The Temp (11 page)

23

It had taken an extreme amount of willpower.

Eventually, Eve was staring at the demi-god from across her kitchen counter, a measure of space that wasn’t far enough for anyone with even an ounce more self restraint than Eve. Eve wanted to pounce, the urge was blatantly there. A mere mortal such as herself should be able to make breakfast and control herself. Mere mortal…as if he would accept her anyway. She was a toy in his eyes. The more she thought of him as a god the less she was worthy to even be in his presence. It was going to be a long morning, what with the Greek mythology and a ramped hangover.

             
Thank god for the kitchen counter.

Her place was small enough already without a billionaire playboy judging it to his standards, this must have been a closet to him. His wardrobe would have been bigger than this.

Eve’s pulse thrummed with too much energy. Her blood hummed in its veins singing to him like he was a magnetic force.

The way his eyes gleaned hers unabashedly. The way he saw her, so naked, so bare, how could he not know her secrets plain on her face? She kept hard at work cracking eggs into the bowl and whisking away, hiding every nervous action as proactive movement.

She was going to have to get used to him being here. She didn’t know what she wanted out of him, something she could call her own perhaps? She couldn’t delude herself knowing his history. What could he give her? What could he truly give her?

Minutes later she poured the scrambled eggs onto the plate and set it before him. At least he wasn’t naked anymore, in his white shirt from the night before, slightly crumpled. At least he was descent
…Don’t go there!

“You don’t have any social media accounts,” he said.

Eve blinked back, her brow marring. “You looked me up? You Googled me?” As much as the flattery hit first there was an invasion to her privacy. She’d become accustomed to feeling overly protective over privacy. She shouldn’t be Google-able. She couldn’t be; she’d made sure of it.

“All my employees have to be checked out online.”

Eve bit into a toasted triangle, in dire need to keep her hands and mouth busy. “I’m sure you’re not the one who has to do it. It seems a little below your pay grade.”

“I had to. You’re not even on linked-in. As a temp, shouldn’t you be putting yourself out there?” this caused her cheeks to flush hot red. His voice calmed a fraction, “I had nothing to go on except a name and a profile.”

She smiled to herself. “Roman Pierce Googled me.”

“You didn’t do the same?”

Eve bit into another triangle. “I like being unconnected,” she dug a fork into her eggs, somehow she had no appetite yet forcing herself to keep busy would distract her from the beauty before her. Beauty, such an understatement. Was it beauty and the beast? Was she the beast? She couldn’t be
so
hideous in comparison to him, she tried to assure herself or else why would he be here anyway? Why indeed?

His head tilted on its axis. “I don’t. You’re an enigma.”

“Coming from the sphinx, I might be inclined to take that as a compliment.”

“Sphinx,” he mused. “I like that.”

“Call me old fashioned”-

“Old fashioned.”

“I deleted my accounts,” she said.

“Why?” why indeed.

“I found it was attracting unwanted attention,” Eve glanced away; her feelings flush on her skin. It had been one of her downfalls into the life of a blackmailee. She was sure there’d been something online linking her to a past she didn’t like nor could forget. At first having social media accounts was a fun way of keeping in contact with the few people she still knew in this world. Eventually, she realised the technology and its advances were of no advantage to her. There were face recognition technologies being utilised in everyday web nets, her face for the world to see.

It made her heart race, her chest hurt. 

She shouldn’t have such a past; no one should. In earnest, things the blackmailers knew didn’t have to do with her, it was more her family and what they’d done. She was guilty by association. Now she was in the thick of it and she’d never been guiltier in all her life.

“Eve,” Roman breathed. Her pupils dilated. “Where did you go?”

“What?” she busied with the plates, piling them together.

“For a second you were far away.”

“Sorry,” she smiled pseudo sweetly.

“Eve, you’re giving me nothing.”

“You have my resume and my previous work places. It’s more than others get.”

“How someone is at work doesn’t define how they are outside.”

Eve couldn’t agree. To be honest her outside life had sparked how she was seen at work, by Trigger especially.
Oh, no.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Did I really call Trigger last night?” it hadn’t registered until this very second.

His face held hers narrowing in a dark stand off. “He came to the club,” his voice was clipped.

“What happened?”

“It was decided I would take you home and he would call in the morning to see if you were alright,” there was an edge to his voice that had her biting her lip. Was he jealous? How could he be? Trigger was Trigger.

Her phone buzzed right on cue.

Eve answered on the first ring. “Trigger I’m sorry about last night.” She looked at Roman and turned her back away and walked into the bedroom. There was an underlying message Roman was trying to convey to her, a tensing of his jaw. Eve didn’t have time for his mucho antics.

“What happened last night?” Trigger said. He jumped right in like he always did. No,
hi, how are you? How are you feeling after last night?
For once she wanted a kind of Trigger she could understand.

“I can’t talk about it right now,” Eve said. She knew the distance from her bedroom to the kitchen and knowing everything could be heard. It was weird to have to whisper in the vicinity of another man, she’d never done it before, especially one as hot as Roman. Why did she feel so guilty and ashamed?

“You’re not alone,” Trigger confirmed. “Is he there?” there was an underlying clip to his voice, one she couldn’t decipher.
Great,
two men mad at her. It was a fantastic start to the day. “What were you doing at that club anyway?”

“I’ll call you back,” Eve hung up before he could protest.
Men.
She stood there a moment staring at her phone knowing the man in her kitchen was watching her every move like a hawk.

He didn’t say anything as she walked back towards the sink placing the dishes in. “You know Trigger, he was concerned,” Eve shrugged, as if it were a relative calling. She didn’t have a clue about the relationship between Roman and Trigger.

Were they adversaries. Were they friends?

Maybe Trigger was a brotherly figure to her. If they were partners in crime didn’t it bring them closer like family? What a twisted family it was and yet it wouldn’t be more twisted than the one she had actually come from.

Eve paused, turned, bracing against the edge of the sink. She faced him head on.

Roman was silent, waxen statue silent, unnervingly so.

“Because I called him and because he’s my boss,
was
my boss.” It seemed appropriate to have to explain herself, why was she explaining herself? Roman was like the judge, jury and executioner. And did he miss the way she said
was
? Her chest tightened, he wouldn’t change his mind would he?

“You’re accepting my proposal,” his eyes lit up, his mouth quirked. The previous Roman was vanquished behind a smiling boyish charm.

“I’m not accepting anything. I’m accepting a trail run,” Eve pressed a finger on the table top.

His eyebrows knit together. “What exactly is a trial run?”

Eve didn’t answer as she busied herself with the dishes again. She knew he was watching her by the way his eyes seared into her back, melting her knees. She’d eaten her own share and drunken enough water to banish the headache, so at least it
felt
like she was thinking straight, though in his presence it was hard to say.

She let out a shaky breath.

Then his hands were around her waist catching her off guard. His touch, his smell encased her. Those hands, so strong and soft against her. She sank into their feel. There was something so reassuring about his presence there, she paused and inhaled as if he’d always been there and always would be. His front was against her back. His warmth thrust against her, his hardness pressing into her. Her breathing spiked, her blood sizzling at his touch.

“I like you in this,” he whispered in her ear, the heat from his lips feathering her neck like fluffy air born kisses. His hands travelled down the waist of her pants. She’d changed out of the bra and panties from last night to a pair of black slacks. There was nothing special about her slacks or so she thought, needless to say, she was never throwing them out after today. She hadn’t showered knowing she wouldn’t be able to control herself with Roman in the vicinity; she tried her best to be clean regardless. A man in her apartment! And she was expected to go about her day as normal!? The phone rang a shrill throng. “Don’t get it,” he hissed. His hands implored as they tightened around her.

It rang a second time. 

Eve wanted to relent. Hell she wanted to be the sassy vixen and reciprocate and throw him onto the kitchen counter with herself on top. The other Eve, the one she was trying really hard to suppress at this moment had another damning realisation.
Only a select few have this number.

The phone rang a third and fourth time. Eve was stuck.

It stopped ringing. Saved. She let his hands travel down her again, succumbed to his will. The phone rang all over again.

It rang the first time; her eyes trained on him. His gaze smouldering like coals over the fire, her belly warmed, her blood diverted to anywhere except her brain. Eve pushed away and answered on the third ring.

“Sorry Eve, did I wake you?” it was Trisha, she sounded anxious. “I got called in at last minute is there any chance”-

“Sure thing, bring him over. Are you alright?”

“No, not really, can I come over?”

“Yeah,” her brow creased. Eve hung up a moment later.

Trisha wasn’t one for phone conversations which suited her. If she was rattled it was Eve’s business to know and console her.

Roman Pierce watched her every move.

She returned the look, an apology imbedded on her lips. “I have to babysit my neighbour’s kid,” she left out the part of having to talk to Trisha. It was a spur idea, maybe he could stay with her while she cared for Jack, Trisha would have to go soon anyway, the idea of a family and permanence entered her subconscious. What if he wanted a family? What if he wanted more? What if?

Suddenly breakfast seemed like an eternity ago and Eve had a flitting image of herself down the aisle. She grabbed the sink.
Snap out of it!
She pushed down her runaway thoughts and turned back to Roman.

“I’ll get out of your way,” he said.

What?
Her eyes widened in shock.

Roman came round and pulled her into him. He pressed a kiss to her lips. He didn’t give her time to respond. He let go and grabbed his wallet and phone from a stand nearby. “Tonight, you’re mine.” He closed the door behind him.

The dull thud reverberated deep into her bones.

Eve touched her lips, the butterfly after touch, his butterfly scent lingering on her neck. Her blood coursed like it was on fire, dying out slowly. Her heart…was stupefied.

Something didn’t add up, a moment ago he was willing to stay, more than stay. What had happened? Why did he go so fast?

He’d bolted faster than a 100 metre runner. Was that the effect a kid had on him? A numb ached invaded her, a piercing shot through her body.

The image of her in a white dress dissolved into mud.

Stupid Eve. Stupid hope.
Had it been plain on her face? It answered her questions all too suddenly, confirming exactly what she was here to do.

Roman was a job, he didn’t want permanence. He couldn’t contrive the idea as easily as she could. She couldn’t have feelings for him.
Wouldn’t.

24

“Eve, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Trisha looked like hell. Her make-up had been put on haphazardly and clearly she’d been crying from her blotched nose and tear streaked face. 

“What’s wrong?” Eve hustled them in.

Jack sat nestled against Trisha’s hip, his red curls bouncing. He appeared fine and oblivious to his mother’s condition. It was bizarre seeing her here when not so long ago Roman had been in her apartment and now he was gone as fast as the flash, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Eve stung with rejection all over again, as if she hadn’t had enough already.

Trisha lowered Jack onto the sofa. “I didn’t have anyone else to go to,” she whimpered. Trisha did not whimper. She was always the defiant Amazon who never let anyone get the better of her. The woman shook before her in a deranged mass of red hair.

Eve embraced her first, without words, it was the first thing Trisha always did when she was feeling low. It was the first thing to give Eve hope there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Trisha was cold to the touch, her cheeks wet, her arms shaking around Eve. Giving Eve that ever sinking feeling, something was truly wrong with Trisha. Eve pulled back and stared down at Jack. Innocent sweet Jack was dressed in jean breeches and a red top underneath; he resembled a mini Mario brother minus the hat, his hair sat bob-like on him in a bleached golden red halo.

Trisha didn’t look so good. Her hair was a little frayed, as if she’d brushed it in a hurry, her eyes appeared colourless and glassy, the life drained from them. Even her black uniform hung limp on her slack shoulders. Her mouth twitched, the words hung on the tip of her tongue. She glanced at Jack; it didn’t look like she would let them go unless Jack couldn’t hear her.

Eve took the little boy by the hand and walked him to her bedroom and onto the bed. She grabbed her old-school headset and set her mp3 to play. The music would be enough for him to be in a world of his own. Jack played along with his cars while the music played, not loud, enough to block out what was being said as the two women sat round the counter.

Trisha moved at a cautious pace, her attention flitting here and there casting a furtive look out the window, which faced out onto the next building. Eve recognised the look, those skittering eyes. She’d been there before in those same shoes. It was the haunted look of a woman on the run from a past catching up to her.

What had her so spooked?

Jack was still visible from the kitchen counter, the sweet boy playing with his cars; only he was far away with no chance of hearing, not with the music in his ears. His attention was directed to the block coloured cars in his fists as he raced them from one bed post to the other. Eve watched him with envy wishing she could ignore the world in the same way.

“Eve, I’m scared,” Trisha gripped the counter; her knuckles white over the edge, her face pale and devoid of blood. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth when I met you. I didn’t want the past to be a part of our lives,” she cast a fleeting look at Jack. “He’s all I’ve got in this world and I would do anything to keep him.”

Eve pressed a hand to Trisha’s; the woman was ice cold, colder by the second. Eve didn’t say anything as she waited. Whatever it was, Eve hadn’t told Trisha the truth of who she was either.

In time Trisha would relinquish whatever she was holding so close to her chest.  “I didn’t tell you everything about Jack’s father. We were together for a while until”-Her eyes watered, she was fighting hard to contain herself.

Eve didn’t know much of the man, only what Trisha had told her that he hadn’t been much of a parent and wouldn’t pay child support.

“He’s violent,” she uttered in the lightest of whispers. “We were happy and one day he snapped, one day it all changed. I didn’t want him to hurt Jack so I ran away with him. I changed my name. I”-she broke off suddenly. “I didn’t think he’d be able to find us. He’s a resourceful man but-” There was a flash in her eyes, a tactile fear flitting forever below the surface.

“Trisha it’s alright,” Eve rubbed her hand. It wasn’t.

“I think he found us.”

“How?” Eve held onto both of Trisha’s palms pressing her forefingers into them, squeezing life back in, trying hard to distract the woman from her pain.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Trisha bit her bottom lip.

“Tell me.”

“I have this bad feeling. There are these men watching the apartment.”

“Who?” Eve’s adrenaline spiked.

Men watching the apartment? There was fear for Trisha and Jack, selfishly though, first in that moment she feared more for herself. She hated it instantly. What if they were waiting for her?

“I’m scared he’s going to take Jack and punish me.” 

“Are you sure these men know him? Are you sure they’re really watching you?” it seemed the logical reaction especially given deep down Eve feared they were actually for her.
If it was real.
She should prefer it to them being after Trisha and Jack, at least they’d be safe. She’d prefer it if these men weren’t actually watching their place and Trisha had gotten nervous. If this man was as bad as Trisha said, then it was possible; she’d been living with it for quite some time. Guilt, fear and angst could manifest into a bigger fear. Trisha nodded not saying anything else. 

Eve pressed on. “Tell me Trisha. Tell me about the men, what did you see?”

“They’re in a van. They sit there all day.” Eve bit her lip.

“Are you sure?” Trisha nodded. “Could it be the road works round the corner or isn’t Brady’s café having some renovations?” it was a spurring idea, relevant enough to relieve her momentarily. 

“Eve, don’t you think I’ve considered all of those things? I’ve been watching them. I really wish I was wrong. They’re not part of any of the crews working nearby.” She gripped her hard. “They. Never. Leave. The. Van.” Eve dropped her hands down to her sides. Suddenly gravity was a heavy force she had to fight, a sinking feeling as her stomach hit the floor. “Eve, are you alright?”

Eve braced the counter, the dizziness subsiding.
Get. Control. Of. Yourself.
She forced herself not to weaken down into a huddle. She needed to be strong, at least for Trisha who was absolutely terrified and for Jack who could be in danger. 

She balled her fists, as tightly as she could. She stood up, came to terms with the fear in a matter of seconds. For Trisha. For Jack. For herself. She had a moral obligation to protect them, for all she knew this was her doing.
Please let it not be them.
She wished badly for Trisha it wasn’t Trisha’s past but Eve’s come back to haunt her, at least they had a fighting chance; they could get away from her.

“Show me the van.”