“No. Enough of this now. It’s bad enough that Landon dares to try my patience, but I am not taking this from you. Leave.”
“Father?”
“No, Ivy. I’ve done everything I can for the four of you over the years, but this is becoming an annoyance I will not tolerate. Whatever it is that you’re trying to uncover, stop it. There is nothing there.” He steps back into his office and shuts the door in my face, enough force in the move that it actually makes me jump a little.
My mouth’s still open five seconds later in shock. Having never seen him be quite so shitty towards me since childhood, I’m utterly flabbergasted at the attack. Landon gets it still, yes, but Seffi, Neve, and I? Not at all. At least not like that.
Closing my lips, I narrow my stare at the grain of the door. I’m almost ready to go in there and finish off what I started, but then I remember the bruises on Landon’s arms when we were young, and that, while annoying enough for me to think about letting rip back at him, is enough for me to deliberate the potential of winding him up any further.
At least one thing’s glaringly obvious. Considering the fact that he did get as wound up as he did, I now know, without any shadow of a doubt, that he most definitely is hiding something.
My thoughts drift to Landon again as I walk out to my car and get in. He might be an arsehole, and I might still be better suited to his new job than he is, but it only takes a few seconds of those memories to bed into my guts again, and I remember all the reasons I don’t go off the handle at him about it. There is no choice in this family, certainly not for him. Never was. I’m surprised Father ever let him go to the States at all.
I sigh as I start the journey back across town, decidedly annoyed with everything and now feeling a little reflective of years gone by. I doubt either Neve or Seffi would remember, but I do. I can still visualise Landon taking the brunt of Father’s anger long ago to protect us from it, still feel his hand pushing me out of a room, and I can still remember the sound of his tears after whatever happened in that room.
Before I get to the road heading towards mine, I slip off and drive towards the park. Maybe I need a walk. Clear this head out before I go back to dealing with whatever that pile of paperwork means. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind someone to walk with, talk with. I don’t know why, but being alone with these thoughts never bodes well for me. It makes me maudlin and depressed, makes guilt rush through my veins for some horrendous reason.
That last feeling is enough for me to fuck the thought of a walk off and change my plans to something that might change my mood. I look at my phone as I pull up on the side of the street and scroll through my contacts, searching for someone spectacular in the bedroom department with green eyes.
“Hello,” Blake’s voice says, after it’s rung a few times.
“Hi. Fancy a meet up?”
He sighs on the end of the line, a door closing in the background. “What for?”
“Well, I don’t know maybe we could—”
“Dinner first.” Oh. Okay. Although, I’m not the least bit interested in food at the moment considering my late lunch. Still, I rack my brains, trying to think of somewhere that serves decent early evening food.
“Okay, there’s a place in Kensington that—”
“No, Ivy. Somewhere normal, not fancy or expensive. Do you know anywhere real around here?” I frown at the comment, annoyed that he might see me as that. We’ve already had the beer conversation in Kabul; I’m not going through it again.
“There’s a pub near my place if that’s more your thing. Roast beef and Yorkshire puddings? I can text you the address?”
“Alright. Sounds good. I’ll see you there in half an hour.”
And with that, the phone goes dead.
My eyebrows shoot up, confusion, once again, taking over where this man is concerned. We’re going out for dinner now? In a pub? I snort at the thought. Short of occasional drinks on a weekday for business, I can’t remember the last time I had a meal with a man in a simple pub. Still, I fire off the name of the place and location details and put the car into gear, reversing out of the parking spot I’m in. Maybe he just wants something relatively normal while he’s back in town. I mean, with all the countries he’s been working in, perhaps he hasn’t had a normal meal in God knows how long.
I smile to myself at the thought and keep driving across town to meet him. Normal? We don’t live particularly normal lives. We’re here, there, and everywhere. Most of which includes some sort of drama and chaos to keep us on our toes. I think we both love that life, though. I do anyway—always have. And he’s a nice guy. Maybe I should be giving this thing happening between us a little more serious consideration. Who knows where it could lead?
By the time I'm close to the address, I've turned the music up loud enough to break the sound barrier. I don’t know why, but thoughts of Landon and troubles and issues have all but disappeared from my mind, and the look of Blake leaning on the wall when I pull into the car park completely clears anything left.
Fuck, he’s hot.
I giggle lightly and reverse into a spot, getting out soon after.
He kicks off the wall as I approach, jeans and a clinging T-shirt showing me all those assets he’s still offering. I look over his features in the clear daylight, totally absorbed in the green, piercing eyes and slightly messy hair. “A red Porsche?” he says, apparently surprised at my choice of vehicle.
I glance back at it, smiling. “Yes. It’s my one pride and joy. And no, you can’t drive it.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I doubt you’d even fit in it.”
He chuckles and pulls me flush against his chest, one strong arm around my lower back. “How’s the backseat?”
