Never Land (11 page)

            “Don't worry,” he was whispering into my neck. “Believe me, Neve – you have no reason to worry. I want you and only you. I won't let her hurt you – hurt us...I’ll prove it to you. You’re the only woman I want, and I want you so badly right now...” He kissed me deeply, slowly; I felt my whole body shake with longing. He whispered into my ear, tickling the lobes with his tongue. “Do you want me to go further, Neve? I won't unless you want me to!”

            “Yes!” I almost shouted it.
Yes, I want you. To make me scream. To make me forget.

           
He pulled me onto the bed, undressing me, filling me with longing, playing me like an instrument, my whole body responding to his every touch as he brought me to the brink and then over it, again and again, until I was soaked and stained with sweat – mine and his – the sheets tangled between us. We fell asleep in each other's arms, and when we woke Danny's face was so angelic, so peaceful, that I felt a deep sadness rise in my throat. How could he sleep so softly, so dreamlessly, when so much confusion and complication hung between us?

            I stood up to get a drink of water and noticed that an envelope had been slid under the door. Room service? I bent over to pick up the paper.

            No sooner had I read it than my hands began to shake, sending the paper tumbling to the floor.

           
You have been warned. If you refuse to listen to my wishes, there will be consequences.
It was unsigned, but I knew all too well the source of the note. Had she been outside – listening – all night? Was she standing in wait, outside – as Danny and I had sought solace in one another, as we'd made love?

            I felt sick to my stomach.

            Veronica was even crazier than I'd thought.

Chapter 13

            I gasped aloud. I looked down at the floor, the note fluttering downwards. I felt sick, nauseous. The whole world around me seemed to spin and turn; I grew dizzy.

            “Are you okay, Neve?” Danny's soft voice called from the bed. “Neve, darling, what happened?”

            But I couldn't think. My mind was going white, then blank, then white again – utterly blocking out any thought but the fear and nausea that were seeping through me.

            “Neve, talk to me...”

            I reached out to the bed, putting a hand down to steady myself. “She's crazy,” I whispered. “She's really crazy. I don't believe it.”

            “What are you talking about?” Danny clambered over to the end of the bed, taking me in his arms. “Who's crazy?”

            “Roni,” I said, my voice faltering. “Your ‘she's not that big a threat.’”

            “Roni?” Danny looked confused.      

            I picked up the paper gingerly, as if it were a piece of hot coal, and showed it to him. “She slid this under our door last night,” I said, my gorge rising. “While we were...you know. She came back and wanted me to see this.”

Danny's eyes widened as he took the note from me and began to read it. “This is insane,” he said at last when he had finished, his jaw dropping. “Are you sure this is from her – not an imposter? Or someone trying to mess with you?”

            “Believe me, I'm sure,” I said firmly. “After all, I've spoken to her. I know what she's like.”

            Danny gritted his teeth. “You're right,” he said. “She is – absolutely mad. Completely unstable.” He turned to me, pain in his eyes. “You'll be careful, right, Neve?” He pressed my hands to his lips. “Promise me you'll be careful, okay?” He sighed deeply. “I'll take care of Roni as best I can. I'll do what I have to do – even if it means telling my father what I know about her. But between her and Geoff...” He kissed me, holding me close. “Listen, whatever you do,
don't worry.
I'll take care of this for you. I'll keep you safe, believe me.” He held me tight and close, kissing me passionately. He tasted sweet, slightly salty, his body still warm from our exertions of the night before. “Do you trust me?” His eyes grew wide, and within them I could see that signature soulful look that still had the power to make me melt. “Do you trust me, Neve?”

            I only hesitated for a moment. “Of course I trust you,” I said, reaching out and taking his hands into my own. “Do you trust
me?”

            “
Of course I do,” he said. “It's been so long since I trusted anyone the way I trust you. It's never been this way, not since...” his voice trailed off, and I felt a pang at the absence, at the presence of what he did not say, of
her
name.

            “Let me show you how much I trust you,” Danny whispered throatily, taking me into his arms. He covered my whole body with kisses – fervent, hurried kisses, each one faster and sharper than the next, as if to cover me completely, to drown me in the force of his passion. Every kiss seemed to say to me –
trust me. I care for you. I want only you.
Each kiss seemed to drive the tension, the fear out of my body. I took in his whole naked body, delirious with joy at his beauty. At his rippled muscles, his bare flesh. At the tattoo of a blue lion beneath his right breast that looked so perfect, so intoxicating, against his tanned flesh. I loved feeling his body against mine; I loved feeling him inside me. It meant that we were close, he and I – a closeness that managed to cancel out all the pain, all the worry, all the vicissitudes of the outside world. Roni could come between us – she could make me jealous with a simple toss of her beautiful doll-like head – but she could never come between us
here
, here where Danny's body seemed to meld into my own. I closed my eyes and moaned aloud as Danny's fingers found the place that always made me cry aloud for joy that made my body shiver in delirious waves of ecstasy.

            It was only afterward when, showering together, washing away the sticky sweet smell of sex off our bodies, that I realized how tired and hungry I was. It was getting close to noon, and I hadn't eaten dinner last night. I hadn't eaten anything since before Roni had shown up to Danny's apartment – and my stomach gave a loud rumble. Danny grinned at me. “I think it's time I showed you one of this country's most innovative inventions. I refer, of course, to the classic English fry-up?”

            I groaned. “All that grease – first thing in the morning?”

            “I could take you to the bog-standard version. A cheap cafe with slightly dubious sausages. But I've got an idea that might appeal more to your Californian nature, love. There's a lovely little brunch place in South Kensington that does rather more...elaborate fry-ups. Game sausages, free range eggs, ethically sourced food – the works. Does that sound a bit more your style?”

            I smiled. “I could use some free range eggs right about now.”

            “Come on...” Danny took my hand, and before I knew it we were driving through the picturesque streets of South Kensington, a posh district with a decidedly European atmosphere. Little cafes and boutiques dotted the small, historic streets; the smell of baking bread wafted from a French patisserie on the corner. Danny led me into one cafe on a street corner, greeting the waitresses – who all knew him, I noted – and ordering us two enormous platters of breakfast.

            Yet no sooner had I put a steaming forkful of eggs into my mouth than we were interrupted by a low, almost sad voice.

            “Danny?” It was the voice of a woman in her mid-fifties, an elegantly-kept woman with a pale blonde bob and a meticulously tailored coat. The wrinkles on her face did little to mar her beauty – she had the kind, warm, sophisticated look of a woman who has aged into her years with grace and wisdom. Her face was familiar – strangely familiar, I thought, but I could not place it. Next to her stood a stunningly handsome blonde man, perhaps a few years older than me, with a boyish smile that seemed to fade on his lips when he saw Danny. He sighed quietly, approaching warily.

            “Oh, Danny, how have you been?” The woman reached out and hugged Danny – tightly, to my surprise – so tightly that it seemed to make even Danny uncomfortable. “I heard you went away...” Her voice wavered.

            “Yeah,” Danny looked down. He looked embarrassed, shy – not like his usual confident self. “I'm so sorry – I meant to keep in touch, I really did.”

            “Of course,” the man said, his voice slightly curt.

            “We have missed you, Danny,” said the woman. “Please do give us a ring sometime if you're ever in London. It would be our pleasure to see you again, wouldn't it, Pete?”

            “Sure,” said the man, in a voice that made it clear that he didn't mean it.

            “Whenever you need anything, Danny – you've always got a home with us.” The woman squeezed Danny's hand, smiling a smile that – I noticed with curiosity, seemed marred by tears. Then the two of them hurried out of the cafe, leaving me alone with Danny. The one called Pete looked back at me, a strange and inscrutable expression on his face. Not the hostile look of contempt I'd been used to getting from Danny's “set” here in London – but certainly not friendliness either. He looked curious – intrigued, even. But Danny had made no effort to introduce me.

            “What was that?” I asked him.

            Danny looked uncomfortable. “That,” he said slowly, “is Peyton's mother. And her kid brother, Pete.” He swallowed. “Well, not really a kid anymore, is he? They moved down to London after...after Peyton's father died. Poor woman. Losing a daughter and a husband in five years.”

            I swallowed hard, flushing pink. No matter where I went, it seemed, I couldn't get away from Peyton's shadow. Her perfection. Her death.

            “I'd tried to stay in touch with them, you know, after the accident. To make sure they had whatever they needed.” He looked down at his plate. “But when I left for America again, we lost touch. It was too painful. I'd been one of the family – like a son to them. Pete and I were like brothers. But after Peyton's death....” He sighed deeply. “Her mother forgives me. Perhaps she shouldn't – but she does. But Pete...he thinks I'm responsible for killing his sister.” His eyes grew dark. “And perhaps I am, Neve...”

            “Don't say that.” I too had grown pale. Seeing the effect Peyton had on Danny, even in death, was enough to undo all the confidence I had regained in Danny's arms this morning. Enough to make me wonder what I was doing with this man who – crazy stepmother or not – was clearly in love with a ghost. I tried to swallow down the tears along with the worry.

            But Danny noticed my discomfort. Taking my hands and squeezing them across the table, he raised them to his lips. “Come on, cheer up,” he said. “I've got a present for you, remember? We've got to head on over to Blues Enterprises – it's waiting for you there...”

            I slipped my hand in his. “Okay,” I said brightly. But deep down, I couldn't ignore the pain in my heart. I kept thinking of the look on Pete's face, of the tears in his mother's eyes, of the shame and guilt on Danny's face.

            But even now, all it took was a squeeze of his hand, and I was Danny's again. I bit my lip. I was an animal, caught in a trap of my own making. I couldn't stay – nor could I go.

           
You fool, Neve.
I whispered to myself.
Why did you ever fall in love?

Chapter 14

            After brunch, Danny led me to his father's offices at Blue Enterprises. The office building – an enormous chrome-plated skyscraper that stretched almost into the clouds – was one of the most impressive, intimidating-looking buildings I'd ever seen. The lobby was constructed out of gilt and marble, with plush red velvet chairs and Persian carpets; the elevator was made out of clear glass, so that the comings and goings of the various workers were completely visible. This was more than just your average office building – it was Clarence Blue's dreamscape, as decadent and over-the-top and whimsical as the man itself. No sooner had we walked in through the front door of the lobby, the doorman waving us over to the special VIP elevator, than I saw Danny noticeably stiffen. This whole building seemed to have a cloying effect on him – the power of his father looming over him from however many miles away. He seemed paler, less healthy – as if the building were draining him of all of his life force, all of his strength.

            “Come on,” said Danny hoarsely. He didn't look like he wanted to talk too much about the way he'd suddenly blanched, as if in fear. He smiled and took my hand, evidently putting on a brave face. My heart went out to him. How I wanted to comfort him, to make him smile, to kiss the color back into his cheeks. “I have to show you something.”

            In a corner of Danny's elegant office lay an enormous wrapped box – one that, I noted as I stepped closer, my heart beating faster and faster with excitement – had a distinctive hourglass shape I knew all too well.  I couldn’t help the excitement in my eyes as I expectantly looked over at Danny.

            “Go on then, love,” Danny said grinning. “Open it.”

            I tore off the wrapping paper, guessing what it was; as I lifted the box, my hopes were confirmed.

            “A guitar,” I breathed, picking up the gorgeous instrument from its case. I stroked the frets, running my fingers up and down the strings. It was the most beautiful guitar I'd ever seen. As I felt its weight in my hand, I knew that this guitar was more than just attractive – it was a great instrument, hand-made, specifically crafted to my hands.

            “I had them custom make it,” Danny explained, turning red almost sheepishly. “Just for you. Sized from my memory exactly to fit your body and hands like a glove. But the design by the strings, here...” He pointed to the blue lion sketched at the corner of the guitar. “That I painted myself.”

            I smiled with recognition. The tiny blue lion matched almost exactly the tattoo I had recognized on Danny's chest. My heart swelled with happiness as my cheeks flushed pink. Danny wasn't just giving me a guitar – he was giving me a part of himself, an image that he wore so close to his own heart every day. I held the guitar in my hands, cradling it close as if it were a child, all the way back to Danny's place, overwhelmed by his gesture. Danny seemed embarrassed by his own emotion; he kept smiling and blushing and looking down as he saw how much I loved the new guitar, watching me play with the strings, unable to wait until we got back home to plug it into the amplifier and see how it sounded.