatter of the man from America.

     “What does he look like?”

     “Will he want to change anything?”

     “What will he change?”

     “How old is he and how will he sound?”

     “What does he look like?”  That is all anyone seems to be interested in and from what I can gather no-one has seen him, not even the managers have by close of business Friday afternoon. The man is an enigma, haunting the halls of our building into a weathering mess of female emotions that aren’t giving up till they see the man in question. I, on the other hand, really can’t care less; as long as I can carry on with my little plan, then I will be happy. Why do people get so carried away with the opposite sex? Nothing good ever happens from it. I definitely won’t succumb to a male, especially a tall man with beautiful grey eyes.

As always, I come up with a job that needs doing on Saturday morning and so is how I spend my day off until I have to go to my second job at the bar.

     The atmosphere yet again is electric, but I can’t pinpoint why I feel so uneasy, how I feel like I am being seen for the first time naked and on show for a person to view like I am an animal in her cage. I have worked here since I moved to London and even in the stupid outfit that is my uniform I have never once felt the way I am feeling tonight. As I look around at all the punters nearby I notice that none are looking at me, so why am I feeling like this? It doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps I am coming down with something. That would be just my luck. It must be two hours before closing when Amber comes up to me in a complete fuss acting way out of character.

     “You’re needed upstairs. A punter wants a private meeting with you.” 

CHAPTER FOUR

GRACE

     My blood turns cold as I watch Amber’s face light up with the hope that she could be asked for such a meeting. I, on the other hand, can feel the bile begin to rise at the back of my throat at the fear of being in a room with a man on my own. I presume it is a man and that makes me feel instantly worse.

     “What?”

     “Oh, for God’s sake, Grace, you don’t have to look so scared,” she says, while controlling her sudden need for laughter at my expense. I’m a laughing stock, that’s just great. It would only be worse if they all found out about my past. I can’t go in that room; if I do I will give myself away.

     “Grace, you have gone as white as a sheet.”  I suddenly feel so cold and hot at the same time with fear just as the walls around me seem to be getting close to me, preventing me from breathing.

     “Grace, are you OK?”  I can feel Amber’s hand on my bare shoulder, just as the manager of the bar comes to stand by us.

     “Grace, get up those stairs to the second room. The man that is waiting for you is willing to spend a lot of money.” I look up at him with as much disgust as I can, while I try to say with as much courage as I possibly can

     “Anthony, I told you when I started that I wouldn’t do that.”

     “He has asked for you personally, in which case my hands are tied.” He says, with that awful smile of his that sends shivers down my spine.

     “You lucky bitch, Grace, you could make a load tonight in that room.” Amber says, while she looks between me and Anthony. I feel sick, I really cannot do this.

     “I can’t.” I barely manage to whisper.

     “Yes, you can and you will unless you want to be fired.” I look at Anthony with shock as he hands me a tray with a single glass of whiskey.

     “Your punter is waiting.” Amber says, as I turn around and make my way to my fate. I have never felt this bad since I left Taunton and with each step, I can feel the bile threaten to rise up my throat. The thoughts that consume me consist of a past that I have tried so hard to forget, but as I step closer to the private rooms the words that were once said become so clear in my mind, as if it were only yesterday. The cold hands around my mouth suffocating my screams as I struggle within the arm that engulfs my scared body.

     “You’ll like it, bitch.”

     “I’m going to rip through you.”

     “You tell anyone and I’ll make you pay.”

      I stop suddenly as someone bumps past me and at that moment I have to force myself to remember where I am. It’s the past, the past can’t hurt me any longer unless I allow it to and I’ve had enough of allowing myself to be consumed by a past I can’t change. I make it to the top of the stairs to the security guard who lets me past the rope so I can make my way to room two. As I stand outside the door I try to control my thoughts, while I take in a few deep breaths. My past can no longer hurt me if I don’t allow it to. I keep repeating that to myself, trying to get the courage to find out what will happen in this room. I slowly open the door while resting the tray on my other hand as I try to make as much of a graceful entrance as I can. I walk through the door and I can see a tall figure looking out the glass down to the dance floor. He’s wearing dark jeans that just seem to hug at his bum, calling for me to take a squeeze. What is wrong with you at the moment, Grace? I step closer to him and his aftershave is male and enticing to my suddenly sensitive nose.

     “Your drink, sir?” I say, just as he turns around and I am met by a familiar face.

     “Y….you.”

     “Hello, Miss Grace.” He says, with an almost devilish smile that makes my legs weak at the knees and my core come alive.

     “W…what are. Y.. you doing here?” I try to take in a deep breath, but know I fail miserably when it comes through as a little shudder.

     “Why are you here?”

     “I needed a drink.” Oh, God, that accent. He steps towards me and takes his glass from my tray and as I watch I feel envious of the glass that touches his lips. Soft yet powerful lips that would just take control of my own as he lavished me. What am I doing? Why am I allowing myself to think like this, I have to control myself? No good ever comes from losing control. I try as hard as I can to keep saying that to myself as I watch his eyes begin to roam my body yet again, undressing me with his sinful eyes. As much as I try to hate what is going on in this damn room I find the thought of his eyes on me, undressing me arousing. I want more, the feelings it conjures up awaken something I have never let myself feel before. It’s nice to think that someone could actually like what he sees when he looks at me. As quickly as those thoughts invade my mind they quickly turn back to disdain. Look at him, Grace, this man could have anyone he wants. He reeks of sex appeal and there is no way he would want you. I need to get out of here; I need to be able to clear my mind before this guy controls it with this madness he evokes in me. I step away from him to make my way back to the door when his voice stops me.

     “Where are you going?”

     “I…I need to go back and help with the bar.” I say, sounding far too nervous to be convincing. He takes another sip of his drink as he steps closer to me yet again, closing the gap I have granted in my favor. My breath hitches in my throat as my skin awakens from his gentle touch to my hand.

     “Don’t go, I want to spend time with you.” He says, and I can see the look of honesty in his eyes, a look I have rarely seen in a male before.

     “With me? I don’t think you really mean that.” I say, with as much conviction as I can muster up. I know how I look and I can see how he looks. In the real world our two different lives wouldn’t mix well together and this guy knows that as much as anyone.

     “Yes I do. I want you very much.” I can feel his eyes take in my response as I just stand there in complete shock at what he has just said.

     “How much for the night?” Oh my God, he thinks I’m a hooker. Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick. A hooker. Where on earth did he get that idea from?

     “Are you serious? You’re crazy.” I begin to step away from him again, but stop dead when I hear his next words leave his lips.

      “I’m many things Grace, but I’m not crazy. I know what I want and I want you, preferably in my bed.”

     “N…no.” Without even knowing I’m doing it my head begins to shake from left to right and it isn’t until he places both his hands on each side of my face to stop my head that I realize I am even doing it. I drop my tray and my fingers instantly go for my wrist. Pull release, pull release. I can feel his fingers graze the skin around my lips and cheeks as his eyes bore into my own. He’s undressing me again with those eyes of his and I get the sudden urge to get away from him, pull release, pull release and I can feel the skin begin to hurt. I can’t be this close, it’s not good to be this close and I begin to step away from him. The look of confusion covers his face as he runs his fingers that have just touched me over his chin and he quickly places them back on my face. I need to get away from him. If I stay here with him then I can see myself succumb to his beauty and I cannot allow myself to do that. I will not do that.  I try to step backwards so I am against the door, but he still has his fingers on me so he simply follows me with all his cool demeanor. His eyes are still looking into my own, trying to read my thoughts, but I will not let him. I need time to clear my thoughts, I need some air and I reach out to the handle of the door. It suddenly opens with a small twist of my wrist and I can see it takes Samuel by surprise when he removes his fingers to be able to use his hands to stop himself from falling. If I weren’t in such an emotional state I would laugh but this situation is anything, but funny. I take that time to quickly race down the stairs, all the while pulling and releasing the band on my wrist. I crash through the back door off to the side of the stairs and the cold air instantly hits me as the door opens. I step through the staff door and lean myself against the cold cement, taking in as many cold breaths as I can. I’ve never told anyone about my childhood and what brought me to London, but I was honest with Anthony when I took this job and he sent me to the wolf. This guy, this Samuel, knows where I work, I told him about Harding. Hopefully he’s forgotten, but even so I will be protected there. Here I’m not and I can’t stay here in that environment, it’s not safe for me, I won’t allow anyone else to hurt me. I can’t. I take in another deep breath before I make my way through the door and head to the staff room to get my coat and bag. No-one else is there when I get there and I quickly get my belongings and make my way back to the back door.

When I get back outside I can see Samuel waiting for me and I can feel the sickness rear its ugly head yet again. I don’t look at him, I just focus on getting home as quickly as possible, but I can sense him behind me. Oh God, this is really bad, the guy is going to follow me and try to kill me because I said no to him. Oh shit, why does this always happen to me. I can hear his footsteps quicken as he tries to catch up with me.

     “I’m sorry.” I stop in my tracks when I hear those words and slowly turn to look at him.

     “What?”

     “I’m sorry.” Within the light from the lamppost I can see he is using his lengthy fingers around his chin as he watches me intently and tries to figure out what to say.

     “What I said was wrong. I didn’t mean to imply that, it’s just, I don’t know, there’s something about you.”

     “You don’t know me.” I turn away from him and start to walk away, glad that hopefully everything is sorted. I won’t have to see him again, I can carry on like I have always done and lead my boring life.

     “I only need to know, that I want to know you more.” Will this guy not give it up? I don’t want to get to know anybody; I just want to lead my life alone. I carry on walking; trying not to think of what he has said when he opens his darn mouth again.

     “I always get what I want, you know.” I begin to shake my head as I carry on walking, pretending that I am not affected by what he said. To say I don’t like the fact that this gorgeous man sees something in me would be stupid, I am human, but he doesn’t know what I am like. What I do to the people around me. I keep walking, getting closer and closer to the corner which will take me further away from him when I hear him shout.