My Five Night Fling by Maci Dillon
KASSIDY
When I wake, it’s much later than usual, and my mind is on the woman and the two men in the club last night. I consider staying in bed a little longer and giving my bullet vibe a workout until I remember the hurt on Jarett’s face as I tried badly to explain why I’d ditched our date.
I was and still am confused.
Sighing, I roll out of bed with a thud as my feet hit the floor. I can’t allow emotions to ruin one of only five days in London.
Despite my lackluster mood, I torture myself with a lukewarm shower, step into a pair of tights and cover them with an oversized sweatshirt. Paired with thick woolly socks with padding on the souls for additional comfort, I zip up my boots and grab my coat.
All in under ten minutes.
Yeah, I’m starving and risk turning into a foul-tempered tyrant if I’m not fed. Too much wine and tequila the night before will do that to a girl. There’s a little street cart by the river that sells the most delicious-looking oversized Nutella crepes, and based on the grumbling deep in the pit of my stomach as I pictured the gooey sweetness, that’s what I’m having for brunch.
Topped with whipped cream, strawberries, and hot Nutella sauce, I sit on the sidewalk and people watch while I consume it. I all but eat the plate and order a chai latte with a triple shot of caffeine from the canteen on the corner to polish off the unhealthiest yet to-die-for breakfast I’ve ever eaten.
Enjoying my latte, I tap out a quick message to Jarett with a photo of my breakfast ensemble which I managed to take before scarfing it down. It only takes a few seconds for him to reply.
Jarett: Where are you? I just got to the gallery.
His second text reads…
Jarett: That looks incredibly naughty in the best way.
Believe me, I want to be all kinds of naughty after last night. When I returned to my room after leaving Jarett, I called Raven to fill her in. To say she was hideously jealous was an understatement. We agreed to go to a club together when I return home, and she knows just the one to visit.
Since I left, she found out that Sean, the guy she’s seeing, secretly owns a club in Brisbane. Well, he’s a silent partner, but his cousin, Gina, runs it, and we can go anytime.
We also add a London club experience to our bucket list for the following year. I’d love to experience this city with my besties.
I’m still thinking about the conversation with Raven about cutting ties with Jarett when my phone buzzes again on the table.
Jarett: I can come to you if you’d prefer?
I shouldn’t want to see him as badly as I do. Could he be right when he suggested I want to create the distance before I get too attached?
I respond with my location, and my phone lights up again.
Jarett: On my way.
The problem isn’t my need for distance, it’s the strong connection I have with Jarett and my increasing anxiety surrounding my flight home on Monday morning.
I’m torn between seeing my girls back home, getting back to reality, and concentrating on my career progression or staying in London on a permanent fucking holiday with the greatest guy I’ve ever met.
I’m pathetic.
A silhouette of the woman I was when I arrived.
Fairy tale endings, my ass.
“Who’s an ass and what fairy tale?”
I jump at the sound of his voice beside me. Geez, I must have been talking to myself. Please sky, open and suck me into oblivion.
“Huh?” Like the raving lunatic I am, I pretend I’m none the wiser.
Jarett chuckles and hands me a giant-sized cup of coffee. “I know you love to have a week’s worth of coffee to start your mornings, so I didn’t hesitate in getting the largest takeout cup I could find on my walk here. Plus, talking to yourself at…” he glances at his watch and raises his eyebrows in pretend shock, “… nine fifteen on a Saturday morning deserves the strongest caffeine available.”
“Funny.” I roll my eyes, smiling up at him and thank him for the coffee.
He takes a seat beside me, so we’re both looking out over the River toward Westminster. “So, what do you have against fairy tales, Kassidy? Do tell,” he prompts me for my darkest secrets.
Not really, but you get the idea. I don’t fancy saying the words out loud.
“Honestly, I can’t remember what I was thinking now.”
Jarett accepts my answer without question as he watches a boat glide past us. “Okay, so let’s talk about today, then. What do you have in mind for day four in London?”
Another thing I haven’t given any thought to.
Have I become so reliant on him these past few days having him as my tour guide that I’ve forgotten to think for myself?
“Well,” I pause, and he waits, anticipating my grand idea.
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Nothing. I’m drawing a blank. My feet are exhausted, my brain is tired, and…” I pause, my laughter disappearing. “And I sincerely apologize for yesterday and last night. I think you may have been right. I’m deflecting as much if not more for my benefit.”
Saying it out loud takes a weight off my shoulders I didn’t know until now that I’ve been carrying. No wonder my feet are so fucking sore.
Jarett places his hand on my thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze. “No need to apologize. Let’s put it behind us. Our time is limited, and despite the creative thoughts you had about me, I like you, Kassidy, and I want to get to know you more before you leave.”
His words make my heart happy, and a genuine smile creeps over my face.
“I’d like that. Very much.”
“Thank fuck!” He lets out in a gush as if he’s been holding his breath. Leaning forward, he reaches inside his coat pocket and pulls out some tickets. “I may have taken it upon myself to plan our day. You know, hoping you’d come to your senses and not deny me your time.”
Taking the brochures from him, I plant a chaste kiss on his lips. There’s a tour bus heading out in an hour to visit Cotswold, Stonehenge with the promise of glorious scenery, tasty foods, and guided tours. A day of history lessons and scouring old castles and historical landmarks.
“A day in the country sounds like heaven, especially with the beautiful weather.” I raise my hands to the sky, emphasizing the beauty of the clear skies and sunshine raining down on us. It was a nice change from the drizzling rain, reckless winds, and blankets of snow I had experienced so far.
“Agreed. But first, I need you to accompany me back to the gallery as I have a surprise waiting for you that I’m both excited and nervous as fuck to show you.” He stands and offers me his hand.
All the confusion I woke with this morning vanishes as we walk in silence, hand in hand.
The butterflies in my stomach are probably drunk on Nutella, but I know it’s more than that. Being in Jarett’s presence invigorates me.
Balances me.
The man he is makes me want more.
More of him.
More from life.
More for my future.
Excitement bubbles within, and the desires of the heart aren’t far behind. But neither of these are aligned with my professional goals.
“Close your eyes, love.”
I think we’re standing outside his office. He didn’t bring me to this section of the gallery on my first visit. Without hesitating, I close my eyes and trust him to guide me safely.
The door opens, and after a few steps forward, the door latches behind us.
“Not yet,” he says, dropping my hand and taking me by the shoulders from behind.
“Is this a kinky ploy, sir?” I tease.
He responds with a soft chuckle in my ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dirty girl?”
Goosebumps spread over my delicate skin as his warm breath whispers over my bare neck.
My body hums with anticipation. We stop shuffling forward, and he moves to my side.
“Before you open your eyes, what you’re about to see is something extremely personal I want to show you. But it’s not the surprise I have for you.”
“Okay.” My interest piques to the max.
My palm in his starts to perspire and becomes clammy with my nerves.
“Open your eyes, Kassidy.”
Blinking a few times until my eyes adjust to the light, I’m drawn to the large painting on the wall in front of me. I notice Jarett in my side vision, watching me intently, waiting for my reaction.
I’m staring at a bold and gracefully appealing portrait. The same gorgeous woman in all the photos in his section of the gallery downstairs. The woman I referred to as a model he may have worked with.
“Wow,” I whisper.
The painting is elegant and eccentric all in one. He captures the natural grace of the woman and encompasses her in a mystical aura. A modern piece of art with a timeless centerpiece. The woman.
My mouth hangs open in awe of his artistic talent. I turn to him, his eyes still focused intently on me, waiting patiently for a response.
“Jarett, I have no words. This portrait is magnificently beautiful. And the woman, her elegance…” my words fade out, his expression remains unchanged, and he offers nothing further. He simply waits.
“Is this woman your… wife?” I whisper, unable to think of any other reason this piece would be so personal to him.
“Yes, this is…” he turns to the portrait, “… was, Helena.” He smiles wistfully as he returns his attention to me.
“She’s incredibly beautiful,” I tell him. The words are not nearly strong enough to do her justice.
“Helena was many things,” he begins. “Beautiful was definitely one of them.” He guides me to the sofa across the room. A room divider is pulled across the area, and I wonder what lies on the other side.
“You asked the other day about the woman in the portraits downstairs. I should’ve told you about her then.”
Oh, Jarett.
I hate that my reaction to the situation led him to feel this way.
Taking his hand in mine, I rub my thumb over his knuckles and look him in the eye. “This part of your life is never anything you should feel compelled to discuss if you’re not ready. And it wasn’t the time nor place to divulge such painful memories. I completely understand you not saying anything. Honestly, I wish Sophia hadn’t mentioned it because of the rift I’ve allowed it to cause between us.”
Silently, he pulls me to him in a comforting embrace and kisses my neck tenderly below my ear. “Thank you,” he whispers.
I want to remind him this is only a fling, and personal details are unnecessary. If he were married and his wife still alive, then yes, that’s information I would’ve been furious if he hadn’t shared with me. But this is different.
Pulling back from the intimate hug, he starts to speak openly about Helena. “She was the love of my life, I thought. The night before her modeling contract began in New York, I intercepted a text from the male model she was contracted to work with. They had worked together on past projects. She traveled a lot, and while I could’ve gone with her many times, I always opted to stay and focus on building my empire here.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes drawn to the floor.
I wait for him to continue, sensing he needs to have this discussion more for himself than to fill me in. And I’m happy to listen.
“The text was about ‘their’ room, Oliver telling her how much he couldn’t wait to have her in his arms again.” He sighs, avoiding my gaze.
My heart breaks for the man sitting in front of me. Not only did he have to deal with the sudden death of his wife, but she died soon after her lies and deceit were exposed. Cheating isn’t an issue to be dealt with in one evening, and she left the following day.
“Naturally, I scanned through the previous messages, and it appeared that she had been planning to leave me, or at least that’s what she had been telling Oliver.”
“Oh my God, Jarett, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” I move back into the sofa and prop my leg beneath me.
He shakes his head. “Words can’t change anything. Even at that point, nothing she said to me would change a thing. Funnily enough, when I confronted her about it, she barely batted an eyelid. As if sleeping around was part of who we were.”
Finally, he raises his eyes to me. “I was gutted. I couldn’t have imagined being with any other woman, let alone living as if it weren’t happening. It’s probably a downfall for me, but I’m all or nothing. Even this kind of thing…” he waves his finger back and forth between us, “… I never dreamed of having a fling or one-night stand with a woman, even before I was married.”
My heart skips a beat or two, and not for the reasons you might think.
As much as I try to hide it, my face falls. Quickly, my gaze darts around the room while I collect myself.
“Don’t go there, love.” Jarett takes my chin gently between his fingers and guides my head up until my eyes lock with his. “I’ve never thought wrong of it, it just wasn’t for me. I want that spark, a connection if you will, but something more than sexual. And that’s exactly what I felt the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I force a smile, but the worry remains. I see it echoed back at me through Jarett’s gaze. He chuckles. “Maybe not the ‘moment’ I laid eyes on you because if I remember correctly, your head was directly in alignment with the corner of the China cabinet. My first instinct was to grab hold of you.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, his touch so soft I melt into it. “Kassidy, the moment I locked eyes with you, a sense of who I was, the old me, began to stir. And each day since we met…” he counts out three days on his fingers for plausible effect, and I laugh softly, “… you’ve breathed life into me. A man who was nothing short of a soulless shell, and for that, I’ll never forget you. Or forgive you for leaving and not staying in touch at least.”
A sense of joy crashes over me and calms my soul. The soul that feels very connected to Jarett also. But I’m not yet willing to admit that to him.
Jumping up from the sofa, Jarett holds his hand out to pull me up. “Enough of that sappy shit, we have a bus to catch very shortly. And I still need to share my surprise with you.”
He pulls me across the room to where the room divider is latched closed. “First, you should know that every portrait you’ve seen, in fact, all that I have ever done, have been created with a live subject or from a photograph. I’ve never been able to or even felt inspired to sketch or paint from memory.”
“Okay.” I frown, wondering why he’s telling me this. He pushes the divider open, and we walk into a large open space. It’s filled with color, blank canvases, white sheets, and easels. “Welcome to what I like to call my drawing-room. It’s where the magic happens,” he states proudly, arms out wide. Over in the corner, he stands by an easel covered in a white sheet cover with splashes of paint.
“Ready?”
“You’re killing me… show me. Please.”
Ripping off the sheet, he exposes the canvas beneath.
My mouth drops, and my eyes widen with surprise.
It’s a black and white sketch of... me.
“Oh my God, Jarett. That’s me.” I clasp my chest with my hand.
“In my bed.” He grins cheekily. “You were waking up to me bringing your morning coffee. Your smile was radiant, and the way your wavy hair swept over the pillow, it captivated me.”
“You did this from memory?”
“Yes.” He kisses the back of my hand. “You’re my first.”
Swoon.
“Wow, Jarett. I’m... I’m speechless. It’s gorgeous, and you’re so freaking talented. It’s the sweetest surprise I’ve ever received.”
“I haven’t been compelled to create art in any form since Helena’s accident. Until I thought of you yesterday afternoon—while you were ignoring me—I couldn’t put pencil to canvas quickly enough. I simply had to see you, so I sketched you.”
He shrugs his shoulders as if this is an everyday skill. One corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and I almost say, fuck the bus tour.
Jarett is sexy as fuck, and the more I get to know him, the more attractive he is from the inside out. His character and personality are so uplifting despite his fair share of heartache.
I step over and kiss the life out of him.
Our lips meet with vigor.
He moans into my mouth as his hands slip under my sweatshirt and caress my back. I rake my fingers hungrily through his hair as our kiss deepens.
This man. I’m falling headfirst into my childhood fairy tale in a big way.
