Ice Burns Read online

  I steady my breathing, and turn towards the man I’m pretty sure stole from me. I just want to find out why.

  *AMBER*

  I close the door behind me and practically run towards the female bathrooms. Since the toilets on our floor are also customer toilets, I compose myself as I walk in, but finding it empty I collapse onto the chez lounge inside and, overwhelmed by the last few days, sob my heart out.

  My body is buzzing from the last 10 minutes. I am so confused. I feel violated, but nothing actually happened. I feel vulnerable and lost and miserable. I’d managed to pull myself together this morning and get to work, deciding to put Aiden out of my mind. The last thing I expected was to have him in my office first thing this morning.

  I wonder if he saw Mr Marks practically on top of me. I wonder if he saw me push him off, or if he thinks I’m screwing my boss. I am also surprised that Aiden is one of our clients, and worried it might mean I can’t see him any more. Except I’m not seeing him anyway, am I? He stood me up yesterday. I want to find Sarah and tell her everything, but she has a special arrangement in her contract that means she doesn’t come in till 10. I should be at my desk, going through mail that came in over the weekend. I have a job to do, and my boss might be a predatory sexist jerk, but my landlord won’t care.

  I dry my eyes and head back towards my office. I’ve just sat down at my desk when the door opens again, and Aiden walks back out of Mr Marks office. He sees me sitting there, and I can see in his face that he knows I’ve been crying. He glares back at Mr Marks and says “I’m going to talk to Amber for a moment. Stay in there.” The shock of him ordering my boss to stay in his own office must be written on my face, because he flashes a brief - painfully sexy - smirk as he gently shuts the door and walks over to me. He swivels my chair to face him, then goes down on his haunches in front of me, taking both my hands in his. I want to resist him, push him away, but I can’t. Instead I just focus on a point behind his shoulder, not meeting his eye.

  “Amber, I am so, so sorry about yesterday. Something happened. I found something out,” he tilts his head in the direction of the office, and the curve of his lip makes it evident that it’s not something good. “And, well, my phone took the brunt of my rage and ended up smashed. I tried, well, a bunch of things, but I couldn’t get hold of you, and you’d already left Battersea by the time I got there. I was going to extort your number out of the event company from your ticket information as soon as they return my call, and start running Google searches on every Amber in the world”

  “It wouldn’t have helped”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t have a ticket for Friday night. I used someone else’s.” I look down at him.

  “Oh”, his shoulders droop and he looks entirely defeated, before he seems to realise that it doesn’t matter anyway, because he found me. For a crazy moment I feel like Cinderella, with Sarah as my fairy godmother, but instead of a glass slipper my fair prince was scouring the country looking for a matching credit card number. Not as romantic as Grimm’s version, but on the up side, no one had to die to make me Cinderella. Except he’d never have found me that way, and there our fairytale would have ended, I suppose.

  “But I found you,” Aiden echoes my thoughts and then something seems to occur to him. He bites his top lip and looking up into my eyes, he asks, “Amber, are you and Jackson… is there something… “

  “NO.” My eyes go wide and I vehemently shake my head. “He is… I hate… he’s the one Jamie rescued me from on Friday. He’s a horrible, sexist letch, and mostly I can ignore his advances, but today he was being particularly aggressive. If you hadn’t come in when you did…” I start shaking all over and tears well up in my eyes.

  Aiden drops his face into my lap and forgetting that I am angry with him I kiss him on the top of his head. He smells of shampoo and hangovers, and I wonder how he spent his night. He shivers under my touch and I hear a muffled “do you forgive me for yesterday?” from my lap.

  “I do”

  He looks up at me. Up close I can see his eyes are slightly bloodshot and filled with concern. His thumb traces my lower lip.

  “Things might get very complicated here for a while, Kitten. If what I think I know turns out to be true. I don’t want you getting caught in the cross-fire.” The butterflies in my stomach scatter across my body as my nickname leaves his lips, and I’m about to lean down and kiss him fully, for the first time that I will remember.

  There’s a squeak as the door to Mr Marks’ office begins to open and I squeeze Aiden’s other hand a final time, diverting my lips to his ear, I whisper that I’ll call him tonight.

  Aiden stands and walks over to Mr Marks and in a voice so calm and quiet it’s more scary than his earlier anger, says something to him. The phone starts to ring, I let it go to voicemail. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I hear my name, and see Mr Marks flick a look over at me. He nods curtly and retreats into his office.

  Aiden walks back to me, takes my face in both hands and plants a firm, luscious kiss on my lips. It’s warm and sensuous. In this moment there’s nothing else. Just his lips, my knees buckling, the scent of him filling my nose, my hands going to his chest, and my heart pounding hard enough to crack a rib.

  A moment later he’s gone, and for just a second I’m not even sure he was ever really there.

  The spell is broken as Mr Marks storms out of the office. He avoids my eyes and tells me something’s come up and to cancel all his appointments for the rest of the day.

  *AIDEN*

  The day drags on something fierce. The confrontation with Jackson Marks wasn’t even a real fight. The guy crumbled under my questions, and I gave him 48 hours to return my money before I reported him. I didn’t tell him this, but I’ve already sent a detailed email to Mr Anville - and this was before I found the twat dry-humping my girl. I’ll rip him limb from limb if he ever looks at her again. I hope he got the message.

  Fuck. This girl. I don’t remember ever being so possessive about Lizzy. I don’t remember ever wanting to commit violence over her either. To her, that one time, yes, but over her, never.

  I’m so messed up right now, I send Jamie a text.

  Me: I need a round of squash or a bottle of Jack. You free?

  Jamie: Shit. Weekend that good or that bad?

  Me: It was both. And I need you now.

  Jamie: Sorry fuckface. I don’t swing that way. Anymore.

  Me: Piss off Jamie. What’s it going to be?

  Jamie and I are like brothers. I know he’ll drop everything when I need him and visa versa, but I don’t even know where to start with this.

  Jamie: Gym in 20. Start there, and see how it goes.

  Me: Bring a Jack anyway. I can play and drink at the same time.

  And he does. We end up playing Jack Squash or Squash Jack or Drinking Squash. I don’t know what you call it, but for every point, we both drink. I don’t think the gym manager is impressed, but he just glares at us and doesn’t say anything.

  I tell Jamie everything, from leaving him sucking face with Faraday Cage Chick to this morning, and by the end, we’re both pretty shit-faced, reclined against the wall of the squash court. More than anything, he can’t believe I didn’t notice that I lost a quarter of my inheritance. He also can’t believe I’m in love with Amber.

  “I’m not in love. I’ve just met her!”

  “Yeah, Fucker, you’re in love. It’s all over your jerk smile and your pussy face when you talk about her. And you had her naked in your house and didn’t fuck her. You’re a gentleman, sure, but this is record timing brother, even for you”.

  I’d argue, but what’s the point.

  We hit the showers and I try to sober up enough to talk to Amber tonight.

  *AMBER*

  It’s been two days since I last saw Aiden at the firm. I had to help Sarah with a family issue at home on Monday night, and on Tuesday I was just exhausted so went home, but we’ve spoken on the phone till late every night,
and spent most of the day texting each other. He’s filled me in on what’s happening with Mr Marks and I’ve told him that Mr Marks hasn’t been back to the office since he left. I’ve spent two days cancelling appointments and fielding calls. Jodie told me Mr Anville is heading back from Greece and he’s not very happy. She also told me about the conversation between her and Mr Blythe - I guess she doesn’t know that I know Aiden. She made it sound like they’re really familiar, and I pretty much want to scratch her eyes out, but I asked Aiden about her and he said she had given him her number, but he’d only ever spoken to her about work stuff. I know I can be too trusting, but I really do want to believe him. Jodie did mention the missing files and strange duplicates originating from our office, so I’m looking into that.

  Something Mr Marks wouldn’t necessarily know about the computer system the firm uses is that as a user, he can only see the most recent version of any documents on our server. He can add and replace documents, but rather than deleted files disappearing into nothingness, the original documents go into an archive so that there’s a record of each version of documents sent to and from our clients, and also interdepartmental letters pertaining to each client. Every note, letter, form and phone message is attached to a client’s unique code and recorded - that’s how finance knows what each client’s billable hours are, after all and Mr Anville is a stickler for record keeping because “records, dahlings, are money”.

  Administrators like Jodie and I have access to the entire archive, but most of the senior staff don’t, because generally, they’d claw their own eyes out rather than do anything as mundane as writing letters or filing them. Mr Marks has always been an exception. He seems to like managing his own admin on some clients. At first I didn’t believe Mr Marks could be skimming but I’ve been going through his files on the server and there are small discrepancies all over. They’re all so small though, you could easily assume a fee, or a client lunch or a lost receipt, but nothing as big as the millions on Aiden’s account. I’m keeping a record of it all, but so far I’ve not mentioned it to anyone else.

  Mostly, I’m just in a text marathon with Aiden, and we’ve talked about almost everything. Favourite movies, holiday destinations, books. We’ve come to near blows - by which I mean frowny faces and throwing up emojis - about music and what’s good and what’s not. We both love Italian food and sushi, neither of us likes football. He is much more sporty than me, and I go to the cinema more than he does. There are things we don’t talk about though - Mr Marks being one of them, after the first day. Aiden’s ex-wife, baby and parents being another. He doesn’t ask about my family either. I guess some things are better talked about in person.

  This morning our texts became a lot more flirty than they have been and I feel like we’re moving into some wordlessly agreed upon next phase.

  Aiden: Are you at work now, Kitten?

  Me: Yep, just sat down at my desk.

  Aiden: Hmmm. Are you wearing that blue pencil skirt you had on on Monday?

  Me: No. Not one you’ve seen, this one is dark green.

  Aiden: Hmmm… would you be offended if I said I’d had some fantasies of you in the blue one? But I like green even better.

  Me: Not offended at all. Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about?

  Aiden: I don’t think I should. It’s very dirty.

  Me: Well, if it’s dirty, maybe you should take it off me?

  Aiden: LOL! Didn’t see that coming. I’d love to take it off you though. Run my hand up your thigh, hook my fingers in the waistband, and pull it off over you. Pin your arms up in it, so I can have my way with you.

  Me: … … I may be entirely okay with that.

  Aiden: Are you busy tonight?

  Me: I don’t know. Am I?

  Aiden: ;) Yes, you are. Dress code smart & sexy ;)

  Me: Uhm. You’ve seen the entirety of my sexy wardrobe. Unless work-smart will do?

  Aiden: Nope. Meet me in Kensington station at 3? Promise to be there this time ;)

  Me: Too soon, buddy. Anyway, I have a job that doesn’t finish till 5.

  Aiden: I suspect JM won’t mind. If he ever comes back. Meet me?

  I think it over for about a third of a second. We’ll call it time in lieu for all the extra half hours I’ve done in the mornings over the last few years. And since the cat’s away, this Kitten wants to play.

  Me: I’ll be there.

  I arrive at Kensington station a little after 3 and immediately spot Aiden loitering about the turnstile exit. I pass through, scanning my Oyster card to pay for my travel, and I’ve no sooner stepped out than he’s physically picked me up and is backing me up to the wall. I squeal and wrap my legs around him and behind us people scatter out of our way. We slam into the wall and Aiden is kissing me so fiercely, I’m left breathless, panting, both exhilarated and mortified at this extremely public display. His hands are on my face, in my hair, running up my now very exposed thigh, and I can feel his hardening length between us, when there’s the clearing of a throat next to us, and a man’s voice says, “Uhm, move it along now, please.”

  I see a very red faced, embarrassed looking station attendant looking everywhere but at us, and begin to giggle. Aiden’s voice is gruff and low as he says, “sure, sorry”, and he closes his coat jacket over his front to cover what’s otherwise quite obvious.

  Taking my hand, he leads me out of Kensington station and into the town. Our first stop is one of those gorgeous boutiques I’d sometimes walk by and look through the window, but never dare step into, because I couldn’t afford accidentally tripping and ripping a dress or something.

  I’m about to tell Aiden I couldn’t possibly, but he seems to sense my hesitation.

  “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, Amber, but I’d love to buy you something to wear to a jazz bar with me, Jamie and some friends of his tonight. You could go wearing what you’re in right now, or my old sweats - which you still have, by the way,” he winks at me, “or a burlap sack, if you wanted and you’d still be the most beautiful, attractive,” his voice goes low and gruff again, and the flutter just below my belly sends a spurt of wetness straight into my panties, “sexy woman in the room. But if you’ll let me, I’d love to buy you whatever makes you feel the way I see you already.”

  I swallow hard, and there’s no resistance in me. Right here, right now, this man could tell me he wanted me to burn the world down and I’d do it. I am putty in his hands.

  We spend a couple of hours looking through different boutiques and I try on a few dresses. I’m just not sure with any of them, as they seem so much more than me. More sophisticated, more sensual, more grown up. I ask Aiden to choose, and he obliges me.

  “I surely only need one dress?” I say as he chooses three gorgeous outfits I am really excited to be able to wear.

  “For tonight, yes, but I hope to get more than one proper date out of you?” He throws that sexy lopsided grin my way, and the fluttering in my heart goes wild.

  “Maybe. If you play your cards right,” I make exaggerated eyes at him and he laughs, pulling me into another of those kisses that cause heat to radiate all the way through me.

  We page through shelves of dresses so pricey they don’t even have tags, and he stands behind me, rubbing up against me, always touching me, planting little kisses, illicit touches that tear through me, right to my core. His hand is in the small of my back, as he leads me through a door, and it runs down my hip as we talk to to the shop assistant. He twirls the hair on the side of my face, watching me as I look through outfits and he devours me against the changing room doors when there’s no one else around. His hands rarely leave me and my skin sizzles as lust rips through me time and again. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on. It’s an afternoon of foreplay, I can feel it in every tingling nerve of my body. A body I’m really glad I shaved and showered this morning.

  We make one final stop before having a bite to eat, and I see a beautiful dress I love. It’s a deep mahogany re
d with spaghetti straps and it’s way, way shorter than I’d ever wear in public, but the colour changes to almost black as the light moves over it and I adore it. Next to my pale skin and my black hair, it’ll look like something out of a magazine. Aiden insists I try it on, and I do, but the zipper ends awkwardly in the middle of my back and I can’t reach it myself, so I ask him to come into the changing room and help me.

  Aiden steps into the cubicle and for the first time since Saturday, we are completely, entirely alone and in a very small space. Aiden turns me around so that I can see us both in the full length mirror, and does up my zip. His breath is coming hard and fast, and I know he can feel the surge between us as much as I can. He is looking at my reflection in the mirror, taking in every curve, running his hands sensually down my sides, along the bottom of the way too short dress, lingering between my thighs and I can’t stop myself, I back up into him, my eyes not breaking from his, slowly gyrating myself against him. I can feel the full length of him between my cheeks and up my back and in this moment I am She-Ra, the warrior queen. I am invincible, I can make this hunk of a man react in this way to me.