Crossing the Line (8 page)

I wake to Mum shaking me. Not a welcome way
to rise in the morning I can tell you. “What?” I mumble.

“Get up,” she says in her no nonsense way
and I just know her forehead’s wrinkled from the major frown. Oh crap, I’m in
trouble. I push myself up and cover my face with my hands as the light attacks
my eyes. I feel as if I have someone drilling my head from the inside.
“Breakfast is in fifteen minutes, and I expect to see you downstairs. Your
father and I need to talk to you.”

I groan as she walks out and shuts my door
loudly. The cow did that on purpose.

After a quick shower, I throw on a pair
jeans and a t-shirt, not bothering to do anything with my hair or apply
make-up. I’m hung over, looking like a slob is all part of the experience. As I
open my door, everything from last night came flooding back. Aden carrying me
to bed. Me accusing him of using me when he wanted. Accusing him of marrying my
sister. Him walking out! Oh God I shouted at him a lot. The blood drains from
my face. Well there goes my job.

I make a U turn back into my room and grab
my phone, calling Aden to apologise and possibly claim someone spiked my drink.
The phone rings a few times and my stomach churns. I wouldn’t blame him if he
doesn’t want to talk to me ever again.

Finally, he answers but doesn’t say
anything. “Hi,” I say sheepishly.

“Hi,” he replies with a sigh.

Oh shit this is awkward. I squirm and bite
my nail. “Aden, I am so sorry about last night. I had way too much to drink,
and I shouldn’t have said any of that. I just-”

“Millie, stop,” he says, cutting off my
speech, which is a good thing because fuck knows what’s going to tumble out of
my mouth anymore. “I’m not doing this over the phone. Come over and we’ll
talk.”

That doesn’t sound good. Can’t do what over
the phone? Why can’t we do this on the phone? I really want to do this over the
phone! “Um, okay sure,” I reply nervously, knowing I don’t really have a
choice. I owe him a face-to-face conversation.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour. You’re
probably still over the limit,” he says and hangs up. Can’t wait!

I sigh and walk downstairs to face my
parents. Looks like it’s going to be a fabulous day for me. Not.

Their eyes snap up to me as I walk into the
room, sitting down a safe distance away. Mum stands without a word and leaves
the room. All right then. This just got serious.

Dad puts his coffee down and rests his arms
on the table. “I don’t think I need to tell you how disappointed we are in you,
do I?” The never need to tell me; it’s just a given since I was born. “You
embarrassed the family and yourself in front of your boss. Thankfully Aden is
so understanding and has agreed not to mention it. Amelie, do you have any idea
how unprofessional it is to have your boss carry you to your room because
you’re too drunk to walk?” Well when he puts it like that. “You’re grounded.”

I burst out laughing even though it kills my
head to do so. When he stares at me all serious I stop, realising he’s not
joking. “You’re serious, aren’t you? Dad, I’m twenty-one!”

He stands so calmly I actually question if
he really just said that. “Well you’d better start acting twenty-one. Until then,
we’ll treat you as you act. You’re not to leave the house unless it’s for
work.” He walks out on me too, and I stare, open wide and open-mouthed. I’ve
just been grounded. Well they’re going to be even more pissed off because I’m
leaving soon to meet Aden.

Chapter Seven

The drive to his house is silent and very,
very awkward. Aden has barely looked at me once, and I’m beginning to wish I’d
told him I’m ill so we’d have to talk over the phone. I literally have no idea
what I can say to make this better. Or to at least get him to look at me. I
should say something. Yeah, I definitely should say something.

“I like your hair,” is what falls from my
mouth. Wow, smooth! All right saying nothing would have definitely been better,
even if he really does have very nice hair.

“Thank you,” he replies, shaking his head
and fighting a smile. Well at least he still finds me amusing. The tension,
well a small part of it, evaporates. My stupid comment breaks the ice slightly,
but I’m still not looking forward to this talk we’re about to have.

We soon slip back into silence, and I
decide that I’m definitely going leave it now, who knows what else is just
waiting to vomit from my mouth.

We sit on his big leather sofa not knowing
what to say. I don’t want to start this time because it’ll no doubt be
something stupid, plus he is the one that summoned me here. Losing my job right
now would be fucking awful – I need it. What’s wrong with me? Why did I
ever think sleeping with my boss was a good idea?

“So...” I prompt, hoping he’ll say
something soon. We have already reached the world record for longest and most
uncomfortable silence.

He sighs and shifts, so he’s facing me.
There’s only a small gap between us, but it feels huge. I’m not used to it
being like this with him; we are always laughing, teasing and flirting. “Okay.”
He takes a deep breath. It seems like whatever he’s going to say is hard for
him. I gulp. “Alright, I’m sorry about last night... and all the other
nights...” he whispers quietly. Wait is he apologising for the sex?

My lungs collapse and I can’t breathe. Does
he regret what we’ve done? The wait for him to continue is killing me. “Aden,
please. Whatever it is just say it.”

“It can’t happen anymore,” he says, looking
down at the floor. “I crossed the line; it was unprofessional, and I’m
sorry.” His eyes finally meet mine, and they’re darker, sad almost. I want to
leave. My eyes prickle with tears, and I feel cheap.

“What can’t happen anymore?” I ask, already
knowing the answer. He is going to have to say the words. I need him to say
them and to be clear about what he wants.

He looks down at his lap. “Amelie, you know
what I’m talking about. Look, you’re doing a great job at work, and I don’t
want to lose you, so we have to keep our relationship strictly professional
from now on.” His eyes don’t connect with me once though his speech, and I
don’t know if he really means it or if he’s just saying it because he thinks he
should.

I want to push it and question if he really
means it or not but I don’t want to look desperate. I don’t want him to know
that I like him a lot more than I should. This is why I shouldn’t go for ‘our
kind of people’ as Mum puts it. I don’t belong in his world, even though I was
born into it. As much as Aden resisted at first he’s been sucked back in, to
some degree anyway.

“Okay,” I say, pretending I’m okay with it
and that the thought of just being friends with him makes me feel sick. I hate
my job right now. I want to quit just so I can keep seeing him but if I do that
it will mean staying at my parent’s house longer. “I guess we weren’t very
professional.” Especially in the copy room, his office, my office, the kitchen
and the ladies bathroom.

He smiles to himself “No, we weren’t.” Is
he thinking about all those times too? He picks up his coffee and finally faces
me again. “So, how’s the head?” he asks casually as if that whole conversation
never happens. All right, complete change of subject.

I smile, even though I feel like crying.
“Hurts.” Hurts is an understatement. A huge, huge, understatement. It actually
feels like someone is repeatedly slamming my head against a wall. This
conversation isn’t helping.

“Not surprised, you were pretty wasted. Do
you remember singing into your champagne glass?” My eyes widen. What? When did
I do that? He bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding.” I let out a sigh of relief.
God if I do that again I think Mum will actually kill me. The woman has no
sense of humour at all. Hmm, I should get her drunk so she’ll remove the stick
and lighten up a bit.

“Not funny,” I say, slapping his arm playfully.
He winces and rubs his arm, but we both know it didn’t hurt him. My Aden is
back. Whoa,
my
Aden? He isn’t my
Aden. I sigh. “So did you go home straight after you left my room?”

“Err, yeah,” he mumbles, shifting on the
sofa uncomfortably. Great trust me to make it awkward again. He looks at the
floor, crewing on the side of his mouth. What does that mean? Either he left
straight away, or he didn’t. I nod and let it go, deciding I’ll look like a
stalker if I push it. “Like the outfit today, by the way.” I want to slap that
sexy little amused smirk off his face.

“Shut up,” I mumble, suddenly wishing that
I’d put more thought into my choice of outfit. I’m hung over though so
comfortable it is.

He chuckles and looks me up and down. “I
didn’t say you look bad.” Seeing the lust in his eyes makes me want to jump on
him, but we aren’t doing that sort of thing anymore. Apparently. But if he
doesn’t want to then why is he looking at me like he wants to rip my clothes
off and fuck my brains out?

“I should go,” I announce. Being around him
is confusing and painful. I need to get away from him, clear my head and get
over what we had – wild sex – so we can continue working together.

“Already?” He frowns and his eyes look
distant as if he’s having some internal debate.
Yes, we can have sex one last time.
“I’ll drive you home,” he
finally says and stands up.

“Thanks for the lift,” I say as we pull up
outside my house. “I guess I’ll see you at work.” If I still have a job, that
is.

“Actually, I’ll see you at dinner tonight.
Your mum’s invited me and my parents.” I gulp as I realise operation get Isabel
married to Aden is underway. Fuck what if that’s why he ended it with me? What
if he’s just blaming the boss/employee thing when it’s really because he’s
marrying my sister? “Millie?” he says, frowning in my direction.

Shit I’m still in his car. “See you
tonight,” I mumble, jumping out of the car in a hurried daze.
Way to make yourself look like a crazy
person, Amelie.

As I walk up the path the door flies open
and Dad storms towards me. “Amelie, inside now,” he growls, nostrils flaring
and forehead vein popping.

“You know I’m an adult, right?” I say
sarcastically.

“Inside!” he snaps. Yeah, I really, really
need to get out of here soon. I stomp upstairs to my room, ignoring Mum and Dad
moaning about everything that’s wrong with me – which is a lot,
apparently.

As soon as I’m in the safety of my own
room, I grab my mobile, needing to speak to Will before I kill my parents. “I’m
not talking to you,” he says down the phone. What happened to hello?

“Well you’re not doing a very good job of
it.”

He chuckles down the line. “You haven’t
called me in a week. I was starting to think you don’t love me anymore.” I can
practically see his pout.

“Stop being such a girl. I really need to
talk to you,” I say, sighing and flopping down on my bed. I met Will at
University; he’s from the same background as me but is embracing it. He likes
the money and cars. Still, he isn’t stuck up.

“Ah, the hot boss I’m guessing?”

I groan and launch into everything, fully
catching him up on the past weeks events. By the time I’m done he’s laughing
down the phone. When did I miss the funny bit? “Just fuck him,” he says simply.

“Fantastic advice, Will!” I reply
sarcastically. “That’s what got us into this mess.”

“Well you both obviously want to, so just
jump him.”

I slap my hand over my eyes. “Did you have
a mental shutdown when I told you he said it couldn’t happen anymore?” How dumb
is he? Aden made it pretty clear it won’t happen again, there were plenty of opportunities
for it to have happened earlier and it didn’t. Will’s an idiot.

“Ah denial.”

I narrow my eyes even though he can’t see
me. “I am not in denial!” I have no problem admitting I want to lock him in a
sex dungeon and have my way with him whenever I want. By the time I hang up I
wonder why I ever called him in the first place. Will’s advice usually was
‘just sleep with it’, so I don’t know why I even tried.

Since I’m catching up with friends, even if
they’re being annoying, I send Christie a quick email to see how she’s getting
on in the Big Apple – why didn’t I go with her again? – and give
her a brief report on my complicated situation. She’ll probably have similar
advice to Will, though.

My head feels like it’s going to explode
still, so I lay down to have a nap. Hopefully I’ll manage to sleep right up
until I have to get ready for this stupid dinner. If I’m even invited.

Isabel appears at my door as I slip on some
very high black stiletto heels. Operation sleep until dinner was very
successful and I don’t even feel like I’m being bashed in the head anymore.
“The Fords will be here any minute, so you need to come down,” she says,
turning her nose up at what I’m wearing. I’m hardly in a fucking boob tube and
leather skirt; I have on a plum knee length dress, which barely shows any
cleavage.

“Wouldn’t want to be rude now,” I mumble
under my breath sarcastically and follow behind her. Being just two years apart
we were close growing up but when she hit her teens she turned into a mini Mum.
I was supposed to ‘grow up’ too, but I never have. I don’t know why you’d want
to, when you stop doing things that make you scream in laugher, blush the
colour of a London bus and fall down drunk, you age quickly.

Pre-dinner drinks are waiting for us, just
seeing my dad sitting on the sofa drinking champagne makes me want to run
screaming. Isabel joins him, picking up a glass and I want to shake her. Can
she really not see she’s middle-aged already?

The wine is so close to me, but I know
pre-drinks is champagne and Mum’ll have a heart attack if I try cheapening her
evening, so I sit and take the glass from Dad’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,”
I say and immediately take a large sip.

“Please come through,” mum says, and I
freeze, knowing it’s Aden. She was ushers Aden and his parents into the room.
My eyes fall on him and my mouth dries. He’s wearing black trousers and a smart
dark blue shirt with the top button undone. Simple and understated but at the
same time I’ve never seen anything so fucking gorgeous in my life. Forget the
wine, I need vodka.

He hasn’t seen me yet, but that’s probably
due to Isabel who’s jumped up and made a beeline for him.
Not desperate at all, Isabel.
He responds, talking politely but
keeping his distance. I gulp, realising I’m still sitting on the chair like an
idiot. I literally don’t know what to do; I feel so out of place, like if I
wasn’t here no one would even notice.

Isabel twirls her hair around her finger,
and I almost lose it. I stand and walk over to his parents and mine. I make the
group an uneven number. Another reason why I feel like a third – or
seventh – wheel.

“Hi, Aden,” I say when there’s a gap in
their conversation.

He looks to his side, and a little thrill
– well a fucking huge thrill – runs through me as his eyes widen. I
want to point in Isabel’s face and say ‘ha, he likes the dress’ but of course I
don’t.

He bites his bottom lip as he rakes his
eyes over my body discretely before composing himself. “Hello, Amelie. How are
you?” Wow over polite. He’s been inside me; I think we’re past talking to
each other like we’re strangers.

“Great, thanks. How’re you?”

“Very well, thank you,” he replies, amused.
I smile back and roll my eyes, making him chuckle. I breathe a sigh of relief.
His politeness is just for everyone’s benefit, which means not everything has
been wrecked by our few hundred indiscretions. If they weren’t here, he would
probably say something rude.

“Amelie, can you get me another glass of
champagne, please?” mum asks. My mouth almost drops open at how bloody obvious
she’s being. She is totally trying to get rid of me, so Aden is left with
Isabel.

“How drunk are you planning on getting?” I
ask her, raising my eyebrow. I’m not her fucking slave, and I’m not letting her
win. Her eyes widen and flicker to Aden’s parents who are still talking to dad,
blissfully unaware of the showdown happening right now. Her shoulders relax as
she realises their attention is on Dad.

“Amelie,” she scolds quietly. Her eyes,
slightly narrowed, do most of the talking.

“Mother?” I smile sweetly which seems to
just piss her off even more. Her face reddens, and of the corner of my eye I
see Aden fight a smile. Oh God don’t look at him. My own lips pull up, and I
fight to keep a straight face.

She holds her empty glass out to me.
“Please, Amelie.” Her voice is tight; head tilted very slightly to the
side, meaning she’s taking no shit. It actually looks as if she’s going to have
a breakdown. Wow my mum having a breakdown. I wonder what that would be like?
Would she scream? Pull her hair out? I bet she’d swear. I’d love to hear her
swear.