Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1)) (41 page)

“Looks like you’re off the hook this week Mrs.” Mike nudges me and smiles.

“It would appear so.” I offer quietly. I look at my empty page, I have taken no notes despite the rich material offered and Sam looks at my page.

“Not like you nerd?” He nods to my page with the query across his brow.

“Oh don’t worry it’s all in here.” I tap my temple and start to pack my bag. Everyone around me has started to shuffle and make their way to the exit but I decide to sit until the room is clear and then wait a bit longer. I can fool myself that he might not have seen me in the room full as it was; but an up close and personal encounter, I know I won’t fare so well. I have to wait a while for the room to clear as Daniel takes his time with the overly keen students vying for his attention. I rest my head in my arms and close my eyes, a huge mistake. I am woken; and I don’t know how much later but there is definitely a little drool in the corner of my mouth, by the kind face of my course leader. He is gently shaking my shoulder as I re-orientate. I discretely wipe my mouth and smile, wow I am embarrassed.

“Sorry Mr Wilson, it’s very warm in here and I must have been a lot more tired than I thought, sorry. I didn’t fall asleep in the lecture.” I add quickly hoping he wouldn’t think me that rude and he laughs.

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time a student has my dear, but I believe you. I was just coming to lock up and saw you. Lucky I did or you might’ve been here all night.” He laughs again. Really I’m so exhausted I probably wouldn’t have woken before morning anyway.

“You lock up the rooms?” That didn’t seem right, surely that is more a job for security than for a Head of Department.

“When I’m asked to.” He still hasn’t moved to allow me to get up. “Bethany, I wanted to check how you are doing? You seem a little pale and well, you just don’t seem yourself, some of the Lecturers’ have commented and I wanted to make sure you are Ok?”

My face flushes red with this level of concern; again I think this is outside his remit as course leader. “Oh, that is very kind, I’m fine, really I’m fine. I love the course but I have been working a few extra shifts and I just think it’s taken it out of me, but nothing to worry about.” I insist. “I’m fine.” I smile but my stern tone I hope will field further personal questions. I go to move, but he still makes no indication that he is about to join me in leaving the theatre.

“You don’t seem fine.” Ok, so maybe I need to work on my stern ‘don’t ask me any more questions tone,’ but he looks so sincere and kind there is no way I can get cross at his insistence.

“My mother died recently.” I know it was mean to use this excuse and make him uncomfortable in the process but it does have the desired effect.

“Oh, oh I am sorry Bethany.” He reaches for my entwined hands and squeezes. “I had no idea.I understand how traumatic that must be . . . if you need anything from me, you know you only have to ask.” He pushes himself up out of the seat and I follow him along the row. “We better get a move on or we will both get locked in and that
will
have tongues wagging.” He gives me a cheeky wink, any awkwardness vanishes and we both laugh.

It is dark across the Quad and there are only a few students left. I decide to walk home. I know it will take me a good hour but I am in no hurry to be alone in my apartment. Besides, I love London at night this time of year. The Christmas decorations are up and the luxury arcades along Piccadilly look spectacular, festive and magical. The window display in Fortnum and Mason is decadent and luxurious, with mountains of mouth-watering Christmas Fayre arranged in a feat of gravity defying art; glossy glazed fruits, rich dark chocolates and cinder toffee; thick mince pies and delicately iced Christmas cakes. My tummy rumbles as I step my first foot on the Piccadilly road in anticipation of passing these windows.

I reach the corner of the street just after Fortnums’ when I notice Daniel’s driver standing at the back of his car, he waves me over. I look around, I don’t know who would be following me but I still want to check I don’t recognise anyone.

“Hey Peter.” I greet him cheerily. “Christmas shopping on the clock?” I quip. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the boss, us ‘staff’ have to stick together.” I snort.

“You were never staff Ms Thorne.” He tells me quietly.

“I think you’ll find I was.” I’m still smiling, it might hurt like fuck but there is no reason for everyone else to know that. “Anyway, how you doing?”

“I am well Ms Thorne and you? Are you keeping well?” His voice is tinged with concern and I wonder how much he knows, probably more than I would want but his eyes are kind.

“Really Peter, Bethany is fine, actually Bets would be much better and yes I’m fine.” I wonder if I am using that description more because I know how much Daniel hated it, I smile at this. “I’m fine, anyway it’s freezing so I’ll maybe see you around.” I turn to leave.

“May I please drive you home, as you say it is cold and it is still some distance from here?”

“Oh I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I say in a gravely humorous tone, “if you’re not in trouble for Christmas shopping you’d probably get the sack for giving me a lift, not worth the risk my friend.” I laugh. “It’s not that far through Green Park.”

“I can’t let you walk through the park Ms . . . Bethany.” Bless him, he is struggling with the informality.

“Don’t sweat it and no offence Peter but it’s not your call. Thank you all the same, see you.” I turn and head off at a brisk walk. I decide not to go through the park, the streets are busy and the roads are gridlocked but when I turn to cross the road I notice Peter is slowly following me in Daniels’ Bentley. The traffic is moving no quicker than my walking pace so he is pretty much on my heel the whole way to Knightsbridge. We even pass one another several times and I wave, he looks exasperated at my stubbornness but he’d not thank me if he got the sack just before Christmas. I remember painfully that I was escorted from Daniel’s building; he would throw a shit-fit if I was using his personal driver for my own convenience.

The kitchen is busy with the final orders of the evening and Joe tries to tempt me eat a little of the special, a venison meatball spaghetti, which I’m sure is delicious but would be way too rich given my limited intake of food recently. I do agree to a small bowl of the tomato and basil soup which I carefully hold in my hands as I tuck my legs under me on the sofa. I knew I was hungry but I didn’t think I would be able to actually keep anything down. The soup, however is sweet and the basil tastes so fresh I finish the whole bowl. I suddenly feel so tired and I lay down on the sofa. I don’t know where it comes from but I am soon heaving with such sadness my shoulders are shaking uncontrollably, and my tears a free falling, drenching my face. I thought I was coping, I knew I wasn’t but I can’t believe this pain, it hurts so fucking much. I can’t believe I miss him so much and I’m so fucking angry, how could he believe those pictures without question? How could he believe her, believe I didn’t love him, how could he look through me like I was nothing? Because to him, you are nothing, you’re a fucking idiot! I then hear some lyrics float from the kitchen below about ‘sharing all my secrets and all my fears but the hardest part not having you to hold’ and it feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest because ‘I can’t bear to let him go.’ This crippling pain is me
not
bearing it and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to survive Daniel Stone.

I don’t know how long I release my sadness in to the sofa cushions but my eyes are now dry, they are empty at least when I hear my bag vibrate. My body feels unbelievably heavy and with herculean effort I push myself up and retrieve my bag. Rummaging to the bottom, I notice it is the phone Mags gave me that is vibrating. I just hadn’t got round to sending it back. I’m amazed it’s still kept its charged. Expecting the call centre ID to be flashing I almost drop the phone when I recognise Daniels number flash across the screen. My heart that had been bleeding on the floor now leaps to my throat and I stare at the phone for ages. I shouldn’t answer it but it just keeps ringing. Why is he calling me on this phone? I guess I could ask him? I press the button and tentatively hold the phone to my ear like it might explode.

“Daniel?” My voice is barely a whisper. Silence. “Daniel, why are you calling me?” The line is quiet but I can hear his gentle breathing.

“Lola?” His voice is smooth; my senses are instantly on high alert. I wait a moment the silence palpable.

“Sir.”

“Lola, Good evening.” His voice is smooth and commanding.

“Sir? I . . . I” I stutter.

“I said Good evening Lola.” His dominant tone very clear and I shiver.

“Good evening Sir.” I acquiesce.

“Good girl.” His deep sigh is sensual and captivating. I know Sir is Daniel but I don’t know what he wants. What I do know is that my body is programmed to obey him and it starts to tingle with anticipation. “Now . . . how have you been? I think it might be worth mentioning now about my view regarding lies, Lola. They won’t be tolerated and you will be punished.”

“I should be punished.”

“Really? Why would you say that? Have you been bad?” His tone is serious his voice is dark.

“I must have been very bad Sir.” My voice is shaky. “I don’t think anyone could suffer pain like this who hadn’t done something so terrible to deserve every bit of it. So yes I think I must have been bad and maybe in a previous life too; maybe I was Genghis Khans mother.”

His laugh rumbles through the phone and the light sound makes me smile. All this pain and I still glean some much needed warmth from his voice.

“I am going to help you Lola.” He states as a matter of fact.

“Sir,” I sigh at this futile conversation. “That is kind but I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Did I ask you what you thought?” He is dismissive of my reservation. “I want you to get changed into one of my gifts to you and in ten minutes there will be a taxi waiting to bring you to me.” I gasp

“Da-” I don’t get to finish his name.

“-LOLA!” He shouts down the phone making me jump.

“Sir I can’t see you, I can’t come to you, I’m sorry I just can’t.” My panic evident in my rushed objection.

“You can and will.” He growls his demands. “Lola you will come to me and I will make the pain disappear, I will make your pain disappear. Now you can do as I say and you will be brought to my flat,
not
my apartment or I will come and get you. Do you understand Lola?” Oh fuck, I can’t let him come here but at the same time I do want him to take my pain away, I really want the pain to go away. I am so scared. I can’t help a small sob reach my mouth. “Lola I won’t let anything happen to you that you don’t want to happen.” His voice is pure sin but he adds in a softer serious tone, “You will be safe and everything that is important to you will be safe.” He is adamant, his voice is reassuring but then I worry that I just think it is reassuring because I need it to be. “Don’t over think this . . . ten minutes.” He hangs up.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

My head is spinning what the fuck! I can’t risk him coming here, that is just a no; but if I’m to get a taxi, then that means no driver to tie back to Daniel. Also not going to his apartment and the fact that he won’t answer his name is all good, I think. I don’t really know what to think but as it stands at this moment I am Lola and Lola is taking a taxi somewhere to meet
Sir.
If I wasn’t so scared shitless I would be hugely turned on by the dominance of his request and this clandestine rendezvous. I run into my bedroom and dive on the boxes in the corner. It is pretty easy to differentiate which garments came from Sir and which came from Daniel and I quickly identify a black and emerald green corset and matching silk panties, with black seemed silk stockings. I slip my black suede knee high fitted boots and pull a simple grey jersey dress over the top. I don’t own a Mac type coat or any smart long coat for that matter so I push my arms through the sleeves of my army green Parker, not quite the image I was hoping for but it’s bloody freezing out there now.

I hear the horn of the taxi and my heart ratchets up in speed. I put my keys in my bag and make my way outside. I keep telling myself I don’t have a choice because I can’t risk him turning up here. At the same time I am curious to know what he wants from me, or how he plans to help me. I can’t sit still in the taxi.

“Do you know where you’re taking me?” I ask the driver.

“Yes Miss.” He smiles but says nothing more.

“Do you mind me asking who paid for the booking?”

“You can ask Miss but I can’t tell you, it was a cash booking. All up front so I’m afraid there is no way of knowing, same goes for your return trip.” He hands me his card. “Just call me when you need picking up, I’ll be outside anyway, but I can pull up right by the door if I know you’re on your way.”

I take his card, “Oh,Ok, thanks.” I feel stupid being so paranoid, but then I have pretty good reason to be and now I can’t help thinking this is such a stupid thing to be doing, what if . . . Oh God. “Look.” I address the driver, “Umm I think I’ve changed my mind. Can you take me back?”

“Ah sorry love, my instructions are to take you to the destination and escort you into the building, if there was any change in the plan, I was to wait at the destination for the other party to join you to bring you back here. So I guess I can take you back but . . .”

“No.” I sigh. “No it’s fine, I thought for a moment that this was my choice.” I mumble. I feel my phone buzz with a text.

ENTRY CODE: Z78423P FLOOR 18 FLAT 181

My mouth is suddenly dry. The driver turns a corner to a complex of buildings I recognise and pulls up outside Pauls apartment block. I am really confused now. Paul was discharged yesterday but I know he is staying at his parents’ house in Notting Hill for a while; also his flat is on the fourteenth floor so I know I’m not going there. The driver walks around my side but I have already opened the door and got out of the car. He walks beside me until we reach the side entrance with the entry keypad. I press the numbers and say goodbye but he waits until I am fully inside and the door has clicked locked. I wave and he finally turns to leave. I wonder if he is expecting me to change my mind and walk back out and as he leans against his car still looking at me I realise that’s exactly what he is expecting me to do. Or at least what he has been warned I might do. I wave again and turn toward the bank of lifts. My hands are a little shaky and as the lift ascends it is not just the sudden weightlessness that is making me feel nauseous.