Crossing the Line Read online

  “Seriously, though, you don’t want to drink it.”

  Who the hell does he think he is? “I’m having it,” I say stubbornly, and he shrugs, defeated. When I look up, everyone is smiling at us. Whoops, domestic in public. Renee winks at Aden. What is that about? I look back at him just as he lays his arm back over my chair. He looks like a child that’s just been told no, and I realise Renee’s look was telling him he’s whipped.

  “Okay, can you pass me all the alcohol we have out here,” Danny asks.

  All the alcohol? At the end of the table is about five or six bottles of spirits and two bottles of rose wine chilling in a bucket of ice. Danny starts tipping way too much of the spirits into the pitcher. All the bottles? Oh, crap, it’s a shove anything and everything in kind of cocktail.

  “Regretting your stubbornness?” Aden asks, smirking.

  So there’s no way I’m going to admit that to him. “Nope. Actually I can’t wait.” He’s the one that will have to look after me when I’m puking up the lining of my stomach, so the joke is on him.

  When the sweet chilli dip goes in too, I start to really worry. They seriously drink this? My eyes flick to Aden, who’s sitting back in his chair with a cocky, amused grin. I have two choices. One, refuse the drink and take the smugness from Mr know it all. Two, drink the crap and shove said smugness in his face. Of course, I choose option two.

  Danny mixes the so-called cocktail with a kebab skewer and pours me a small glass. Thank God it’s a small glass. “Here, enjoy,” he says as he pours the crap for the others.

  Aden grabs my hand as I raise the glass to my lips. “Millie, you don’t have to.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Yes, it’s our tradition. You don’t have to, though.” I frown. If it’s a tradition, then I want to do it. I want to be involved as much as the rest of them. Hopefully I’ll be with Aden for a long time, so I take my drink from his hand and down a mouthful.

  Their tradition can go fuck itself. I gag as the messed up crap burns all the way down my throat. Not making a face is impossible. I had hoped that I could pretend I like it but that idea goes to hell the second it rapes my taste buds.

  “There’s something wrong with you all.” I wave my hand at them and gulp the last of my woo woo to mask the taste. It doesn’t work. “You’re all sick.” His friends laugh, even though they groan in protest too.

  “Aww, my little lightweight,” Aden whispers in my ear, with a sexy low chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His lightweight. I like the sound of that. Unless he thinks he owns me. If he thinks that, he can go play with the traffic.

  “Shut up, Aden,” I mumble. “Do I sound weird?” I open my mouth. “Is my tongue swelling?” I will never drink a shove it all in cocktail again.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You always sound weird, but your tongue is fine.” He lowers his voice and adds, “Perfect when it’s flicking my-”

  “Yes okay!” I snap, slapping his chest to shut him up.

  “So, Millie,” James says. “What are your intentions with our friend?” Aden glares and James holds his hands up. “This is what friends are supposed to do so suck it up.”

  “Well I’m thinking I’ll marry and stay with him until he can no longer get it up. Then I’ll divorce his erectile dysfunctional arse, take half of everything he owns and use the money to open male strip clubs up and down the country.”

  James, along with the rest of the table laughs. “I like this one.”

  “This one? How many have there been?” I ask.

  “Ah you want to know his number?” Marcus says.

  “Shut the fuck up, man,” Aden snaps. I love seeing him like this, relaxed and yelling at his friends while they tease him. It’s a gulf of a difference to how he is when we’re at dinners with our families.

  I turn to him and pout. “I don’t think he should shut up.”

  “Of course you don’t. Another word from you lot and I’ll start talking about Tenerife.”

  Marcus, James, and Danny look away. Damn he has something over them.

  “Hey,” Sophie shouts. “If you’re not telling us you’re not allowed to bring it up. Ever.”

  “We’re not telling so, Aden, pass the vodka, this needs something,” Danny says, picking up his awful everything cocktail. I turn my nose up as Aden reaches across, kissing the side of my head at the same time. That cocktail, if you can even call it that, definitely doesn’t need anything else.

  “Aden,” I mumble, lifting my head up. Hmm, I’m lying down. Where did he go anyway? I want to lift my head up, but I don’t have the energy. We’re in his room. Huh, how did we get back here?

  My hair moves on its own, and I freeze. What the…? “I’m here,” Aden whispers into my ear.

  Breathing a big sigh of relief, I relax and melt into his chest. “Oh you moved my hair.”

  He chuckles. “Who did you think it was?”

  “I didn’t think it was anyone.”

  “What?”

  Groaning, I roll onto my side so I can see him. “No one. A ghost.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m still half asleep.”

  “A ghost?” His face lights up in amusement.

  “Take a walk, Aden.” He laughs and kisses my forehead. “How did we get here?”

  “Taxi. You slept the whole way.” I don’t remember much past everything cocktail round two. Surprisingly, though, I’m not feeling too bad.

  “Oh. Take your top off.”

  “What? I think you’re still too drunk for that.”

  “I’m not too drunk to perv on you. Off.” Again, he laughs but removes his shirt and jeans. “That’s better.” I love when I can feel his soft skin against mine. Aden pulls the cover back and rolls me underneath it before snuggling up next to me. “Do you think your friends like me then?”

  “Definitely. They love you.” That’s good. I’m more interested in how Aden feels about me, though. Should I just tell him I love him and if he doesn’t say it back I can just blame the drink? I should. No. What if he doesn’t say it back? My heart sinks. I could blame it on the drink, but I’m not ready to not hear it back.

  Sighing, I snuggle closer into his chest, breathing in his smell that makes me never want to leave. “That’s good.”

  “What?”

  I frown against his pecks. Mmm, nice chest. “What, what?”

  “Your deep, something’s wrong sigh.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.”

  “Okay,” he murmurs against my forehead. “Tell me later, sleep now.” Tell him later? I will, just much, much later.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I groan into the too fluffy, will suffocate you if you lay face down on it too long pillow and push myself up. My face is still printed into it, and I long to be asleep again. “Aden,” I mumble, squinting my eyes. Everything’s blurry and moving very slightly on its own. My head pounds at the movement. Water, I need water. I need the tap. Must find kitchen.

  Aden’s bed is huge, and the journey to the side takes two rolls. My next problem is standing up. Swinging my legs over the side, I sit on the edge and close my eyes, getting used to being vertical. This would be so much easier if the fucking room will stay still.

  “Aden?” I call louder. Where is he anyway?

  After another minute, the arsehole still hasn’t come to help me, so I stand carefully. The walls tilt, and I freeze. Alcohol is evil. Stumbling towards the door, I hold my hands out to the sides to steady myself. I’m never drinking again – for at least a week anyway.

  Of course, he walks into the room as I’m stumbling towards the door with my arms out. “Going for a fly?” he asks, grinning. Even with slightly blurred vision I can still see the amusement glow in his sexy blue eyes.

  “No.” I sigh. “I’m just trying to walk.”

  “Well, as funny as this is to watch, breakfast’s ready.” He steps forward and kisses my forehead. “Let’s get you downstairs.” I’m very gently l
ifted up, and he carries me downstairs. I love it when he’s being sweet, rather than teasing. “Suffering today?”

  “Yes. Why aren’t you?” He was drunk too.

  “I have this thing in my head that tells me when to stop. Something you seem to be missing.” I scoff. Cocky bastard. “I’ll look after you until you feel better.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Why? What do you want?”

  “I want my girlfriend to feel better, Millie. No ulterior motives, I promise.”

  “That’s sweet.” He called me his girlfriend again. I swoon inside. “Aden, do you ever think this is going to all go horribly wrong.”

  He puts me down on one of the kitchen chairs and frowns. “Go wrong? What do you mean?”

  Shrug and chew on my lip. Okay, this is awkward. “Us.”

  “No,” he replies without missing a beat. “You clearly do, though.”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that… Well, I’m me and if you haven’t already noticed I don’t really have that much good luck. Things go wrong in spectacular ways that usually just makes people laugh at me, you mostly, but if this goes wrong it won’t be funny. Not at all.”

  He drops to his knees in front of me, so we’re level. “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Millie. No one can make us break up.”

  “But what if people found out sooner and your reputation was blown to shit.”

  With a little smirk, he replies, “Then it’s blown to shit. Stop worrying so much. If people find out then they find out. I would prefer it when everything’s sorted out and stable but if not then I’ll deal with the looks and backstabbing.”

  People are bitchy and would love a scandal like the sexy CEO of the ‘up and coming’, fresh, new record label bedding his PA after five minutes. It’s something that my mother would gossip with her friends about for hours. I want the press surrounding Aden to be about how well his business is doing, not about him sleeping with his employee. At least after another month we can say we’ve been together for a little while, and that should stop the affair rumour mill.

  “You’re right. I just don’t want to mess anything up for you. And I definitely don’t want this to end.”

  Aden reaches out tucks my bed hair behind my ear. Good luck taming it. “I definitely don’t want it to end either. It’s not going to happen, no matter what goes on. Okay? I’ve grown quite attached to you and your craziness.”

  I grin. “Back at ya.”

  He stands and gestures to the food laid out on the table. “Good. Now eat something and soak up some of that alcohol. If you want, you can stay here today.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’ll go to work too. I don’t want any special treatment just because we’re together.” Aden nods and poured me a mug of coffee. He’s made sausages, eggs, bacon, beans and toast for breakfast. Definitely what I need after a night of drinking. He knows me so well.

  We arrive at work an hour late, but that doesn’t matter because Aden is the boss and can pretty much turn up whenever the hell he wants to. “Want me to go in first?” I ask as he pulls into his parking space.

  He frowns. “No, but…”

  “But I should or it’ll look bloody obvious that we spent the night together?”

  “Something like that. I’m sorry.”

  I shrug. “It’s fine.”

  “I’ve actually need to go make an appointment with the bank manager so I’ll pop into town for a bit.”

  “Hey, there’s these things now called phones, right, and you can call peop-”

  “Yes, thank you, Millie. It’s an excuse delay checking the thousands of emails I’ll probably have too. I’ll pick up some doughnuts from that bakery you like and make the appointment in person. Not enough people talk face to face now.”

  I roll my eyes. “You sound like my dad, old man. See you in a bit then.” I get out of the car and lean down, looking at him. “Raspberry jam in the doughnuts.” He salutes with a cheeky smile on his face and reverses the car.

  I make my way into the tall building without looking back at him. The weekend has mostly been amazing. Well, Sunday was anyway. No amount of time with him is enough. I always want more. It’s a little hard when I live at my parents’, though. Moving out needs to happen soon. I’d love for us to be at mine, we can walk around naked and have long showers together.

  Once I’m in my office, I log onto the computer and wait for it to load. “Good morning, Amelie,” Samia says politely as she pokes her head around the door.

  “Hi, Samia, how was your weekend?”

  “Good, thank you.” She steps into the room. “And yours?”

  I grin, remembering just how good Aden was in the bath. “Really good.”

  “Is Aden in yet?”

  “No, he has an appointment. He should be back in an hour or so. Can I help with anything?”

  “I just need him to sign off a few things. The studio needs paying by the end of the day.” She bites her lip and frowns. Chill, love, he’ll be back soon. She worries about everything.

  “Do you want me to call him? Maybe I could sign whatever you need?”

  Her face lights up. “Thanks, that would be great.”

  I dial Aden’s number, and he picks up straight away. “Miss me already?” he teases. I want to reply and have a full on flirting session, but I can’t with an audience.

  “Hi. Samia is here with some invoices for studio time. It needs paying today, can I sign it or should we wait until you’re back?”

  “Oh. Yeah, you can sign. Just make sure they’re invoicing our usual rates, okay?”

  “Sure, okay.”

  “Thanks, beautiful,” he says in his smoother than silk tone. “See you soon.” Aw. He hangs up, and I try to not smile. It’s hard.

  “I can sign.” Samia sighs in relief and walks to my desk, handing me the invoices. There’s a little box stamped on the front of the invoice with ‘Authorised Signature’ written in capital letters. Wow, I’m authorised to pay stuff.

  So, how much is our usual rate? I have no clue if this is what we’re usually charged. “Um, Samia, is this what we pay?” I ask quietly, embarrassed that I don’t know and make a mental note to get Aden to go through rates so I can make a list for future reference.

  “Yes,” she replies. I scribble my signature on them and hand them back. “Thanks, Amelie, I’ll get these scanned and emailed to accounts.” I nod, having no clue what she was supposed to do with them after they’re signed either.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply.

  After Samia closes my door behind her I check my emails, and I’m delighted to find one from Renee, titled ENJOY with an attachment. Aden’s strip dance! I literally bounce in my seat as I press play and wait.

  The first thing that comes on the screen is a stage with drawn-back red velvet curtains. I squeal. I hear muffled voices as the audience talk among themselves, and I just about make out Sophie’s voice, asking who must have been Renee if it’s definitely recording.

  And then the lights turn off, and music turns on. I laugh, biting my lip as the anticipation almost kills me. Four suited men walk onto stage, and I spot Aden immediately. He’s on the far left and from his lopsided smile, I guess he’s had a few drinks beforehand. Wise choice when you’re about to get your kit off in front of a room full of people.

  If he walks in now I don’t think I’ll be able to turn it off, and I don’t even care. The four men, seconds from humiliation, strut forwards and thrust their hips in time with the music, and I lose it. I press my fist to my mouth, laughing as they rip open their jackets and let them slide to the floor.

  Tears roll down my face, and they’re not even naked yet. One of them – the one I don’t know – bites his lip a lot and makes a face as if he’s pretending to be a tiger. He is the one that will now have the most shame.

  My eyes flick back to the man I woke up beside this morning. He moves well, which I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. He thrusts his hips again, and it reminds me of last night. Oh my God I�
�m getting turned on watching this! What’s wrong with me?

  Next to come off, in a spectacular manner is their shirts, which are literally ripped off and thrown into the screaming audience – probably consisting mostly of middle-aged women. I stare at his chest, and muscular arms and drool over how they flex and bunch as he moves.

  A chorus, well screams, of ‘take ‘em off’ drowns out Lady Marmalade, and the men reach for their trousers. They must be the kind that Velcro up because they come off with one pull. They’re thrown into the audience too and there he is, the man I’m not sure if I should be going off or jumping on, standing on stage, wiggling his naked arse in a sparky red thong.

  I slam my head down on the table as the hysteria takes over. My stomach quickly screams in protest, but it’s too funny to stop laughing, no matter how hard I try. The image of them with their back to the crowd, arses on show for all too see is forever burned into my memory.

  I lay doubled over the desk, holding my burning stomach, laughing until my make-up runs and I no longer make a sound. Part of me – a really big part – wants to watch it again and again and again. But it hurts. And I don’t know when Aden will be back. How am I going to look him in the eye now?

  It takes me a good five minutes to compose myself. My jaw is aching from laughing so much. I run my fingers under my eyes to clean up any mascara – bet I look like a panda. Okay I need to do something.

  That something is snooping. I don’t really know too much about the running of the business, but I should, right? It’s embarrassing that I’m the CEO’s PA but don’t know how things are done. Where to start, though? Aden’s office will probably be the best place.

  I walk through and unlock the large filing cabinet. The first file I grab is labelled, Rejections. Hmm, that sounds like a depressing folder, or a funny one. Sitting on Aden’s big, leather chair, I start reading. On the first page is the name of a band ‘Death Dogs’ and some details of them. A red stamp confirms their submission tape has rejected and either destroyed or returned – it didn’t say which, but I doubt it would have been returned.