No Control | Holding Me Ransom (Book 2)

25 - All I Ever Wanted Was The Truth

"Will you let me explain?" he asked timidly.

"Harry," I sighed. "You say this every time, and then I come away even more confused, with even more mystery surrounding everything."

"I know," he said quickly, with a pained expression. "I wanted to tell you everything that night we... the night you came back to my hotel in London. I intended to, and then we got... carried away. And then when I woke up you'd already left..."

I blushed and stared forward out of the front window again. We were almost back at my hotel now. It felt weirdly coincidental that all the poignant moments in our relationship seemed to take place in hotels. Such was the lifestyle he led, I supposed. It was sad, really.

"Please will you hear me out?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I hesitated. Of course I wanted to know the full story, but I was trying so hard to move on. Surely this would not help me get over him - it would only reopen the old wounds that were far from healed? But then, when had I ever done what was best for me?

"Fine," I relented. "You can come up to my room. And then when you have explained you can leave."

"OK," he nodded seriously. "Thank you."

He shifted his gaze to me and gave me a hopeful smile, which I returned. (I couldn't help myself - his smile was just so beautiful. And infectious.) We slowed down on the road and he indicated left, turned into the hotel car park and pulled into a space near the entrance.

"Aren't you worried about being seen?" I asked, as we stepped out of the car and Harry blipped it with the remote control.

"Not as long as we're quick," he said, putting his head down and following me through the main doors. We scuttled across the lobby and straight into the lift, and I pressed the button for the third floor, trying not to think about the sexual tension that had been rife between us the last time we'd been in a lift together.

We didn't speak until we were inside my room, where I hung my bag inside the wardrobe and Harry slid his phone out of his pocket and set it down on the table next to the television.

"It's not the kind of room you're used to staying in," I said, feeling suddenly awkward at this poky little hotel room that offered none of the grandeur I had experienced any of the times I had been in a hotel with Harry.

He shrugged. "Since when have I been bothered about things like that?" he asked.

He was standing awkwardly by the foot of the bed, and I was standing by the door. I was afraid to offer him a seat on the bed, because last time we had sat on a bed to talk, this had led to my emotions taking over and letting him seduce me. I wasn't big-headed enough to assume he would make a move on me this evening; more that I was worried I would somehow end up crying in his arms or something, and making an idiot out of myself.

Adam! my subconscious scolded me. You're seeing Adam! So it shouldn't matter what Harry thinks of you!

I remembered this with a jolt, and glanced nervously at the clock, but it was only quarter to six. I had plenty of time to get the truth from Harry before I needed to think about getting ready for tonight with Adam.

Harry must have followed my gaze.

"What time is your..." He hesitated. "Your date?"

"Not for a couple of hours," I replied uncomfortably, and I noticed his eyes rake over the bed before he blinked and looked quickly away to stare at the wall instead.

"Do you want a drink or something?" I offered, trying to break the atmosphere that had somehow sprung up between us. "I have a kettle..." I gestured to the kettle next to the window, and Harry smiled at my awkwardness.

"Yeah, tea would be great, thanks," he said. "Could I use your bathroom? It was sort of a long drive..."

"Oh, um, yeah, go ahead," I said, nodding, and he slipped past me as I flicked the kettle on, and disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. I got a waft of his body heat and felt my insides tremble, and busied myself with making two cups of tea, trying not spill the boiling water with my shaking hands.

Why did he still have this effect on me? How did he have the power to make my body shake, my heart pound and my knees feel weak, just by being in the same room as me?

My phone beeped, and I reached for it before I realised it wasn't mine, it was Harry's, and it was lit up on the table next to the television. I didn't mean to pry; I was just being curious as I crossed the room to look at his screen, but I got the shock of my life when I noticed not the message he had just received, but his background picture.

It was the photo he had taken of me in Holmes Chapel, with my hair blowing across my eyes, a smile on my lips, and my whole face lit up in adoration for him. I stared at it for a few seconds, my heart beating so hard it actually hurt, until the backlight faded and the picture disappeared. I pressed the Home button to make the screen light up again, just to prove to myself I hadn't imagined what I saw, and stared at the picture for another few seconds until once again it faded.

I heard the sound of the toilet flushing and I scooted back over to the cups and quickly stirred the tea as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Thanks for that - what's the matter?" he asked, and my heart pounded even harder as I realised he could sense something was up.

"Nothing," I squeaked.

"Don't fib," he said. "You've gone all squeaky. What is it?"

Great. Nice to know I was always obvious.

"I'm fine," I said, clearing my throat and handing him his cup of tea, trying to disguise my shaking hands.

He took it from me, still eyeing me with suspicion, and sat down in the little chair next to the television, leaving me to sit awkwardly on the bed. We stared at each other for a moment. Harry opened his mouth to speak.

His phone beeped again from behind him and he closed his mouth and frowned, before turning round to look at it. He suddenly whipped his head up to look at me, before shoving his phone roughly in his pocket again, and looking at me with trepidation.

I was reminded of the exact same action in Karen's office, when I had reached for Harry's phone to see the time, and he had all but thrown himself across the desk to snatch it away from me. Was this why? Had the photo of me been there all along, and he hadn't wanted me to see it? What the hell was going on?

"What's going on, Harry?" I asked, my voice shaking with nerves. "You promised me an explanation. Well, I'm waiting, come on. Let's hear it then."

He hesitated and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and looking up at me with raised eyebrows. "I don't really know where to begin."

"Tell me the whole story," I said firmly. "Even the bits I've heard before. If you're finally going to tell me the truth, you might as well do it properly."

"OK," he nodded, looking me straight in the eye with a resigned look on this face. "OK, I will."