Читать книгу Sins & Secrets - NICHOLA HARVEY - Страница 3

DRAGGING THE curtains open, I scrunched my nose up as I saw what the day had to offer. The day looked dismal. Ugh.

Threatening, dove grey clouds were slowly drifting across the sky, turning what would’ve been a bright day, grey and chilly. The weekend had been fabulous too. I smiled coyly; in more ways than one. Oh well, the clouds will clear, and we’ll all be stripping off. Typical.

Melbourne was the only city I knew of that had four seasons in one day. It left me questioning whether moving to a warmer climate was the answer; North Queensland came to mind, then so had the saltwater crocodiles. I shivered, ew, no thanks, I think I’ll stick to Melbourne. Considering the unpredictable changes in the weather, living anywhere else was inconceivable, it was home.

As I stepped under the shower, the steaming water immediately warmed my chilled bones through. A feeling I relished in as I reached for the shampoo sitting in the niche shelf, pouring the loads required for my thick mane into the palm of my hand, my eyes sliding closed as I worked my fingers over my scalp. Somehow, I felt that my day would be different – and for the better. Call it intuition, a sixth sense, whatever, I just knew.

Once I’d finished showering and drying off, I wandered through the walk-in-robe, scanning the numerous drawers and racks for something to wear. Warm was preferable, considering the dismal weather outside. Admittedly, I had far too many clothes; to the degree, my wardrobe resembled a small fashion boutique.

Designed to be every woman’s dream, it wasn’t exactly small either. Glass fronted drawers with sectioned open racks, plentiful for hanging all my stylish dresses, skirts, and blouses.

Lately, my sister had been trying to poach one of the many pairs of heels I owned. We weren’t even the same size.

My job as a graduate architect at Bricks and Mortar Architecture didn’t require formal wear, thanks to my hunky boss, Spencer Hughes. He ran the business in a casual setting, making my life easier when it came down to choosing an outfit each day.

Donning a black lacy bra, matching panties, and a pair of cheeky thigh-high stockings, I started scanning the racks for a dress. In the end, choosing a black, long sleeve fitted jersey dress. Lastly slipped over my feet was a pair of black knee-length boots, the soft leather giving the extra warmth I needed on such a ridiculously chilly day. I grabbed a denim jacket, and a grey wool scarf, wrapping it around my slender neck as I made my way back to the ensuite bathroom to blow-dry my hair.

The house was relatively quiet as I left my bedroom and headed for the kitchen, my other favourite room in the house.

With marble benchtops, stainless steel appliances, a porcelain farmhouse sink and off-white shaker cabinets, the kitchen was a chef’s dream. As was the butler’s pantry, where I prepared my usual breakfast; a cup of earl grey tea and a bowl of oats drizzled with honey before the appearance of my roommates shattered that peace.

I spoke too soon and greeted them cheerfully, “Good morning, peeps.”

Pouring hot water into a prepared coffee cup, Scarlett groaned indignantly. “And what pray tell, Teddy, is so damned cheerful about a cold and rainy Monday morning?”

Too bright for some apparently.

Scarlett happened to be one of those three roommates, and coincidentally, my baby sister. She wasn’t unlike any other twenty-two-year-old I knew; she wanted to live life to the fullest and party while she was able to. Regardless of the fact she was studying a Bachelor of Nursing at university with dreams to work in paediatrics, our domineering parents, Evan, and Therese, always fought over the choices she made – or did not. Consequently, their nagging drove her away, forcing her out of their house and in with me.

I sat at the table and dug my spoon into the bowl. “It’s going to be a fantastic day. I can feel it in my bones.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes mockingly. “Always the optimist, sis.”

Unable to help myself, I raised a brow sardonically. “Well someone has to be Miss Misery Guts.”

“Who’s miserable now?” Dominique asked, sauntering into the kitchen. I giggled as her hands flapped sarcastically. “Oh, oh, I know Miss, don’t tell me! Only one person I know behaves in such a manner; a certain little Miss Sunshine with a cantankerous personality?” she said, averting her vibrantly blue eyes in Scarlett’s direction.

Scarlett glared. “Ha-ha, hilarious little Miss Wise Arse.”

Rising from the chair and slotting my dishes in the top rack of the dishwasher, I laughed. “Any case ladies, I’m off to work. See you all later!” I planted a quick kiss on my groaning sister’s head. “Have a good day, little Miss Grumpy.”

“Yeah, what ev,” she grumbled through a mouthful of muesli.

As I ran to my car in the driveway, a Holden Captiva, the skies opened, making me wonder why I’d even bothered with makeup that morning. I jumped in, barely avoiding the sudden downpour. My face now having the appearance of a panda, instead of the fresh look I’d initially done. With the rain coming down in buckets, the gutters quickly filled, overflowing onto the roads making the simple task of driving to work hazardous.

The trip to work was a nightmare. Dealing with impatient and angry drivers in the wet weather had me exhausted, already and it wasn’t even nine yet.

Bricks and Mortar Architecture, a relatively small firm, sat on the fifth floor of 101 Collins; a postmodern building situated centrally in the fashionable business district of Collins Street. Little cafés and stylish, upmarket boutiques surrounded the building, making it perfect for unique lunchtime shopping or a simple catch up with friends.

Taking up an entire floor, the light and airy office space with its eclectic warehouse interior made it a joy to work. With views to the busy streets and laneways, the roomy glass cubicles were comfortable enough for two people to work in without cramping each other’s style. Each space was set around the outside of a spacious communal area, great for collaborating or for simply relaxing.

I had only just entered my cubicle and thrown my bags onto the desk when my boss, Spencer, called me into his office. I sighed. Fixing my makeup was my priority but duty calls. Oh well, he’d have to deal with the smudged eyes.

Wandering over to his office, the heels of my boots clicked on the refurbished timber boards. I raised my hand and lightly tapped on the doorframe. “You asked to see me, Mr Hughes?”

Standing well over six-feet tall, with broad, muscular shoulders, and warm chocolate brown eyes, Spencer Hughes was every woman’s dream and every man’s worst nightmare. His presence alone was captivating. Looking up from the folder on his desk, he brushed flopping chestnut brown hair off his forehead and greeted me with a smile most women would fall over; broad, and dashing, as was the person wearing it.

“Please, come on in and take a seat.” He gestured towards one of the replica Hans Wegner plank armchairs adjacent to his solid redgum desk, ideally situated in front of the widely arched windows behind him.

Peering over his desk, I soon realised the folder in front of him was, in fact, my portfolio. Curious as to why he had it, and expecting the worst, I asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything is more than all right, actually,” Spencer assured me grinning. “Now, Teddy, I’ve been glancing over your latest work, and I must say, I’m impressed. You have talent, initiative and quite the instinct when it comes to the client’s needs. By that, I mean, you listen, and follow the brief to a tea – even if you do disagree with them.” He chuckled when I grimaced at him. “You’re incredibly persuasive, by showing them what does and doesn’t work without compromising on the client’s style.

Furthermore, you’re extremely thorough with your research. You ensure the whole development runs smoothly, and to me, as such, it shows you have passion. Which is necessary for this business, and you most certainly have it. You have become quite the asset to this firm,” Spencer told me, his steepled hands clasping in a relaxed manner in front of him.

My mouth gaped, astonished by Spencer’s overly generous review. “I don’t know what to say, Mr Hughes, other than I’m truly flattered.”

He gave another beaming smile. “Spencer, please, you’ve been here long enough. We’re casual here.”

“I’ve only been here about two years,” I corrected, blush flaming my cheeks. “But it does feel distinctly longer. I enjoy working here and have learnt such a lot in a brief time.”

He nodded warmly. “Good. Now, last, but not least, you passed the Architectural Practice examinations with flying colours; I received confirmation Friday evening.” Spencer continued his review, “So, I feel it’s safe to say you are now a fully registered architect.” He grinned rising from his tan leather office chair. “Congratulations, Teddy.”

“Thank you, Spencer; I wouldn’t have made it this far without you as my mentor.” Beaming at him, I quickly pushed to my feet, his large hand enveloping mine as we shook over the top of the desk.

“No, no way. I assure you,” he disagreed modestly, “it was all you. You’ve worked extremely hard and showed dedication; that’s what got you here. I only guided you along the way.” He gently ushered me towards the door. “Keep up the amazing work.”

With an extra skip in my step, I bounced back to my desk and noticed my co-worker Emily Smith’s dark eyes smiling up at me. “What? I’m just euphoric.”

“You got the ‘fully registered’ speech I see.” She grinned, jumping out of her chair to hug me tightly. It wasn’t any secret that Spencer gave all newly qualified employees the same speech. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Ems.”

Only just promoted herself, Emily began at Bricks and Mortar shortly after I had. We clicked immediately, only in the professional sense. Apart from my roommates, I preferred it that way. After years of endless pain and heartache, it tended to leave you not only wary but also sceptical as to who I allowed in my life.

For the remainder of the day, my high spirits continued. Not even the deluge of rain outside could dampen my day. I flicked a generic text to my roommates about my plans for a night out in the city, one filled with dinner and drinks for starters. Then after that, who knew? Our celebrations could lead us anywhere. The next question was, where? Melbourne was a city well known for never sleeping, even early on in the week. The options were endless. Roll on five-thirty.

Once the elevator commenced its slow descent to the underground garage, I sagged against the reflective walls inside. My mood giddy and excited by the way my day had turned out. Now, I just wanted to head home, open a nice bottle of wine and wind down with a nice long hot bath before the girls came stampeding through the door.

I’d come so far, not since… No, my past was just that. There wasn’t any point giving it another thought, especially when we had a fantastic evening ahead of us.

The elevator jolted to a stop. An icy blustering wind greeted me as soon as the stainless-steel doors glided open, taking my breath away. Holy hell! Where did that breeze come from, Antarctica? The day had started bleak and rainy, and now it was just downright miserable and chilly. Walking faster, I gripped the edges of my denim jacket, hugging it tightly around me. Perhaps I ought to reconsider our night out. Reaching my car, I chuckled; there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.

About to dive into my handbag for the keys, the sound of an empty glass bottle rolled across the concrete subfloor. A reverberating noise that startled me enough to send my head swivelling as my anxious gaze darted around each darkened corner.

Blowing out a nervous laugh, I turned back to my car. “It’s just your imagination, Teddy. Nothing more…”

Then a familiar odour of burning tobacco wafted sending a curling chill around my spine. Panic surged as slow, taunting footsteps echoed along with the whisper of my name. In desperation, I began raking for the keys in my oversized tote, profusely cursing, when I was unable to locate them fast enough. The footsteps sped up, as had the search for my keys. Relief washing through me as I found them buried under my purse at the bottom.

I rushed up onto my seat, swiftly locking the door behind me with one shaky hand while attempting to push the key into the ignition. Starting the car, and kicking it into reverse, I looked in the rear-view mirror. Regret swiftly followed. My eyes widening as a horrified gasp escaped me at the sight of the menacing smile staring directly at me.

I hightailed it out of there.

Running inside the safety of my house and slamming the door behind me, I dumped my bag onto the kitchen island and headed directly for the bar fridge in the butler’s pantry. I had the bottle of Pinot Grigio open before I’d made it back through the opened doorway. On the sink, there was already an upturned glass from the night before; I must’ve known. Call me greedy, but I kept pouring, filling the glass until the wine licked the brim. I didn’t take long to down it either, my watery gaze peering over the rim as I glanced at the clock on the stove. There was still ample time to take that bath.

Melodic tunes of Chopin streamed from my iPhone through the speaker perched on the double vanity while wisps of steam floated from jasmine-scented water, and lit candles burned, permeating the air with gardenias and frangipani easing my woes in a heartbeat. Adding a particular dark-haired suitor to the equation may have aided in that healing also — hm..the possibilities.

A loud laugh rang through the hallway, killing my lustful musings. Scarlett’s such a mood blocker. I flopped my head back against the edge of the charcoal stone tub and groaned; the time for relaxation was over.

Wrapped in a towel, I padded over the floors and out to the kitchen, greeting my three roommates cheerfully, “Hello there, my roomies.”

Scarlett crossed her arms and huffed. “Well, what’s this news you’ve been dying to share with each of us?”

Amused by my sister’s lack of patience, my beaming grin grew wider. “Well, little Miss Grumbles, today, just as I predicted, was the best day ever! Spencer Hughes, my boss informed me that I’m now a fully registered architect!”

“Oh my god, Teddy, that’s fantastic news!” Poppy squealed, embracing me gently. “What you have worked so hard for all these years has finally paid off.”

“Well done, sissy!” Scarlett simpered proudly, throwing her arms around my neck. Unlike Poppy, she nearly choked me in excitement.

I squeezed her back. “Thanks, Scars.”

Poppy’s sunny gaze darted. “So ladies, where are we taking this celebration?”

“What about the Rockpool Bar and Restaurant at Southbank?” Dominique suggested, smiling coyly. “It’s also one of Ari’s favourite places to dine…”

I deliberately ignored her jibe.

“The food is to die for, Teddy,” a grinning Poppy agreed. “But you decide, it’s about you tonight after all.”

I replied with an exuberant laugh, “Okay, Rockpool it is. Girls, time to get all dolled-up!”

Entering the restaurant in high spirits, a towering young waiter with slicked-back butter blond hair and a disarming smile greeted us. Recognition glimmered in brilliantly emerald green eyes, his fixated stare making my heart skip anxiously. To my relief, he remained professional and instead queried, “A table for four?”

We all nodded in unison. He led us to a table with views of the open kitchen where delicious smells wafted making our mouths water and our lips curve upwards in delight as the loud voice of the head chef barked orders across the chaotic space to his staff.

In Dominique’s case, the food wasn’t the only reason. Brazenly flirting, her hungry gaze remained firmly planted on the waiter’s rounded behind and broad back until we reached the table.

“You’re shameless,” Scarlett murmured sliding onto a seat with Dom flopping beside her.

Her slim shoulders shrugged in her usual carefree manner. “Quite possibly.”

“My name is Leon, and I shall be your waiter for the evening.” He gave a friendly smile, his deeply dimpled cheeks flashing at us. “Might I suggest a drink to start?”

“Thank you, Leon,” I murmured taking a menu from his outstretched hand. “We’ll have a carafe of Domaine de l’Arlot Clos des Forêts Saint Georges 1er Cru to start please,” I rattled off in fluent French, surprising even myself. Taking French lessons had indeed paid off. I might learn Italian next.

“Excellent choice, ma’am.”

“Don’t panic girls; I’m paying,” I mused to three very shocked grown women. “Close your mouths, you all look like codfish.”

Poppy giggled as our dashing waiter walked away. “Ma’am?”

Wrinkling my nose at the old-fashioned notion, I leaned my back against the soft leather, checking out my surrounds for any unwelcome visitors. Since my encounter in the carpark, it had left me paranoid, and rightfully so.

Leon returned a few minutes later pouring the wine from a crystal decanter into four glasses, his blended scent of citrus and musk distracting me from my thoughts momentarily.

Sipping my wine, I coquettishly smiled, thanking him. He winked and walked away.

Grasping my glass, I caught my sister’s curious gaze eyeing me suspiciously. “What?”

“Whatcha looking at, sis?”

The corners of my mouth twitched. “Only the view.” I wasn’t lying, well, not exactly.

Scarlett’s eyes rolled, something she did habitually. “Leave work at the office for a change; you’re out celebrating!”

I shrugged and lifted the glass back to my lips, taking another generous sip. “Oh, you know me, I can’t help myself.” Which in truth, I couldn’t. My gaze slid across the restaurant floor, earning yet another eye roll.

The five-star restaurant owned by world-renowned chef Neil Perry was bustling. Not that it surprised me; it was quite the place to eat. In addition to the menu, the interior was just as appealing. Dark timbers, stone, and steel dominated the space. Adding softness and colour were the deep russet leather chairs, bright red bench seats and delicately draping curtains in doorways. The dimly lit downlights tucked under a slatted timber ceiling, provided the textbook ambience for a flawless evening.

In my case, it had presented the ideal distraction, one that I undoubtedly needed.

“I’m positively stuffed,” Scarlett moaned, pushing her empty plate away. “I’ll have to work out twice as hard tomorrow.”

My brows shot up. With bright electric blue eyes and fair skin, Scarlett had always turned heads, earning herself quite the stream of lustful admirers over the years. “Do you even know what exercise is, ‘Miss I can eat whatever I want and not put on any weight.’ Most people are envious of your petite and slender figure,” I breathlessly mocked. I loved teasing my sister, and without fail, I’d always get a bite.

She flicked her long glossy copper tresses over one petite shoulder. “I know I’m gorgeous.”

Lifting the wine glass to my lips, I snorted. “Love yourself much, Scars?”

“Hm, I do. A lot.”